“Dr. Montgomery. I remember.” Andrew accepted the shake and was surprised by the confident strength in her grip as she folded her slim, cool fingers against his. With a glance at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights, he said, “The power’s back on.”
“Yeah, thank God.” She laughed. “Lightning apparently hit the main generator during the storm but they got it fixed. Good thing. This dump’s boring enough even with the lights working. I can’t imagine being stuck out here without electricity.”
“Are you with the Army?”
She laughed again. “God, no. I work for Dr. Moore. He’s a geneticist and molecular biologist conducting research here. This is his facility.”
“I thought it was Major What’s-His-Name’s,” Andrew said, thinking of the tall man from the night before.
Suzette laughed. “Who? Prendick? I take it you’ve met.”
“You could say that.” Andrew told her about their impromptu introduction and even more off the cuff frisking.
“Oh, jeez.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I know he seemed a little…high strung, but really, he’s alright. The storm just had him a little kookier than usual, that’s all.”
“He locked me in here.”
“Really?” Suzette raised her brow. “He probably just didn’t want you wandering around, what with the lights out and all. Anyway, I work with Dr. Moore’s daughter. She’s autistic. And speaking of which…” She checked her wrist watch. “It’s about time for her breakfast.” Glancing up, she smiled coyly. “Care to join us?”
His stomach warbled at the mention, making him realize he’d missed supper the night before. “Thanks. That sounds terrific.”
Like the walkie-talkie, Andrew’s iPhone had managed to somehow survive the crash relatively unscathed. As he and Suzette crossed the foyer together, he selected the phone function and sifted through his contacts to find Ted McGillis’ number.
“You’re not going to get through,” Suzette said.
He tried anyway, but only got the droning beep-beep-beep that meant he had no network connection, no cellular tower within range. He tried to open his internet browser with likewise results. Ditto for the Talkabout.
“It’s the mountains,” Suzette said. “I haven’t been able to call in or out on my cell since I got here.”
“How long has that been?” Andrew asked.
“Six weeks,” she replied, and he bit back a groan.
Terrific, he thought. That’s just great.
“Is there a pay phone or something I can use instead, then?” he asked. “I need to call in to my office, try to get hold of…” His voice faded as Suzette shook her head.
“Sorry,” she said. “Sounds like the storm took out the relay satellite, too, from the way Prendick was talking.”
“Any idea how long until it’s fixed?”
“Around here? Your guess is as good as mine.”
Terrific, he thought again. This just keeps getting better and better.
By night, it had been quiet and still inside the main building, but by day, it had sprang into life, a veritable hive of activity, with uniformed soldiers moving this way and that, all at brisk and purposeful paces. Together they crossed the large lobby area Andrew had seen upon his arrival.
He paused, looking out a glass door opposite the main entrance through which Santoro had brought him the night before. It opened out onto a small stone patio, with a wide, neatly manicured courtyard lawn beyond. Past this, half-hidden among the trees, he could see a building, one-story and squat, with a featureless, white-stone façade that reminded him of a mausoleum face. Even from his distance, he could see armed soldiers marking a staggered perimeter around it.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Suzette followed his gaze. “Dr. Moore’s lab.”
“Why the guards?”
He glanced back at her and she winked. “Top secret,” she told him, hooking her fingers into quotes again. “Hush-hush.”
“They’d have to kill me if I found out?”
Again, she didn’t laugh. “You got it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Suzette lived with Dr. Moore and his eight-year-old daughter Alice in a large apartment that encompassed the entire west wing and second floor of the building. The entrance was at the top of a steep flight of stairs, and as she led him up, these words, this fleeting, half-forgotten stanza of poetry came to mind. He’d learned it his freshman year of college, in an English literature class where he’d met Lila Meyer.
“William Butler Yeats. Arguably one of the greatest poets of this or any other century.” She’d stood in front of the podium, looking up at the stadium-styled seating arrangement, hundreds of students crammed into creaking, uncomfortable wooden seats. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair had framed her face in what would soon become a familiar tumble of haphazard curls. She’d smiled as she’d recited The Winding Stair, her mouth soft and sensuously full, her cheeks high and elegant, her hazel eyes sharp. It had occurred to him in his youthful naiveté that she was very beautiful.
As he thought about Lila, that passage from the poem recurred to him as well.
At the top of the stairs, Suzette led him across a small lobby toward a pair of doors. There, she paused by a key pad and punched in a quick series of numbers, unlocking them.
The entry opened onto an expansive living room with exposed brick and hardwood beams meant to lend a rustic but contemporary architectural feel. The entire far wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, towering window panes with inset doors that opened onto a cedar plank deck, allowing a nearly panoramic view of the forested vista below.
“Hi, Alice,” Suzette said.
A young girl sat at a coffee table nestled in the vertex of a coffee-colored leather sectional sofa, a spiral-bound notebook opened in front of her. She seemed completely absorbed in whatever she was writing in the notebook, a pencil clutched in her hand, moving furiously back and forth along the page. If she noticed Suzette’s entrance or heard her greeting, she offered no acknowledgement.
“This is Mister Braddock,” Suzette said, draping her hand against Andrew’s arm by way of introduction, even though the girl, Alice, didn’t as much as glance up from her work. “Say good morning, Alice.”
“Good morning, Alice,” the girl mumbled, still scribbling.
Suzette chuckled. “You’re being rude, Alice.”
“I’m busy, Suzette,” Alice replied, still not looking up.
Unfazed, Suzette continued to smile brightly. “Are you ready for breakfast? How about I fix you some eggs?”
“I want the usual.”
“How about French toast? Some pancakes? You know your father wants you to try and break some of your routines, do new things.”
Still not even a sideways glance. “The usual.”
Suzette sighed. “Alright, then. Suit yourself.” To Andrew, she said, “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
“What? Wait.” He caught her arm, wide-eyed with sudden alarm. Flustered, he stammered, “I just…I mean, I’m not very good with kids.”
Suzette chuckled, offering his hand a gentle pat. “That’s okay. Neither is Alice.” With a wink and a smile, she drew herself loose of his grasp and headed for the kitchen.