Shadows in the House With Twelve Rooms

by J. Price Higgins

  Bianca stared, for once at a loss for words. Munoz tossed his head back and roared with laughter.

  "I don't think we do. Come along, Bianca. The young lady has work to do." Munoz grasped Bianca's arm and led her down the hall.

  "Who the hell does she think she is?" Bianca's voice floated back.

  "Jerico's boss, Doctor Raborman. Jerico's boss," Munoz said, chuckling.

  "You could order her to place us on the board without all this." Bianca held up the sheaf of forms, petulance rang in her tone.

  "I could," Munoz agreed. "But I won't. I suspect it would do me no good at all to make such an order. Moreover, I like it just the way it is."

  Leann listened to the voices gradually float away to silence before she resumed. She worked steadily. As she keyed her last command, a thin silver border outlined her monitor workspace. She pulled up screen after screen of information. Each stood outlined. She smiled. The silver beading was now an integral part of the console. Doctor Jensen could never again come into the system, but the system could go to Doctor Jensen thanks to Jerico's Omega link. There would be no clandestine sending. Ellery would not ever approve of that. Still, better safe than sorry. Besides, what belonged to Doctor Jensen didn't need to be in Jerico's files.

  She hit the stroke sensor and typed "TESTING" then pressed the insert key. A tiny dot at the top of the screen flashed. The message was locked to send. So far, so good, she thought. The stroke sensor prepared Jerico to isolate, the insert key instructed him to send normal. Without that code key, whatever was on the screen would be sent. However, the computer would also send a shutdown warning.

  "Don't fail me, Jerico," she mumbled to herself as the index finger on her right hand poised above the delete key. With the fingers of her left hand crossed, she tapped the key. The printing disappeared. The border flicked green for an infinitesimal second and back to silver.

  Leann reached over and patted her security console. "You're a good boy, Jerico."

  Already, she felt better. Just knowing that in an emergency, she could reach the woman she loved and respected made all the difference in the world.

  Chapter 30

  Bianca

  Munoz patted the black dog then rubbed the base of its ears. "Good dog," he said. Reaching down, he lifted one paw onto his lap and carefully examined the healing flesh. "How long was he in the tank, Bianca?"

  "Three months. As you can see, he's perfect in every way except the paws." She leaned over and let the dog lick her hand. "Those may have had to come off if I'd left him much longer."

  Munoz stood. Strolling to the large tank in the corner, he lifted the tag attached to the cylinder to read the bold scrawl.

  "Your street woman?"

  Bianca nodded.

  He let the tag drop. "Is she well protected? You've made allowances for skin texture and no body hair?"

  "I've made all the necessary adjustments, Raphael. I want this freezing to be successful far more than you do."

  "I doubt that, my dear." Focused on the tank, he tapped a finger against his lower lip for a moment then said, "I think perhaps a year before this one is revived—yes, a year at least."

  Bianca's eyebrow arched. "I planned six months for her. A year for the next one."

  He patted the tank. "One year. If mortality is to become a state of the past and immortality a promise for the future, it is imperative that we know what happens to the brain and other organs after a prolonged stay in the tank. If all goes well, we're six months ahead of schedule—if not, you'll have gained valuable information and we haven't lost time when you try again. Besides, the fewer specimens you have walking around, the better. Less chance there will be any stray talk going out before We're ready." He walked back to the dog. "Who knows about him?"

  "No one. His container looked like an ordinary industrial oxygen tank and was marked as such."

  "Jensen?"

  Bianca shook her head. "No. I'm sure of that. As much as she squawked about the ape over there, she would've outdone the fire alarms if she'd known about the dog."

  "I want you to present your findings to the scientific community now, but don’t mention the woman. The dog is proof enough. It's time to branch out into a little sideline." The corner of his mouth lifted. "A lucrative sideline if I know human nature. Your friend George can help with the promotion, if he's still able."

  "My friend George will be able for several—" A knock on the open lab door interrupted her.

  "Do I hear my name being bandied about in here?"

  Munoz whirled. "Come in, come in. Yes, Bianca was just saying you are more than capable of helping me with a couple of promotions I have in mind."

  "Oh. I thought perhaps she was extolling my other virtues." He smirked at Bianca.

  She felt the heat in her face and knew two red spots had blossomed on her cheeks.

  "What can I help you with, Rafe?" he continued.

  Munoz looked at Bianca. "The conference room. Is it available?"

  "Of course. Leann can open it for you." With slitted eyes, she stared at her volunteer. "However, it's time George received his next shot. He'll join you shortly."

  "Christ, Bianca. It's only been an hour since the last one. What are you doing—doubling up?" George squeaked out.

  "No, my pet. Tripling," she cooed. "Now. Up on the table." Strolling to the cabinet drawers, she pulled out a cellophane wrapped syringe. "Roll up your sleeve," she said between clenched teeth.

  Munoz whistled tunelessly as he left the room.

  Bianca filled the syringe with a pale amber liquid, tapping the barrel lightly. "This one may sting a little, but all for a good cause, right?"

  "If you say so." He clenched his fist and watched the needle slide into the bulging vein.

  Bianca plunged fast and hard. She withdrew the needle quickly and whirled toward the sink. Grabbing up a small, curved, stainless steel bowl, she shoved it into George's hands.

  His eyes glazed, the pupils dilated fully.

  "Oh, jeeeezus," he wailed, his voice rising two octaves.

  He vomited.

  In the large cage at the side of the room, the ape creature clutched its arm and whimpered softly. At last, George handed Bianca the bowl, his face pale and beaded with sweat. He clung to the edge of the examining table as Bianca patted his face with a damp cloth.

  "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" She looked at her watch. "You won't need the next one until four o'clock. Two hours from now. That gives you plenty of time to talk with His Holiness."

  "What the Christ did you put in that stuff? That hurt like hell." George slipped off the table, stood on wobbly legs.

  "I don't understand it. I expected it to sting, but not-- I'll adjust the dosage downward on the next one, George. That should take care of the problem."

  "Fuck you, Bianca. There isn't going to be a next one. Give your free shots to some other stooge. I came here to do an ad campaign for your pharmaceutical division. I didn't sign up for this shit!" He staggered toward the door.

  Her dark eyes smoldered. "George?" she called out as he reached the doorway.

  "What?" He clung to the door jamb and looked over his shoulder at her smiling face.

  "The five million? You get none of it if we don't finish. You see, I had to make you part of the project in order to justify giving you free serum. It's all in the contract you signed."

  He leaned his head against the jamb. A moment later he shuffled out without speaking.

  "See you at four," she yelled triumphantly. "Don't be late."

  Whistling, she cleaned vomit from the white tiled floor. Down the hall, a door slammed shut. That would be Doctor Carona, she thought, pausing to listen. For a change, all remained quiet. This time, he had seen fit not to also bellow down the hall his opinion of her obvious pleasure at the physical reaction experienced by her research subject. The corner of her mouth curled up. Her colleagues viewed the infliction of misery as a permissible luxury in certain research programs—necessary for the glor
y of science, not something to be enjoyed. Pious bastards.

  Several minutes later, she rose from her knees and surveyed the room. Satisfied, she tossed the empty syringe into the autoclave and the damp cloth into a waste bag. Then she pulled out the file labeled "George Kayman" and marked down the time, the serum number, the dosage George had received, and detailed notations of all effects.

  Her gaze strayed to the caged ape. "He's coming through this nicely, don't you think?"

  The creature hunkered into the far corner of the cage.

  "Better than expected," she continued, tapping her pen against the folder. "You didn't get a dose like that until your tenth month."

  A soft "woof" from the second cage interrupted her soliloquy. Her thoughts jumped to Munoz and his command to immediately notify the scientific community of the successful freezing and revival of the dog. I was right—he's ambitious and shrewd. He intends to make the future happen today and I'll be right beside him. Nothing can stop us from owning the world now that Ellery Jensen is out of my way.

  She jerked forward. Ellery Jensen. Yanking open the side drawer, she rummaged through folders. Her brows drew down in a frown of concentration. I must have left the damn thing in my quarters, she thought, slamming the drawer shut and striding from the room.

  As she neared her bungalow, the rich vibrancy of Tchaikovsky's Melody floated through an open window. She smiled as she crossed the patch of lawn. Little sister must be busy with her studies; she always played Tchaikovsky when she wanted to concentrate.

  The smile still on her face, Bianca flung open the door.

  Sefura was sprawled on her stomach, her head supported by her hands, her legs waving aimlessly as she read pages from one of the small piles of paper that formed a semicircle in front of her. She glanced up when Bianca entered.

  "Hi! Finished with your meeting?"

  "Not yet, Sef. Another hour or two. What are you so engrossed in?" The older woman squatted beside her sister and brushed a stray wisp of red-gold hair behind the girl's ear.

  "Your thesis stuff on those Dakota people." Sefura's face glowed. "That Doctor Victor was really smart to be able to make those babies like he did wasn't he?" She reached for a yellowed newspaper clipping. "It says here that—"

  "Stop. Put everything back where you found it and don't you ever touch my files again."

  Sefura flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm. It was on the table and I didn't think you'd mind."

  "Well I do mind. It's none of your business."

  A tear trickled down the girl's cheek. She began placing the papers inside the manila folder.

  Bianca gathered up the stack of news clippings. Yanking the folder from her sister's hand, she shoved the articles on top. "Listen, Sef, this time there was no harm done because these are just my old notes, but you are never again to touch any files you see in this house unless I give you permission. I often bring work home with me and that folder could have contained information critical to Tartarus security." She placed the tips of her fingers beneath her sister's chin and lifted the bowed head. "Do you hear me?"

  Swiping a hand across her cheek, the girl nodded.

  Clutching the folder, Bianca strode to the open door. She paused. "Sef?"

  Her sister looked up.

  "You are right, Victor Dakota was a smart man. But I'm just as smart. I can do everything he could do—and more."

  "I know." A tremulous smile lifted the corners of Sefura's mouth.

  Back in her office, Bianca opened the folder and set the news clippings aside. She picked up the first page and began to read. She knew what she wanted. She wanted that fish buried in the whale belly of Dakota accomplishment. That elusive something that looked like everything else—but wasn't.

  "Can we interrupt?

  With a frown of annoyance, she looked up, astonished to see Munoz and George standing beside her desk. "That was a short conference."

  "It's four o'clock," Munoz said. "I believe there is serum to administer." He nodded toward his companion who stood with downcast eyes.

  "Yes. Of course. I didn't realize the time." She turned to George. "I'm sorry about what happened this morning, George. In hopes I could eliminate some of the aftereffects you and a few others have experienced, I did change the formula some, but it shouldn’t have caused the kind of reaction you experienced. That worries me a little. I need to give you a thorough examination. You know where the gowns are."

  George nodded and walked away. When the dressing room door clicked shut, Munoz turned to Bianca.

  "You're not moving too fast, are you?" His black eyes glittered.

  "Perhaps, but it's necessary. He's having second thoughts about the program. The serum he's received so far will produce an alteration that he won't be happy about, but he'll still be a man. Once this series takes hold, it will be too late for him to back out. His cell structure will demand the shots and he will no more be able to refuse that demand than he is able to refuse breathing." She prepared two needles, one filled with the amber liquid, the other filled with an iridescent pink substance.

  "If it's too fast?"

  "I'll know in sixty days. If it is, I guess I'll have to find another volunteer."

  "I didn't realize so many vagrants had his specialized expertise."

  Ignoring his sarcasm, she said, "This set won't be pretty to watch. Do you want to stay?"

  Munoz glanced at the cage where the ape creature lay curled against the bars, legs pulled tight against its chest. Bianca lifted the tray with the needles and the creature began to shake its misshapen head. Saliva frothed at the corners of its mouth.

  "I'm not sure about this, Bianca. I need those subliminal tapes and you don't know how the serum will affect a human. If his mind goes—"

  "Genetics has always been a learning experience, Raphael." She shrugged her shoulders. "In this case, however, I'm working with two species that are alike in many respects. I know exactly what will happen."

  "George isn't the same as that ape. He's certainly aware of your animal experimentation. If the same kinds of changes manifest in him, he's going to know that you're not giving him virility shots—he's not stupid. What then? With that temper of his, God knows what he might do."

  "I know what I'm doing." Setting down the tray, she moved the vials a fraction of an inch forward before answering. "Have you ever heard of Multiple Sclerothenia Myositis?"

  "Multiple what?"

  "Sclerothenia Myositis. MSM for short. It's a rare neuromuscular disease."

  "And?"

  "In it's early to mid stages, MSM exhibits almost exactly the same symptoms that the serum will produce in George—in the beginning. He's already complaining about numbness in his hands. When the first physical changes begin to show, a subtle hint to him that something's amiss will be enough. When I explain what I've found, he'll yell and scream all right, but not because of the serum. He'll demand a cure and it's going to take time for me to find one."

  He stared at her, his face unreadable.

  "Like I said, Raphael—I know what I'm doing. Now, are you staying or not?" Again, she lifted the tray and the ape creature moaned.

  "I have packing to do, my plane leaves for Rome in a few hours," Munoz said from the door. "I'll leave you and your associate to your . . . business."

  Bianca jerked her head toward her desk where the Dakota folder lay. "Ellery's daughter married last week and something happened I think you should know about. Meet me in the conference room at five."

  The lab door had no sooner clicked shut behind Munoz than George stepped out of the dressing room and shuffled forward. His mouth turned down when he saw the needle tray. Still, he scooted onto the table.

  She examined his eyes, listened to his lungs, and checked his blood pressure. It did not escape her that his gaze never left the amber-filled syringe. Bianca smiled and her hand reached out.

  The pink one first.

  Chapter 31

  Munoz

  Munoz tried to block out t
he sounds of vomiting and screeching pain that followed him down the hall. His own stomach churning, he hurried past three open lab doors with men and women moving between sinks, tables, and instruments. No one looked up, no one seemed to hear. Or if they did, they were so inured to it that it meant no more to them than the sounds of a ticking clock.

  Outside, he leaned against the building. Small wonder Victor Dakota chose this island for his facility, he thought. If the public knew what really went on out here, they'd raze these buildings and hang everyone connected with the place. I'll have to make certain Our ownership is never learned.

  He strolled to the edge of the cliff and stared down at roiling water pounding against rocks. A raucous caw brought his gaze upward; two gulls wheeled and lifted with graceful abandon, then dove as one toward the water. Though they seemed to barely tip the waves, each rose with a flapping fish in its beak. Somehow, they reminded the Pontiff of himself and the woman he'd just left. Clasping his hands behind his back, he focused on the distant horizon. His body tipped gently back and forth, his thoughts filled with Bianca Raborman.

  He recalled the report in which she stated that she had found the perfect test candidate for the transformation serum; an alcoholic vagrant with above average intelligence, she'd said. Whatever the man had done to earn his fate Munoz didn't know, but he had heard enough to know that Bianca's choice of George Kayman was no accident; she had made a concerted effort to find this particular man. She intended to develop a superman, a humanoid creature with such fighting strength and skill that nothing could stand in its way. George would ultimately be that creature. The first of many, he had no doubt. A fitting prelude to the Plan's completion. He turned away from the blue water and strolled toward Concentration Point.

  A strong, ambitious woman. She wants power, he thought, and she understands how greed works, understands how to make it work in her favor. If successful, what she was doing would bring every military organization in the world to her doorstep, each trying to outbid the other for her favor. That would never do. Never do at all.