E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “Coordinator, this is Technical. I strongly recommend against this course of action. All the information we need is on the servers. Re-tasking Bio increases the probability of detection forty-one percent. It increases the probability of mission failure thirty-three percent.”
R. Nicolora—Founder One: “Objection noted, but the potential payoff justifies the risk. Even in this day and age of electronic records, one thing I can tell you for certain is that doctors take notes. Doctors who are research scientists, I surmise, take copious notes. I want Bio to look at Foster’s handwritten records. Meredith didn’t give us copies of his paper charts. Maybe we need to ask ourselves why. Coordinator, where is the record room?”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “Central records is on Level One, but the building plans also show a record room on each floor.”
R. Nicolora—Founder One: “What floor was Foster kept on?”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “According to Social, Foster was kept on Level Four.”
R. Nicolora—Founder One: “Where are Social and Physical now?”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “On Level Four, en route to the lab.”
R. Nicolora—Founder One: “Resources listen up. Op change as follows: Bio, proceed to Central Records on Level One. Objective: find and film Foster’s medical charts. Social, deviate to the record room on Level Four. Objective: find and film Foster’s medical charts. Physical, proceed to Level Four lab and retrieve samples as planned. Social, regroup with Physical upon completion of new tasking. Mission extension granted. You have eleven minutes until lights on. Coordinator, remap the timeline, and get these Resources moving.”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “All resources, this is the Coordinator — request status report?”
A. Mesnil—RS: Social: “Coordinator, Social. I’m in the Level Four Record Room. It’s been cleaned out. There’s nothing here.”
K. Immel—RS: Physical: “Coordinator, Physical. Ditto for me in the Level Four Laboratory. The sample fridge is empty. All the drawers and cabinets are empty, and the instruments and lab equipment are wrapped in plastic. Looks like our friends are skipping town.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Coordinator, Bio. I’m inside the Level One Record Room. I’ve hit the jackpot. All the files are here, packed into boxes.
A. Mesnil—RS: Social: “Physical, this is Social. Meet me back at the Decontamination station. As soon as that diesel is back on line, Moderkiek will be back looking for us. The priority now is to clear Corridor E on Level One for Bio’s egress.”
K. Immel—RS: Physical: “Roger.”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “Bio, Coordinator. Have you found Foster’s files yet?”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Negative. Still looking. The boxes complicate things. I was expecting nice, organized file drawers. But nooo… that would have been too easy.”
K. Immel—RS: Physical: “Look for the box with a big ‘F’ on it.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Thanks, I never would have thought of that. The boxes aren’t labeled. I have to open each one… Shit, there are a ton of boxes.”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “How are they organized?”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Each box has a sealed manila envelope and approximately thirty file folders. The folder tabs are labeled using an alphanumeric code. I don’t see names anywhere. This is bad. Very, very bad. It could take me hours to figure out which records are Foster’s.”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “You have seven minutes.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Technical, this is Bio. I need your help.”
E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “Technical online, go ahead Bio.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “I’m trying to locate Foster’s records, but the files are organized using an alphanumeric scheme. We have two minutes to decipher.”
E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “Read the folder tabs to me in order, one by one. Front to back, back to front, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t skip folders. Go in sequence.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Got it. P-17.F.01.11.11… P-37.F.02.22.12… P-37.F.03.05.12… ”
E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “Okay, that’s enough. Go to the next box.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “All right, hold… P-21.M.17.12.11… P-21.M.16.01.12… P-21.M.15.09.11.”
E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “Stop. Check three more boxes. Tell me if you see any other alphanumeric scheme besides ‘P,’ two digits, ‘M’ or ‘F’, two digits, two digits, two digits.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Copy, hold… No. The other boxes use the same system.”
E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “With ninety-five percent confidence, the scheme is ‘P’ for Patient, followed by ID number, ‘M’ male or ‘F’ female, followed by day, month, year, which is the European date convention. You need to find Foster by his patient number.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Which is?”
E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “Standby. Searching the files Meredith Morley gave us on Foster… multiple hits on P-65.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Copy P-65.”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “Bio, Coordinator. You have four minutes.”
The file room was windowless and pitch black, except for the reddish glow from AJ’s flashlight. He clenched the light between his teeth, freeing both hands for shuffling through boxes. His heart was pounding, and he was beginning to feel frantic. Nicolora was counting on him, and time was running out. What he needed now was a little luck.
The boxes were stacked six high. He had already been through three stacks and he counted at least five more. His search method was to lift the top box off the stack, set it on the ground, open the lid and check folders. He then repeated the process placing the next highest box from the stack on top of the previous one he just moved. He was reversing the stacking order, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. Hopefully it wouldn’t be noticed as long as when he left the room the boxes were in stacks of six.
He was rushing, and the stiff edges of the new cardboard boxes were giving him paper cuts as he worked. The most recent slice felt slippery. He held his hand under the light beam; his right index finger was bleeding. Stacking order was one thing, but blood smears on the boxes would certainly not go unnoticed.
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Shit! I cut my finger. I’m going to get blood on everything.”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “Do you have a tube of spray epoxy with you?”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Yes.”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “Good. Wipe the fresh blood off on your socks. Spray the epoxy right into the cut. One quick pulse. Don’t touch anything for fifteen seconds with that hand.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Into the cut?”
C. Remy—RS: Coordinator: “Yes. A small cut is nothing. Resources have used this technique for life-threatening wounds.”