Shadows in the House With Twelve Rooms

by J. Price Higgins

  Now, here they were. Bianca admired their persistence. Refusal twice by Doctor Jensen usually ended any further attempts to ignore the Agreement. She stared at the notes in front of her, appraising the power seated around the table. She could do what these men wanted and if they believed Ellery had sanctioned preliminary research . . .

  Her mouth flattened. This was her chance to sidestep the director's stubborn refusal to keep up with the times.

  Chattering trailed to silence as the last man stepped through the door, Ellery at his side. He didn't need the black suit, the French silk shirt, or the gold cuff links to command attention. His presence radiated authority and his glittering black eyes demanded obedience. Eyes wide, Bianca watched him stroll to the opposite end of the table and sit down. There was something vaguely familiar in his easy stance, his powerful arms, his mouth. Ahhh, yes. The stranger she'd seen in the dining room last night. Had she known he belonged to this group, she would have introduced herself. His eyes met hers and she felt the familiar gnaw begin. Flustered, she dropped her gaze to the table.

  "Gentlemen, I wanted you to have the chance to meet Doctor Raborman before the tour begins," Ellery said. "Most of you received outlines of her achievements at Tartarus. However, it's always nice to know the face of the scientist behind such noteworthy work."

  Bianca's fingers tapped the pages lying on the table. Her peripheral vision caught him watching the rhythmic movement of her hand.

  Ellery looked at Bianca. "It gives me much pleasure to introduce the star of our genetics division—Doctor Bianca Raborman."

  Bianca stared at the smiling faces around the table, graciously accepted the compliments on her work and her innovations.

  "I found your paper on tissue preservation by freezing intriguing, Doctor Raborman. You have solved the problem of cell icing?"

  The voice from the shadows!

  Her gaze flew to the end of the table and collided with that of the man she'd seen in the dining room. Her mouth dropped open. A Transnational had helped with the disposal?

  "You are?"

  "Raphael Munoz. Bishop of Rome," he said.

  He is the Pope? Her gaze involuntarily flicked to the soft, pious-looking man across from her and back to Munoz. "Not yet, but I believe a breakthrough is imminent. As stated in my paper, a few select vertebrates, the Wood Frog and Painted Turtle for example, do not experience the deleterious effects of cell icing even when frozen solid for long periods of time. I'm certain we can do the same with human cells once we fully decode that genetic anomaly."

  "That would require a DNA transfer, would it not? Or were you thinking more along the lines of assisted mutation?" Miguel Bordon leaned forward, his eyes alert.

  Bianca flashed a grin. "Either approach would work, Honorable Borden, but unless you can persuade Doctor Jensen to give them a whirl, I don't think they are viable options."

  "Ha! I’ll be dead and buried before that day comes," Borden replied. Good-natured laughter followed the comment.

  "What about now, Doctor? Are you working on anything new that these gentlemen or myself would find interesting?" Munoz said.

  Her mouth went dry. The soles of her feet began to itch and she desperately wanted to scratch.

  His eyes mocked her. "Well, Doctor Raborman?"

  Bianca looked at the hand-scrawled notes on the table in front of her. She glanced at Ellery then back to Munoz. My career is finished, she thought. Unless I can convince the men at this table that what I have is what they want. She stood up, tall and assured, her eyes wide with defiance. "As a matter of fact I am Mister—did you say Munoz?" Someone chuckled low. Munoz didn't correct her. She picked up the notes. "I haven't had time to confer with my director yet, however with her permission—" She looked into Ellery's surprise filled face and pointed at the notes. "Doctor Jensen?"

  "If you feel the initial testing has provided enough results to warrant an announcement at this time, Doctor Raborman, please proceed." Ellery's voice remained calm with no trace of her surprise.

  She's smooth, Bianca thought. More so than I realized. That will bear some watching. She turned back to Munoz. "I call it Transformation, Your Holiness?" Her satined alto barely lifted into the question. He watched her with steady detachment but she saw his nostrils flare. She continued with her presentation, finally concluding with, "Although still in its infancy, my current research indicates the prognosis is good. Partial transformations have occurred." A tremor of excitement swept the room. She paused to let the words settle firmly into their minds, then said, "The ability to restructure birth deformities, rebuild lost limbs, or for that matter, restore sight and hearing—all without complicated surgery—is now within our grasp."

  "Your trials have been successful then?" Munoz said. His glittering black eyes were cold and flat.

  She read the danger lurking and took a deep breath. Her gaze never wavered from his. "Unfortunately, no, Holiness. As in all research of this nature, the road to success is paved with failure." She bowed her head, bit at her lip. Then, with chin high, she gazed around the table. "I wish I could say I am perfect, that I make no mistakes. But I can't. I can tell you that the gene manipulation process works. The snag is in the immune system. Once that problem is corrected, artificial prosthesis, sick organs, and deformed bodies will be a thing of the past." She looked back at Munoz. The danger had disappeared. In its place sparked—admiration?

  "That's enough for now, Gentlemen," Ellery stood up. "Some research is destined to remain a secret until perfected." She chuckled. "I am living proof of that."

  Appreciative smiles flitted across the faces of the visitors at her oblique reference to the Dakotan gene.

  "You gentlemen have more serious matters to discuss, I'm sure. Doctor Raborman?" Ellery held out her hand. "I believe we have work to do."

  At the doorway, Ellery turned. "Simply press the call pad when you are ready to tour. My secretary will get me."

  She closed the door behind her.

  "What the hell are you doing, Raborman?" Ellery's face pulled tight with anger as they started down the hall. "Transformations! Good prognosis! When did you start working on this and why wasn't I consulted?"

  Bianca stared. The only time she had heard Ellery Jensen swear, or refer to someone by their last name only, was six months ago and that someone left the island that same day with all of his belongings. This was serious. She could be out the door before the VIP’s could act. She held up the pages of notes.

  "It's all right here."

  The door behind them opened. Ellery poked her head to the side of Bianca's tall frame, then jerked back. "We'll finish this in my office where it's private." Her eyes blazed.

  "I'll need to impose on your hospitality one more night, Doctor Jensen, if that's convenient."

  Bianca whirled on hearing Munoz's voice and looked straight into his laughing eyes. He tipped his head ever so slightly.

  Ellery stepped around her protégé and walked toward Munoz. "Of course, Your Holiness. Would you like me to place a kitchen order?" she said, her tone calm and neutral.

  "Ummm. I'll have to think about that. May I let you know after the tour?"

  "As long as you don't request pheasant under glass, Holiness." She smiled. "Our cook needs time for that."

  Munoz chuckled. "I'll try to keep my appetite on a leash, Doctor Jensen." He took her arm and walked slowly back to the conference door, moving his other hand with animation as he spoke.

  Watching Munoz and Ellery chat, Bianca quickly thumbed the last six pages from her notes, folded them twice, shoved them under her sweater and into her blouse. As she fastened the top three buttons of her white, knee-length lab jacket, the conference room door closed with an audible click. Her hands were lightly clasped in front of her body when Ellery whirled to face her.

  "You have a lot of explaining to do, Doctor Raborman. It had better be the best I've ever heard if you intend to spend one more day on Tartarus grounds."

  "I can explain, Doctor Jensen. I didn
't try to hide anything from you." Bianca looked down. "I wanted everything to be perfect before you saw it." She lifted her head and her eyes filled with tears. "I wanted you to be proud of me. My notes are—"

  "I'll take those. I wouldn't want anything to happen to them before I have a chance to evaluate."

  "Yes, Doctor Jensen." Bianca placed the notes into Ellery's outstretched hand. Ramrod stiff, Ellery strode down the hall. Bianca trailed silently behind.

  Leann Carter looked up as her boss approached her desk. "Doctor Jensen, I just started to page you. Your son called. Matthew. He said it was urgent."

  Ellery threw Bianca's notes onto her assistant's desk. "Run these through the scanner. I want the typed notes on my desk," she looked at her watch, "in exactly five minutes."

  She glared at Bianca and pointed to the small waiting area near Leann's desk. "Sit down, Doctor Raborman. When my assistant has finished scanning—protect scan, Leann—she will bring you, and the notes, to my office." Coattails flying, she headed down the monitored hallway.

  Leann stared at Bianca. "I've never seen her so angry. What happened down there?"

  "Nothing much." Bianca picked up a magazine and turned the pages casually. "She thinks I lied to her."

  "Oh." Leann's eyes went wide.

  She watched Bianca's reflection on the monitor screen as she fed the handwritten pages into the scanner. A squat, gray box spit typed pages into a tray. The box emitted a tiny chime. Leann reached over, picked up the typed pages, and stapled them neatly.

  "It's five minutes," she said. As she stood, a soft thrum sounded from the sensor board. Leann pressed the pad.

  The voice was unmistakable. "Please let Doctor Jensen know we will be tied up much longer than we thought. We prefer to tour in the morning if she's available. Nine o'clock."

  "One moment, Your Holiness." She buzzed Ellery's office, relayed the message, and then returned to the holding call. "Nine o'clock will be fine. Doctor Jensen will meet you in the conference room." The call clicked off and the young woman turned to Bianca. "Doctor Jensen is waiting."

  Bianca tossed the magazine back onto the table, rose, and followed Leann down the corridor. She had known the risk when she presented her research, had known Ellery would not stand idly by. These last few minutes had given her time to collect her thoughts. She was ready.

  Chapter 12

  Ellery

  Arms stiffly braced to support her weight, Ellery leaned against her desk, Bianca's surprise announcement ringing in her ears like a death knell.

  Transformation. Miracle cures.

  Miracle cures be damned; it wouldn't stop there. She had seen the horrific results that inevitably followed the first flush of benign success, had watched her grandfather, his face sweating with excitement, delve ever deeper into possibilities, oblivious to the terror and the pain the subjects experienced.

  Years later, when her appointment came, she had seen the gleam of fear that flickered in the public's eye; another Dakotan at the Tartarus helm, that fear whispered. She vowed then to restore honor to the name Dakota, to instill confidence and remove dread. Splicing foreign matter into the DNA of man or beast, turning genes on and off, playing creator—and that's exactly what Bianca was doing, regardless of how innocent she made it seem—would never be allowed. Not as long as I direct Tartarus activities, she thought. Every scientist on this island knew her cardinal rule—genetic transformations were forbidden. To learn that her star pupil had ignored that rule was almost more than she could absorb.

  Ellery breathed deeply and tried to calm her mind. Her worst fear had blossomed into reality: once again, a Tartarus scientist was playing God and once again, a Dakotan was involved.

  Her face clouded with dismay. If even a hint of Bianca's report reached the outside, deep-seated fears, instilled by Victor Dakota's obsessive desires, would rise up in full force and nothing she could say would stop the public's retaliation; of what value the word of a Dakotan pariah? The Foundation? Her mouth twisted. Easy to answer. Leveled—brick by cream-colored brick.

  How had this happened? She had been in Bianca's lab a hundred times and had seen nothing that even remotely suggested illegal experimentation. Besides her practice of unannounced inspections, she had other safeguards in place as well, all designed to catch this kind of thing. Checks and double checks, each in the hands of a different division, each feeding daily reports into the Jerico computer: animal disposals, animal requests, chemicals, equipment. Every glove, every syringe that flowed through the hands of her scientists were monitored and matched against every other report, then broken down by individual scientist. Once Jerico digested this massive amount of information, an IRPA, Illegal Research Probability Analysis, was prepared for her scrutiny along with the routine activity reports she required. It was impossible for all of her early warning signals to be sidestepped, or so she had thought. Obviously she was wrong. Like a shark in water, Bianca's phenomenal talent had sliced through every damn one of them.

  The defiant tableau at the conference table intruded into her thoughts. The image of tapping fingers flashed and vanished. My God! She's trying to by-pass my authority. She played with those notes just long enough to catch attention and Pope Munoz fell right into her hands.

  Ellery paced between her desk and the window, her thoughts flying back and forth like wasps on the hunt. Lord what a mess! With blind trust, she had allowed a research project she knew nothing about to be publicly announced. Even when Bianca’s prefatory remarks caught her off guard, not once did betrayal cross her mind. Not once! When would she ever learn that what you expect is not always what you get? Well, what was done was done. Now, she had to stop it from progressing any further.

  If she could.

  She had not missed the electrifying wave of excitement that swept through the conference room at the word transformation. Despite Bianca's careful emphasis on the beneficial aspects of her research, altruistic projects were not the only chimeras roused in that room.

  Over the years, she'd received enough submissions—couched in the most innocent of terms—to know that on an individual basis there wasn't a man in that conference room, with the exception of the Pope of course, who would not turn a blind eye to the twenty-sixth amendment of the United World Research Agreement. Especially if they thought no objections would be raised. None would claim ignorance of her policy; they knew she insisted on strict adherence to the precepts specified in the amendment. They also knew she played no favorites.

  Even so, each had periodically tested her resolve. Like children testing a parent. Ambassador Yago's request for organic-based automatons came easily to mind. Expendable creations, he wanted; designed for covert operations of national importance—skilled, ruthless, and without fear on the battlefield. National importance or not, such tainted requests were returned with a letter of explanation—sometimes diplomatic, sometimes not. She couldn't help but think it was that constancy more than any genetic expertise she possessed that had insured her long tenure at Tartarus.

  Bianca's announcement had changed everything.

  Summary dismissal, her customary procedure with this type of breach, was now out of the question; the Transnationals had sniffed the bait and they would not easily release what Bianca had promised. Ironically, her own permission to present the report implied tacit approval of its contents. She couldn't now claim ignorance of Bianca's research and expect to maintain her own credibility. Getting around this problem was not going to be easy.

  She would have to prove that Raborman had violated the amendment and had done so without authorization—tacit or otherwise. She knew these men. Without that proof, they would never allow Bianca's termination nor would they allow the research to be put on hold. Worse, to overcome any obstacles that would undoubtedly be thrown in her path, she would have to present her facts to the group as a whole. Once they left the island, gaining termination approval through letters, one-on-one meetings, phone calls, or various diplomatic channels could take years. If it e
ver happened.

  Ellery reined in her chattering thoughts. She had twenty-four hours on the outside to present hard evidence. What did she have right here and right now? A few notes, a boasting presentation, and—nothing. Not good odds, Jensen. Not good at all. Her shoulders straightened. She'd start with requests and disposals.

  Striding to a file cabinet, the director yanked open the top drawer. Midway back, she found Bianca's folder. Her finger ran down the list of animal requests. One hundred sixty-eight in all and 160 of those were midsize lab rats. Ellery whistled. The woman's assigned research projects alone should have used more subjects than what she was seeing here. No wonder the IRPA's charted zero probability. The sheer number of gene manipulations required in the type of DNA alterations Bianca proposed would call for four maybe five times that number of subjects just to stay ahead of the mortality rate. Either Bianca lied or her genius mind discovered how to negate the systemic shock that inevitably led to a subject's death during transformation, especially in the early stages of research.