The Enclave (20 page)

Swain was looking at him with those snake’s eyes again. “Because you’d have seen her if she did?”

“Most likely. Certainly
you
would have.” He thought of Swain watching her through his ninth-floor telescope and scowled.

“Yes, I’m sure I would have.” Swain smiled at him—a knowing, salacious sort of smile that only increased Cam’s irritation. And was intended to.

“By the way,” Swain said, “I want to thank you for seeking to convey to her last night my intentions regarding her career here.” His voice was cool and calm, but it sent a shiver down Cam’s spine.

When Cam did not reply or even look up at him, Swain added softly, “Did you hope to scare her off with your clumsy and disgusting allegations? If so, you clearly don’t know her very well.” He paused. “Or me.”

When Cam held silent, he asked, “What? Not even an apology?”

“I told you I wouldn’t lie to her, sir.”

Swain snorted. “You did considerably more than ‘not lie’ to her, son. And I told
you
I’d guard my assets.”

“That was before your mysterious intruder heaved over the frog tank with his bare hands. And tore all the legs off my frogs. It seemed ludicrous to pretend I couldn’t see any of it. Besides, she’s not going to make a report. You cut that avenue off firmly enough.”

“I preferred to have her think she imagined it all.”

“Why?”

“Because then she would stay out of it. We intended to transfer her all along. Things just didn’t work out the way we’d hoped.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much good the change will do now, seeing as that lunatic has conceived a warped infatuation with her. You must have heard her say he’ d done all that for her.”

Swain stiffened and looked at him sharply. “No. I didn’t.”

Cam frowned at him. “What happened down there last night, sir? I only saw what was done. Not how. Not who.”

But the director claimed to know little more than Cam in that regard. With the cameras malfunctioning, Ms. McHenry was still the only one who’d actually seen the man. The security detail, having been earlier deployed across campus, had not arrived until nearly an hour after the tank was overturned.

“Your intruder set up a distraction to draw them off?”

“So it seems.”

“And the tank?”

“We don’t know how he did it,” Swain said. But he watched closely, as if he thought maybe Cam did know. When Cam said nothing, Swain shrugged and went back to assuring him they were taking care of things.

When Cam only frowned at him, he turned his gaze again to Ms.McHenry, seated now at her desk, and smiled that slight, predacious smile of his. Then he faced Cam again, addressing him with a crisp, businesslike tone. “I’m holding a security meeting tomorrow afternoon in my office. Since you’re so interested, perhaps you’d like to attend. In fact, I’d like your input. If you can make it, of course.”

A security meeting. That was exactly the sort of invitation Rudy would want Cam to leap on. And one, given recent events, Cam would love to attend. But after nine months of shutting him out of such things, and not fifteen minutes after rebuking him for his “clumsy and disgusting allegations,” why was Swain inviting him now, the very day before Cam planned to leave for good?
Is this bait to get me to stay?

But how could Swain know his plans? Yes, he had written his resignation last night, but he’d done it in bed and used paper and ink, with only the dim illumination of the nightlight across the room. No camera could have picked up what he’ d written.

Swain was staring at him intently, as if trying to read his thoughts.

“Is that an order?” Cam asked finally.

“Not at all. It’s an invitation.”

“You know I have the day off.”

Swain tipped his head in acknowledgment. “And
you
know you can make it back early if it’s important enough.”

“Is Ms. McHenry going to be there?”

Swain snorted. “That would hardly be appropriate, given our goals.”

“You just told me she’s the only one who’s seen this guy.”

“We have surveillance records.”

“I thought you said the cameras were out.”

Swain’s brow creased ever so slightly. “They were.” The director shook his head. “You really should consider coming to our meditation sessions, Cameron. It would help you manage this paranoia that keeps interfering with your work.”

“Paranoia, sir?” Cameron stared at him, derailed by the sudden change of subject.

“All this suspicion you harbor toward others, thinking they’re lying or trying to hide something from you. You need to find some inner stability.”

“Perhaps I do, sir. And thank you for the suggestion.”

“But of course you’ll decline.” Swain grimaced. “So diplomatic. When the truth is, your Christian blood runs cold at the very thought of that evil meditation nonsense.” He shook his head. “Whatever you Christians don’t understand, you call evil.”

“I never said it was evil.”

“But you believe it is.”

Cameron stared at him, hating the way the man persisted in his irritating game.

Swain chuckled and dropped it. “The security meeting starts at 4:00 p.m. tomorrow. My office.” He paused. “You know my respect for you is such that I’ll never willingly let you leave Kendall-Jakes. But it would be nice if, from time to time, you could at least
try
to seem as if you’re beholden to me. Especially if you have any desire of advancing here.”

He held Cam’s gaze soberly a moment, then gave him a nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll conduct an impromptu departmental inspection. Rather like the review board committee will do.” He stepped to the door, then turned back with an “Oh! Will I see you at my presentation tonight?”

“I’ve already attended one of your presentations, sir.”

“Many of our associates enjoy attending subsequent sessions. I usually add some new twists, but even if I don’t, they always pick out something they’d missed before. More importantly, they go away reinvigorated with the conviction that the goals we pursue here are profoundly important, not only to themselves but to all of humankind. Sometimes when things get difficult or confusing it’s good to regain one’s focus.”

“I’m sure it is, sir. I don’t have a ticket.”

Swain arched his brows. “As a Black Box Fellow, you now have the privilege of attending anytime you wish. Just show your staff ID at the door.” Swain gave him a big smile. “If you insist on skipping my meeting tomorrow, you’ll go a long way toward assuaging my irritation by attending tonight.”

With that he left the office and strolled along the back aisle, pausing to speak briefly to Jade Kemmer, where she worked at the end of one of the benches, then homing in on his target. Ms. McHenry looked up at him with that wide-eyed expression of surprise and wonder that was far too appealing for her own good. Though Cam could hear little of the conversation, their body language said it all.

Swain was charming, friendly, interested, careful not to come on too strong, but from Cam’s point of view, obviously after her. McHenry was clearly overwhelmed, her elfin face so flushed with pleasure and embarrassment she glowed. And those eyes—huge and brown and innocent. When Cam had looked into them last night, tear-filled and pleading, he’ d been smitten with the irrational desire to fold his arms around her and assure her everything would be all right—and then do all he could to make it so.

Now Swain leaned slightly over her desk as he spoke. She drew back in apparent surprise, seeming to stumble for words before finally saying yes. Smiling, he turned toward the mouth of the aisle where Jade worked, catching Cam watching him as he did. His smile widened ever so slightly and he wiggled his brows, then ambled down the first of the four lab bench aisles, where he stopped to talk to Lauren. Ms. McHenry stared after him in pleased disbelief. Another moment now and . . . yes, there was Ms. Kemmer, leaping up and hurrying to McHenry’s cubicle.

Cam turned his eyes back to his monitor, intensely irritated. The strange vandal and ensuing cover-up were bad enough; now this blatant come-on by Swain? Of course he knew much of that performance had been for Cam, a mockery of the warning Cam himself had given the girl last night about Swain’s “intentions regarding her career here.” It might not mean anything at all.

He still didn’t like it. He especially didn’t like the way McHenry had gone all wide-eyed and breathless. And given what Rudy had told him last night, maybe it was only right he make at least one last attempt to persuade her of the danger here before he left.

Thus, just before lunch he called her into the office.

“I’m going into Tucson tomorrow,” he informed her. “Would you like to come with me? I could drop you off at your church. Or your mother’s house . . .”

She stared at him. “You know about my church?”

“It’s in your file.”

Distaste replaced her surprise. “Which you seem to have studied thoroughly. No, thank you, Doctor. I don’t have leave.”

He stared at her blankly, blindsided by the hostility of her rejection. Part of him knew he should nod and walk away. Instead he pressed her. “I could arrange leave for you.” He couldn’t, but it wouldn’t matter once they were gone.

She fixed her gaze on the chair at his side, then took a deep breath and looked up with obvious reluctance. “Dr. Reinhardt, I’m grateful you requested me as a team member, but I want to be very clear that the only thing you’re going to get from me in return is the very best work I can give on the project.”

And now, finally, it dawned on him how his invitation had sounded. His face burned furiously and for a moment words failed him. Then, “Your very best work is all I’d ever ask of you, Ms. McHenry. I merely thought you might . . . want to get away for a bit.”

“I have a morning tennis match,” she said. “After that, I’d like some time to myself.” She paused. “Frankly, given what happened last night and the way everyone is talking, I can’t believe you even asked me this.”

With that she turned and walked out, then kept going past her cubicle and on to the main hall. He stared after her—befuddled, embarrassed, frustrated, and wondering how he could have been so obtuse he’ d not once considered how any invitation to spend private time with him this weekend was going to come across.

Worse was the belated realization that every technician and postdoc in the place had been watching them—and watched him still. Face flaming, he returned to the work on his desk and resigned himself to getting a sandwich from one of the vending machines in the lab lounge. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Fifteen

New Eden

Zowan lay on the hard mattress of his railed infirmary bed and stared at the canopy of translucent plastic sheeting overhead. Stretching from a central fastening point, it draped over the four poles at each corner of his bed, then down on every side to isolate him from his caregivers, lest the toxins that had penetrated his body during the wind surge contaminate them, as well. The clear plastic tubing of an IV set snaked away from the needle in his left wrist and out through a well-sealed hole in the plastic, feeding fluids and nutrients into him as he lay there. Through the translucent sheeting, he saw the blurry shape of the fluid bag on its stanchion and the fuzzy lights of a monitor beside it. Those regular beeps must be timed to his heart—he felt the monitor’s electrodes stuck to his chest.

The plastic sheeting let in enough light to reveal the shadowy forms of infirmary personnel occasionally moving around his bed. A small clear plastic window in the tenting to his left allowed them to look in on him if they chose to, but so far, no one had.

He’ d been outside with the goats when a toxic wind had blown in, and he’d been taken to the infirmary for an immediate injection of anti-toxin medication, followed by an intensive decontamination regimen: they’d buzzed off his hair, washed his body with both chemicals and water, then blasted him with hot ionized air, and dressed him in a special neutralizing cotton tunic. By then his lungs and eyes had started to burn and his head was pounding.

They’d left him in the decontamination chamber, where Dr. Xavier and another man had questioned him through a window about his experiences in the ravine just before the wind had swooped in. Had he felt strange? Heard voices? Smelled or seen anything unusual? He’ d told them of the man on the hill above him right before the wind surged, and they pressed him for details, though he had precious few to give.

By then he was alternating between sweating and shaking as the toxins took effect, despite the medication they’d given him. When the vomiting had begun, the questioning stopped. Not long after that, the diarrhea struck, and thereafter he’ d grown increasingly weak and disoriented until all devolved into a miasma of watery blackness.

He’ d awakened lying on this narrow bed in this dim-lit pocket of plastic-tented privacy, wondering if it wasn’t the toxins but the antitoxin medication that was making him sick. He’ d felt fine before they’d given it to him, and it had burned fiercely going in. Within fifteen minutes he’ d noticed the burning in his eyes, then the headache, and finally the pain and constriction in his lungs. He’ d never actually seen anyone in the throes of untreated surface poisoning, the victims always administered anti-toxin medication and quarantine before the onset of symptoms.

He’ d never even seen one of the goats struck down with it, yet every time he was exposed, by the time he got out of quarantine, the entire flock had been slaughtered. Why not give them the anti-toxin meds too? Weren’t they supposed to be the hardier species?

Most disturbing of all was the fact that each of the three times he’d been exposed, he’ d felt just fine until they’d given him that shot that was supposed to make him better. The more he considered it, the more reasonable his theory became. And what had Gaias and his five Enforcer buddies been doing out there, anyway? They’d done nothing to help him or the goats. So far as he could recall, they’d simply disappeared.

And why send six Enforcers to rescue Zowan and the goats, anyway? Usually they sent no one, the Klaxons alone enough to get everyone inside. Of course, usually the Klaxons sounded at the first indication from outlying sensors that a surge was on the way. This time, the wind had practically been upon them when the alarms had sounded. Why was that? Had the sensors malfunctioned?