The Council of Ten

by Jon Land

  Pam wondered what words Drew would send dancing across the black void of her terminal. She had so many questions for him, a horrible sense of dread shadowing them all.

  Come on, Drew, make contact!

  The Georgetown computer center was a familiar building to Drew. It had changed little since he had left the university, and thankfully the security procedures remained lax. His old college ID, which he had never taken from his wallet, gained him entry past a student security guard and he headed immediately for one of the banks of terminals, specifically the one equipped with telephone modem jacks. The modems provided access to other computers scattered across the university community. Theoretically, without a complex access code it was impossible to contact a computer outside of the loop. But there were ways around this, especially if the call was local in destination. No matter how many fail-safe measures programmers attempted to plug in, it wasn’t hard to plug them out.

  Saturday night was traditionally slow in the computer center and the terminals equipped with modems were all deserted. Drew sat down behind one, switched the machine on, and punched in the proper access codes. The computer screen sprang to life. A few buttons later and he had initiated the modem procedure. The machine told him it was ready to achieve interface.

  Drew dialed his own number into the keyboard.

  Pam watched the green letters streak across the terminal board, centering themselves.

  DOING ANYTHING SPECIAL TONIGHT, PRETTY LADY?

  And she typed:

  YES. WORRYING MY ASS OFF. ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?

  Drew’s answer was immediate.

  I’VE BEEN BETTER BUT THINGS COULD BE WORSE.

  WHAT HAPPENED IN FLORIDA?

  Drew hesitated and ran his hands briefly over his face. Even over computer, there was no simple way to explain it.

  He typed:

  I CAN’T TELL YOU EVERYTHING NOW. MOST OF IT CENTERS AROUND MY GRANDMOTHER. THEY KILLED HER.

  WHO?

  LONG STORY.

  Drew’s screen held those words for ten long seconds until Pam’s next question flashed across it.

  DID YOU KILL THOSE MEN?

  No hesitation:

  JUST ONE OF THEM AND ONLY BECAUSE HE TRIED TO KILL ME.

  WHAT ABOUT TRELANA?

  TRELANA’S NOT DEAD. THE MURDERED MAN WAS A DOUBLE. I’VE MET WITH THE REAL TRELANA. WE’RE ON THE SAME SIDE.

  I DON’T UNDERSTAND.

  Drew could feel Pam’s anxiety even over the line.

  WHAT DO THEY SAY TRELANA DOES FOR A LIVING?

  REAL ESTATE AND CONSTRUCTION.

  NO. HE IS A DRUG LORD. COCAINE MOSTLY.

  WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR GRANDMOTHER?

  SHE SMUGGLED FOR HIM. HER AND THREE OTHER OLD LADIES. I WAS MADE TO BELIEVE TRELANA KILLED HER. BUT HE DIDN’T. SOMEONE ELSE DID. THE SAME PEOPLE WHO ARE WATCHING YOU NOW.

  A pause and then:

  THAT’S CRAZY.

  NO. IT MAKES PERFECT SENSE. EXCEPT IT WASN’T REALLY COCAINE THE GRANDMOTHERS WERE SMUGGLING. BUT THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE CONCERNED THOUGHT IT WAS, INCLUDING TRELANA HIMSELF.

  I’M CONFUSED.

  SO AM I. I’VE THOUGHT THIS THING OUT A THOUSAND TIMES AND I STILL CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF IT. BUT I’VE GOT SOME OF THE WHITE POWDER THAT THE GRANDMOTHERS THOUGHT WAS COCAINE. I’VE GOT TO FIND OUT WHAT IT IS. IT’S THE KEY.

  KEY TO WHAT?

  Now it was Drew’s turn to hesitate.

  MOSTLY TO FINDING MY GRANDMOTHER’S KILLERS BUT ALSO TO KEEPING US ALIVE. SHE WAS USED. I WAS USED. TRELANA WAS USED. LOTS OF OTHERS TOO.

  WHY NOT GO TO THE POLICE?

  IT’S NOT SAFE. THE ENEMY IS EVERYWHERE. THEY TRIED TO KILL ME IN NASSAU.

  WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN NASSAU?

  FOLLOWING THE POWDER’S TRAIL. EVERYONE WHO’S TOUCHED IT SEEMS TO BE DEAD. A POWERFUL FORCE IS BEHIND ALL THIS AND THE POWDER IS OUR ONLY WAY TO FIND OUT WHO THEY ARE AND WHAT’S GOING ON.

  OUR???????????????????

  I NEED YOUR HELP TO ANALYZE IT.

  DIFFICULT SINCE WE CAN’T MEET.

  I CAN GET YOU THE POWDER. THERE’S A WAY.

  YOU SAID THERE WERE MEN WATCHING ME.

  ALL THE TIME. PROFESSIONALS FOR SURE.

  THEN HOW?

  I’VE GOT IT FIGURED. WHAT IS THE BUSIEST TIME IN THE LIBRARY TOMORROW?

  EARLY AFTERNOON.

  ONE O’CLOCK?

  YES.

  GOOD. GET THERE MUCH EARLIER. MAKE SURE YOU STEP INTO THE LEFT-HAND ELEVATOR BETWEEN 12:59 AND 1:00 EXACTLY. UNDERSTAND?

  YES. WHY?

  THE TIMING IS CRUCIAL. YOU’LL SEE WHY TOMORROW.

  I GUESS WE SHOULD SYNCHRONIZE OUR WATCHES.

  Pam tried to quip, but humor traveled poorly over computer lines.

  NOT A BAD IDEA.

  YOU’LL BRING ME THE POWDER.

  ONLY IF YOU’RE SURE YOU STAND A CHANCE OF FIGURING OUT WHAT IT IS.

  WITH AN M.A. IN CHEMISTRY, I’VE WASTED A LOT OF MONEY IF I CAN’T.

  Total silence filled the small cubicle in which he was perched, and Drew found himself missing the click-clack of the terminal keys. He waited for Pam to say something, mostly because he could think of nothing else to say himself.

  She typed: I LOVE YOU, DREW.

  I LOVE YOU TOO.

  The hours of sitting before her carrel Sunday morning proved agonizing for Pam. There was no way she could concentrate on her work, and yet she had to appear to be doing so to make sure the men watching her did not become suspicious. She gazed at open books mindlessly, turning pages and jotting down senseless notes at regular enough intervals.

  Finally, 12:30 came. Less than a half hour to go, but these minutes promised to be the most agonizing of all. They passed with dreadful slowness, each second on her digital watch seeming to take a minute. At last it was 12:55, her instructions from Drew explicitly directing her to enter the left-hand elevator within five minutes. Soon he would hand over the mysterious white powder. They would have time to talk, he promised, thanks to distraction.

  What distraction?

  Pam started for the elevator bank. She had timed the walk from her carrel precisely upon arriving that morning. Not too fast and not too slow. Do nothing that makes them suspicious… .

  She pressed the down arrow with her left hand, book bag held tightly in her right.

  Wait for the left-hand compartment.

  The one on the right opened. She ignored it, pretending to drop her book bag. She bent to retrieve its contents as the elevator’s doors closed. Rising, she pressed the down arrow again and stole a glance at her watch: 12:59 and thirty seconds.

  Oh God, hurry!

  A bell toned and the down arrow flashed over the left-hand compartment. The door slid open and Pam stepped in. The doors had only closed halfway again when she noticed Drew pressed up against the front with his frame covering the number board. A finger was perched across his lips—silence. The elevator began its descent.

  Suddenly there was a grind and a squeal. The compartment throbbed to a halt, shaking Pam against the wall. The lights died. One red bulb flashed on, providing the illumination.

  “Drew!” she gasped.

  He found her and held her. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “It’s all right. This is my distraction.”

  “What?”

  “I paid someone to cut power to the elevators at exactly one o’clock. We’ve only got three minutes.”

  Pam gazed into Drew’s eyes through the dull red light and hugged him tight.

  “I’m so damned scared.”

  “So am I.” And he eased her gently away from him. “We haven’t got much time.”

  Drew stepped back and reached into his flight bag, extracting a thick clear plastic bag packed with fine white powder.

  “Cocaine,” Pam muttered.

  “That’s only what it’s supposed to be. Like I said. Can you get into the lab tonight?”

  “Sure. I’ve got my entry card. I go there lots of nights.”

  �
��Perfect,” he said, squeezing the package into her book bag. “Make sure you don’t get caught with this,” he added with a smile. “Might be hard to explain.”

  Despite herself, Pam smiled, too. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  “It’s almost over. Once we know what the powder is, the authorities will have to listen to me, to everything I say. It’s my insurance policy against—” He stopped abruptly.

  “Against what?”

  “We haven’t got time.”

  “Answer my question.”

  Drew sighed. “They tried to kill me in Miami after I got in from the Bahamas.”

  “Oh God … Drew, let’s take the powder to the police. Please.”

  “No, you don’t understand. They can get to me there. I’d be a sitting duck. That was the plan when I was in Miami the first time. Trelana told me so.”

  “You’re not making sense!”

  “It’s the best I can do.” He hesitated, easing his hands back over her shoulders. “I’m going to give you a telephone number. You’ll have to memorize it. When you’ve figured out what the powder is, call the number from the lab. I’ll be waiting all night.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’ll meet you inside to get the powder back.”

  “But how will you get in?”

  “There’s a rear service entrance that leads into a cellar. Always locked but easily picked. I know the building. I studied it this morning.”

  “Christ …”

  “We’ll need a code,” Drew continued. “A way you can warn me you’re in trouble when you call.”

  “Something I say, you mean?”

  “No, something you don’t say. Added words would only raise the suspicions of whoever’s watching or listening.” He thought briefly. “If everything’s okay and it’s safe for me to come, say ‘I love you’ at the end. If it’s not safe, leave it out.”

  “Simple enough.”

  “One more thing, whatever this stuff is, I’ve got a pretty good idea that it’s dangerous. Use extreme caution.”

  “Our isolation lab’s one of the best in the country. And I’ll use the Hands.” She looked at him closely, red emergency lighting giving his face a strange tinge. “Drew, you …”

  Pam stopped because she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell him that he had changed, that he wasn’t the same person who had left for Florida what seemed such a short time before. Yes, he’d been through a lot and looked ragged because of it. But Pam felt sleep and rest could do little to ease the problem, for it extended much deeper.

  “Hold me,” she said.

  And Drew did. Then the lights flashed on again and the compartment jolted back into its descent. The lights, however, made little difference. Pam still felt as if she were held in the arms of a stranger.

  “An elevator, you say?” Teeg rasped, stroking his chin with his hook.

  Corbano nodded. It was cloudy in Miami and these were the days he hated most of all. A biting wind had come up and rain was in the forecast. Nevertheless, he had stubbornly spent the day out by the pool, hoping to coax whatever rays he could through the clouds.

  “As near as we can figure,” he told Teeg. “Presumably Jordan used the opportunity to slip his girl friend the powder. Convenient that she’s working on her doctorate in chemistry.”

  “For Jordan as well as us,” added Teeg. “More for us.”

  “We might have had Jordan in the library, but he must have emerged on a different floor than the girl. We didn’t have enough people there to cover everything. Of course, we could move on the girl now, but that would net us only the powder. We must have Jordan, too, and she’s our best chance to get him.” Corbano’s eyes said the rest for him.

  Teeg rose from the lounge chair. “I’ll call you from Washington.”

  Chapter 26

  PAM APPROACHED THE chemistry building just after eleven o’clock Sunday night. Officially at such an hour the building was closed, even graduate students prohibited from entry. But for those with a rare electronic access card, entry could not be denied no matter what the time. Careful not to appear interested in the sights and sounds around her, Pam climbed the steps and inserted her card into the slot. A red light flashed and the front glass door swung mechanically open. Book bag in hand, Pam closed it behind her and headed for the main laboratory.

  The lighting in the corridors was minimal, and she didn’t want to attract undue attention from George Washington security by flicking switches needlessly. She knew this building well enough for the lighting to suit her. The silence was deadliest of all, broken only by the clicking of her boot heels against the hard floor.

  Pam repeated the card insertion process when she reached the main laboratory and waited until the door was safely closed behind her before she activated the main overhead lighting. Since the lab had no windows, there was no reason to fear that her actions would be noticed from the outside.

  The fluorescents illuminated a huge display of dials and gauges, of computer terminals and controls, centered primarily against the wall directly across from the entrance. The other walls were lined with various monitors, CRTs, and ever-whirling memory banks. Since the sensitive experiments carried out here often employed a large risk factor, the main lab was actually composed of two rooms linked electronically and visually. Pam approached the main console in the control room and flicked a switch.

  The wall before her parted like curtains to reveal a ten-foot-high window of foot-thick glass looking into the inner lab where the experiments were actually carried out. The glass ran from waist level to within a foot of the ceiling to permit ample visual access of all that was about to transpire. Another two switches and the lighting within the inner lab sprang to life.

  The inner lab at first glance looked far more simple than the control room. A series of white lab tables were scattered throughout, the largest directly in the center. The far wall contained neatly stacked shelves of various chemicals more commonly associated with such a lab, while the left side wall was lined with covered cubicles housing a variety of lab animals. Pam hated using animals for her experiments, avoided it at all costs, but tonight was an exception. Her only consolation was that whatever happened within, the airtight seal would keep her safe in the outer lab.

  The inner lab was accessible from the control room in only two ways. The first and most obvious was a heavy, steel-reenforced door eight fleet to the left of the control board. The second was a small slot just to her right built into the console. She opened the slot and drew out a drawer that once closed was accessible only from the inner lab. Next, with calm reserve, she lifted the plastic bag full of the mysterious white powder and placed it in the drawer, slid the drawer inward, and finally made sure the slot was locked firmly in place.

  Next she turned back to the control board and activated the Hands. The soft whirl of machines was comforting. Her CRT screen flashed the word READY, and inside the inner lab the Hands sprang to life. They were part of an incredibly complex piece of machinery, the Hands themselves (pincers actually) being the simplest mechanism to understand. They were extended from arms made from steel bands, which were surprisingly supple thanks to sockets modeled after human joints. They were maneuverable as well due to long, similarly agile attachments extending from the ceiling, which permitted the Hands range of the entire lab.

  Using the central joystick, Pam lowered the mechanism to the proper height over the white experiment table and twisted a second, smaller joystick about so that the right Hand slid out in the direction of the drawer in which she had placed the powder. Of all the abilities of the Hands, perhaps their greatest was the range of being able to exert tremendous pressure when called upon while being agile enough to handle a single grain of sand.

  Pam had been sorely uncomfortable using them at first. The precise maneuvers made to look simple by experts defied her for months. She had realized on her own what the problem was: she had been trying to work the Hands instead of considering them an extension of her
self. Relax and just make them a part of you… .

  Within weeks, the Hands became her specialty. The men she had once sought advice from were coming to her for it.

  Pam moved her right hand under the table and fit it into what felt like a glove, which served as control for the pincers. Other mechanisms had been employed, but never with any success. People seemed to manipulate artificial hands best when using their own as guides. Pam opened the pincers, used the joystick to ease the arm forward in line with the bag, and closed the pincers gently over the top of the bag without disturbing the powder. Wasting no time, she had the pincers lift the bag from the drawer and place it gently on the main table five yards back. She held it there as she switched control over to the left pincer, easing it to the top of the bag. She let up the pressure inside the glove for more supple control and opened the seal. Both pincers were in position now and both her hands were inserted into the gloves to control them.

  The extension process had truly begun.

  As the left Hand retreated for a lab slide, the right gently pried the bag open, poked inside, and came out with a small sample of the powder, which was then agilely placed on the slide. Pam maneuvered the left pincer to the slot running to the electron microscope, treated the slide upon it properly with the right, and then moved both pincers away. She turned her attention at that point to the computer terminal on the main console, ordering up the proper program for a chemical analysis of the material.

  Seconds later, a model of the material’s molecular structure appeared on the screen. Within the helix, the computer analyzed and properly broke down the chemical composition of the powder. Pam felt her neck stiffen as she leaned forward to read.

  The powder’s base was a simple paste ground into its present form. The active chemical ingredients puzzled her for their simplicity. She had seen all of them before but never in such a bizarre combination. She searched her broad academic mind for a reasonable match out of a textbook, but nothing came to her. Then she asked the computer to check if such a chemical composition was on record anywhere.