Their sweat-soaked white hair lay plastered against their heads. Their muscles looked firm and healthy. Only their faces defined their age, wrinkled and wizened. The man dove for the ball, missed, and slammed into the glass in front of Knight. The man's lip split, but as he stood and regained his composure, the lip healed. The man noticed him, gave a smile and a wave, then went back to playing as the woman smashed a devastating serve. The two were back at it, playing what had to be one of the most intense games of racquetball Knight had ever seen. They had regained their youth. They were happy to be alive. So happy that they didn't notice Knight's unusual black garb or the silenced weapon in his hand.
As his sense of reality returned, Knight noticed a video camera mounted high in the corner of the court. The couple was being watched. Guinea pigs. But a success story? Knight wasn't sure. For all he knew, one of them might break a hip, go mad, and eat the other. He stepped away from the window, steering clear of the camera, and proceeded down the hall. He passed rooms full of exercise equipment, a basketball court, a boxing ring, and a pool. The facilities were probably created to entice new minds to work for Manifold, but they clearly never got a chance to use them. Not only was there not a soul around, but the equipment looked brand-new. Of course, there was always the likely possibility that the scientists chose not to use the equipment.
He entered a men's locker room at the end of the hallway. He checked for security cameras. He didn't think there would be any, but he wouldn't put it past Manifold. They didn't seem to have any compunction when it came to issues of morality… or in their case, immorality. After seeing no visible signs of security, he rifled through the lockers. Most were empty. One held a candy bar wrapper, long since discarded. One of the last he checked held some clothes. He looked them over. Plaid pants and a yellow button-down shirt. They no doubt belonged to the old man playing racquetball, and would do little to help him blend in. On a whim he pushed open the bathroom stalls, one by one. The first three doors clunked open. The fourth made a thud. Knight looked behind the door and smiled. A long, white lab coat hung from a hook on the back of the door. Knight slid it on and headed for the door.
As he rounded the corner out of the locker room he slammed into something moving fast and fell to the floor. Dazed, he sat up and looked at the person above him, expecting to see a security guard. Instead it was the old man, reaching down with a hand and a smile. "You all right, son?"
Knight took the man's hand and stood. He forced a smile. "You're built like an oak tree, sir."
"Thanks to you people." The man slapped Knight's shoulder. It hurt. A lot. "You've gone and found yourself a miracle cure." "I didn't catch your name on the memo," Knight said. "Bobby Jackson."
"And how did you find out about the program?"
"I was in Plymouth Hospital. Terminal cancer. Few weeks to live. Your fellas came and picked me up one night. Snuck me right out. Next day I was shooting hoops. Today racquetball. I'm a new man."
"And your partner on the court? How is she?"
"Louise? She's fantastic."
"Your wife?"
"My wife has been dead for forty years, son. And I hope she gave up looking down on me a long time ago, 'cause I'm aiming to get lucky tonight."
Knight laughed. "Well, good luck with that, Bobby."
"Luck won't have nothing to do with it," Jackson said as he entered the locker room. "I'm the only one in her age group that can keep up!"
Knight couldn't help but smile at the old man's innocent enthusiasm. Youth regained had to be an amazing feeling. But the ramifications were disturbing. Manifold was close to success, if they hadn't already achieved it. Knight hurried down the hall trying his best to look like a scientist in a hurry. As he passed the racquetball court, the woman exited and flashed a healthy grin. No dentures, either. Her teeth had grown back in. "Good game, Louise?"
"I'll get him next time," she said, then headed toward the locker rooms. She rounded the corner as Knight entered the elevator. He pushed the button for the next floor down, labeled L.
When the doors opened, he entered the hallway looking as casual as possible. He took a left without hesitation and didn't bother looking for security cameras. To anyone watching it would look like he knew exactly where he was going. Thankfully, he found the beige hallways well labeled and full of scientists wearing similar lab coats. He passed signs for archives, cryogenics, computer lab, and, most disturbingly, a morgue. But none held his interest enough to check out in person. His chosen target was well labeled above all others: Research Wing.
As he rounded a final corner he found the research wing blocked by a security door that required a pass card. He looked at his watch, head down, and plowed into a pair of talking scientists. He apologized three times, never meeting their eyes like a frightened dog, then continued toward the door, a freshly pilfered security card in his hand. He swiped the card and entered the secure wing.
The hallway on the other side was devoid of people, but he could hear voices farther on. He continued down the hallway, once again doing his best to look like he knew where he was going. He turned twice, following the voices, then realized they were fading. Rather than backtrack he took two rights and then a left, getting back on track. As the voices grew louder, he slowed, then, upon reaching a windowed lab, stopped. He knew it would look suspicious to anyone watching, but it might look equally suspicious to anyone inside the room. Especially with the hallways so empty.
He peered into a large lab, full of computer terminals, large pieces of equipment he didn't recognize, and a dozen people sharing champagne. He took note of the people in the room. He didn't recognize several of them, but he could see Richard Ridley pouring the champagne. The Gen-Y guy, Reinhart, abstaining from the drink. And Todd Maddox, imbibing greedily.
Ridley held up his glass. "To our success!"
Cheers rang out. Knight made mental notes of the others in the room. A few scientist types. Harmless. In addition to Reinhart there were four more Gen-Y security men. Too many to charge in with a lone weapon. He'd take a few with him, maybe even Ridley, but he'd be killed in the end and would tip off Gen-Y to the team's presence. He was about to head back the way he came when Ridley took Maddox by the shoulder and led him away from the others. Knight reached into his pocket, pulled out a personal sound amplifier. He plugged in a set of earbuds and placed a small suction cup against the glass. The device worked like placing a cup against a wall, but with crystal clarity. With its invisible laser pointer directed towards Ridley and Maddox, the digital processor inside the device blocked out any signal outside its scope, essentially silencing the other voices in the room.
Ridley's voice filled his ears, pushing the small earbuds base to the limits. "How long before we can be sure?"
"We're testing the second couple now. They're responding well to physical injuries."
"Skip ahead to intense testing. I want to know if its safe by the end of the day."
Maddox nodded.
"And when you're done, cut off one of their heads. The Hydra was said to replace a single decapitated head with two new ones. I need to know if that is a concern."
"It shouldn't be," Maddox said. "Different genes would direct the number of heads grown and we've isolated the regeneration gene. I don't foresee—"
"If you happen to lose a head during your very long lifetime, do you want to spend the rest of your days with polycephaly? We should also know if the body can regenerate from the severed head… or if a new head will grow from the body. Or both. If not, we'll have to do our best to avoid guillotines."