Shadows in the House With Twelve Rooms

by J. Price Higgins

  Bianca gulped. She had expected there would be alterations to make—cabinet rearrangements, the addition of ceramic tables, maybe a rotator or two, but this?

  "I—do you think this is sufficient, Doctor Jensen? I mean, it’s so small.

  Ellery’s laughter bounced around the oversized room. "A sense of humor as well as talent. I like that, Bianca. The organic homes were developed in this lab. Last week, we shipped the project to the Colorado testing site and moved Doctor Carona down the hall—he didn’t know what to do with this much space either."

  "All of this equipment, the tanks, the—" She could feel her eyes grow wide. "Are those womb tanks?"

  "Modified versions. Doctor Carona’s brain child. Those old tanks were perfect for the cell cultures we needed for the homes. As was most of the equipment you see here."

  "Large-scale operation if what I’m looking at is any indication." Bianca meandered about the space, peered into mixers, studied gauges, examined power generators. "And noisy!"

  "It was that. Although it helped a lot when Charles soundproofed that back section." A discreet throat-clearing sounded behind them. Ellery whirled. "Charles! I didn’t hear you come in."

  "All the noise, I guess."

  "Uh-huh, I guess." Smiling, Ellery motioned toward Bianca. "Doctor Raborman needs lab modifications. I’d stay to help, but I have a meeting with Doctor Xephram in—" she glanced at her watch. "Oh dear, five minutes. I have to go." She turned to Bianca. "It’s your laboratory now. Just tell Charles what you want. He’ll take care of it. That’s it for today. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, I’ll see you in the morning." With that, Ellery charged from the room.

  An hour later, Bianca locked the lab door and headed for her cottage. She was exhausted, but Charles had her instructions: remove the heavy equipment, build cabinets and counters to her specifications, install drain tables, and chop twenty feet off the length. She had ample room for what she needed without that superfluous footage. Three weeks later, she moved out of the temporary space she shared with Madge Sorrenson and settled into her newly renovated, dream laboratory. A scientist privileged!

  Or so you thought, she reminded herself. She had soon discovered she wasn’t unique. All Tartarus scientists were pampered elite; no expense was spared and no request denied. It was nothing unusual to see one lab or another in the throws of modification as the Foundation’s aristocracy upgraded their equipment or devised more efficient work areas.

  One day, watching the awe that suffused the faces of those same scientists whenever Ellery Jensen walked by, she suddenly realized that her obsession with the Dakotan saga had made a subtle shift; collecting scraps of paper no longer satisfied her hunger. She wanted to wield the power that only the best of the best could wield. She wanted to be more than Ellery Jensen had ever been or would ever be. Most of all, she wanted Victor Dakota's granddaughter to stand in awe of Bianca Raborman. No, not stand. Bow. Like any commoner in the presence of royalty.

  There was only one way to satisfy these new cravings. She had to step across that invisible line drawn by the foundation's director, the boundary between ethical and non-ethical as defined by Doctor Ellery Jensen, not as other schools of thought prescribed. A request was submitted to maintenance; she wanted the space behind the wall at the end of her laboratory incorporated into her work area. That department obliged with no questions asked. It was, after all, just another modification request. Once she had taken that first step toward the fulfillment of her new goal, the thrill of the chase had returned in full force.

  From that to this, she thought, her eyes flicking from cabinets to counters to bottles filled with potions, to cages large and strong. Her laughter filled the room. Yes, indeed. From that to this. What was is no longer. A hissing growl sounded from the corner. Strolling to a darkened cage, she squatted down and peered between thick bars.

  "Don't like my laughter?" she said. "My, my, my. What a shame. Your mate didn’t either. Did you know that?" Again, she threw her head back, let peal after peal ring across the cage.

  Screeching, the creature leapt against the bars. Bianca reached for a needle shaped rod hanging on a stand beside the cage. The animal cowered back and began to whimper.

  "Now, now, my pet. Don't start whining. You screamed at me and you must be punished," she said.

  Shoving the rod through the bars, she flipped a switch on the handle. White light arced, slammed into the cowering figure. An anguished howl filled the air. The rod flashed again and again. Bianca's olive skin glistened, her black eyes glowed. Not until the beast lay still and silent did she release the switch.

  She nudged the animal with the tip of the rod. Her mouth curled with disgust. Primates. How quickly they surrendered their life-force. Now she had to start all over. She withdrew the weapon from the cage and hung it back in place.

  Hands cocked against her hips, she surveyed the soundproofed room with its two empty cages—soon to be three. They would not remain empty long. "The day is coming when my name will be the one synonymous with genetic legend," she whispered to herself. "I may not be as smart as you are, Ellery Dakota Jensen, but I am learning. Before I'm finished, the world will forget it ever knew your name."

  A muffled thump jerked her from her reverie. She whirled, her gaze flying to a six inch wall screen near the door. From where she stood, she could see no movement in the shadowy outer lab. She crept forward and peered intently at the small screen. She wasn't concerned about being discovered; from the primary lab, only an expert in the fine art of illusion would uncover the concealed door into this room. It worried her, though, that someone was in the building at this late hour. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she eased the audio button a tad higher.

  She watched and listened. Satisfied that the laboratory was secure, she tapped another button. The dimly lit corridor met her searching gaze.

  After a moment, somewhat convinced that she had only imagined the sound, she tiptoed back across the room. She had one final thing to do.

  An anxious twinge darted between her shoulders as she unlatched the door of the cage and reached for the lifeless creature within. If Ellery Jensen ever learns about these experiments, my research days are over, Bianca thought. Lips tightly compressed, she shoved the thought from her mind.

  That wasn't going to happen.

  The scientist strode to a cabinet and pulled out a zippered tarp; the last of three she had smuggled in one at a time. Returning to the cage, she laid the tarp on the floor and unzipped it. Five minutes later, the dead animal was hidden inside the bag. After another quick glance at the wall screen, she grabbed her journal notes, opened the door and stepped into her primary laboratory.

  She stood quietly, eyeing the shadows cast by the faint glow filtering through the open panel. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. On the floor, next to her desk, lay a bookend and one of her medical reference volumes. Two additional volumes were skewed on top of the desk. That no doubt accounted for the noise she'd heard—and the split second of panic it produced. Lips pulled into a thin line, she slapped her notes onto the desktop. She'd fix that. She didn't need strange noises interrupting her concentration. She supposed she could do what many of the others had finally done and use a digitized reader, thus removing the shelf full of bulky volumes she often referred to. She would have, she thought, if it hadn't been for the nasty little tendency toward unexpected and abrupt changes in presented information with no previous versions available to back-check. As a scientist, she relied heavily on what had been done and why it succeeded or failed. Unfortunately, unknown editors with unknown credentials determined the worth of prior facts and changed accordingly. Sorensen, Corona, and the rest could rely on digitized if they wanted, but she would stick to familiar printed material, bulky or otherwise. She moved the volumes to a corner table, making sure they were securely propped. Satisfied the books would stay in place, she grabbed the end of the tarp and began pulling.

  Halfway down the dim corridor, dragging the tarp behind he
r, her heart suddenly flip-flopped in her chest. Were those footsteps she had heard? She peered down the shadowed hall.

  "Is someone there?"

  Silence pressed thick and heavy. She waited. A faint, squeaking sound brushed her ears. Imagination, a building creak—or a door?

  "Hello?" She glanced at the tarp, then peered over her shoulder at the gray outline of the bisecting corridor that led back to her lab. Dammit. If someone was in this building, there was no way she could escape to her laboratory undetected. The sooner she got rid of this baggage, the safer she'd be.

  Several minutes later, she stood on the rock strewn cliff behind Laboratory One and listened to the booming waves that crashed below her. Opening the top edge of the tarp, she wrestled two large, rock slabs on top of the creature and fastened the bag closed again. Arms straining, she struggled to roll the tarp over the edge. A scowl creased her forehead when it refused to budge. If not for one of Ellery Jensen's rules, the creature's body could have been handled by the disposal team. As it was, she, Bianca Raborman, was reduced to this primitive method of elimination every time a genetic formula—or a disciplinary action—went awry. All because the Foundation's director required the disposal division to maintain detailed records of animal deaths that, among other pertinent items, included the name of the scientist involved.

  "Would you like some help?" A shadowy figure stepped out of the inkblot gloom surrounding the building.

  Bianca jumped up as fear raced. In the moonless night, she could see no features.

  "Would you?" the voice asked again.

  The figure was close now—tall and imposing. She could smell a faint, musky fragrance, a maleness. Desire flicked.

  "Who are you and what do you want?" Bianca slowly backed away from the ledge drop-off. The man made no move to stop her. Instead he walked over to the bulging tarp. He was close enough to the edge that just maybe . . .

  Her leg muscles tensed.

  Apparently unconcerned, he toed the canvass container. "Your Good Samaritan. Do you want my help or not?"

  Bianca hesitated. If he helped dispose of the creature, he couldn't point fingers. She made her decision. "Of course I want your help. I can't do it alone," she said irritably. Before she could move, he rolled the tarp into the broiling waves with one powerful shove.

  He strolled to where she stood. "You are?"

  His melodious voice smoothed across her body. She could feel the hated need tugging at her loins, trying to take control. Afraid her breathing would betray her, she answered quickly. "Bianca—Bianca Raborman." She started to step around him, but he moved in front of her. He stood close now, his face still in shadow. Her head jerked up.

  "Look, Samaritan, you've done your good deed for the day and I'm grateful, but not that grateful. It's late and I'm exhausted, so if it's all the same to you, I'm leaving."

  "Not yet, I think."

  The tip of his finger traced the outline of her lips, followed the contour of her chin, and rubbed the hollow of her throat. She began to tremble. He stepped back.

  "Now you belong to me, Bianca Raborman." His chuckle drifted from the darkness. "Remember that when next we meet."

  With arm outstretched, Bianca stepped forward. He had vanished. Her body shook with the consuming desire he'd roused. Whimpering, she pressed her hands tight to her stomach. The engulfing hunger left her gasping for breath. She shook her head helplessly and pressed harder. It was too late to cross the dark waters, too late to search the dark streets. There would be so many questions to answer if she used the cruiser at this hour.

  She stumbled to her quarters. Lips still burning where his fingers had traced, his musky odor filling her nostrils, she sprawled naked across cool sheets. Fingers thrusting, she tried to quiet the raging fire.

  Wind gusts rattled the windows when she awoke. Bianca stretched, then turned her head toward the glow light of the clock. Oh my God—seven o'clock already. Charging around the end of the bed, she caught her toe on the frame leg and gasped at the searing shock. Wide awake now, she hobbled to the shower, turned on the hot water, and limped back to the sink to brush her teeth.

  Wiping traces of toothpaste from her mouth, her fingers lingered on her lips. The memory of a tall shadow flooded her mind. "Was he really there or did I just have an unusually vivid dream?" she wondered aloud. Steam curling through the open door reminded her she was late. Shaking the recollection from her mind, she climbed into the shower and reached for the soap. Her hand paused in midair. She was in trouble! In her haste to dispose of the primate’s body, she had failed to close the panel between the two lab areas. Worse, her notes were still on her desk and Ellery made rounds at eight o'clock.

  Heart racing, Bianca shut off the water and quickly toweled dry. She could control the situation if Jensen found the lab addition, but if she found the notes, there would be one less scientist on this island. Bianca watched the clock while she pulled on a pair of slacks. A cotton shirt, pullover sweater, and casual flats completed the ensemble. Grabbing a fresh lab coat from the closet, she dashed from the cottage. An open courtyard, three buildings, and five minutes stood between her and the lab.

  Bianca shot forward.

  Chapter 11

  Bianca

  Bianca slowed to a fast walk. Fifty feet and she'd be home free. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ellery striding down the hallway that intersected with her own. Although still at the far end, it would not take the woman long. She rushed forward, door keys in hand.

  A woman’s voice called out. "Yoo-hoo, Doctor Jensen? Could I ask you one question?"

  "If it's quick, Madge. Otherwise, it will have to wait."

  Bianca risked a glance over her shoulder. Madge Sorrensen occupied the corner lab. She heard the murmur of voices. "Keep her talking, Madge," Bianca whispered. "Keep her talking." She shoved the key into the lock and turned.

  Without pausing to remove the keys from the lock, she let the door close behind her, strode to the inner panel and palmed it shut. Whirling, she stepped to her desk and grabbed up the notes.

  The door opened.

  Frowning, Bianca patted first one pocket of the white coat then the other. "Now where the devil—"

  "Looking for these?"

  Bianca's head jerked up. "Ellery! You startled me. Yes, I was. Where did you find them?"

  "Still in the door. How long have they been there?"

  "Not long. Fifteen minutes maybe. God, I don't know where my head is. That's the second time this week I've done that." Bianca took the keys from Ellery's hand.

  "Fifteen minutes? I could have sworn—well, no matter. Lucky for you I'm honest. I could do a lot of damage with a set of lab keys." Ellery smiled, but Bianca heard the subtle warning in her voice.

  "I understand, Doctor Jensen. It won't happen again."

  "Good. Wherever you were going will have to wait. Special guests arrived much earlier than scheduled and are on their way to the conference room even as we speak. I want you there also."

  Bianca glanced at the commentaries she clutched in her hand. It would not do for the director to read these, especially the last few pages. She had to get these notes locked up. All she needed was a few minutes of privacy. She held up the handwritten pages and said, "Why don’t I meet you there. I really need to have Leann run these through the encryption process. It will only take a moment."

  Ellery shook her head. "Our guests are on their way and I do not intend to keep them waiting."

  "But—"

  "No buts, Bianca. If those papers are that important, bring them with you. This won't take long. We can give them to Leann when we're through." She made a sweeping motion with her arm. "After you."

  Following Ellery down the corridor toward the conference room, Bianca wished the woman would slow down long enough to listen to reason, but that obviously wasn't going to happen. If only she hadn't been so adamant about getting the damned notes scanned. Now, as soon as introductions to whomever were concluded, Ellery would expect to see these note
s fed through the Jerico computer—while she waited for a copy of them, no doubt. Well, that won't happen either, Bianca thought. I'll tear them to shreds before I'll let her get one finger on my research.

  The director unlocked the conference room door and toed down the door stop. "These are important visitors, Bianca. Although they will tour the entire facility, once their business is concluded most, if not all, will leave the island immediately. There will be no time for pleasantries. Consequently, I want them to meet my star pupil before the tour begins." Her eyes beamed as she steered Bianca toward the head of the table. "Sit here, please, on my right."

  "Who are they? Can you at least tell me that?"

  Laughing voices echoed down the corridor.

  "You'll see." Ellery hurried back to the open doorway and stepped through. A moment of silence and then, "Gentlemen. Your Holiness. Welcome to the Tartarus Foundation."

  Your Holiness! Surprised, Bianca looked up and studied each of the men entering the room, wondering which one was the Pope of the Church of Universals and why he had come to Tartarus. She recognized Thomas Yago, World Trade Ambassador of the United Americas. The Honorable Miguel Bordon, Investment Counselor for the International Latin Republic, sat two seats left of Yago. The tall cadaver with wisps of dull blond hair presided over the European Ministry of Military Economics. The stout, hard-faced man she didn't know, nor the pious, soft looking one seated across from him—the Pope perhaps? But that one . . .

  Her mind whirled. These were indeed important visitors; these nine men were the world's powerhouses, the ones who controlled all finance and military decisions for their respective coalitions. She looked at each man again.

  No, not the entire world, she thought. There's no one here from the Eastern Bloc—or the Arabic Triune, only the group commonly referred to as the Transnationals. Were they here en masse to make a case for their latest security request? Fat chance they'd succeed. Ellery Jensen had rejected the project twice. The no to Ambassador Yago's request, couched in diplomatic verbiage, stated that Tartarus did not have scientists on staff prepared to develop programmable intelligence. Several months later, the European Ministry made the same request—stronger and more demanding. That time, the woman's response cited page and paragraph of the World Research Agreement that prohibited the creation of organic-based automatons. She had closed with: "When you appointed me Director of the Foundation, you trusted that I would follow the precepts of authorized research as outlined in the World Research Agreement. Many times you have heard me say that I will not condone activities that violate humanity regardless of who makes the request. My position in these matters has not changed. If ever it should, you will be advised of such. There is an alternative, of course. You can rescind my appointment and put someone in charge who will bend the rules—for everyone who offers the right incentive. Until that day comes, I am still in charge of this Foundation. Your request is denied."