The Forgotten Room

As he turned to exit his rooms, the internal phone rang. He glanced back, saw the caller’s four-digit number on the LED display. It was a number he didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end of the line sounded breathless. “Dr. Logan? Dr. Logan, is that you?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Thank God you haven’t left. It’s Laura Benedict. We met in my office a few days ago. You might not remember me.”

The young, rather shy quantum computing expert. “Of course I remember you. I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“Believe me, I wish I weren’t. The bank of hotel rooms Lux booked in Pawtucket filled up hours ago. There’s no place left to go.” A pause. “But as long as I have to be here, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Logan took a seat behind his desk once again. “Go on.”

“It’s about Roger.” Benedict’s breathless voice grew softer, almost a whisper. “Roger Carbon.”

“What about him?”

“I know why you’re here. You’re investigating the death of Willard Strachey. That was obvious when you interviewed me. And you think…you think that it was something other than suicide.”

Logan went quite still. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s hard to keep a secret in a place like Lux. Nobody knows exactly what’s going on, but there’s been speculation….” Benedict went silent for a moment. “The thing is, Carbon’s been acting a little…frightening the last couple of days.”

“Frightening.”

“Maybe a better word is ‘suspicious.’ I can make out some of his phone conversations — through the wall, I mean. The things he’s been talking about…hinting at…are very alarming.”

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“I wanted to. But the fact is that I’m…” Another pause. “Well, I’m afraid of him. It was all I could do to gather the nerve to call you. But I haven’t seen him around today. I think he may have left the island, and…and if what I think is true, then I shouldn’t keep it to myself. I have to tell you — because I think you may be in danger.”

“I may be in danger?” Logan repeated.

“I think so.”

“Would you like to come by my office so we can talk about it?”

“No!” This came out in a frightened rush. “No, this storm…Please, let’s meet in the basement. I have a lab here. We’ll be safer.”

Logan rubbed his chin. He really ought to check up on Kim.

I think you may be in danger…

“Please, please,” Benedict said in a voice like a supplicant’s. “Before I lose my nerve.”

“Very well. How will I find you?”

“Do you know the basement layout?”

“Not well. I’ve only been to the archives.”

“That’s sufficient. Take the elevator or the main stairway down, then head in the direction opposite from the archives. I’ll be waiting for you by the barrier.”

“I’ll come immediately.”

“Thank you, Dr. Logan.” And she hung up.

45

Logan, his satchel slung over one shoulder, reached the base of the central staircase without seeing a single person. Turning left, he once again made the journey down the dimly lit corridor of undressed stone toward the gleaming metal door that led to the basement laboratories. This time, however, he could see the thin, birdlike face of Laura Benedict on the far side of the perforated Plexiglas window set into the heavy steel door. As he approached, she punched a series of numbers onto a keypad set into the wall — apparently, the door was locked from both sides. With a low beep and an audible click, the door sprang ajar with a sigh of positively pressurized atmosphere.

Looking briefly over Logan’s shoulder to satisfy herself they were alone, she let him in, then pulled the door shut behind her. The air here was cool and smelt faintly of ammonia.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

Logan nodded. Once again, he was struck by the woman’s evident youth. She led the way down the gleaming corridor with the sharp, almost abrupt movements he recalled from their first meeting. Before, he’d been struck by the aura of sadness she’d seemed to wear almost like a garment. Now, however, he sensed a different emotion: anxiety, even fear.

“We can talk in my lab,” she said as they walked. “It’s not far. There’s nobody else in the secure area — I’ve already checked.”

“I would have thought you had all the computers you needed in your office.”

Benedict smiled wanly. “It’s true. I could probably get by without this lab. But it gives me a quiet place where I can be alone when I’m working on a particularly thorny problem — or when I need a break from Roger.”

As they walked, Logan glanced around curiously. Most of the doors were closed and bore simple airbrushed nameplates, but a few were open, revealing modern and sophisticated labs sporting equipment that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Unlike the rest of Lux, the lighting here was bright, fluorescent, even a little harsh. It was as different from the polished wood and leather of the mansion above as a level-4 biohazard facility was from a London gentleman’s club.

He followed Benedict around one corner, then another, and then — just as the basement was begi

Benedict closed the door, then sat in one of the chairs and motioned Logan to do the same. Her face was pale with anxiety.

“Okay,” Logan said, taking the proffered seat and putting his satchel on the floor beside him. “Please tell me exactly what your suspicions are concerning Roger Carbon, and why you think that I, in particular, might be in danger.”

Benedict swallowed. “It’s hard to know where to begin. Honestly, I’m not sure I can pinpoint just when it started. Roger has such a corrosive personality, you know; he’s always getting into fights with somebody or other.” She paused. “I guess it started three months ago. I noticed that, all of a sudden, he’d become a little secretive. That wasn’t like him — normally, he doesn’t care who hears what he says, what he does. But he started closing his office door. Just occasionally at first, and then more frequently. And every time he did so, he’d get on the phone — I could hear murmurs through the wall, you see. And then, just a couple days before Will Strachey’s death, the two men had a dreadful argument in Roger’s office.”

“Strachey and Carbon? What was it about?”

“I’m not sure. Something about the West Wing. Roger had advocated for him to be in charge of that, you know.”

“That’s always struck me as odd,” Logan interjected. “If Carbon had wanted the work done quickly, you’d think he would have argued for somebody with more experience.”

“As it happened, I only caught the odd line or two of what was said. Will mentioned something about ‘I’m moving ahead whether you like it or not.’ And Roger replied, ‘I’ll see you in hell first.’ I have to tell you, I’ve never seen Will Strachey like that before — livid, really livid.”

“Go on,” Logan said.

“Then, just a few days ago, Roger made another one of his clandestine phone calls. Only this time he didn’t close his door all the way. I made out a little more of the conversation. It was something about a setback…a temporary setback. He seemed to be trying to persuade somebody not to take a certain course of action.”

“Can you provide any more details about the call?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t listening that carefully. It was only after overhearing those bits and pieces, and comparing them to the other things I’d noticed, that I began to grow…afraid.”

“Why do you think that I might be in danger?” Logan asked.