Lifting my fist, I pounded on the door. "Can you hear me?"
In the distance, I heard Trotter and Jenner searching the station. Doors swung open. Shouts filled the air, growing increasingly frantic.
Unsettling thoughts nagged at my brain. Graham had complained about his failing health. Maybe he'd collapsed.
I looked at the doors. My eyes fixed on the crack between them. Then I stepped forward and kicked it with all my might. The doors burst open, crashing loudly against their doorstops.
I marched into the room.
"Dutch?" I frowned. "Beverly? Where the hell are you guys?"
There was no answer.
Trotter raced into the room. "No sign of him."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yeah."
Jenner raced into the laboratory. "He's not out there."
"He's not here either. Neither is Beverly." I exhaled. "Where's Pat?"
"He's getting dressed. He'll be here shortly."
Vague ideas and notions sprouted up in my brain. I thought hard, trying to figure out what my subconscious was trying to tell me.
I thought about the power plant and the diesel generator. I thought about Kirby and its blackouts. And I thought about Baxter's confusion over the whole situation.
Maybe the power plant wasn't the reason for those blackouts. Maybe Kirby was sucking up far more power than anyone could've ever expected.
I glanced at Trotter. "What did Pete tell you over the phone again?"
He winced at the mention of his friend's name. "That people were trying to kill him."
"Did he say how?"
"Not exactly. He just said they were experimenting on him."
"Did he say anything about the actual experiments?"
"No." He cocked his head. "Why do you ask?"
"Apparently, Kirby has a history of power outages. Maybe those experiments are the problem. They could be sucking up more than their fair share of electricity."
Jenner shook his head. "I don't know what you guys are talking about. But how's this going to help us find your friends?"
"We've got strange experiments, presumably using lots of electricity. And yet, there's no sign of these experiments anywhere. Plus, we've got two people vanishing from a locked room."
"You mean …" He looked around the dark space. "You think there's a secret room in here?"
I nodded.
"I don't know." He studied the walls. "As far as I can tell, every square inch of this building is already being used."
"Then maybe it isn't next to us." My eyes drifted to the ground. "Maybe it's beneath us."
Chapter 68
Graham could no longer scream. His jaw opened. Stress lines appeared on his face. But no sounds passed through his blue lips.
"In case you're interested, the temperature is now four degrees Celsius. That converts to roughly thirty-nine degrees Fahrenheit." Holly checked her watch. "At this point, your body's core temperature is dangerously low. I figure you've got another thirty minutes before you reach the point of no return."
Graham stood stock-still. His brain felt logy. Nearly twenty minutes had passed since water first touched his feet. At first, he'd tried to struggle, to free himself. But now, he could barely move his muscles.
Holly hopped off the concrete platform. Then she drummed her fingers against the vat. "I'm a lucky girl. A few years ago, technology of this caliber was only a dream. Now, I'm surrounded by it."
Tools banged against machinery. The sound echoed in the room.
"Don't mind Rupert," Holly said. "He's just double-checking our equipment."
Graham's teeth chattered.
"You're probably wondering where this place came from. Well, every now and then, we'd hear strange noises. You know, like things settling into place. Other times we'd feel a random air current or smell a dusty odor. At first, we shrugged it off. We called it the Ghost of Kirby." She smiled at the memory. "But eventually, we got curious. So, Rupert pried up the floorboards. But all we found was concrete."
Graham's body started to shake.
"Well, the noises got louder. The air flowed faster and the odor became overwhelming. Finally, Rupert took a sledgehammer to the floor. And voilà." She waved her arms. "Heaven opened up to us."
"Heaven?" Graham spat out the word. "More like hell."
"It turns out this was originally supposed to be a basement. But the idea was abandoned during construction once it became clear Kirby wouldn't be a popular science hub. I guess it would've cost too much money to fill it in. So, the builders decided to cover it up instead. As far as I know, no one around here knows about it."
"I don't care about that." Graham shook his head. "Let's say you're right. Let's say you can revive me someday. Doesn't it bother you that I don't want to be frozen?"
Holly regarded him for a moment. "Do you know anything about Nazi scientific experiments?"
Graham's eyes glassed over. His leathery skin shriveled up like a prune. "A little."
"Well, the bulk of the cold weather experiments were led by a scientist named Sigmund Rascher."
"Sounds like an asshole."
"That's not fair. He wasn't some random torturer. He wanted to advance science. You see, Nazi pilots who'd been shot down over icy cold waters often suffered hypothermia. The Luftwaffe — that was the German Air Force — wanted to be able to warm them up again."
Graham's consciousness started to fade away. He did everything in his power to concentrate on the conversation.
"Rascher subjected three hundred individuals to extremely cold temperatures. Some were stripped naked and forced outside into freezing cold weather for up to fourteen hours at a time. Others — not unlike yourself — were immersed in tanks of ice water." She paced in front of the vat. "Rascher and his assistants meticulously recorded data from their experiments. They noted changes in body temperature and heart rate. They reported alterations in muscle response and urine. Afterward, they would try to warm up the subjects."
"Sounds barbaric."
"Oh, it was. But the science was sound. Until that time, most physicians suggested a gradual process of rewarming. But Rascher showed that immersion in hot liquids was more effective under certain circumstances." Holly winced. "Unfortunately, one hundred of his subjects died to prove that."
Graham snorted. "The price of science right?"
"I'm sure that's how he justified it," Holly said. "And he'd have a pretty good case to prove it. Our knowledge of how the human body reacts to freezing temperatures is primarily based on his work. You don't have to approve of his methods. But you can't argue with his results."
"Those results have blood all over them."
"Interesting you should mention that. There's an ongoing controversy over what to do with Rascher's data. Some of my colleagues want to pretend it doesn't exist. Others say we might as well use it." She eyed him with curiosity. "I'm guessing you belong in the former category."
"Only because I have a conscience."
"I disagree. If his data can save lives, it would be criminal not to use it."
"Does any of this," Graham's voice became hollow, "have a point?"
"Yes. The Nazi research on frozen subjects was achieved via unthinkable means. I'm sure you find my work just as distasteful. But someday it'll save millions of lives."
"Ever heard of the expression 'fruit of the poisonous tree'?"
Holly shook her head.
"It means if the source is tainted, then anything gained from that source is tainted as well. To put it bluntly, nothing good comes from evil." Graham's chest expanded and contracted. "And this is as evil as it comes."
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
"Do you even hear yourself?" Graham licked his chapped lips. "You're no better than the Nazis. You're a murderer."