Linkage: The Narrows of Time (5 page)

Drew was waiting for him in the hallway,
laughing quietly with the back of his hand covering his mouth.

Lucas scowled. “Glad you’re enjoying
yourself. Now let’s get this shit inside already.”

Drew slid his access card through the
security scanner. After a loud buzz and a hollow click, the double
doors swung open automatically. He used his wheelchair as a stop
block to keep them from closing.

It took all of Lucas’ strength to load and
center the three containers onto the hand-truck. He hauled them
into the center of the lab, being careful not to lose the heavy
load along the way. He slid the stack off and left the boxes
sitting on the floor next to a rectangular worktable.

The security scanner buzzed again. “Jesus,
what now?” he muttered, wondering if Griffith might be popping in
for an unscheduled visit. But it was Randol Larson of the Advisory
Committee. The pencil-thin attorney was carrying a clipboard and
gold-colored pen as he walked into the lab, his head tilted
slightly back.

“I guess it’s up to me to deal with this
guy,” Lucas mumbled when he did not see Kleezebee tagging along. He
waved a quick hello to Bruno, who was standing just outside their
door with his Master Security Card in hand. Apparently, Bruno had
used it to let Larson into their lab.

Larson, who appeared to be about ten years
younger than Kleezebee, was dressed in a blue, form-fitting
pinstripe suit. His medium-length blond hair was neatly feathered
front-to-back on the left side. It adhered to the side of his head,
defying both gravity and air pressure as he moved.

Lucas assumed Larson’s spotless presentation
was purposely done to distract people from noticing his acne scars,
which made his cheeks look like the surface of an asteroid after a
yearlong meteor shower. He agreed with Kleezebee’s earlier
assessment about the attorney: It was hard to believe this
frail-looking man was a former gunnery sergeant in the Marines.

Larson said to Lucas, “Dr. Lucas Ramsay, I
presume? I am Randol Harrison Larson the Third, lead council for
the University’s Advisory Committee for Theoretical Research.”

“Yes, sir, I’m Dr. Ramsay, and this is my
brother Drew. What can we—?”

“Where’s Kleezebee? He was to meet me here
thirty seconds ago.”

Lucas looked at his brother. Drew shrugged.
“I don’t know, sir. Last I heard he intended to be here to show you
around.”

Larson clicked his pen frequently as he
walked slowly around the room, stopping periodically to transcribe
something onto his clipboard. Lucas figured Larson needed to
document the contents of their lab, possibly for insurance
purposes, but he wasn’t sure. He considered asking the man, but
decided to let Kleezebee handle it when he arrived.

Larson stopped in his tracks and stared
through the ten-foot-wide window that led into the adjoining
chamber. He scribbled a long series of notes before clicking his
pen one final time and sticking it back in his shirt pocket. He
leaned in close to Drew’s face. “All right, then, let’s get on with
it.”

Drew rolled his chair back a few feet and
didn’t respond.

“Come on now, I don’t have all day,” Larson
said, louder this time.

Lucas moved in front of Drew, chest expanded,
fighting the urge to strike the bully. It was an instinctive
reaction brought on by years of torment in the orphanage. “Can I
help you with something?”

Larson took an uncoordinated step back,
lowered his head, and began fiddling with his gold pen while
shuffling through several layers of his paperwork.

This guy’s a former Marine? Lucas
thought.

Larson cleared his throat before looking at
Lucas. “I’ve just received this lengthy, attorney-prepared
disclaimer agreement from the Defense Department. Obviously, I need
a comprehensive briefing concerning the nature of your project, and
its need for the material in these three containers. Liability must
be assessed. Damage must be mitigated.”

Goddamn attorneys, Lucas thought, remembering
the family’s hefty legal bills to defend his dad’s failed pest
control invention. He’d thought about hiring a lawyer to fight the
insurance company over his mother’s denied medical claims, but
hated the idea of lining some future politician’s pocket with what
little money he had. Maybe he should team up with one of the
chemical geeks down the hall and invent a bio-toxin that targeted
only insurance executives and lawyers. He liked that idea—would
probably make him rich in the process since everyone would want a
supply.

Larson continued, “Which one of you wants to
explain this to me? I need to know who authorized this.”

Before Lucas could respond, Kleezebee buzzed
in and bolted through the lab entrance. He pushed at the doors, not
waiting for them to open fully on their own.

“Damn it, Larson, I’m here. I told you
earlier that I would handle this. Let’s go and let these guys work.
I’ll explain it all to you—probably very slowly, so you’ll
understand.”

Lucas looked at Drew who was sitting in his
wheelchair, smiling. Lucas took a deep breath and then let the air
seep out through his lips. Kleezebee had come to their rescue as he
had done countless times before. It seemed like any time they
needed help, Kleezebee would somehow know and magically arrive just
in time to assist.

Just then, the lab doors opened again. It was
Kleezebee and he looked pissed. “Next time, run the paper by me
first,” he said to Lucas. “You’re lucky nothing in it violated this
project’s confidentiality agreement.”

“Sorry, boss,” Lucas said, assuming Larson
had just told Kleezebee. The professor returned to the hallway as
quickly as he came in.

“What was that all about?” Drew asked.

“Nothing. I’ll tell you later. Let’s get to
work.”

Lucas and Drew began their shift by dressing
in their customary white lab coats and logging into the computer
network.

Chapter
5

Elegance

Drew was seated next to Lucas at the lab’s
center worktable when the lab doors buzzed behind him. He hoped it
was Trevor and the new lab technician. He turned his wheelchair
around and saw a lovely young Asian standing next to Trevor. She
was a petite, dark-haired beauty with an adorable figure, who
revealed a gorgeous set of white teeth when she smiled.

“Hi,” she said to Drew.

Drew’s tongue shriveled up and swallowed the
words in his mouth, leaving him to muster an uneven grunt. His
lungs forgot how to breathe properly, taking shorter and shorter
breaths.

Her hair shimmered under the lab’s
fluorescent lights like heat waves rising up from the desert sand.
Her long curls wrapped around her neck and cascaded gracefully down
the front of her shoulder. Drew couldn’t help but stare at her: She
was a vision, a goddess who wore a yellow flower just above her
right ear.

Lucas extended his right hand to her. “Hi,
I’m Dr. Lucas Ramsay. Welcome to Project AG-356-12.”

She bowed her head and shook Lucas’ hand.
“Hello, I’m Abby Park.”

She looked at Drew. He dropped his
paperwork.

Lucas chuckled. “And this slobbering member
of the male species is my brother, Drew.” He held out an open palm
toward Drew. “Trevor, I assume you have already introduced yourself
to Abby?”

"
Ja
, I did."

“Have you signed your non-disclosure
agreement?” Lucas asked her. Abby nodded. “Well, then, let’s get
started,” he said, motioning for her to follow him toward the
reactor chamber, only a seven-step walk. It was on the side of the
room opposite from the lab’s entrance doors.

Drew remained behind with Trevor to organize
the items scattered over the top of the rectangular worktable in
the center of the room. He could not take his eyes off her.

* * *

Lucas began her introduction with the
control station located just to the right of the reactor chamber’s
door. Attached to the wall below the viewing window was a
seven-foot-wide stainless-steel counter with a flat panel computer
screen at each end. In front of each console was a black wireless
keyboard and matching mouse.

In between the two stations was an angled
instrument panel that covered up most of the wall below the viewing
window. The panel was covered with switches, knobs, instrument
gauges, and the like. Two rolling desk chairs were offset to the
left, leaving room for a third on the right end of the counter.

“This is the Primary Control Station where
all the action happens. Drew sits to the right, and the other
console is mine. The chair in the middle is yours.”

Abby opened her spiral notebook and started
taking notes. “What about Trevor?”

“He usually stands over there and monitors
his system,” Lucas said, pointing at three heavy-gauge steel
shelving units installed on the wall to the left of the reactor
chamber. They were loaded with rack-mounted computer equipment
actively processing data with their LED lights flashing and their
hard drives whirling. A retractable network console was located
waist-high in the center rack with its hide-a-way keyboard pulled
out on sliding rails.

“Trevor designed the system from the ground
up and it controls our reactor. Everything else is networked to the
university’s mainframe and we share CPU time across all active
experiments.”

Lucas guided her to a pair of tall,
red-and-blue storage cabinets on the other side of the room. He
opened the first storage unit, which contained an assortment of
hand tools, cleaning supplies, paper, pens, and other miscellaneous
materials.

“If you ever need any supplies, you’ll find
them in here.”

He removed a clipboard hanging on a magnetic
hook inside the cabinet’s door. “Just be sure to write down what
you used in this inventory log. Dr. Kleezebee wants every penny
accounted for.”

He opened the second cabinet, which held an
array of equipment, wire, and other electronic parts. He pulled out
a handheld device the size of a DVD case and held it up in front of
her. “Radiological detector. Hopefully, we’ll never have to use
this puppy.”

“How likely is that?”

“Not very. We’ve spent the past eighteen
months making sure this experiment is perfectly safe.”

“But there’re always risks, right?”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t be too concerned.
Kleezebee made sure we took every precaution.”

Abby allowed herself time to scribble in her
notebook. “Can I see the reactor?”

“Sure. I was planning on showing you that
next.”

He walked to the door to the reactor chamber.
Drew followed along behind them. Lucas led Abby into a smaller room
just inside the chamber’s entrance; Drew stayed outside. They were
standing in a closet-sized room that resembled a two-door airlock
system, like those found aboard a submarine.

“The reactor’s a clean-room, so we use this
decontamination chamber each time personnel or material enters the
chamber.” Lucas reached around her and closed the thick outer door.
He turned around and powered on a twelve-inch LCD monitor to the
right of the inner door. Drew’s face appeared on the screen once
the image stabilized.

“He’s sitting in front of his console at the
Primary Control Station,” Lucas told her.

Lucas opened a cabinet to his left and
gathered one of the six yellow protective suits hanging inside.
Below them were several pairs of steel-toed boots and
chemical-resistant gloves. A handful of voice-operated microphones
and earpieces were sitting on the top shelf.

“A Hazmat suit?” she asked.

“Yes, Level A. Provides airtight protection
from all forms of chemicals, including gasses and vapors. Safety
protocols require we use them inside the reactor.” He pulled out a
second suit and handed it to her. “We even have one in your size.
Put this on. Let me know if you need assistance.”

Lucas used the reflective glass to watch her
wiggle and slide her perfect ass into the bottom of the suit. His
face flushed with blood, as did the rest of his body. He wondered
what it looked like underneath—probably milky white and smooth
since she did not appear to be much of a sun worshiper. He didn’t
see any panty lines underneath her white stretch pants, so perhaps
she was wearing a thong or nothing at all. He smiled. She was
definitely an improvement over their previous assistant, Gracie.
She pulled the suit higher, nearing the sculpted curves of her
breasts that were tucked away inside her skin-tight, pink t-shirt.
He prayed she’d ask for help, but she didn’t. Then she froze for a
moment, turning her head slightly as if she sensed him gawking at
her flawless body. He looked away and fiddled with the video
screen, pretending to adjust its screen.

* * *

Five minutes later, both of them were
wearing their protective gear, including boots, gloves, and the
voice-activated communication devices.

“Abby, can you hear me? Is your comm unit
working?”

“Yes, it is. Can we go inside the
reactor?”

“Wait until Drew does his thing and gives us
the all clear signal.” Lucas looked at the pea-sized camera mounted
above the video monitor. “Okay, brother, we’re ready.”

An upward stream of air blew past them as the
process began. Thirty seconds later, Drew gave his brother a
thumbs-up signal. Lucas entered a five-digit numerical code into a
keypad next to the video monitor and waited for the inner door to
unlock and slide open. They both stepped inside.

The reactor was a metal sphere the size of a
commercial walk-in freezer, with a series of cables and heavy
industrial piping above it that fed into the backside of the unit.
There were dozens of valves, conduits, and other industrial
components leading to and from the reactor’s base.

“What’s kind of material is this?” she asked,
tapping on the reactor’s housing with her pen.