Shock (40 page)

"Damn!" Deborah cursed and hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. "I suppose we could hotwire this thing if we only knew how." She glanced down at Joanna.

"Don't look at me," Joanna said. "I have no idea, not the slightest!"

"Let's go back to that office we saw in the barn," Deborah suggested. "Maybe the keys are there."

Deborah climbed out of the truck. The women retraced their steps back to the barn, giving the helicopter another longing look as they passed through the hangar.

As they came into the barn proper, the animals became even more agitated.

"They must think it's meal time," Deborah commented. The women reached the door to the office when they heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the barn. They'd also caught a glimpse of the headlights briefly coming through the windows of the door as the car turned before coming to a stop. "Oh no! We're going to have company!" Deborah rasped.

"Get back to the stairs!" Joanna cried.

The women bolted for the stairs, but they didn't make it. The barn door was rapidly keyed open and a figure burst within. The first thing he did was snap on the all the lights, catching the women more than twenty feet from their goal. All they could do was duck behind the cartons, hay bales, and feed sacks and hunker down while the man made his rounds among the stalls. They could hear him carrying on a continuous monologue with the animals, demanding among other things who was the culprit for getting everybody riled up.

"Do you think we should try to get to the stairs?" Deborah asked when it sounded as if the man was at a significant distance.

"Not unless you can see exactly where he is and whether or not he's adequately preoccupied."

Slowly Deborah raised herself until she had a view of the area of the stalls. She couldn't see the man although she could still hear him talking to one of the animals. Then suddenly he stood up, and Deborah ducked back down.

"He's not as far away as I thought," Deborah said.

"Then we'd better stay put," Joanna said.

"We could cover ourselves with some of this loose hay."

"I think we should just stay still and quiet,' Joanna said. "We should be okay unless he comes over here to get some of these supplies."

"If he comes over to go in the office, we might be in trouble."

"We'd just have to inch around the cartons," Joanna said. "That shouldn't be so hard, and once he was in there, we'd be able to get to the stairs."

Deborah nodded, but she wasn't so confident it would work. It was one of those things that sounded easy but would probably be difficult in reality.

Suddenly the women heard the sound of a second vehicle arriving outside. They exchanged a worried look. One person was enough of a problem, and two could be a disaster in the making.

The newcomer entered and the door banged behind him. The women cringed as they heard him yell out for Greg Lynch.

"Hey keep it down!" Greg called from one of the stalls. "The animals are restless as it is."

"Sorry" the newcomer said. "But we have an emergency underway."

"Oh?"

"We're looking for a couple of young women. They got in under aliases, hacked into the computer files, and broke into the egg room. Now they're somewhere out here on the premises."

"I haven't seen anyone," Greg said. 'And the barn's been locked."

"What are you doing down here at this time of night?"

"I've got a sow who's nearing term. Through the monitor I heard the animals getting restless; I thought maybe she was about to deliver, but she's okay."

"If you see the women when you're driving back to your place, let security know," the newcomer said. "They were over in the main building to start with, but we've been through it. They walked, but they haven't been back through the gate, so they're hiding someplace."

"Good luck."

"We'll get them. We've got the whole security team out searching, including all the dogs. And, by the way, the hard-wire phone system is off-line until they're apprehended. We don't want them calling out and causing us difficulties."

"No problem," Greg said. "I've got my cell phone."

After the men said their good-byes, the women heard the barn door open and then slam shut.

"This is going from bad to worse," Deborah whispered. "It sounds like they are combing the grounds."

"I don't like the idea of dogs after us," Joanna said.

"You and me both,' Deborah said. "It's a wonder they haven't thought of the tunnel."

"We don't know that they haven't."

"True," Deborah said. "But I have a feeling this fellow who just left would have mentioned it. Maybe the only way to the sub-basement over in the clinic building is via the freight elevator, and they'd never guess we'd be stupid enough to climb down the ladder."

"Do we dare go back down there?"

"If they've got dogs out looking for us, I don't think we have a lot of choice."

Fifteen minutes later the women heard Greg loudly yawn and sigh. Then he spoke out as if he were dealing with a clutch of children: "All right, you guys. Knock it off! I want you all to settle down because I don't want to have to come back here tonight."

With that said, Greg began to whistle softly. The women noticed the sound began to get louder, and Deborah hazarded a quick glance.

"He's heading for the office," Deborah whispered urgently.

Following Joanna's earlier suggestion the women crabbed along the floor in an attempt to keep the stack of supplies between themselves and Greg. It was an anxious maneuver as Deborah had anticipated, since they had to do it without looking. The man was heading in their general direction.

Once the sound of the office door closing reached them, Deborah's head popped up. "Okay," she whispered when she saw the coast was clear, and the two women beelined for the stairway door.

It wasn't until Joanna pulled the door closed that Deborah snapped on the flashlight. Wordlessly they descended the stairs. When they reached the bottom Joanna motioned for Deborah to stop. Both were mildly out of breath from tension and exertion.

"We've got to decide what we are going to do," Joanna said, speaking softly.

"I thought we were going to the power station."

"My vote is to go to Spencer Wingate," Joanna said. "There were no keys in the truck here at the farm. If there were a truck out at the power station, there's little guarantee there'd be keys. In fact, common sense would say there wouldn't be, and each time we poke our heads above ground we take the risk of being caught. I think it's time to take the chance with Wingate."

Deborah shifted her weight uneasily and chewed the inside of her cheek as she mulled over Joanna's suggestion. She hated making decisions that left no alternative available. If Spencer Wingate were in cahoots with the current Wingate Clinic hierarchy, she and Joanna would be sunk. It was as simple as that. Yet their situation had become desperate the moment they'd originally been chased back in the egg room and was now rapidly becoming untenable.

'All right!" Deborah said suddenly. "Let's throw ourselves at Spencer Wingate's mercy, for better or for worse."

"You're sure? I don't want to feel as if I've talked you into this."

"I'm not sure of anything other than the fact that I'm still exercising my free will." Deborah stuck out her hand and Joanna decisively slapped it. "Onward and upward," Deborah added with a crooked smile.

THE WOMEN RETURNED INTO THE HEATING TUNNELS WITH the unspoken concern that they could run into their pursuers at any moment. But they reached the branch to the living quarters without incident other than noticing that the flashlight beam was noticeably dimmer.

Approximately a hundred yards beyond the fork they encountered another. On this occasion there was no cornerstone to direct them.

"Gripes!" Deborah complained. She shined the failing light into both tunnels. "Have any ideas?"

"I'd say we go left. We know that the village is between the detached housing and the farm, so the village would have to be to the right."

Deborah looked at Joanna with puzzlement. "You're impressing me again. Where has this resourcefulness come from?"

"From my traditional Houstonian upbringing that you've so shamelessly berated."

"Yeah, right!" Deborah said scornfully.

After another five minutes of walking the women came to a series of bifurcations all in a row.

"I'd guess each of these tunnels are going to individual houses," Deborah said.

"That would be my guess as well," Joanna added.

"Do you have any strong feeling which we try first?"

"I don't," Joanna said. "Although it makes some sense to take them in order."

The first basement the women peered into after opening a simple paneled door clearly wasn't Spencer's since it had been renovated to some degree. Both women clearly remembered Spencer's basement from when they'd accompanied him down to his wine cellar. Backtracking, they took the next tunnel. This one terminated in a crude, rough-hewn oak door.

"This looks more promising," Deborah said. She shook the flashlight to encourage the brightness of the beam. She'd had to do it occasionally over the previous few minutes.

She handed the light to Joanna before giving the door a push.

It scraped on its granite threshold. Instead of just pushing, Deborah tried lifting the door first. It then opened with minimal sound. Deborah took the light back, and after giving it a shake, shined the faltering beam into the basement beyond. The dim light revealed the wine cellar door with its lock still hanging unclasped.

"This is it," Deborah said. "Let's do it!"

The women navigated the muddy floor to reach the basement steps. Up they climbed with Deborah in the lead. At the top of the stairs they hesitated. A crack of light showed under the door.

"I'm thinking we have to play this by ear," Deborah whispered.

"We don't have any choice," Joanna said. "We don't know whether he's even awake. Do you have any idea of the time?"

"Not really," Deborah said. "I suppose around one."

"Well, a light is on. I suppose that suggests he's still awake. Let's just try not to scare him too much. He might have an alarm that he could push."

"Good point," Deborah said.

Deborah listened through the door before turning the door handle slowly, and cracking it open. When there was no untoward response, she slowly pushed it open, revealing progressively more of the kitchen.

"I hear classical music," Joanna said.

"Me, too," Deborah said.

The women ventured out into the darkened kitchen. The light they'd seen beneath the cellar door was coming from the chandelier in the dining room. As quietly as they could they moved down the hallway toward the living room and the music. With a view of the foyer directly ahead, they 'could see that the corps of toy cavalry soldiers Spencer had knocked off the console table the evening before in his drunkenness had been carefully replaced.

Deborah was in the lead with Joanna directly at her heels. Both women were intent on the living room, which opened up to the left off the hall and where they expected Spencer to be. By happenstance Joanna glanced to the right as they passed a dark, intersecting corridor leading to a study. There in the distance was Spencer Wingate, sitting at his desk in a puddle of light from a library lamp. He was facing away from the women, studying blueprints.

Joanna tapped on Deborah's shoulder. When Deborah turned, Joanna frantically pointed toward Spencer's hunched figure.

Deborah looked at Joanna and silently mouthed the question, "What should we do?"

Joanna shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea, but then thought it best if they called out to the man. She gestured by touching her mouth and then pointing toward Spencer.

Deborah nodded. She cleared her throat. "Dr. Wingate!" she called, but her voice was tentative, and it blended seamlessly with the chorus of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony emanating from the living room.

"Dr. Wingate!" Joanna called more decisively and loud enough to compete with the music.

Spencer's head popped up and shot around. For a moment his tanned face blanched, and he stood up so quickly his desk chair tipped over with a crash.

"We don't mean to frighten you," Deborah called out quickly. "We were hoping we could have a word with you."

Spencer recovered rapidly. He smiled with relief when he recognized the women, then waved for them to join him as he bent down to right his desk chair.

The women started for the room. Both were acutely sensitive to Spencer's reaction to their presence, which so far was auspicious. His initial fear had changed to surprise with a hint of reassuring delight. As they approached, he slicked back his silvered hair and adjusted his velvet smoking jacket. But as the women came into the light his expression changed to puzzlement.

"What happened to you two?" Before the women could respond he asked: "How did you get in here?"

Joanna started to explain about coming in through the basement while Deborah launched into a capsule of their evening.

Spencer raised his hands. "Hold up! One at a time. But first, do either of you need anything? You look terrible."

For the first time since the ordeal started, the women looked at themselves and at each other. Their appearance brought expressions of embarrassment to their faces. Deborah had fared the worst with her minidress torn and tattered and abrasions on her thighs and shins from the lip of the iron lung. One of her dangling earrings was gone and her tiny heart necklace had lost all its rhinestones. Her hands were black from the elevator cable grease, and her hair was a tangled mess.

Joanna still had on the doctor's coat, which had protected her clothes to a large degree. But the coat itself was a soiled mess, particularly from crawling prostrate on the barn floor. A few stalks of hay protruded from the pockets.

Deborah and Joanna then exchanged one of their knowing glances. The combination of their appearances and anxieties brought forth a fit of laughter which took them by surprise and a moment to recover. Even Spencer found himself smiling.