by Cameron Bane
The glares I got as I glided by them were different too. But then again, not that different. I’d seen that same look on people’s faces after I’d left Gibbs, and my own kind, as a boy. Their stares were cool, calculating, dispassionate, superior.
A minute later found me pulling up in front of the door that read Data Entry. Climbing off the cart, I found the door was open, so I wandered in without knocking. The office was stark and spare, much like the pale woman seated behind the low, exceedingly neat desk in front of me. She was typing something into her computer, and at first I wasn’t sure if she was aware of my presence.
Then slowly she swiveled her head up from her work, regarding me frankly with cool and distant gray eyes. “Yes?”
It was hard not to stare. I’m not saying the office’s occupant was beautiful or ugly. She was both, and neither. I suppose the word is “severe.”
Rail-thin, the woman was dressed in a beige business suit with a matching blouse that was fastened clear up to her neck, like an 1880s school marm. She wore no makeup that I could detect, nor any jewelry, and her long, jet-black hair had been plastered down with some kind of gel before being swept back and down. That glistening mane had then been pulled into a small hard gathering at the base of her skull, a walnut-sized knot so polished and tight it was a wonder her brain hadn’t imploded. In short, strictly from her appearance she made the Lilith Crane character from the old Cheers TV sitcom look like a screaming party girl. The nameplate listed her as Alicia Bancroft.
“Hello.” My aspect was matter-of-fact. “John Fields, EPA.”
“Mr. Fields.” Bancroft folded her hands on her desk, her expression neutral. “I rather wondered when you’d be stopping by here.”
I tried matching her neutrality. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“You’re seeking information about how we do things here at GeneSys, correct? I suppose data entry would be the place I’d start. Were I you.”
My nod was businesslike and pleasant. “That’s a fair assumption, Alicia.”
She cocked her head. Deep in those frigid eyes, a spark of something hot jumped. “During your stay you will address me as Ms. Bancroft, or ma’am, or you will not address me at all. Is that understood?”
“I understand.” Oh, good. One of those. I glanced around. No pictures, no plaques, no plants. The office was as ascetic as a monk’s cell. “You said you wondered when I’d be stopping by. Why is that?”
She motioned to the electronic map hanging off my belt. “The entire facility has already been alerted to your presence today. Mr. Cross made it quite clear everyone is to assist you in the most expedient way possible. Provided, of course, it doesn’t compromise our work.”
That was a variation on the line Eli had told me. I idly wondered if Bancroft was part of the inner circle, or just a drone.
“Of course. He made that clear to me as well.” I pressed on, “The guard at the main desk, Albert Trask, has already informed me of the generalities of your facility. If he left any gaps, I’m hoping you can complete the picture.”
Her demeanor was still wintry. “Albert is quite well-versed in our history. He’s paid to be. And I’m sure Mr. Cross has told you of our purpose. I believe you possess all the information you require. You have no gaps.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry Mr. Fields. I have nothing further to offer other than what Mr. Cross has already told you. Any further conversation will only prove counter-productive.”
“You’ve nothing more to add?” I gave her an appraising look. “At all?”
The narrowing of her eyes made them look even more like steel shot enclosed in flesh. “Appearances to the contrary, we in data entry are not the nerve center of GeneSys.”
“No? Where would I find it, then?”
“I suppose Mr. Cross himself would be considered the nerve center,” she returned, her tone remaining aloof. “Not only is he the founder of our company, he is its driving force. His vision has become ours. And as I previously stated, this department is only for data entry.”
“Fair enough. Then I need see some of that data.”
That seemed to throw her. “Sir?”
“Did I stutter? I want to see your files. Now.”
She blinked. “Surely you’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Not knowing you, I have no idea.” Before I could reply she said, “I’m quite familiar with the parameters of the EPA, and I know they do not include a company like ours having to provide carte blanche access to confidential data that has nothing to do with environmental issues.” Again she regarded me. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Fields?”
I blew out a breath. “No ma’am, thank you. You’ve been a peach.”
“Then I’ll bid you good day. I’ll inform Mr. Cross of your visit.” With that she returned to her computer, her attitude dismissing me as if I’d never been there at all.
Well. Now what? I’d thought I could get useful information from someone in this department. Maybe I could, but it was a cinch that person wasn’t going to be Alicia Bancroft. Still musing, I left her office, once more finding myself back out in the hall. I was shaking my head when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned.
Before me stood a Waffen SS storm trooper.
For a moment I thought I’d been transported to an alternate universe, one where Hitler’s army hadn’t been bested outside of Berlin in April, 1945. But on second glance I realized I’d made two errors. First, from the gaudy Genesis patch worn high on the man’s right shoulder, I realized he was simply another guard.
Mistake number two was that he was a she.
I blinked, momentarily stunned. The woman was gorgeous, early thirties, maybe five three, with beautiful deep, blue eyes and shimmering, pinned-back, golden hair that set off the sculpted angles and high cheek bones of her creamy complexion.
With an effort I shook off my surprise. Why wouldn’t they have female guards? The thing I needed to remember was this particular woman was an employee at Eli Cross’s genetics lab, under his employ, and obeying his orders. Ergo, until I learned otherwise, she was an enemy combatant.
Her appearance aside, I took in her attire, and now I saw what had thrown me. The similarities between this woman’s uniform and that of a Nazi’s were fleeting, but there. Her clothing was black, in contrast to the gray of the others’, and where those other guards wore simple, dark work shoes, she sported ebony combat boots.
That wasn’t the only difference. In his brown leather holster Frank Vint had carried a .38 caliber revolver of some type, possibly a Ruger or a Colt. And though I’d never seen Albert Trask out of his chair, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find him packing the same type of six-shooter as did Frank.
From the ocher butt-end of the piece sticking out of her rig, I could tell the woman I was looking at—who’d yet to speak a word—had strapped on some type of semi-automatic weapon, maybe a nine-millimeter, maybe heavier. Curious. Especially considering the greeting she gave.
“Mr. Fields?” she grinned, and I nodded. Her voice held a cute, June Allyson rasp.
Glancing into Bancroft’s open office door, I found her watching us closely.
The guard’s smile expanded. Oddly she didn’t meet my eyes, instead locking her gaze somewhere in the vicinity of my collar button. “This is a pleasure, sir.”
It was? Why? Not that I was knocking her. Other than Frank Vint or Rae Ann the waitress, she was the first person to treat me like something other than a social disease since I’d arrived.
“Yes sir,” she continued. “A real pleasure. I appreciate what you people in the EPA do. Keeping the air and water clean, I mean. I’d like to shake your hand.” Before I could reply she grabbed my right mitt in hers, shaking it lightly.
When she did I felt something slipped into my palm.
Releasing our grips, the guard’s eyes met mine at last. And what I saw there was totally unexpected.
Beseeching desperation
.
“Well … thanks.” Palming whatever it was she’d given me, I slipped it unobtrusively into my right pants pocket. Without another word the guard spun and walked away.
My brain was flying. What had just happened here?
I was climbing back on my cart when I gave another quick glimpse into Bancroft’s office. But she wasn’t looking at me. Instead she was regarding the guard’s retreating form with the strangest expression. Only then did she turn her gaze my way.
Raising one pencil-thin, black eyebrow, Bancroft’s lips twisted into a bloodless smile.
Chapter Twenty
Everybody knows that in mid-August the sun doesn’t really set until after nine p.m.. And one would think that at sunset the temperature would drop. One would be wrong. Not in this part of the country, and not at this time of year. I sat sweating in the car under the big oak tree, bored to tears, slowly baking in the humidity as I listened to the never-ending Insect Concerto for Locusts, Opus One. I was waiting for my unknown benefactor to show up.
The party line at the complex had been wrong: there was paper at GeneSys, whether Albert Trask knew it or not. Once more from my pocket I pulled the chewing gum wrapper the black-clad guard had slipped me when we shook hands. The words on it written in an obvious hasty scrawl still read the same. Sunset—big oak west. It was sunset. I was here. Where was she?
After having been given the note, I’d spent the rest of the day at GeneSys doing what I hoped were EPA-like things, peering here and gazing there and going “Yes, I see,” at appropriate times. Even so, I’d not uncovered one piece of evidence of wrongdoing I could take to anybody. At the end I was more convinced than ever the nefarious stuff, including whatever horrors Sarah Cahill was being subjected to, was being kept underground, safe from prying eyes.
On the plus side, the receptions I’d gotten at the other offices weren’t as arctic as the one Alicia Bancroft had given me. Still, it was plain the staff was anxious to have me gone. In my government persona, I wouldn’t be winning any popularity contests there in the future.
And I still didn’t have access to any kind of electronic device that could gain me entrance to one of those elevators with the red diamond emblazoned on the door.
After leaving GeneSys I’d grabbed some supper at the Good Enough Diner. Sadly, I was told Rae Ann wouldn’t be there for the dinner shift; something about having to tend her ailing mother. The meatloaf, peas, and mashed spuds the diner served weren’t bad, and at Rae Ann’s earlier suggestion that morning I had a great cup of coffee, along with the pie she’d recommended for dessert. Apple. The crust wasn’t quite as flaky as the deli at home served, but the abundance of tart fruit made up for it.
I paid the bill, and ambled out to the car I’d parked on the street and called Seth on my Blackberry. It was time to bring him up to speed.
My call was short and to the point. It only took me a few minutes to relate what had happened to date, and why I was in Harrisville. When I was done, his reply had been equally blunt: “When do you need me there, and how much firepower do you want me to pack?”
“I don’t know yet. Like I told you earlier, there’s a girl’s life at the center of this. And since I have no idea how many of the GeneSys guards are in on it, the last thing we need is to start a shooting war. But if I give you the word, be ready to rock.”
“Your call, John.” His grunt sounded dubious. “But you’re three kinds of an idiot if you think this is gonna go off as smooth as you want.”
“Maybe. Just get here fast if I need you.”
“I’ll be there,” he said simply.
I knew he would. Countless times Seth and I have gone to the mat for each other, providing whatever it took to come out on top. I didn’t need to cajole him, or rationalize what I was doing. The fact he was my friend was all I needed, and he agreed to stay flexible for the next day. I think we both knew the following twenty-four hours would tell the tale. I had no idea what shape she’d be in when I found her. And find her I would. Alive or dead, Sarah Cahill would be returned to her parents.
My next call was to Marsh. Two rings, and he picked up.
“Marsh? John. I need a favor.”
“Sure, if I can.” He’s another one who never needs explanations from me.
Quickly I outlined what I planned, and what I needed him to do.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You want me to download some topographical and geologic maps of the area onto your laptop, and then bypass elevators security, plus I’m to create some kind of diversion while you’re inside? And all this by remote control?”
“Yeah, that’s the idea.”
“Well, why don’t you ask me for something easy, like getting you access into the White House swimming pool?”
“No jokes, Marsh. Can you do it or not?”
“Maybe. Give me a minute.” It actually only took him forty seconds before he spoke again. “All right. First, downloading and sending you the maps is nothing. As for the other, let’s try this. You have a working flash drive with you, right? I hope?”
“Both it and my laptop are right here on the seat next to me in their case.”
“Good. Here’s what I want you to do. First, power up, insert the drive, and I’ll log in to your system …”
For the next three minutes he walked me through it. When he was done I couldn’t get past the simplicity of it. “Okay. You’ve just downloaded a nasty virus onto the flash drive. All I have to do when I get inside is find an unused computer and plug it in?”
“In essence, yes. I’ll use a backward tracking program to activate it to kill the power, and that may take some time. The emergency systems will come on, but with luck things will stay scrambled for a while. At least long enough for you to rescue the girl and get clear.”
“In theory.”
“In theory, yes. If you’re wanting guarantees, Johnny, I’m afraid I’m fresh out.”
True enough. It was the best I could expect. I thanked him, and then all that was left when we’d rung off was for me to head back out to GeneSys. Once there, I kept going west, looking for a big oak tree and hoping for the best.
I’d passed sycamores, pines, and maples a-plenty, but didn’t spy an oak of any great size until I’d gone another half-klick further down the road. It was then I spotted one on the left, and it was a beauty. Towering at least a hundred and fifty feet in the air, limbs piercing the cloudless sky, the scarlet oak dwarfed anything else around it. Pulling the car off the road, I drove deep under the tree’s dark green leafy canopy, shut the engine off, and waited, my shoulder holster chafing.
That had been nearly ninety minutes ago. A thought wandered by then, that of me zipping into town and bringing back some bottled water. I could sure use it, but let it go. I didn’t want to chance missing the woman.
The balmy air was oppressive, so here I sat, oily sweat tracking down my face as I watched the lightning bugs flash their “do me now” signs, and fervently wishing for a breeze.
I checked my watch again. Nearly nine-thirty, and the last of the sun was sliding past that far tree line like a lozenge down a throat. So where—
I heard the car pulling up before I saw it. Whoever it was needed not only a muffler job, but an engine overhaul. The lifters sounded like firecrackers going off as it drew near. A second later a rusted-out, ragtop Olds Cutlass, twenty years old if it was a day, wheeled up beside me. I stayed where I was, waiting.
For a moment after the driver shut it off the car dieseled loudly, clattering like somebody playing the spoons. The door slowly creaked open, and the guard I’d met before tentatively climbed out.
I did the same, and we approached each other.
The woman was clad in worn white sneakers, old blue jeans and a faded red tee shirt that showed off her curves. She looked good; at any rate she was a far cry from the way she’d appeared back at GeneSys. Dressed as she was in her civilian duds, she seemed more vulnerable than when I’d seen her earlier.
“H
ello,” I said, breaking the ice.
“Hello.” She sounded nervous. “I wasn’t sure if my note was too vague. About the big oak, I mean.” Oddly, she didn’t remark about my shoulder rig.
“It was fine. Because here I am.”
Still seemingly uneasy, she swallowed and brushed a damp strand of hair that had escaped its fastening away from her face. “Did you have any trouble finding it?”
“Nope.” I waited.
She looked around several times carefully before saying, “I guess I should introduce myself.”
I waited.
“Okay.” She softly cleared her throat and swallowed again before tentatively looking up into my eyes. The top of her head only came to my chest. “It’s Thornhill. Shelly Thornhill. Like in North by Northwest?”
I barely heard her. In spite of the situation, I found myself entranced and distracted by her beautiful blue eyes, eyes graced by dark full lashes, and by her sensuous lips and graceful neck. I shoved that away. A few more beats passed before I responded. “What?”
She gave me an odd look. “North by Northwest. The Hitchcock movie. I have the same last name as the leading man in that movie. Thornhill.”
“Son of a gun.”
She shook her slender fingers, still as jittery as a frightened colt. “But that’s not really important. You’d probably like to know why I asked you to meet me here.”
“Your guess would be right.”
“It’s just that I can’t stand it anymore.” The young woman’s eyes were haunted as they searched mine. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Not really.” Crossing my arms, I leaned against the Camry’s fender. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning.” At that moment, right behind us a semi truck rumbled past, blowing black exhaust and sounding like potatoes rolling around in a galvanized drum. “Before you get started, though, let’s take these cars further off the road.”