Shock

"No!" Joa

"Well, come on anyway," Deborah said. "It's just a bunch of trash." She led the way out into the corridor and headed north. Almost immediately the corridor twisted to the right and then turned again. Smaller arched openings led off on either side.

"Do you know where you are going?" Joa

"Not really," Deborah admitted. "The stairway we came down wasn't the one I came down earlier today. But I know we're at least going in the right direction."

"Why did I allow myself to be drawn into this?" Joa

Deborah wheeled around and shined her light into Joa

"What the devil is the matter?" Deborah demanded angrily through clenched teeth once she'd seen Joa

"A rat!" Joa

"Jeez, Joa

"I'm sorry. I'm on edge in this junkyard dungeon. I can't help it."

"Well, pull yourself together. You scared me half to death." Deborah set out again but only managed a few more steps when Joa

"What now?" Deborah complained.

"I heard something behind us," Joa

"We're going to be here all night unless you cooperate," Deborah said.

"All right!" Joa

They walked for another five minutes along the twisting corridor before coming to a large, old-fashioned kitchen mixer attached to its own wheeled stand. It was covered with a layer of dust. A few assorted kitchen implements stuck out of the mixing bowl. The top of the mixer was tilted back and the beaters pointed off at a forty-five-degree angle.

"We must be getting close," Deborah said. "The door I'm looking for was on the other side of the kitchen, and we must be close to the kitchen now."

Rounding the next bend proved Deborah to be correct. Soon they were passing through the old kitchen. With the help of her flashlight Joa

"There it is," Deborah said. She pointed ahead. The stainless-steel door stood out in the dark, dingy environment as if it were glowing. Its polished surface reflected back most of Deborah's flashlight beam.

"You were certainly right when you described it as out of place down here," Joa

The women moved over next to the door. Deborah placed her ear against it as she'd done earlier. "Same sounds as I heard before," she said. She then told Joa

"It's warm," Joa

"My guess is that it's somewhere close to ninety-eight point six degrees Fahrenheit," Deborah said. She took the card but did not run it through the card swipe.

"Well, are we going in or what?" Joa

"Of course we're going in," Deborah said. "I'm just trying to prepare myself for what we're going to find." Finally after taking a fortifying deep breath, she ran the card through the swipe. There was a slight delay followed by the sound of air escaping as if the space beyond was at a slightly higher pressure. Then the thick, heavy door began slowly to recede into the wall.

SEVENTEEN

CURSING UNDER HIS BREATH from having smacked his shin against an unknown metal object, Bruno stumbled back along the corridor in the darkness using his fingers against the brick wall to guide him. He tried not to trip over any more of the trash cluttering the floor but it was impossible, and he winced every time he collided with something, more from the sound it made than from any pain it caused. As soon as his fingers detected a corner, he eased himself around it. Only then did he venture a look back the way he'd come. In the distance the stainless-steel door of the culture room suddenly snapped back into place a hundred times faster than it had opened. But in the brief interval Bruno was able to catch sight of the two women standing within the lighted space beyond.

Quickly Bruno got out his flashlight, switched it on, and stuck it in his teeth to hold it. He directed the beam into the recess he’d eased into rather than back out into the corridor. He didn't want the women to suddenly look back and see the light if they happened to open the door. Next he struggled to get his cell phone out of his pocket. As quickly as he could, he used the phone's internal directory to find the culture room number. The moment it popped onto the screen, he pressed the talk button.

Although cell-phone reception in the Wingate's basement was not good, he could hear the phone ringing through static. "Come or. Answer!" he urged out loud.

Finally a voice came on the line: "Culture room, Cindy Drexler speaking."

"This is Bruno Debianco. Can you hear me?"

"Just barely," Cindy answered.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course," Cindy said. "You're the security supervisor."

"Then listen up!" Bruno said, talking as loudly as he dared. "Two women have just come into the culture room. How they got an access card I have no idea. Do you see them?"

There was a pause. "Not yet," Cindy said coming back on the line. "But I'm nowhere near the entrance."

"This is important," Bruno continued. "Keep them occupied for fifteen or twenty minutes. Be creative! Tell them whatever they want to know, but keep them there. Do you understand?"

"I guess," Cindy said. "Tell them everything?"

"Anything and everything; it doesn't matter," Bruno said. "Just don't alarm them. Kurt Herma

"I'll do what I can," Cindy said.

"That's all I ask," Bruno said. "We'll be in there as soon as he gets here."

Bruno disco

"Can you hear me?" Bruno asked.

"Well enough," Kurt answered. "What's going on?"

"I'm outside the culture room in the Wingate basement," Bruno said. "The women had a card to get them inside. I called the technician and told her to keep them in the room. You'll be able to nab them with ease."

"Did they see you?"

"No, they're unsuspecting."

"Perfect] I'm just entering Bookford. I'll be there in ten minutes, fifteen tops. Do you have handcuffs with you?"

"That's a negative," Bruno said.

"Get some from the gatehouse!" Kurt ordered. "And meet me at the gate! We'll grab the women together."

"Ten-four," Bruno said.

FOR SEVERAL MINUTES THE WOMEN STOOD STILL, ABSORBING the surroundings. In keeping with the starkly modern door they'd just passed through, both had expected a futuristic netherworld. Instead they were in a maze of rooms with the same general decor as the rest of the basement, separated from one another by the same brick archways. The difference was the bright light coming from banks of newly installed fluorescent fixtures, the ambient temperature, and the contents. Instead of discarded hospital and kitchen material, the room they were in and the others they could see were filled with modern-appearing laboratory equipment, mostly in the form of large incubators brimming with tissue culture dishes. Most of the incubators were on wheels.