the business with Ms. Stopping last winter, the press would blow this all out of proportion. I trust you will practice the utmost discretion with regard to discussing this matter with the others.”
“Of course, Doctor.”
Slattery’s swarthy scowl deepened. He held Cam’s gaze a little longer than was comfortable, then nodded and stepped back. “You’ll be going on up to your 501 office now, I presume?”
“Actually, I thought I’d give my lab a once-over before I leave, just in case there really was someone here tonight.”
The frown returned to Slattery’s brow. He could hardly forbid Cam to do precisely what their security procedures called for in such a situation, though, and the sudden vibration of the pager at the man’s waist forestalled another lecture. “Let me know personally if you find anything amiss,” he said as he pushed the response button.
Cam followed him into the hallway, then turned up the corridor toward his lab as Slattery proceeded toward the elevator.
The door to Dr. Poe’s lab stood ajar, and Cam couldn’t resist sticking his head in. What he saw shocked him. He’ d expected a few dislodged and shattered aquariums, maybe a fallen shelf or two—not total devastation. Ranks of sturdy wooden shelving had fallen toward the doorway in which he stood, one upon the other in domino effect and on both sides of the central aisle. A chaos of broken glass, shattered aquariums, overturned Rubbermaid tubs, and thrashing salamanders covered the floor beneath them.
The room was lit by the harsh illumination of two freestanding electric lamps, set up in the clearer far end of the room, needed because the ceiling fixtures had been torn loose from their bolts, parts of them dangling toward the floor where lay the rest of them. It was as if a violent wind had slammed through the near half of the room. Even the small window in the lab door had been cracked by the event.
Poe was crouched at the juncture between the main room and the entry alcove, struggling to secure a thrashing red salamander. Beside him a man in janitorial gray swept shattered glass into a dustpan. The janitor—who was not the usual stoop-shouldered, white-ponytailed night man—stood to dump his dustpan into the gray plastic garbage can between them. As the clatter of broken glass tumbling into the near-empty container filled Cam’s ears, Poe captured his salamander and flipped it into a blue storage tub nearby.
The dustpan emptied and the salamander contained, a relative silence ensued, and for the first time Cam heard the distinctive wop-wop- wop of a helicopter out in the night beyond the open door. It was a sound that always put the hair up on the back of his neck. Again the room flickered and swayed, as a sense of imminent danger jolted through him.
Poe stood up holding the tub and saw Cam in the hall doorway. He startled to a stop, his long, pale face furrowing into a scowl. “What are you doing here, Reinhardt?”
The question derailed Cam from his rising fear, though it took him a moment to collect his thoughts. “I thought you might like some help getting things back in order.”
Poe nodded at the janitor. “Thank you, but as you can see, I have help.”
Cam hesitated, scanning the wreckage. “Those shelves will be awkward to put upright with just the two of you.”
“We’re having new ones brought up.” Poe hurried toward him, glass crunching under his sneakers. “You needn’t concern yourself. We’re fine.”
Cam wasn’t exactly pushed out of the lab, but the moment he had backed into the hall, Poe closed the door in his face and turned the lock.
He stood there in surprise, thinking wryly that Slattery must not have instructed Poe about being discreet. Or perhaps he had, and the eccentric scientist thought he was obeying the injunction, even as he all but screamed, Don’t look! Don’t look! We’ve secrets to protect. . . .
Secrets to protect . . . Again the sense of danger swept through him—
“Of course, Doctor.”
Slattery’s swarthy scowl deepened. He held Cam’s gaze a little longer than was comfortable, then nodded and stepped back. “You’ll be going on up to your 501 office now, I presume?”
“Actually, I thought I’d give my lab a once-over before I leave, just in case there really was someone here tonight.”
The frown returned to Slattery’s brow. He could hardly forbid Cam to do precisely what their security procedures called for in such a situation, though, and the sudden vibration of the pager at the man’s waist forestalled another lecture. “Let me know personally if you find anything amiss,” he said as he pushed the response button.
Cam followed him into the hallway, then turned up the corridor toward his lab as Slattery proceeded toward the elevator.
The door to Dr. Poe’s lab stood ajar, and Cam couldn’t resist sticking his head in. What he saw shocked him. He’ d expected a few dislodged and shattered aquariums, maybe a fallen shelf or two—not total devastation. Ranks of sturdy wooden shelving had fallen toward the doorway in which he stood, one upon the other in domino effect and on both sides of the central aisle. A chaos of broken glass, shattered aquariums, overturned Rubbermaid tubs, and thrashing salamanders covered the floor beneath them.
The room was lit by the harsh illumination of two freestanding electric lamps, set up in the clearer far end of the room, needed because the ceiling fixtures had been torn loose from their bolts, parts of them dangling toward the floor where lay the rest of them. It was as if a violent wind had slammed through the near half of the room. Even the small window in the lab door had been cracked by the event.
Poe was crouched at the juncture between the main room and the entry alcove, struggling to secure a thrashing red salamander. Beside him a man in janitorial gray swept shattered glass into a dustpan. The janitor—who was not the usual stoop-shouldered, white-ponytailed night man—stood to dump his dustpan into the gray plastic garbage can between them. As the clatter of broken glass tumbling into the near-empty container filled Cam’s ears, Poe captured his salamander and flipped it into a blue storage tub nearby.
The dustpan emptied and the salamander contained, a relative silence ensued, and for the first time Cam heard the distinctive wop-wop- wop of a helicopter out in the night beyond the open door. It was a sound that always put the hair up on the back of his neck. Again the room flickered and swayed, as a sense of imminent danger jolted through him.
Poe stood up holding the tub and saw Cam in the hall doorway. He startled to a stop, his long, pale face furrowing into a scowl. “What are you doing here, Reinhardt?”
The question derailed Cam from his rising fear, though it took him a moment to collect his thoughts. “I thought you might like some help getting things back in order.”
Poe nodded at the janitor. “Thank you, but as you can see, I have help.”
Cam hesitated, scanning the wreckage. “Those shelves will be awkward to put upright with just the two of you.”
“We’re having new ones brought up.” Poe hurried toward him, glass crunching under his sneakers. “You needn’t concern yourself. We’re fine.”
Cam wasn’t exactly pushed out of the lab, but the moment he had backed into the hall, Poe closed the door in his face and turned the lock.
He stood there in surprise, thinking wryly that Slattery must not have instructed Poe about being discreet. Or perhaps he had, and the eccentric scientist thought he was obeying the injunction, even as he all but screamed, Don’t look! Don’t look! We’ve secrets to protect. . . .
Secrets to protect . . . Again the sense of danger swept through him—
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