The Adamas Blueprint

by Boyd Morrison

  Kevin stepped back as the door swung inward. Franco, still dressed in his Italian-style gray suit, stepped through.

  “I told you dinner wasn’t for another hour.”

  “I know,” Kevin said, “but there’s a problem with the bathroom. I think the toilet’s broken.”

  Franco came farther into the mansion’s bedroom and closed and locked the door behind him, putting the deadbolt key in his pocket. The room was sparsely furnished with a bed, a nightstand and lamp, a small writing desk, and a cane-backed chair. All decorations had been removed from the room just before his arrival. Darker areas were visible where pictures used to hang. Kevin had tried opening the window earlier, but it was nailed shut. If he broke it and attempted to jump the twenty feet to the ground, the guard posted outside his door would be alerted and capture him before he could climb through. Besides, he had no doubt it was hooked up to the alarm system. A tiny bathroom with a glass-enclosed shower, a sink, and a toilet was separated from the bedroom by a louvered door. As with the bedroom, all of its contents had been removed except for a hand towel.

  “Did you take a dump in it?” Franco asked, walking toward the bathroom but never taking his eyes off Kevin.

  “No, I just took a piss, and then it started to overflow after I flushed it.”

  “Sit down in that chair while I take a look. And I don’t want to see you get up.” Kevin did as he was told. Franco went into the bathroom.

  Kevin was somewhat surprised at how good he was at lying, considering he almost never did it. The toilet was stopped up, but Kevin knew exactly why. He had torn a piece of the sheet from the bottom of his bed and stuffed the wad into the toilet so that it couldn’t be seen. Only a plumber’s tool would be able to get at it, and he didn’t know of many plumbers that worked on Saturday nights or Sundays. Of course, if they thought it was an emergency, they could get someone, but Kevin thought they wouldn’t for a problem this minor. All he was hoping was that they would let him use another bathroom.

  Franco came out of the bathroom after a minute.

  “What’s the problem?” Kevin said.

  “Do I look like a fucking plumber? How the hell should I know?”

  “What am I supposed to do? I can’t use that toilet. It’s filled to the top with water. If I try to flush it, it’s going to flood the whole room.”

  “I thought you college guys were smart. You said you just went. If you have to go, don’t flush. Now don’t bother me again.”

  The door slammed shut. Kevin could only wait in the barren room, helpless.

  * * *

  Two hours later, dinner still hadn’t come. Kevin was famished; his lunch was still lying in the Virginia Tech commuter lot. He lay in the bed on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling in the dwindling twilight coming through the window. The events of the last week weighed heavily on him. He’d never experienced so much death and destruction. In fact, the only close person he’d lost up to this point had been his mother.

  Now he was just like Erica. No parents. No family.

  During the drive to Virginia and the subsequent race to get the experiment completed, he’d thought little about his father. When he did, it was only for seconds at a time. Now that his own death was imminent, he had plenty of time to think about his father’s. He didn’t cry, but he felt an emptiness, a loneliness he didn’t expect. Although he hadn’t been to church in years, he thought about heaven and wondered if his mother and father were there, together. Despite everything his father had done, he hoped so. He surprised himself by soundlessly mouthing a prayer.

  Before he could finish, the door swung open. Kevin sat up.

  A tray came through, held by Franco. Following him was David Lobec.

  “I understand from Mr. Francowiak that you have had some plumbing problems.”

  Franco placed the tray on the desk. The only things on it were a paper plate holding a sandwich and potato chips and a paper cup turned upside down.

  “Boy, you guys are really going all out,” Kevin said, pointing at the meager meal. “You’re just trying to butter me up, right? I mean, before you offer me $10 million instead of $5 million.”

  “You are quite an amusing young man, Mr. Hamilton,” Lobec said. “I am sorry that we haven’t been able to provide more luxurious accommodations, but I am sure you understand our position. It wouldn’t do to have you escape before we have the Adamas notebook in our possession. This is obviously the most secure room in the house. Nevertheless, someone will be outside the room at all times.”

  “You could have at least given me a working toilet.”

  “Yes, you’re correct. I have decided to let Mr. Francowiak and his replacements take you to another bathroom down the hall. I have instructed him to let you use it only if you behave. If you attempt to escape or cause any mischief, he will tie you to the bed for the rest of your stay. Is that clear?”

  “If I’m good, do I get a lollipop?”

  Lobec came to within a foot of Kevin. “Do you realize, Mr. Hamilton, that if Miss Jensen does not meet us at the Arlington Bridge on Monday, you will die?”

  “You’re going to kill me anyway, along with Erica if she’s there. In fact, the only way I’ll live is if she doesn’t show up. Then you need me.”

  “You can believe what you want, Mr. Hamilton, but I can assure you that no one wants this situation peacefully resolved more than I. Now, I have some business to attend to out of town. I will be back Monday morning to escort you to the rendezvous.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Enjoy your meal. Mr. Francowiak will escort you to the bathroom when you are finished.”

  As he flashed a last corrupt smile at Kevin, Lobec followed Franco out the door, leaving Kevin wondering if he had a chance in hell of getting out of this.

  * * *

  At first apprehensive that the sandwich contained poison, Kevin quickly dismissed the idea as ludicrous. If they wanted to kill him, it would have happened hours ago, probably under torture. Tarnwell had asked him several questions about Adamas, but he obviously believed that the process was useless while the original notebook was still out there. And even with his memory, Kevin wouldn’t be able to accurately reproduce the entire experiment anyway.

  He wolfed down the sandwich and potato chips and washed them down with several cupfuls of water from the sink. Somewhat invigorated from the food, he prepared himself for a task that in any ordinary setting would have been distasteful. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of maintaining his civility.

  With the water running to mask the sound, he urinated into the sink.

  After he was finished, he knocked on the door.

  “Hey, Franco, I’m through with dinner.”

  The door opened. “Stand over there,” said Franco, pointing to the chair that was now by the window. Kevin did as he was told, and Franco took the tray into the hall.

  He came back in and said, “You need to hit the can before you go to sleep?”

  “Yeah.”

  Franco drew a Beretta automatic and waved it toward the hallway. “Come on.”

  Kevin, with Franco and the gun at his back, walked down the hall he had come through earlier. A Persian runner stretched down the middle of the hallway and polished oak flanked it to either side. Antique tables lined the hall at regular intervals, and fine tapestries hung where mirrors were absent. Intricate wainscotting ran the length of the hall. In all, Kevin supposed the effect was to be one of lavish opulence, but he found it overdone, as if someone had given an unlimited budget to a fledgling interior decorator.

  The mansion was large enough so that the hall formed a complete circuit joined by the large staircase at the back of the house. A balcony overlooked the balustrade but ended about halfway around the circuit, giving way to several rooms. From his first walk to his room at the front of the house, Kevin had seen only one other room with its door open, and that had been a bedroom.

  “Here,” Franco said when they had walked about
fifty feet down the hallway. Kevin turned and saw him pointing at a door on the interior of the mansion, obviously chosen because it had no windows.

  Kevin opened it to find a bathroom to equal the unbridled opulence of the hallway. Marble floors, brass fixtures, beveled mirrors, all shined and polished to perfection. He flicked the light switch and track lighting came on accompanied by a soft fan.

  Franco shoved him into the spacious bathroom. “Go ahead.”

  The door was still wide open, and Kevin began to shut it. Franco pushed it back, almost slamming into the wall.

  “Uh-uh.”

  Kevin was afraid that he wouldn’t get the privacy he needed, but he tried to appear angry. “Can’t I take a shit in peace? Where the hell am I going to go?”

  Franco thought about it for a second, appraised the room’s dimensions, and then relented, releasing the door. “Okay, but I don’t want to hear that lock click. We got the key downstairs, so don’t bother.”

  “Thank you,” said Kevin and closed the door.

  Having taken care of his physical hygiene back in the other bathroom, he started to quietly search the cupboards for anything that might be of use to him, hoping that they hadn’t cleaned this bathroom out as well as the one in his room. The cabinet under the sink was bare, as were the six drawers to either side. He was careful not to bang the cabinet or drawers for fear of alerting Franco to what he was really doing. It was almost two minutes before he got to the cabinet behind the mirror. Still nothing. Kevin looked around the large bathroom, about to give up on finding anything, when he saw a linen closet which doubled as a stand up mirror.

  The closet had no handle, and the edge cutout to open it had been so ingeniously integrated into the mirror’s design that he almost hadn’t noticed the door. He tiptoed over to it and held his breath as he opened it.

  Six evenly-spaced shelves went from top to bottom, and immediately Kevin could see the bare white space. His hope faded, but he decided to look more thoroughly anyway in case something small had been missed. He began on the bottom shelf and made his way up.

  The first five shelves were empty, and it appeared that the top one, which lay about two inches above his eye level, was as well. He stood on his toes to reach to the back. Kevin caught a glimpse of color toward the back of the shelf.

  He strained as much as he could to see to the back, and he became excited when he saw a number of bottles and cans shoved together. He couldn’t be sure from this angle, but he thought one said ammonia and another that could have been a blue and white bottle of Clorox bleach.

  Whoever had emptied out the bathroom must have been shorter than Kevin. From a lower angle, the person would never have been able to see the cleaning fluids bunched on the top shelf. It was exactly what Kevin had been hoping for.

  He reached his hand to the back and the tips of his fingers brushed against one of the cans. He felt it nudge and gasped involuntarily when he realized it was about to fall. The noise would surely raise suspicions outside. He strained even harder until it felt as if his arm would come out of the socket and was able to steady the can.

  He looked at his watch. He’d been in the bathroom five minutes now. Any longer and Franco might barge in on him without knocking. He didn’t have time to inventory what was up there. It would have to wait for the next visit.

  Kevin silently closed the closet door, then walked heel-to-toe over to the toilet and flushed it. After washing his hands and toweling off, he opened the door. Franco stood on the other side of the hallway with his gun drawn.

  “I guess this one worked,” he said.

  Kevin nodded, stepping into the hall. “I like this bathroom a lot better.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The next morning a new guard took Kevin to the same lavish bathroom he’d been to the night before. This time he tested the bottom shelf and found that it was sufficiently strong to bear his weight. While the fan covered what little noise Kevin made, he inventoried the items in the cabinet.

  A gallon jug half full of generic ammonia, a full bottle of the Clorox bleach he’d seen last night, a spray bottle of Windex, a can of lubricating oil which was what he’d probably almost tipped over last night, two small refillable bottles of nonabrasive tile cleaner, a tube of super glue, a brown vial of iodine, a pack of Q-tips, three sponges, and a rag. That was it. Almost all of them were items he expected to find in a bathroom. The glue and oil were unusual, but he’d heard of people keeping weirder stuff in their bathrooms.

  Whatever he was going to do, it would have to be with these items. MacGyver he was not, but one thing he did know was how to mix chemicals to produce an effect.

  Kevin immediately saw several possibilities. He stuffed the tube of super glue into one sock and the vial of iodine into the other, knowing that they might be seen in his jeans pockets. The Q-tips might come in handy so he took 20 out of the box and put them in his underwear. He needed the ammonia too, but it would have to wait. He put away the rest of the items, flushed the toilet, and exited the bathroom.

  After lunch, Kevin was able to make another trip to the bathroom. He ran the water in the sink and emptied one of the bottles of tile cleaner, which would be small enough to fit in his waistband and go unnoticed. As far from the door as he could get so that the guard wouldn’t smell the fumes, Kevin poured some of the ammonia into the bottle until it was full. After capping the ammonia and putting it away, he waved his arms to get what fumes remained sucked up by the fan. Finally, he took one of the sponges and the rag. The sponge he put down his pants, along with the bottle in his waistband. He wrapped the rag around his ankle and pulled his sock tight over it.

  As usual, he flushed the toilet and began the walk toward his room. As he did so, he felt his sock inch down under his pant leg. The rag began to fall loose. It flopped against the inside of his pants, but he didn’t dare alter his walk to compensate. He felt it nudging lower and lower until, only five feet from the door, he was sure it was peeking out from the bottom of his cuff. If the guard saw it, he would check Kevin to see if he was carrying anything else and that would lead to a search of his room. Whatever hopes he had to escape would be over.

  Kevin walked into the room and turned. He sighed with relief to see the bedroom door closing behind him. He finally looked down and saw the corner of the rag brushing against the floor, about half of it exposed. If the guard had looked down for any reason, he would have seen it.

  Kevin picked the rag up and took the sponge and bottle of ammonia out of his pants. Then he went to the bathroom and removed the other items from under the sink. He thought about a more elaborate hiding place but decided that if they made a deliberate search of the room, no hiding place would be good enough.

  He looked at the array of items before him. The guard only opened the door to bring in food, and Kevin hoped he would keep to that regimen because the desk was now covered with illicit objects. He had to work quickly to be done in time for dinner.

  He spread the rag flat on the desk to protect the desk surface. The hand towel from his bathroom would have done just as well, but it would get much dirtier, which might draw attention. And he couldn’t hide it because it might be missed.

  On top of the rag, he placed a thin paper plate, which would provide a flat surface but soak through. It was an extra from lunch that he’d removed from under the first plate.

  He uncapped the bottle of iodine and poured some of it onto the plate. Then he poured a little water from his paper cup and mixed them together using one of the Q-Tips. To this mixture, he added some ammonia and stirred.

  After several minutes, the mixture became a sticky paste, Kevin was pleased to see. While he stirred, he remembered the story about how Erica and Daryl Grotman had met, his injury from mixing a home-made contact explosive. Ammonia triiodide to be exact. With his friends in the chemistry department, Kevin had made it himself years ago at Texas A&M, along with a few other types of explosives. It had just been for fun then. They’d flick quarter-inch drops of the purp
le concoction onto the sidewalk, then stand back and let it dry. When it did, people would walk by and step on the dried droplets, setting off a pop about half as powerful as a firecracker. The person would jump and Kevin and his friends would laugh hysterically.

  But Daryl Grotman found out how dangerous it could be in larger amounts. And from the state of the mixture in front of him, Kevin was confident that he’d remembered how to prepare it correctly.

  After he was sure it was ready, he hurriedly emptied out the rest of the iodine bottle into the sink. The mixture would dry quickly in the open air, and he had to get it stored quickly before he put a hole in the desk. Kevin scooped the paste carefully into the empty iodine bottle. He capped it and wiped it clean with the corner of the rag, which was now soaked with iodine. Then he ran water over the paper plate to remove the remaining residue and rinsed the rag out. All of the objects went back under the sink.

  The whole process had taken about two hours, which left him with plenty of time to go over his plan. He stood at the window, staring at the woods flanking the front drive. They were thick with foliage from a warm, wet summer. They would be perfect for a nighttime escape.

  * * *

  Kevin’s dinner consisted of another sandwich and chips. Apparently the chef had the weekend off. Kevin didn’t really mind. It was the way he usually ate anyway.

  Twenty minutes later, Franco was back. As he cleaned up the remnants of the meal, he asked if Kevin needed to go to the bathroom. Kevin declined. There were still about two hours of daylight left. He had to wait for dark.

  During the wait, Kevin wondered if his plan would actually work. Despite his efforts, the plan still relied on a great amount of luck, and he would be making it up as he went along once he got to the woods. But he was always bothered by people who passively accepted their fate, letting events happen and taking what they could get. Kevin believed that he had to make his own luck, even if that meant running into fate head on. Tonight was definitely going to be a test of that philosophy.