"Thank you," Deborah said, mildly self-conscious about the attention she was getting at the expense of Joanna. "I'm looking forward to using some of that superb equipment you have." No sooner had the statement left her mouth than Deborah felt her pulse quicken and her face redden. It had belatedly occurred to her that she had yet to see the lab on this trip. Luckily the only person who seemed to realize the blunder was Joanna. Paul continued the conversation without so much as a beat.
"Let me ask you something about your lab experience, Miss Marks," Paul said. "Have you ever done any nuclear transfer?"
"I haven't," Deborah stammered. "But I can certainly learn."
"We do a lot of nuclear transfer," Paul said. "It's an integral part of our research efforts. Since I spend a lot of time in the lab, I'll be happy to show you the technique personally."
"You'll find me a willing and hopefully apt pupil," Deborah said, having regained her composure. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Joanna briefly rolling her eyes.
"Well, then," Helen said after a brief silence gripped the room. She stood. "I think we'd better get to it if we're going to have Miss Heatherly and Miss Marks working tomorrow."
The women stood, as did Paul.
"I'm sorry about the verbal exchange you people inadvertently witnessed earlier," Paul said. "The founder of the clinic and I have an occasional minor disagreement, but it's more about style than substance. I hope the little episode doesn't adversely color your impression of the institution."
Five minutes later Helen was leading the women back through the fire door into the south wing of the building.
"I gather that Dr. Wingate doesn't come into the clinic often," Joanna said to Helen.
"Not over the last year and a half," Helen said. "We all thought he was permanently retired and living in Florida."
"Is there some problem about him and Dr. Saunders getting along?" Deborah asked.
"I wouldn't know anything about that," Helen said vaguely. As she'd done previously, once in the football-field-length south-wing corridor, she bustled ahead. Mostly due to Deborah's high-heeled shoes, the younger women lagged behind.
"That was a strange interview," Joanna said in a hushed voice. "That man is weird which, of course, we already knew."
"At least he didn't recognize us," Deborah said.
"True, but no thanks to you."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Deborah demanded in a forced whisper between breaths.
"I don't think you should be coming on to these men like you are."
"Get out of here! I'm not coming on to anyone. They're coming on to me!"
"Well, you're not helping. This is supposed to be a quick, clandestine operation, not a drawn-out parody."
"You're just jealous."
"That'll be the day. I don't want men staring at me like that."
"I'll tell you what I think all this proves," Deborah said, but then didn't finish her thought.
"Tell me," Joanna mockingly pleaded after a brief silence.
"We blondes certainly have more fun!"
Joanna swiped at Deborah playfully, but Deborah avoided the blow. Both laughed briefly. Ahead they could see Helen standing at a doorway and looking back at them impatiently.
"What did you think of that little verbal set-to between the two chiefs?" Deborah asked while they were still out of earshot of Helen.
"There're obviously some interesting management issues here," Joanna said. "I couldn't help but notice how Helen referred to Dr. Saunders as 'Napoleon' when she was on the phone and how she called him 'our fearless leader' when talking with us. That doesn't imply a lot of respect."
"I agree," Deborah said. "I also didn't buy her disclaimer about having no knowledge of a problem between the two."
"Well, it's not our concern."
"That's for sure," Deborah agreed.
The next step in the women's preemployment process was a visit to security. Contrary to Joanna's earlier concerns, it was an easy procedure. The location was one of the cubicles in the administration area manned by a guard wearing the same uniform as the individual with the clipboard at the front gate. He took Polaroid photos of both women and created laminated plastic Wingate Clinic ID cards which the women were instructed to have on their person at all times while on the premises.
The second part of the security process involved the blue entry cards. The guard produced these by entering the women's predetermined level of access, obtained from material given by Helen, into a form displayed on his workstation monitor. It took a moment because he typed with only two fingers. Once the typing was completed, the cards were extruded automatically. He handed them over and told the women to be careful with them.
The next step was computer access. That involved going to a different cubicle where the women were introduced to Randy Porter. According to Helen they were lucky to have caught him at his workstation. Randy was a sandy-haired, slightly built fellow who looked like he was still in his teens. He explained to the women that when they sat at their workstations for the first time and swiped their blue cards through the slot on the top of their keyboards, a prompt would pop up asking them for a password. He said they were to select NEW and then provide a secret word which only they would be apt to know and which they could count on remembering.
"Should the password be a specific number of letters or digits?" Joanna asked.
"That's up to you," Randy said. "But it is best if it is six or more alphanumeric ciphers. Just be sure it's something you can remember, because if you forget your password, you have to come to me, and that can take some time."
Helen gave a short, corroboratory laugh.
"Any other questions?" Randy asked.
"What kind of a system is it?" Joanna asked.
"The operating system is Windows 2000 Data Center Server."
"And the hardware?"
"It's an IBM Server xSeries 430 with a Shiva firewall," Randy said. "Is that what you're asking?"
"Thanks," Joanna said simply.
"It's all Greek to me," Helen said. "Is that it?"
"That's it from my end," Randy said. "Unless there are more questions."
As they left the network administrator's cubicle Helen checked the time. It was almost one o'clock in the afternoon. She hesitated in the aisle.
"I'd like to introduce you to your respective department heads,' Helen said. "But it is lunch time. Perhaps I could invite you to have something to eat in our dining hall. Gauging from Dr. Saunders's response, I'm certain he would not want you to go hungry."
Joanna started to decline the invitation but Deborah interrupted her by saying, "Lunch sounds good to me."
"Wonderful," Helen said. "I know I'm famished."
The dining hall was located on the second floor of a two-story curved pavilion attached to the back of the central section of the building. Helen led the women back on the same route they'd used to get to the directors' office, but after the fire door they took a light instead of a left.
"Damn it! Why did you have to agree to eat here?" Joanna whispered sotto voce to Deborah when she was confident Helen had gotten far enough ahead so she could not hear.
"Because I'm hungry,' Deborah said flippantly.
"The more we do here today and the longer we stay the greater the chance we'll be recognized."
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," Deborah said. "Besides, the more we learn about this place, the greater chance we'll have succeeding tomorrow when we're here in earnest."
"I wish you'd take this more seriously."
"I'm taking it seriously!" Deborah blurted.
Joanna shushed her as they came up to Helen, who'd waited for them.
The dining room was semicircular in shape with windows looking out the rear of the building. With the ground sloping downward, the view to the east was expansive. Deborah recalled that the lab had a similar view although from smaller windows and hence it was not quite as dramatic. The roof peaks and chimneys of some of the living quarters could be seen sticking up above the budding trees as could the much larger chimney of the power station. Also, the red top of a silo was just visible between the power station and the living quarters.