Natasha was blocked. She skidded up alongside the Roadrunner and watched helplessly. The pair ducked inside the building and pulled the main door shut after them.
Natasha slammed her hand on the Subaru’s joystick. She knew that once inside Ginter would immediately change the codes. She’d have to wait.
A yellow cab pulled into the parking lot and slowly circled to where she was parked. When the taxi stopped, Igor Rostov exited from the rear seat and paid the driver, all the while looking over at Natasha curiously.
“I trust you have some explanation, Comrade,” he began in an officious tone as he approached.
Natasha’s eyes moved to the pack slung over his right shoulder. “Ginter and some woman are already inside.”
“Ginter? Some woman? Who is she?” Rostov asked.
Natasha reached over and shut off the engine. She flung open her door and got out.
“I don’t know,” she said disgustedly. “Probably some tart he picked up.” She grabbed her bag off the seat and strode toward the building. Rostov followed along behind.
As she expected her card didn’t work—the door wouldn’t open. She pulled angrily at the latch and swore softly. Behind her she heard, “I can open it!”
Rostov whipped a card out of his pocket. He waved it in front of the scanner. The doors clicked open and they raced into the lobby.
“Where’s the lab?” he demanded.
“Elevators are here, if he hasn’t disabled them… shit,” Natasha said, jabbing her finger at the button with no response. “Stairs are over there.”
“What floor is it on?”
“Twenty-first.”
Rostov groaned, turned, and ran after Natasha.
“This is too heavy to carry,” he said, shifting the pack.
“Wimp, you can’t leave it in the goddamn lobby. We may need it. Bring it.”
Amanda met Paul deVere at the door of the lab. “You made it O.K.?” she asked, smiling wanly.
“I hope this works,” Paul said, hurrying past her. “That’s all I can say. Where’s Lewis?”
“He should be here by now,” Amanda answered. “There, that car… oh no. Who’s that woman?”
Paul looked out the window. “That’s Natasha, the intern. What’s she doing, following him?”
“Not her. That woman!” Amanda said, pointing at the woman Lewis was running with to the door.
Paul looked back out. “I can’t believe he brought her. It must be that woman from the Descendants. Today was their meeting.”
Together they watched as a cab pulled up, a man emerged and began engaging in animated conversation with Natasha.
“Who’s that guy and what’s he got?” Amanda asked.
“They can’t get in if Lewis remembered to scramble the codes when he came in,” Paul said. They watched as Natasha rattled the doors in vain, but recoiled when the man opened them.
“Whoever that guy is, he’s good,” Paul said. “Come on, Lewis.”
“Can we go back tonight?” Amanda asked anxiously. “Before that guy gets upstairs?”
Paul didn’t look at her. “We can try. But our wormhole doesn’t open until September first. Lewis will have to find another one.”
The elevator opened behind them and Ginter and a woman tumbled out.
“What is this all about?” she whined, but stopped when she saw Amanda and Paul. “Oh,” she said brushing back her tousled bangs with one hand. “Hello.”
They ignored her. “Lewis, what the hell is this?” Amanda barked.
Ginter took a moment to compose himself. “This is Pamela. From Portland, Maine.”
“Lewis.”
Ginter ignored her. “What the hell is going on? And why was Nikitin racing me here?”
“They’re on to us,” Amanda panted. “We’ve got to go back tonight.”
Ginter turned to deVere. “What happened?”
Paul deVere appeared not to hear. Instead, he stared nervously down the hallway.
“I changed the front door code and disabled the elevators,” Ginter said, following deVere’s gaze. “They’ll have to walk up 20 flights. Now, what the hell is she talking about?”
“Apparently it’s so. Amanda says that they hacked into her computer and know we’re going back. We’ve got to go back now.”
“Go back now?” Ginter was incredulous. “Are you crazy? What about all the tests you want done?”
DeVere cut him off. “There’s no time. I’ve opened up the search mode at your terminal and turned on the Accelechron. I know we don’t have the original wormhole but we’ve got to find the closest one and just go. If we stay here we’re cooked.”
DeVere pointed to the terminal in the lab.
Ginter walked over to it. “You’re all crazy. It took hours to find the wormhole to 1962. We don’t have hours.”
“You were being careful not to get caught. We don’t have time for caution now. We’ve got to just go. Do it.”
Lewis Ginter sat at his terminal and began entering data. Paul deVere leaned over his shoulder.
“Where to?” Ginter asked no one in particular. Amanda stood with her eyes riveted on the front door of the lab. Pamela Rhodes appeared dazed as she wandered around the room, apparently unable to comprehend what was happening.
“A park,” deVere said. “You said a park was a safe place to arrive in. A nice city park. And let’s get anywhere in the old U.S. in 1962. Try to find someplace one of us will recognize.”
“A park it is,” Ginter answered without looking up as he kept typing.
Natasha let Rostov lead the way up the stairs. She reached into the side compartment of her shoulder bag and brought out a .38 snub nosed revolver. With practiced hands she opened the barrel and checked the cylinder. She reached into the zippered compartment in her purse and pulled out cartridges. She slid them into the open cylinder and snapped the revolver shut.
“Give it to me,” Rostov panted, holding out his hand.
Natasha hesitated only a moment before handing over the revolver. Rostov slipped it into his belt.
At floor ten Rostov started to tire. “Should’ve kept up with the physical fitness recommendations,” he said, pausing to bend over and grab his knees.
“You need energy pills,” Natasha said. She popped a capsule in her mouth, and gave Rostov thirty seconds to rest. “Let’s go.”
Rostov shook his head. “You go first.” She did, he followed, and they continued up.
“My briefcase! I left it in the hallway,” Amanda said.
Lewis slapped his head. “All right, be quick about it.”
Amanda poked her head out of the lab. She spied her briefcase over by the elevators where they’d been talking. She hurried over, grabbed it and whirled her head as she heard a door open. It wasn’t the lab door, she knew, that was already open. From behind her she heard Pamela say, “Oh, this is such a weird night, who are you?”
A Russian-accented man said, “Move.” When Amanda heard feet running in her direction it broke the spell and she dashed for the lab door, colliding with Natasha five feet from the entrance.
Amanda didn’t fall down, but Natasha did. Natasha sprang to her feet and said, “Dr. Hutch. Going somewhere?”
Natasha reached out and grabbed Amanda’s bare arm. Amanda swung her briefcase hard and felt it connect against the wall behind Natasha as she lunged for the lab door.
Amanda made it in and slammed the door shut. “Natasha… and… someone else,” she panted as she ran across the room. Both men stared at her, horrified expressions on their faces. “Come on guys, what are you waiting for?”