The Enclave (35 page)
He was so confident of that development that at lunch he introduced her as K-J’s newest independent researcher and their first doctoral candidate actively pursuing her degree under K-J’s auspices in arrangement with the University of Arizona. In the midst of the general light applause, Jade and the other research assistants with whom Lacey had been sitting cheered wildly, whistled, and a couple of them even pounded the table. After all the grief she’ d endured, it was a sweet moment.
“Well, I guess you won’t be sitting with us peons anymore,” Aaron teased when she was back in her seat.
She shook her head. “The whole thing still has to go through all the channels at the U of A, so it’ll be a while. In the meantime I’ll split my time between assisting Dr. Viascola in Human Resources and working on the nuts and bolts of supply and requisition for my research, so I don’t think I’ll be changing tables anytime soon.”
They were interrupted by Doctors Slattery, Poe, and Yuen coming by to congratulate her, followed by a steady stream of others. Dr. Reinhardt was conspicuous in his absence.
Since Swain had given Lacey the rest of the day off and a free pass for the health resort across campus, she went directly there—worked out at the gym, sat in the steam room, and got a massage. By the time she left, she was so relaxed and sleepy she took a shuttle back to the zig, wanting nothing so much as a long and well-deserved nap.
Cutting through the atrium en route to the basement elevators off the Madrona Lounge, she ran into Jade, who told her Manny’s resignation letter had arrived. Director Swain had spoken with him by phone and was flying out that afternoon to Guadalajara, hoping to win him back. “It’s just what we all thought,” Jade said, shaking her head in disgust. “He walked out on us like a first grader. Frankly, I hope he turns down the director’s offers. We really don’t need the likes of him around here.”
Lacey agreed they didn’t, and wisely ignored her friend’s “we knew all along” remark. In truth, after all the fear and speculation, her relief was so great it was almost more than she could handle in her present state of fatigue, and the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it all. Thus she excused herself and hurried off, hoping Jade hadn’t noticed how the tears had welled in her eyes.
When she neared the basement elevators across from the Madrona Lounge, she was still so rattled she nearly ran into Dr. Reinhardt as he left the lounge’s coffee bar. He swerved to miss her, and thankfully only a little of his coffee sloshed onto the floor.
After apologizing profusely, she lingered to say, “I just got the news about Manny’s letter. You must be a happy man!” She lowered her voice. “You have no idea how relieved
I
am to know you didn’t actually see a body.” She chuckled a little at her foolishness.
His already somber expression went completely stony. “I’ll bet you are,” he said dryly. “I’d feel better if someone besides Swain had spoken to him.”
The words hit her like a slap in the face.
He leaned closer. “As for the meeting in Guadalajara, for all we know, Swain could be taking a two-day vacation in his penthouse.”
Her shock gave way to irritation. “Director Swain is right,” she said sourly. “You
are
paranoid. Why can’t you just let this go?”
He cocked a brow at her. “So you
did
ask him about Manny this morning.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Why else would Swain tell you I was paranoid?”
She frowned at him. “He said the idea Manny was dead was ridiculous and that you may have some serious mental problems. That you have a history of them, actually.”
“Naturally he’ d say that.”
“He mentioned Dr. Essex being on vacation, too, by the way.”
“Of course. He knows I called over there, and probably guessed I told you of it this morning.”
She felt her frown deepen. “I can’t believe the contortions of logic you go through to make this into something sinister and covered up.”
“Contortions of logic?” He snorted. “I’m not the one contorting logic here, Ms. McHenry. He’s given you a stake in his vision now, and you just don’t want to believe the truth—when you more than anyone should be able to see how it works: the problem never lies in what is actually happening, only in those who have the misfortune to see things they shouldn’t. Suddenly they become mentally unstable, sleep-deprived, stressed-out. Paranoid.” He paused. “Did you happen to notice which way that telescope in his office was pointing when you were up there?”
When she only glared at him, he shook his head ruefully. “He’s played you perfectly, Ms. McHenry. I just hope you come to see that before it’s too late.” With that he stepped around her and strode off down the walkway.
“He’s played you perfectly, Ms. McHenry. . . .”
Reinhardt’s words echoed through Lacey’s mind as she watched him walk away, her irritation swelling into outrage. How dare he say such a thing! It was not only ridiculous, it was insulting. Both to her and to Dr. Swain. Did he think she was an idiot? Did he have
that
low an opinion of his employer?
Played me perfectly, indeed!
“Was Dr. Reinhardt harassing you again, my dear?”
She startled at Dr. Viascola’s voice sounding directly behind her and turned. Her supervisor had apparently just left the coffee bar’s cash register and now stood before her, cup in hand. Slattery was paying for his own coffee in Viascola’s wake. They must have come from the same meeting Reinhardt had.
“Harassing me?” Lacey asked.
“You looked angry speaking to him,” said Viascola. “You look angry now.”
“Oh.” Lacey shrugged and smoothed the irritation from her expression. “We just had a difference of opinion.”
“I heard about how he tried to persuade you to go alone with him to Tucson last week,” Viascola added, “even though you didn’t have leave.”
“That was just a misunderstanding on my part,” Lacey assured her. “Besides,
I
stopped to talk to him just now.”
Slattery came up behind Viascola and stood at her elbow sipping coffee from his cardboard cup, watching Lacey with his electric blue eyes.
“You don’t need to cover for him, dear,” said Viascola. “I outrank him by several degrees.”
“I know, ma’am. I’m not covering.”
Viascola regarded her speculatively. “Well, if he bothers you again, you let me know and we
will
deal with it.”
“Of course I will, ma’am.”
“Enjoy the rest of your day, then, dear.”
They walked off with their coffee, leaving her more out of sorts than ever. She didn’t like it that they’d been watching her so closely they’d seen she was angry. Nor that Viascola had offered to deal with Reinhardt. Nor that Reinhardt’s paranoia seemed to be rubbing off on Lacey herself.
She continued to the basement elevators and finally reached the sanctity of her small dorm room, where she dropped her gym bag onto her bed. As she started toward the bathroom, her eye caught on the manila envelope she’ d left on her desk earlier: the one with Reinhardt’s disk full of articles. Anger washed through her again, and she turned away from it, determined to shred it as soon as she finished in the bathroom.
But his words continued to surface, niggling her conscience:
“Did you happen to notice which way that telescope in his office was
pointing . . .”
Which of course she had: positioned at the western window wall, the scope was precisely where it would need to be for Swain to have watched her and Reinhardt on the path.
It burned her that he’d been right about the telescope, and even more that he’ d predicted correctly Swain’s interest in their conversation. The director had pounced the moment she’d stepped through his door, wanting to know all about it and why she was talking to Reinhardt at all. He’ d startled and unnerved her, especially when he’ d gone on to condemn Reinhardt as volatile, paranoid, and quite possibly a murderer, and urged her to stay away from him.
Moreover, it was only now as she actually thought back to the early part of their meeting that she realized Swain had blown off her questions about Manny and Frogeater altogether and countered by asking if Reinhardt had given her those ridiculous ideas. When she didn’t answer, he’ d nodded smugly, repeated his warning about the man, then assured her Manny had simply walked out on them.
She hadn’t had the chance to ask him why he was so interested in keeping Reinhardt on if the man was as volatile, paranoid, and dangerous as Swain claimed. The words had been on the tip of her tongue when he’d switched subjects and asked her to present her proposal. Caught completely off guard, she’ d given a disjointed presentation with a dry mouth and trembling voice and was horrified to find herself almost babbling in her attempts to answer his questions.
As he’ d skimmed through the written material afterward, she was sure he’ d suggest she take an extra week to work on it. Instead, he bowled her over with an onslaught of praise, and she’ d forgotten all about the business with Manny and Reinhardt. Suddenly her dream was all but being handed to her by a man who was telling her she was brilliant, valuable, pretty, and a very nice and principled girl, to boot.
For all the euphoria those words had generated in her, they’d also planted a sense of obligation and a strong resistance to thinking ill of him who had praised her so highly.
“He’s played you perfectly. . . .”
Was that why she’ d gotten so angry with Reinhardt? Because he spoke the truth?
Her eyes went again to the envelope with its disk full of copied articles on the disappearances of six girls. Beside it sat her black cube, more or less ignored since last Sunday night when she’d played her silly Magic 8 Ball game with it. There’d been no answer in the window— there was no window at all—but there
had
been an answer. For right after she’ d handled the cube, the idea for her HGH effects on cloned mice had come to mind. Wasn’t that exactly how Dr. Viascola said it was supposed to work?
She picked it up, marveling anew at its silky feel and calming weight—and at the way it completely absorbed the light. Not a glimmer of reflection showed in its flat surfaces, no matter which way she turned it, or how close she held it to the lamp. As she sat down on the side of her bed, the cube drew her into its darkness, melting her tension as it chased away her confusion. Before long, she felt renewed, more clearheaded, and increasingly inclined to believe Swain over Reinhardt. And why not? She was a nobody, barely worthy of working at Kendall-Jakes. Swain didn’t have to do any of this, and Reinhardt’s claims just made no sense.
The next thing she knew she was being jolted out of a very strange dream by the clacking of the door lock and the sudden tumultuous entrance of her roommate. Jade had indeed noticed Lacey’s weepy reaction to learning of Manny’s resignation letter and wanted to know what was going on. Lacey passed it off as fatigue after a week of frantic work and intense emotional seesawing. She wasn’t sure whether Jade bought her claim or not, but her friend let it go.
Later, after dinner and the Thursday evening musical enrichment series, she begged off an invite to join the Lab 500 workers in the resort cantina and returned to her room. This time she put the black cube in one of her drawers right away, then sat at the desk, powered up her laptop, and reluctantly slipped Reinhardt’s disk of articles into its drive.
The most recent of the articles was on Andrea Stopping, who had wandered into the mountains last January never to be seen again. Given the rough terrain and the many ravines into which a person could fall and never be found, she was thought to have died of natural causes, though the
Citizen
article did note she had suffered from depression.
One other girl had likewise vanished while hiking in the mountains; she was believed to have been swept away by a summer flash flood, though her body had not been found, either. Of the other four, one died in a fiery car crash on Highway 77; another committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning in her own vehicle in K-J’s parking garage; a third ran off with her married supervisor; and the fourth left without forwarding notice only three weeks after arriving. . . .
In addition to the articles, Reinhardt had included a list of Swain’s international research facilities—in Asia, the Middle East, South America, and Micronesia—along with the two hundred young women associated with them who’d also died or gone missing over the last ten years. Most of these had not been actively employed by Swain, had merely lived and/or disappeared in the vicinity.
When she had finished reading all the disk’s contents, she returned it to its cardboard sleeve, then sat for a time, reflecting.
It all made her terribly uncomfortable, and Swain’s accusations of Reinhardt’s problem with paranoia and conspiracies kept coming back. She hadn’t seen Manny’s body, after all. But neither had she seen Manny alive. And she
had
seen Swain’s telescope. And Frogeater. And been accused of paranoia and hallucinations herself.
Then there was the whole two-week vacation thing with the U of A Genetics department and the resultant absence of official confirmation of Swain’s arrangements for her there—a wrinkle that wouldn’t stop nagging at her.
Maybe it was time to see if she could prove any of this stuff on her own. With that in mind, took her laptop to the bed and sat with her back against the wall. It didn’t take long to confirm that Swain was involved with the research facilities cited in Reinhardt’s report, but there wasn’t much online about any of the disappearances. She couldn’t even access the
Citizen
articles without signing up and paying, something she wasn’t in a position to do.
Frustrated and perplexed, she was about to abandon the effort when she recalled the special security code and password Gen had given her last week to access classified K-J files. Might they also access personnel records? To her pleased surprise, they did.
She called up the archived files of each of the six women mentioned. They were all attractive, young, athletic, bright, and well recommended. Four of them had dark hair like she did. The other two were redheads.
