Linkage: The Narrows of Time (4 page)

“Thanks, Professor. I’ll ask her but I doubt
she’ll take you up on your offer. She hates to be a bother to
anyone.”

“It’s no bother. It’s the least I can do
since she always takes care of me with her delicious care
packages,” Kleezebee said, smiling. “Dorothy should really open a
bakery. She’d make a killing.”

“Everyone tells her that, but she likes
teaching at the college too much. I don’t think she’ll ever leave
that place.”

“I know how she feels. I don’t know what I
would do if I couldn’t work here every day,” Kleezebee said,
patting Drew on the back. “I’m having Bruno and his guys over for a
poker party at my apartment on Christmas Eve, if you’re
interested.”

Lucas wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t
want to disappoint his boss by saying no, but he and Drew didn’t
play poker. He knew they’d be the suckers at the table. “We
appreciate the invite, but we really don’t know much about
poker.”

“I think it sounds like fun,” Drew said to
Lucas. “Come on, let’s try it.”

“I’ll make sure there’s plenty of grape soda
and nachos for you two,” Kleezebee said.

“How much money would we need to bring?”
Lucas asked.

“We don’t play for money. We play for
vacation days off.”

That’s what Lucas needed to hear. “Okay,
then, what time should we show up?”

“The game starts promptly at eight, don’t be
late.”

“Anything else you need, Professor?” Lucas
asked, remembering Kleezebee’s heated phone call outside the
building, wondering what bombshell was about to explode. He pushed
Drew’s wheelchair to the front of the screening line.

“Yeah, there’s one more thing I need to talk
to you about. One of those goddamn suits from the Advisory
Committee is on his way over here. It’s that fricken a-hole of a
prick, Larson. God, I hate that pompous bastard. He says he wants
to see firsthand what you two are working on. I hope you don’t mind
the intrusion, but I need to give him the nickel tour.”

Lucas didn’t want the scrutiny. The last
thing he needed was some bureaucrat poking his nose around their
lab. He assumed the magazine editor’s Internet assault sparked the
inspection and wondered if Kleezebee had heard about it. “Sure.
What does he want?”

“I have no idea what his true agenda is. You
would think that even a suck-ass weasel like him would have
something else better to do on a Friday night, but apparently not.
I think he really gets off on being a total pain in my ass. You’d
never know he used to be a gunnery sergeant in the Marines.”

“When are you coming by?”

“In about thirty minutes. Don’t worry, I’ll
run interference and handle the prick.”

“Okay, no problem. Just let us know if we can
help,” Lucas said.

Kleezebee turned to walk toward the
building’s entrance door. Then he stopped and said, “Hey, I almost
forgot to tell you . . . your material finally arrived.”

“Sweet,” Lucas said, celebrating with a huge
grin.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Kleezebee said
before walking back outside the building.

The security checkpoint was monitored by
three armed security officers. The brothers were required to empty
their pockets, remove their shoes, and have their possessions
checked before walking through an x-ray scanner and a weapons
detector.

Lucas leaned in close to his brother’s ear.
“Here comes Bruno. Remember, don’t mention Mom, okay?”

Drew nodded. “Yeah, got it.”

Drew’s disability required that he be carried
through the scanners by a member of the security staff. Usually the
task was handled by Bruno Benner, a twenty-year veteran of the
campus security force. Bruno was easy to recognize, even from a
distance, given his hefty size, shaved, bald head, and neatly
groomed goatee.

Bruno removed his duty belt and other metal
objects before asking Drew, “Hey, Chief, you ready for a lift?”

Drew smiled and nodded.

Bruno lifted Drew from his wheelchair and
used his keg-sized gut to prop up and carry Drew to the security
equipment. The guard’s powerful forearms were covered with
orange-colored tattoos of ferocious-looking creatures, which came
alive whenever Bruno’s muscles were active. The body art was
partially obscured by an expensive-looking digital watch on his
right wrist. The unique timepiece was black and shaped like the
Pentagon Building with five equal-length sides, and a series of
tiny orange push buttons around its perimeter, which Bruno used for
reasons unknown to Lucas.

Just before entering the first device, Bruno
told one of his colleagues to fetch the backpack from the back of
Drew’s wheelchair and bring it through the inspection station. A
second wheelchair was waiting for Drew on the other side of
security.

“How’s that project of yours coming along,
Dr. Lucas? Did you hear Dr. Kleezebee found a replacement for Ms.
Gracie?” Bruno asked.

“Yes, DL just told us. Trevor should be
bringing her by shortly.”

Lucas thought about remaining behind for a
moment and watching the new lab tech’s first encounter with Bruno.
The guard’s ability to befriend a new acquaintance was truly
remarkable, requiring only a few minutes to probe her background
and gather details about her life and family. The same thing had
happened to Lucas the first time he’d met Bruno. Lucas began
sharing private information he never thought he’d tell anyone, at
least not outside his immediate family. Whenever he needed the
inside scoop on something, he’d ask Bruno. The man was an
information station and seemed to have the lowdown on everyone.

Once through screening, Bruno deposited the
younger Ramsay into the waiting wheelchair. “There you go, Chief,
safe and sound.”

Drew thanked him for the ride with his
customary knuckle-bump hand gesture. He turned around in his seat
and checked that his backpack was properly hung over the
handles.

Bruno realigned his belt’s position, raising
it up along his waistline, before leaning back and rubbing his
oversized belly. “Now that I’ve had my exercise for the day, I
think I might take a break to get my chocolate fix. Obviously, I
need it to maintain my girlish figure.”

Lucas laughed at the man’s worn-out gag even
though he had heard it a dozen times.

The security team’s break room, which also
doubled as a locker room during shift changes, was only fifteen
feet inside the checkpoint, along the right side of the lab’s main
hallway. Lucas had seen the room’s vending machines, which were
stocked with candy bars and other junk food.

“Dr. Lucas, how’s your dear sweet mother
doing these days?” Bruno asked.

Lucas fought the urge to release too much
personal information. “Pretty good. The doc says she can go back to
work in January.”

“That’s great news. I’ll bet she’s tired of
being cooped up in that house. Be sure to tell her I said hello and
I’m looking forward to more of her delicious fudge bars.”

Lucas responded with a quick nod, hoping not
to be caught in yet another long-winded conversation with the
guard. They left Bruno behind and headed for their lab.

Their assigned workspace was located at the
far end of the science lab, through a maze of interconnecting
corridors five hundred feet away. They would have to pass two dozen
lab doors—many without windows—plus a sprinkling of restrooms,
storage rooms, and utility closets.

Security was tight to protect the sensitive
research being conducted throughout the building. A security
card-reader controlled access to each lab and was installed a few
inches above the project number.

When they rounded the final corner, they saw
that there were three silver-colored boxes sitting just outside the
double automatic swing doors that led into their lab. The
containers were about the size of a microwave oven and labeled with
blue print that said
U.S. DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE
. Each box
was wrapped with three evenly spaced strips of yellow security
tape.

Two imposing Marine guards armed with
shoulder-slung rifles and unyielding attitudes stood next to the
boxes. The taller soldier, a first lieutenant by his insignia, was
holding a red briefcase and fussing with the handcuff fastened
around his left wrist.

Chapter
4

Relegation

Lucas wondered how the soldiers had been able
to pass through security with their weapons in hand. Bruno’s
scanning equipment must have lit up like a child’s face on
Christmas morning.

“Which of you is Dr. Ramsay?” the lieutenant
asked.

Lucas raised his hand and held up his ID. The
lieutenant nodded once and then removed a written manifest from the
briefcase. He handed it to Lucas.

“Project AG-356-12. Yes, that’s correct.
Looks like it’s all here. Do I need to sign for it?”

“Yes, sir. Just sign the form on the line at
the bottom.”

Lucas pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket
and signed it. The Marine took the document, put it in his
briefcase, and the two marched in unison the opposite way down the
hall toward the newly completed NASA annex. Not a single misstep
the entire way.

“Drew, did you see where they went?”

“Yeah. Kleezebee didn’t say this stuff was
from NASA, did he?”

“Not that I remember. But it doesn’t matter
to me; I’m just glad it’s here.”

Drew snatched the manifest from his brother
and looked at it. “Me, too. I’m tired of running simulations; we
needed this stuff months ago.”

Lucas bent over and tested the weight of the
closest box. “It’s heavier than it looks.” He wondered how the two
Marines had carried the containers. They were both taller and
stronger than he was, but still, they must have had help. “Hang on
a minute while I find a dolly. There has to be one around here
somewhere.”

“I think there’s one in Griffith’s lab. He
usually works all night on Fridays and should still be there.”

Dr. Griffith Davies, a renowned
astrobiologist, specialized in the origin and evolution of life in
the universe. He held PhDs in chemistry, molecular biology,
physics, and astronomy.

“Jesus, that guy drives me crazy. He never
shuts up and is always trying to ingratiate himself,” Lucas
said.

“That’s because he has a little man-crush on
you.”

Lucas ignored the imagery swirling around his
head. “Thanks, just what I needed.”

“I think he wants you as his boy-toy.”

“Knock it off. That’s not even funny. The
guy’s not gay. You’ve seen his wife—she’s a total knockout.”

“Yes, she is.”

“It makes you wonder why she’s with such a
troll.”

Lucas wasn’t sure how Griffith managed to
land such a gorgeous trophy wife, but the man was one lucky fellow.
She was ten years younger than Griffith and had a stellar,
homegrown body that supermodels would envy. To keep her satisfied,
he assumed Griffith was packing a 10-pound wonder dog or a
plentiful balance sheet. Either way, Lucas was jealous.

Lucas stood in front of Griffith’s lab door
and planned his actions carefully. Griffith had several close
friends on the Advisory Committee, any one of which could shut his
experiment down with a single phone call. He knocked twice and took
a deep breath to steady his nerves.

Griffith answered the door, wearing a white
lab coat and cheater glasses. The toupee-wearing 40-year-old was
holding a cordless soldering gun and resin in his hands. On his
left cheek was a streak of red marker ink. Just like last time, it
stretched from just under his eye clear down to his chin. Lucas
coughed to cover up his laugh. It seemed to work.

“Hey, Lucas!” Griffith said heartily. “It’s
wonderful to see you. Do you need my help with something? Wow, you
look especially handsome today. How is your project coming along? I
hear you’re getting a new lab tech tonight. How’s your mother
feeling? What were those Marines delivering? They sure looked
impressive in their uniforms, didn’t—”

Lucas was in a rush, but couldn’t afford to
be rude. Keep it simple, he decided. “I’m fine, the project’s fine,
Drew’s fine, we’re all fine. If you’re not using it, can I borrow
your hand truck?”

“Sure, go right ahead. It’s right by my
desk.”

He kept a safe distance away from Griffith to
avoid his constant hand touches. The man smelled of cleaning
chemicals; some of them were probably toxic, even fatal. Lucas was
barely inside the door, and already his nasal passages were flooded
with the smell. He minimized his breathing.

“Do you need me to help? Did you know I work
out regularly and can lift heavy objects? You should be careful
with your back. Be sure to lift with your legs; hernias can happen
easily.”

Lucas stopped listening as Griffith continued
to ramble, talking aimlessly about something, anything, everything.
Lucas really didn’t care. He just needed to find the hand truck and
get back to Drew. Nothing else mattered. He found it right where
Griffith said it would be, spun it around with one hand to face the
door, and pushed it ahead of him. Focus on the door, nothing else,
he told himself. Just get back to Drew. He kept his head down to
avoid eye contact in fear it might extend the conversation
unnecessarily.

The hallway wasn’t far now but Griffith was
still right on his heels yapping about something. It was clear
Griffith was going to follow him into the hallway and possibly into
their lab. He needed an excuse. He turned around and held out his
hands while standing near the exit. “Sorry, but this delivery
belongs to Dr. Kleezebee and contains classified material. Nobody
else is allowed within twenty feet of it.”

“Okay, I understand. Take your time. Just
return the dolly when you’re done. I won’t need it for at least a
week. When you stop by again, we should go to lunch—”

Lucas rolled his eyes in relief when he heard
Griffith’s lab door close behind him.