The Gamma Sequence

by Dan Alatorre

  Lanaya peeked out the window, massaging her hands.

  “Any idea how we can get around outside without being stopped?” DeShear asked.

  “Have a look.” Camilla peeked over her shoulder, keeping her voice low. “Others are walking around out there, dressed the same as us, and nobody seems to care. The security bit may be a ruse, but either way, if you move quickly and stay hidden between the buildings, you can probably go wherever you need to go.”

  He stared out the window. “I’ll be darned.”

  “Wait for the tour to start, and as soon as we move from one building to another, just stay behind somewhere until the coast is clear. Maybe in an airlock, or duck behind an AC unit or something. Best I can think of at the moment.”

  “It’ll be fine.” DeShear said. “If there are other people out there wearing these moon suits, who’ll know the difference? All that’s visible is our eyes.”

  “Okay then.” Camilla looked at him. “And if you get caught . . .”

  “Don’t worry.” He took a step backwards, toward the rear of the room. “You knew nothing about it.”

  * * * * *

  Dr. Hauser waited while one of the members of his party opened the door for him.

  “I’m a bit concerned, sir,” the man said, entering the warm, dim room. Ventilating fans turned overhead, while circulation pumps hummed below. “All these strangers, poking their noses around the facility. It’s not a good idea.”

  Hauser waved the cane at him, hobbling down the shadowy center aisle. The stainless steel shelving was thirty inches wide and forty feet long, reaching thirty feet into the air. Each was spaced exactly thirty inches apart, for maximum capacity in each building.

  “We’ll keep them busy with the tour until it’s time to go to the reception,” the old man said. “Tomorrow morning, this audit nonsense comes to an abrupt end.” Hauser squinted at the rows and rows of high shelves, his eyes adjusting to the low light. “By the time they’re done showering and suiting up again, I’ll have my own private army here to meet them.” He walked up to a shelf, inspecting one of the thousands of fluid-filled containers housed on each. Reaching past the long lines of surgical tubes running in and out through the container lids, he tapped the glass, staring at what floated within. “My people arrive at ten A. M. Then we’ll see what happens with this little audit.”

  Chapter 30

  “Please remember, stay with your guide.” The gray-haired woman walked between the agents, her back stiff and her nose in the air, as she handed out white clipboards. “Use the airlock entrance at the front of every building. A new cleanroom suit will be provided to you as needed during the tour. Any—”

  “Agents.” Camilla addressed her group, looking right past the lecturer. “This is an inspection. It is part of an official audit. If you have questions that are not answered, direct them to me immediately.”

  “As I was about to say,” the lecturer scowled at Camilla, “any questions will be handled by the guide assigned to your individual group.”

  Camilla raised her voice. “Any area of this property that you are not immediately granted access to, detach from your tour at once and report to me.”

  The lecturer’s voice raised to a shrill pitch. “All visitors must remain with their group!”

  Camilla glared at the woman. “Then you’d better grant immediate access to anything my people want to see.”

  A hush fell over the room. The agents watched the standoff in silence, their bureau chief’s words hanging in the air.

  A smile forced its way across the gray-haired woman’s lips. “I shall see to it that all requests are handled in accordance with Dr. Hauser’s generous instructions to us that you be accommodated fully.”

  One of the guides in a cleanroom suit ambled forward, reading from his clipboard. “The first eight agents, please step this way. We will be exiting through the airlock.” A cluster of agents dressed in white moved forward. “This way, please.”

  Camilla lagged behind. The lecturer addressed her. “Which group will you be with, Ms. Madison?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Do you have a suggestion?”

  “The septic facility is that way.” The old woman turned to walk away.

  I’ll look for your office there. Camilla offered her most professional tone. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an investigation to conduct—and if attitudes don’t improve around here, I’ll be requesting additional time for a much more thorough and cooperative examination.”

  “Request what you like.” The woman continued walking. “Your work here will come to a speedy conclusion soon enough.”

  “I’m in charge of the audit here.” Camilla squared her shoulders. “It’ll go on as long as I see fit.”

  The lecturer wheeled around, her eyes ablaze. “It will go on,” she yelled, her voice echoing off the white walls. Catching herself, she lowered her voice. “It will go on for exactly as long as Dr. Hauser decides.” She smiled again. “And not a moment longer.”

  An agent put her hand on Camilla’s shoulder. “Boss . . .” He held a clipboard with a site plan in front of her. She straightened her spine and took it, flipping pages and staring at them until the lecturer exited.

  The first group of agents filed out of the room. DeShear walked up to Camilla. “What was all that?”

  “That,” she winked, “was me making sure all eyes are on me and not on you. I’ll go with the next group. You go with the one after that. First time they go around a corner, split off.”

  “Got it.” He returned to Lanaya. “How are we holding up over here?”

  She sat on a side bench, her fingers trembling as she held her clipboard. Squatting in front of her, DeShear took one of her hands and held it between his. “I think you’re getting calluses from all the massaging you’ve been doing to these.”

  “I should think that’s a far sight better than an ulcer or heart attack.” She swallowed hard. “But I’ll be all right.”

  He patted her hand. “I know you will.”

  DeShear debated about whether or not to tell Lanaya more about the sketchy plan. Additional information might help her calm down, or it might give her another thing to stress about. He opted for the “less is more” option and said nothing, taking a seat next to her on the bench.

  Camilla’s group moved forward with their guide.

  DeShear stood. “Let’s stand a little closer to them as they leave.” He tapped an agent on the shoulder, whispering. “Get the group to come forward so it’s not as easy to eyeball who’s with what guide.”

  The agent nodded, rising. A moment later, the two groups were next to each other at the airlock. DeShear stood behind Camilla’s group first, then slowly moved back to his. As the door opened and her team entered, he stepped aside at the last minute. The door shut in front of him, and he slid between the others on his team.

  Their guide came forward, staring at a clipboard with a map of the facility on it. “As soon as they are out, we’ll go.” He raised the clipboard, pointing to a blue square at the front of the facility. “Our first stop is in records. I understand you folks like numbers. We have a lot of them there.”

  A chuckle went up from the team members.

  The guide walked to the airlock door. “This way, please.”

  DeShear’s group crowded into the space. The rear door shut and the door to the hallway opened, complete with the windy re-pressurization. The guide led them toward the exit. “Stay together, please.”

  DeShear put his hand on Lanaya’s shoulder, holding her back and letting the others pass. The hallway had no security cameras.

  Strange, for a facility that’s supposed to be so security-oriented.

  He clutched his white clipboard and peered out the windows, inspecting the other buildings. There were no visible cameras where they’d normally be—over doorways and on the corners of the buildings.

  “Lanaya, did you see any mention of security cameras on the blue prints?”

  “No, bu
t that’s not unusual.” She clutched her clipboard to her chest. “Things like that are often added later. Why?”

  “I don’t see any.” DeShear rubbed his chin. “They could be hidden, but part of the effectiveness of security cameras is letting some be visible so people know you have them.”

  They stepped outside, the heat mugging them in their cleanroom suits.

  “This way,” the guide said. “Stay together, please.”

  The prior group had gone to the right and were already a hundred feet away, waiting to enter the next building through its airlock. The guide for DeShear’s group walked straight ahead, raising his clipboard and pointing to a blue square two buildings down and to the left.

  As they walked, they passed utility fixtures. Large pumps, high-volume air handling units, and massive electrical boxes lined the blue exterior walls.

  Plenty of space to duck behind.

  The group neared the end of the first building. “As you can see, we have a first-rate facility,” the guide said. “All construction was done using the highest possible standards . . .”

  DeShear tapped the nearest agent on the shoulder. “Be sure this tour is the last one to finish today. And I mean, late-to-the-reception last.”

  The agent nodded.

  When his group turned the corner, DeShear took Lanaya’s arm and kept walking straight ahead. She blinked rapidly, her spine frozen as he drew her to an electrical closet, pressing both of them to its side.

  “What now?” she whispered, plastering herself against the building.

  DeShear pointed. “We move as fast as possible to that next building and take a spot in the exact same place. Got it?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Do I run?”

  “Walk fast.” He peeked out from the electrical box, looking up and down the path. “Act like you’re inspecting the roof. If someone sees us running, that’ll attract attention.” He gave her a nudge. “Go!”

  Lanaya jumped out onto the dirt path, walking briskly. DeShear followed, gazing at anything upwards as he covered the ground between the buildings.

  No visible cameras, but they still might have them.

  Reaching the tall metal closet at the next building, the pair slid around next to it.

  “Can we hide in these things?” she asked.

  “It’s high voltage stuff. I’d rather stay out here.” DeShear glanced around. “Actually, I think it’s time we got inside a building. Any thoughts on that? Do any of these big blue boxes look interesting to you?”

  She shook her head. “On the blueprints, they had generic labels—but I’m sure those have changed since construction ended.” She brushed the dust off a pipeline with her finger and inspected the label. “This is potable water. That one’s ‘gray’ water—people have showered with it, or something similar.” She looked up to where the pipes disappeared into the wall. “Doesn’t look like anything interesting goes on in this one. I’d say the newer buildings, in the back, would be where the good stuff is.”

  The sound of a diesel motor echoed down the alleyway.

  “Stay back,” DeShear said, pressing himself to the wall.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. The engine noise grew louder, the ground under their feet vibrating. A huge white tanker truck rolled by, sending up a cloud of dust.

  Lanaya fanned her face. “So much for our cleanroom suits staying clean.” She stuck her head out and looked at the back of the truck. “Well, now. That’s interesting.”

  “What?” DeShear said, leaning forward. The dust trail obscured his view of the truck, except for the top of its big white tank.

  Lanaya tucked her clipboard under her arm. “Let’s follow that.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  “That’s a refrigerated dairy truck, Hamilton.” She crept out onto the dirt road, putting a hand on her hip. “I can’t think of a genetics lab in the world that uses milk in its protocols.”

  * * * * *

  Holding his breath, The Greyhound held the big pellet gun next to his cheek, his hands trembling as he slid the manager’s key card across the door lock. The latch for Dr. Bruner’s room disengaged, and the door opened easily. The Greyhound tiptoed inside, ready to assault the obese board member.

  Easing the door shut with latex glove-covered hands, he studied the scene. The shade curtains had been drawn, making the room dim. The aroma of food reached him from the room service cart by the desk. Empty plates and an empty bottle of wine littered the surface. On the bed, a thin brown-skinned girl stirred, curling away from the hairy back of the enormous fat man snoring next to her.

  The Greyhound crept toward them, grabbing her dress from the floor. He tapped her shoulder. The young girl mumbled something incoherent and rolled over. As her eyes fluttered open, she recoiled with a gasp. Her tiny jaw dropped open as she stared at The Greyhound in his ski mask.

  He lifted a finger to his lips, handing her the dress and pointing to the door. Her eyes went to his gun. “Go.” He whispered. “Pergi. Now.”

  The girl nodded, taking the dress and wrapping it around her as she slid from the mattress. She bolted across the grand room, stooping to pluck a small purse from under the chair, then flung open the door and raced down the hallway.

  The sound of the heavy door slamming shut awakened the fat man. He grunted, patting behind him without looking. When he didn’t find his companion, he sat upright.

  A long, slow wheeze escaped Dr. Bruner’s lips as he stared down the barrel of The Greyhound’s gun.

  “Where is your phone?” The Greyhound asked. “Don’t speak, just point.”

  The man swallowed hard, gesturing to the desk with a shaking hand.

  “Thank you.” The Greyhound went to the desk and picked up the phone. He tossed it onto the bed. “Open it.”

  Bruner’s pasty complexion turned whiter as he stared at the phone.

  “Open it, or I’ll shoot you in the head and hold your dead finger to it, and open it anyway.”

  He grabbed for the phone, fumbling as he picked it up.

  “Press the texting icon.”

  Dr. Bruner panted, pressing a button. The screen came to life.

  “Put it on the bed and slide it to me.”

  The doctor complied, his large torso rocking forward to shove the device a few inches closer to the intruder.

  “Thank you.” The Greyhound picked it up, leaning back on the edge of the desk as he thumbed through the texts. “Ah, here we are. ‘I am taken sick. Will miss reception dinner, but will be back in action tomorrow morning.’ Hmm.” The Greyhound pressed the top of the text message to see its recipients. “This went out to the other board members.”

  Bruner nodded, his mouth hanging open.

  The Greyhound raised his gun, aiming at the doctor’s forehead. “You’ve saved me the trouble of worrying about who might come looking for you if you missed dinner.” He stood up, stepping closer to his cowering victim. “And you’re sick all right, judging from the age of the escort you hired.”

  The fat man stammered, his mouth unable to form words.

  The Greyhound pulled off the ski mask, staring into the eyes of his victim. “You thought you’d gotten away with it. You and the other Angelus board members. The executives, the project managers—you all thought you could hide your secrets in the jungle, but you can’t. Some secrets refuse to remain hidden.”

  He fired. The large air gun bucked in his hand, making a sharp pfff noise as the pellet burst forth. The doctor jerked backwards into the pillows. His arms and legs flailed as he struggled to get his bearings.

  “These are as lethal as a gun, and every bit as fast. Two to the side of the head will kill you. That’s what I came to do.” The Greyhound leaned over the man. “Now that we’ve met in person and I’ve seen your recreational pursuits, I’m even more convinced of my decision.”

  Bruner gurgled, grabbing aimlessly, his head swaying back and forth until he sagged into the mattress.

  “Good thing for you I’m in a rush. I have s
everal other appointments this evening, with colleagues of yours.” The Greyhound tossed the phone back onto the bed, putting the barrel of the gun against the fat man’s temple. “I hope they’re less distasteful than this one’s been.”

  * * * * *

  The tanker truck drove to the far end of the complex, a straight line down the path Lanaya and DeShear were on, then turned left.

  “I think we should move a little faster through here.” Lanaya’s words huffed as she walked. “We don’t want to lose that truck.”

  “Agreed. And . . .” DeShear took her clipboard and stacked it with his, reaching up to slide both onto the top of the next electrical closet they passed. “I think the IRS auditors are the only ones carrying those.”

  At the end of the building, they peeked around the corner and scurried across the gap. Lanaya shook her head. “I’ve been in a lot of genetics labs in my day, Hamilton. I don’t think this place has much in the way of security.”

  “Maybe not in the traditional sense.” The image of the big man with the machine gun flashed in his mind. Again, he decided less information was better for his client. “But let’s not guess wrong.”

  When they reached the end of the row of blue buildings, DeShear stood next to one of the electrical boxes and looked back over his shoulder, counting the buildings. Twenty. Much more than were visible at the front. The road was wider here, too, and paved with asphalt. By setting each building a few feet further away from the dirt road than the next, it was impossible to see them all from the front of the complex.

  An error in construction, or an easy way to allow visitors to only see what you wanted them to see?

  He answered his own question when they rounded the next corner.

  Chapter 31

  The Greyhound slid his personal key card across the hotel lock and thrust open the door to his room. The interior door to the adjoining suite was open. He tossed the air gun onto the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, yanking its tails from his beltline. “Maya, when is my next dosage due?”