Walking to stand beside him, Kat began lifting volumes and stacking them on the floor. “What are you thinking?”
“That this column is half again as wide as the others. And that Felix was a canny old son of a gun who would have built himself an escape route. No one who works that hard to keep others out forgets to leave a bolt-hole.” He dumped armfuls of encyclopedias to the rug, unconcerned about spines or age. “I think this column is a doorway. And a way out.”
Keeping pace, Kat moved more books to the floor, though she was careful to set them gently on the ground. Outside, the shots had ceased, and the thudding was intermittent. “A way out to a tunnel that leads to the beach.”
“Yes.” Sebastian cleared a full shelf but found nothing unusual. Undaunted, he selected the row above. “The blueprints showed a crawl space beneath this room. On paper, it simply appears as wasted room. But if there’s a tunnel, it’s the perfect site for smuggling in artifacts that are brought in by boat.”
Working in tandem, they quickly cleared the shelves. Sebastian slid his arm behind the last shelf and tumbled the volumes to the floor. A key panel glowed amber, awaiting the entry of a code. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Kat started to speak, only to hear the rev of an engine. “Sebastian?”
“Yes?” He focused and heard the sound. A sharp look at the window confirmed his suspicions. “The kitchen. They intend to drive their car into the kitchen.” He dragged her to stand in front of the panel. “Enter the code, Kat.”
“I don’t know it.”
“Take a guess. And make it fast.”
Without arguing, she typed in a succession of words. Quina. Cinchona. Juan-Carlos. Borrero. She used permutations and variation, all the time aware of the sound of metal crashing into brick and stucco.
A third slam, and a fourth had the foundation beneath their feet shaking. In two more strikes, Sebastian figured, they’d have company. And they’d die. “Come on, Kat. I know you can figure this out.”
She exhaled sharply, clearing her mind. Then, as the casement windows rattled violently, signaling the impending arrival of the thugs, it hit her—1.5.3.8.
She pressed the star key on instinct, and the amber flashed bright green. The panel slid open on silent rails.
“Go,” Sebastian commanded, turning to gather their stuff.
“My books,” pleaded Kat. “They’re on the coffee table.”
“Move!” Sebastian shouted as he tossed them inside. He had no idea how long the door would stay open. On cue, it began to slide shut. Shoving the bag in front of him, he slipped inside as the kitchen door gave way.
The panel closed, plunging them into darkness. Sebastian turned, yanked the dagger from the bag, and drove the blade into the exposed circuitry. With a sizzle, the wires died.
“What if you’re wrong, Sebastian? What if this doesn’t lead to the beach?”
“Then, darling, we’ll have a lot of time to read your books.”
Chapter 15
Fluorescent light flickered unsteadily overhead, filaments crackling as they connected. Ten seconds later, Sebastian stood with his mouth agape. “Well.”
“I had no idea.” Kat moved first, walking forward to the short flight of steps that dropped down from the landing where they stood. The steps, like the room, shone bright in the room, the result of the metal sheeting that covered every free surface. Which, she thought hazily, was appropriate for a state-of-the-art laboratory. Sebastian cupped her elbow as they descended to the tiled floor. “It’s beautiful,” she said, swiveling her head to take it all in.
Lab tables stretched across the length of the cavernous space, the silver surfaces glimmering where the light fell. Built as a hexagon, the six walls met at an angle, welded together along invisible seams. Three short walls comprised the rear of the facility, and two longer walls extended along either side, each with doors leading to other sections. The vertical plane immediately opposite the hidden door sported a broad desk with two sleek black computers and a single monitor.
Above the computers, a corkboard held dozens of scraps of colored paper, the scribble across them unintelligible from a distance. Immediately to the right, she noted a workstation with more books piled high, and several notebooks arranged on a low shelf. The wall on the left bore a utilitarian sink with a row of medicine chests at eye level. Beside the sink sat an industrial refrigerator with Plexiglas doors.
She returned her attention to the two computers. “Something’s odd.”
Fiddling with the shorted-out keypad, Sebastian shot her an amused look. “Odder than a secret bunker with a hidden panel?”
Kat smiled ruefully. “Yes. The computers over there. I’m going to take a closer look.”
She hurried forward. After dropping a steel bar into place, sealing the room from intruders, Sebastian followed. At the edge of the desk, she halted. The two computers bore the same logo, but the one without the monitor had a series of slots not found on the hard drive. “Now why would Tio Felix need a server?” she asked.
“To store information he wants to hide. Or to communicate with others without storing his information on a third-party site.”
“You know computers, too?”
“Kat.” The admonishment was clear.
With a chuckle, Kat approached the desk and confirmed her observation. Wires ran from the hard drive to the server, whose lights flashed in intermittent warning. A cable led from the rear of the server, and a miniature version of the black box showed a row of options. Power. Receive. Send. Activity. Online. Standby. The orange standby light held steady.
Sebastian followed and easily recognized the cable modem. He had seen this type of setup before, in government labs where the data had to be stored off the mainframe in order to avoid hackers. “Your uncle had a very big secret to keep if he played with these.” At her look of inquiry, he explained, “This server has three layers of authentication protocol. Randomly generated cipher keys that change every twenty-four hours.”
“You’ve dealt with them before?”
“I’ve had occasion to require data stored inside one, yes.” He ran a hand over the casing, admiringly. “Took me three months to hack my way inside. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Can you figure out who he’s been talking to?”
“Absolutely.” Sebastian dropped down into the Aeron chair that faced the desk and booted the computer into action. “Why don’t you finish taking an inventory and let me know what we’re dealing with?”
Soundlessly, Kat made her way to the wall to her left, mind whirling. Connected by what she assumed were magnets, oversized renderings of flora, identical to those in the Cinchona, decorated the expanse. Turning, she saw that more images hung on the opposite side. In between, four black slabs of marble crouched in the center of the lab. Vials and tubes dotted each table, their glass containers empty. Gadgets to mea sure and weigh and spin and heat had been placed at precise stations. The surfaces had been recently disinfected and sanitized.
“He’s been experimenting recently.” Kat sniffed at a vial and set it down. She returned to the workstation with the fume hood and bottles of various sizes. “These are distillations from the plants in the Cinchona.” The clear liquid in an oblong cylinder had been labeled, as had several other extractions. “I recognize most of the labels, but there are some here that I’ve never heard of.”
Sebastian craned his neck to see where she stood. The bottles and glasses reminded him of Frankenstein’s lab. At any moment, he expected a ghoulish man to emerge, hair black with white tips. Nothing at this point would surprise him. “Are these medicines?”
“For many of the villages in Bahia and Peru, yes. The cost of modern, synthetic medicines has become astronomical. Peasants can’t afford the expense or the time it takes to get a doctor’s appointment. Homeopathic remedies have similar effects, can be produced locally, and aren’t regulated.”
“Sounds like a good ad for drug abuse to me.”
Too us
ed to the comment to take offense, Kat merely smiled. “On the contrary, few of the pharmacological plants have narcotic properties.” She scribbled onto the legal pad she’d brought with her. “But I’ve never seen some of these combinations. A diuretic and an antihistamine.” Tipping another vial into the light, she noted the genus on the sheet. “This one blends the local cure for asthma and a vermifuge.”
“Excuse me?”
“Vermifuge. It expels worms.”
“Nice.”
Kat crossed to one of the doors and pushed it open. The humidity struck her first, then the artificial light. “He’s got a green house,” she called out excitedly. She hurried inside, careful to avoid touching the plants until she’d done her evaluation. “Most of these species only grow in the rain forest.”
Deciding to check behind door number two, she entered a room that contained more equipment, including a machine she identified as a computer-controlled capillary electrophoresis system. When she wanted to use one, she had to cajole the head of the department at the local university wherever she was. The expensive machine required a cache of methanol and heat lamps to prepare the plants for extraction. Kat took a few steps to another doorway marked storage, and peered inside. Containers labeled “methanol” waited for use.
On the workstation in the extraction room, Kat cataloged more than twenty-nine vials, all infusing different plant essences into singular combinations. She’d done similar experiments in graduate school but had never attempted many of Felix’s mixtures. The systems of the body rarely benefited from a universal curative. The Holy Grail of scientists was exactly that, a solitary medicine that could address all human ills without deadly side effects.
Scientific minds had generally agreed that the achievement was impossible, and she concurred. Apparently, though, Tio Felix wanted to compound the usefulness of some homeopathic remedies.
Kat dismissed the idea, exiting to return to where Sebastian continued to manipulate the computer. “Making any progress?”
“I’m trying to access his e-mail accounts. Your uncle was deeply paranoid.”
“Apparently.” She continued her circuit of the room, wondering what else she would learn about her uncle’s secret lab.
Along the back wall where they had entered, a row of lockers protruded. Kat disengaged the latch and lifted the handle. The rectangular structure contained a horizontal bar suspending three lab coats. On the floor, two pairs of scuffed work boots sat in a straight line, the same size and brand. Inside the next locker, drawers had been installed. Reaching down, Kat pulled at the handle, revealing boxes of latex gloves. Squatting, she opened the next drawer, which had been filled with equipment. The final locker was wider and seemed to whir. Kat swung the door gingerly, and found an incubation pod.
With the hum of the lights playing in her ears, Kat stood frozen, bemused and bewildered. She’d discovered a lab more suited to a pharmaceutical company than an amateur scientist.
“Kat. Come take a look at this.”
She circled around to the computer monitor and braced herself on Sebastian’s shoulder, reading the screen. Frowning, she reread the name on the message. “Dr. Clifton Burge? At the NIH?”
“I’ve found more than seventy e-mails between them, starting three months ago.” Sebastian clicked on the screen and the name descended in rows of text. All with the same subject line. fountain of youth.
Sebastian tapped the mouse to open one of the messages. Scrolling from the bottom, she and Sebastian read an exchange between Felix and Dr. Burge.
TO: Explorer 1538
FROM: Burge, Clifton Dr.
RE: Fountain of Youth
I must have proof soon. I have located potential funding for our project, but they will not invest without a demonstration. I could reproduce a sample here if you would send me the formula. You must know that I will not betray you.
TO: Burge, Clifton Dr.
FROM: Explorer 1538
RE: Fountain of Youth
Forgive me if I am unwilling to trust in your inherent goodness, old friend. I will provide you with sufficient information to warrant their continued support of the project. I will also require assurances that our agreed-upon terms have not changed. A good faith payment should suffice.
TO: Explorer 1538
FROM: Burge, Clifton Dr.
RE: Fountain of Youth
I am not permitted to compensate you for a product that has not been tested. My investors have substantial doubts that you have come into possession of the manuscript. I have no proof that will assuage their concerns. And, please be aware, the U.S. government is not susceptible to extortion. We will purchase your product, should you demonstrate success. You have two weeks to convince me, or our collaboration will cease.
TO: Burge, Clifton Dr.
FROM: Explorer 1538
RE: Fountain of Youth
Then two weeks it shall be.
TO: Explorer 1538
FROM: Burge, Clifton Dr.
RE: Fountain of Youth
I need your report.
TO: Burge, Clifton Dr.
FROM: Explorer 1538
RE: Fountain of Youth
I have the manuscript and the formula. I require a first installment immediately. As a show of my good faith, I have attached an image and will send via post the original, which I am certain you will authenticate. $100,000 in U.S. Currency to Bank of Cayman Brac, Ltd, Account Number 201-9403-810-302. Upon receipt of payment, I will release an additional page as proof.
TO: Explorer 1538
FROM: Burge, Clifton Dr.
RE: Fountain of Youth
Document verified. Payment released.
“That’s their last communication.” Sebastian closed the message. He remained silent, waiting for Kat’s reaction.
“He was selling the Cinchona.” Turning, she propped a hip on the desk, angling to face Sebastian. Gripping the underside of the metal top, she stared out into the bunker. “Tio Felix dropped out of medical school when his father died of cancer. A year later, my grandmother died from lupus complications. He and my mother inherited a fortune from their insurance policies. Tio Felix returned to Bahia.”
“Returned? From where?”
“North Carolina. He attended Duke Medical School.”
Sebastian typed in a command that brought up the Duke University Web site. “When was he in medical school?”
“I don’t know. I’d guess 1969 or 1970. I doubt they’d keep a record of those students.”
“They’d keep a record of graduates, though.” With a series of keystrokes and clicks, Sebastian burrowed into the annals of Duke Medical School. “Bingo.”
Kat read the screen aloud. “Dr. Clifton Burge, Class of 1972.” She raised her eyes to meet Sebastian’s speculative look. “Tio Felix and Clifton Burge were classmates thirty years ago, and then they work together to create the Fountain of Youth.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I never took Felix for a fool.”
Sliding off the desk, Kat shook her head in bemusement. What she’d seen in the extraction room suddenly made sense. Her heartbeat sped up, driven by excitement. “He wasn’t a fool, Sebastian. He was brilliant. And probably right.” She felt it then, a mixture of pride and wonder and despair. “Do you know the legend of Juan Ponce de Leon?”
Sebastian swiveled around. “Sure. Came to Florida in the 1500s to find the Fountain of Youth. Died there. Obviously, he realized the Everglades was a swamp and not a magic potion.”
The legend of the Fountain of Youth had been told to her by Tio Felix time and again, an object lesson in hunting for the impossible. But perhaps not. “Ponce de Leon was one of the first Spaniards to come to the continent. His party took Cuba and southern Florida, but he died without finding the fountain. But tales of the pool that could stop death continued to make it back to Europe. Decades later, Pizarro had the same goal. He’d heard about the Incas and their empire. About how they lived far beyond mortal years.”
“Pizarro was
n’t looking for the Fountain of Youth,” Sebastian argued. “He wanted the Inca’s gold.”
“No,” Kat corrected, “Pizarro wanted the treasure of the Incas.”
His eyes narrowed in consideration. “Treasure isn’t always gold.”
“It’s Tio Felix’s answer. His final quest.” She remembered the first time he’d shown her how to tap a tree, explaining the books he made her read. She felt again the rush of exhilaration, the same speeding of her pulse as she comprehended the truth. “The Cinchona is the name used for the sap that produces the treatment for malaria.”
“Yes, I know.”
“It has a second meaning among certain descendants of the Incas.”
“What?”
“Life liquid.” How had she forgotten? “Father Juan-Carlo de Borrero fled from the Spanish conquistadors and his order because of their treatment of the Incans. He hid with a village hidden in Bahia. The villagers never spoke with others, and they had no written language. But they saved Borrero’s life. In return, he offered them a gift. A written history of their lives and their traditions. And their medicines. He called it the Cinchona.”
“Are you saying the Cinchona is a sixteenth-century homeopathic guide?” Sebastian didn’t bother to disguise his scorn. “Your uncle died for a self-help book?”
Kat recognized the skepticism, had felt it herself only minutes ago. “Tio Felix died for the Cinchona because it contained an ancient secret that Borrero tried to destroy three hundred years ago.”
Derision faded as Sebastian read Kat’s angry gaze. A manuscript worth millions. Worth a man’s life. And a formula that required a hidden bunker and a small fortune in equipment. He took a slow breath. “What is in the manual, Katelyn? What inside the Cinchona was so important that they killed Felix?”
“Life.” Katelyn met his gaze with a steady look that dared him to believe. “Father Borrero learned what Ponce de Leon and Pizarro never did. The Fountain of Youth wasn’t a place. It was a formula. And it wasn’t in Florida. It was here. In Bahia.”
Secrets and Lies Page 16