Work stations, extensive computer servers, filing cabinets. Off to the left, an area with drone parts, even what look like EEG helmets attached to elaborate virtual reality computer modules and looming high-def screens.
“What now?” Xav asks.
“We see if we can find anything that might have to do with Emilio.”
Derek Byrne was still at the table when he got the call from Jesús Garcia. “How is it going with the engineer?” Garcia asked.
“I assure you things are still on schedule.”
“Remember I told you that I would notify you if I learned anything about Antioch and Banks that might be of interest to you.”
“Yes.”
“They used their body doubles to slip away from my men. I found Banks. His signal cut off just a couple minutes ago, but you aren’t going to believe where he is.”
“Where’s that?”
“Groom Lake.”
A pause. “Really.”
“Yes. And Antioch is at the Arête. How did Banks get access to the base?”
“He must have gotten the drive from Agcaoili before he was killed,” Derek said reflectively. “That does explain a few things. What do we know about Banks and Antioch? Are they more than just co-workers?”
“I’ll have my people check into that. You take care of the engineer. Make him give you the information. I’ll take care of Banks and Antioch.”
“How?”
“I have a few ideas.”
Derek hung up, settled his bill, and as he took the elevator back toward his room he contemplated what to do.
Banks and Antioch. Yes, he remembered them from last fall. Now here they were, getting entangled in things once again.
RixoTray.
Plyotech Cybernetics.
First Emilio getting mixed in.
Now Banks and his friend, all wrapped up in this drone exchange.
Once again Derek found himself wondering who was behind everything. Was it Garcia after all? What about Akio Takahashi? That seemed unlikely.
But if not him, who?
Who knew about everything that was going on? Earlier Akio had informed him that Undersecretary of Defense Williamson mentioned that someone had confided in her about some undisclosed research.
But who? Who knew about that, and why would they report it?
Derek reached the sixty-seventh floor, left the elevator, and started down the hall.
The only other people who were informed about what was going on in sublevel 4 were the orderlies who worked there, and Calista. But he doubted they were involved and he couldn’t imagine that it was her.
The only one left was Dr. Malhotra.
Derek reached the room.
Yes.
Dr. Malhotra. He had the contacts, but what did he have to gain? More money for his research?
Possibly.
Derek unlocked the door.
The bloodied plastic sheet was there. The chair was there. But both Calista and the engineer were gone.
“Calista?”
No reply.
He searched the suite, the bathroom, the closets, under the beds.
No one.
Nothing.
Yes, Calista had acted out before. Yes, she’d been upset when she left the table, but he never would have suspected she would do something like this.
He phoned Dr. Malhotra.
“Yes, sir?”
“I need you to come to the Arête. There’s a small problem that needs to be taken care of.”
“Of course.”
“And my rifle. It’s in my office. Bring it along.”
Charlene left Fionna and her kids at the table with their chips and salsa appetizer and went to meet with Clive Fridell to pick up the things that had been found in Emilio’s locker.
She found him at the front desk waiting for her.
“Miss Antioch. Good to see you.”
“You too, Mr. Fridell.”
“Clive. Please.”
“Clive, then.” She glanced around but didn’t see any box of supplies or notebooks. “The items from Emilio’s locker?”
He gestured for her to join him down a hallway marked SECURITY PERSONNEL ONLY. “Come right this way and I’ll get you all taken care of.”
The lights in the room must be attached to motion sensors, because a few minutes ago when Xavier and I began our search they flicked on automatically.
Now, I glance at my phone and see that we only have twelve more minutes before we need to return the security clearance card to Fred.
There has to be something here.
The status lights on the computer monitors indicate that they’re powered on. I tap a couple of space bars to wake them up, but the only thing that comes on the screen is an official-looking insignia for the base and a password prompt. None of the passcodes Fionna gave me do any good when I enter them in.
I notice a check-in sheet hanging from a clipboard near a hallway that leads to the restrooms. When I flip through the last few weeks, I see that there are apparently regular tests on Sunday nights. Staff started signing in beginning a few minutes after seven for the tests that were scheduled later in the evening.
It’s 6:35 now.
Man, I do not want to be here when the research personnel start showing up.
You have to return the key card by 6:45 anyway. You’ll be good.
At a security console in the back of the room, an array of screens displays security camera footage of the hangar, the outside of the building, the front lobby.
All quiet.
Without having access to the computers, we’re left with scouring the substantial file cabinets that line one of the walls.
“Xav, they have almost as many manila folders as you do in your RV.”
“I told you. They can’t be hacked. Writing stuff down. It’s a good idea.”
“They also can’t be searched in ten minutes.”
“Well, let’s find out.”
He yanks open another file drawer, flips to the Bs, and begins scouring the files for Emilio’s last name while I look under the Rs and then the Ts for any connection with RixoTray or the transdifferentiation research at Fuller Medical Center.
Charlene accepted the rather substantial cardboard box from Clive Fridell.
“I’m planning to catch the show tomorrow night,” he told her.
“I hope you enjoy it.”
“I’m certain I will.”
She was anxious to look through the items but knew she needed to wait until she was alone before paging through the notebooks or sorting through the illusions and effects.
He reached out his hand. “Good night, Miss Antioch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She set the box on the desk while she shook his hand. “Goodbye, Clive. And thanks again.”
“Of course.”
He led her back down the hallway, and she took the box to her green room where she would have the privacy she needed while she examed Emilio’s things.
Five minutes left.
Still nothing.
I don’t know what might happen if we’re late getting the card back to Fred, and I really don’t want to find out.
“Xav, we need to go.”
“Yeah. I know. You find anything?”
“No.”
“I can’t believe we made it all this way, only to come up short.”
He finishes flipping through one of the manila folders he’d laid open on the file cabinet, then folds it up frustratedly, jams it back in place, and slides the drawer closed.
Four minutes.
I’m leading him through the winding path between the work spaces on the way to the elevator when I see it.
A photo on one of the desks.
And when I realize who it’s a picture of, I stop abruptly. “Wait, Xav. Look.”