Shadows in the House With Twelve Rooms

by J. Price Higgins

His head nodded slightly.

  "Is that a yes, Mr. Wyland?" Munoz tapped the plans.

  "It is," Dane said smoothly, switching his attention back to the discussion. He rose, took the chair nearest the Pope. "This area right here could be walled up and no one would be the wiser, unless, of course, someone decided to measure each inch of the interior of the building. That's not likely to ever happen." Taking a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, he drew two quick lines. "See how it blends? You would have a room approximately twenty five feet wide and twenty feet deep. Will that be enough space?"

  "Perfect," Munoz said.

  "Now all I have to do is figure out how to tie it into the freezing lines without disrupting what's already set up." Dane hummed to himself as he studied the plans, drawing small x marks here and there.

  "That won't be necessary, Mr. Wyland," Munoz said softly. "This room won't require the in-vault lines."

  The engineer leaned back against the chair cushions. "In that case, Sir, my crew can have it completed in two weeks."

  "All in good time. All in good time," Munoz said. "Right now, we have a very different project in mind." His glittering black eyes flicked to Bianca. She tipped her head. "A few years back, a virility program Doctor Raborman was conducting became contaminated with a sophisticated synthetic virus that carried DNA instructions never meant to be used on a human being. We don't know how it happened. Perhaps a disgruntled scientist, but we certainly know the terrible havoc it has caused the poor man who volunteered to be a part of the program."

  "Do you understand what DNA does?" Bianca said.

  "The only thing I know about DNA is that it makes fingers into fingers and toes into toes."

  "It certainly did that for you," Bianca purred while casting a sidelong glance at Munoz. Her gaze slid down Dane's body, back to his face. "In the case of Mr. Kayman—he was the volunteer—the virus carried a different set of orders," she continued.

  Sefura saw something alien stirring deep in her sister's eyes. When the black eyes glanced in her direction, she shifted uncomfortably and half rose. Bianca motioned her to sit down.

  "To make a long story short, we have a creature locked up in Doctor Raborman's laboratory that becomes increasingly dangerous as time goes by," Munoz said, taking over the story. "What we need from you is a container design that will keep this creature inside and yet let Doctor Raborman study its behavior. That may sound cruel to you. However, the practical side of this is simple. Such an experiment would never have been deliberately begun, but since it is now well on its way, Tartarus, as a scientific research center, must take advantage of the genetic opportunity created by this horrible tragedy."

  Bianca chimed in. "The container must provide a constant surface temperature of a hundred and thirty to a hundred and forty degrees and it must be portable."

  "Whewww. That's a tall order. The container itself isn't such a problem. Constant temperature? That can be handled. But portable?" He stroked his chin with his hand. "Before I make any commitments, I better see what we're talking about. From what you've told me, I know I'm starting with the weight of a full grown man."

  "You're starting with a lot more than a man, Dane," Bianca said. "George began to change nearly six years ago. He's heavier, he's larger, and he's still mutating." She leaned forward and said to Sefura, "I'll expect you to monitor the process, Sef. You know how George can get." She turned back to Dane. "Sefura has a special knack with the creature, Mister Wyland. He's not nearly as hostile when she's around. Even so, I am sometimes forced to intervene."

  An unspoken signal passed between her and Munoz.

  "Let's get this over with, Doctor Raborman. I have many things to do while I'm here." Munoz rose from his chair, folded the plans back into their neat square, and handed them to Dane. "Keep these safe. You can work on them while you're our guest. By the way, I do hope you're prepared to stay for a few months."

  "If there's anything I need, Holiness, I'm sure I can find it somewhere in San Francisco," his teeth flashed white.

  "My sister will prepare one of the guest cottages for you," Bianca said. "Behind Lab One, I think, Sef."

  "I'll see to it now," the girl said.

  She slipped from the room and hurried down the hall, her thoughts on the handsome young man in the conference room—and his purpose for being here on the island. She could hardly wait to share the good news with George. How happy he would be to know that he was going to get out of that wretched iron cage at last, get away from that hated disciplinary rod. Her face saddened. If he understood, he would be happy. But he wouldn't understand. He was a mindless creature now. Not human and not animal. She knew that, but pretending otherwise now and then somehow made it easier for her to bear.

  Sefura sighed. George wouldn't comprehend what she was saying, but she was going to tell him about his new quarters anyway. He was her friend and friends shared good news.

  Chapter 52

  Bianca

  Munoz and Bianca set a fast clip as they strode down the corridor. Dane's long legs stretched their full length as he followed. Bianca turned left, and stopped at a locked door, a set of keys in her hand. Slipping one of the keys into the door, she eased it carefully to the left. Dane slapped his hands to his ears as a chilling howl reverberated through the door. Bianca watched him quickly recover from his shock. Good, she thought. He'll be able to handle this assignment. The howl, filled with hate and rage, sounded again.

  Bianca pulled the metal door wide open and sang out. "You heard me coming, didn't you, pet?"

  Once more the rage roared.

  Dane stuck a tentative foot inside the door.

  "Don't dally," Bianca said. "I have to get this door locked. He's restrained right now but I can't always be sure he'll stay that way." She threw her head back; her laughter tolled through the laboratory as she looked into the young man's face. "What happened to your tan, Mr. Wyland?"

  Dane flashed a lopsided grin. "It's around here someplace, Doctor Raborman. I'll find it later, I'm sure." He looked around the sterile lab. "Where are you hiding whatever it is I'm here to see?"

  "Behind that wall." Bianca pointed to the hidden panel. She removed a long rod from a stand beside her desk. "We'll need this before we go in. Like any dumb animal, he understands what this will do," she said viciously. Rod in hand, she palmed the panel and waited for it to slide completely open before she entered. When she did, a deafening noise rolled through the door.

  "My God." Dane's voice was a mere whisper. "I've never seen anything like this. What is it?"

  "A case study for science," Bianca said. "I remind you, whatever you see or hear while in the employment of Tartarus is highly confidential. Raphael tells me you understand that. Do you?" She stood at the end of the cage, the rod pointed in his direction.

  "Yes," he said, his eyes holding hers.

  Satisfied, she aimed the rod at the cage and touched the power switch. Light flashed and cage bars glowed. The creature howled and pulled its clawed appendages back against its body. Bianca jabbed the rod again; the beast huddled into a corner of the cage.

  "That's better, my pet. I want you to meet someone," she said, pointing at Dane. "This is the man who's going to build you a new house, George." She emphasized the name. The man animal, keeping its head pressed against its chest, hunkered lower to the cage floor.

  "Does it—he understand what you're saying?"

  "Not anymore," Bianca said. "The contaminated serum took his mind. Unfortunately. He responds to the same pleasure-pain stimulus any other animal responds to, though." She tapped the rod against one of the bars. The creature swung its head away from the tap. "See that bow?"

  Dane peered at the cage bar, made out a slight crinkling in the metal.

  "George did that in a fit of pique one night," Bianca continued. "That bar has been tempered to withstand a rated pull of three thousand pounds. Yet, he managed to dent it. You can see why we need something stronger to house him in." She bent and put her face close to the ca
ge bars. The animal did not move. At last she straightened. "He'll be fine, now. You'll find all the tools you need in that black bag sitting over there in the corner. Take your measurements or whatever it is you're going to do." She strolled toward the paneled door. "His Holiness must make a call to Washington before it gets any later—we'll be in the outer laboratory if you need us."

  The young man whirled. "You're not going to leave me in here alone, are you? What if he—"

  "He won't," Bianca said.

  She and Munoz left the room, leaving him alone with George Kayman.

  Chapter 53

  George

  From the corner of his eye, George watched the stranger walk to the black bag, pick it up, and return to the cage.

  Digging around in the case, the man removed a shiny glasslike object no larger than a pencil. Where an eraser would be, a push button glowed. The engineer clicked the button and a thread of light flashed against the floor. He whistled appreciatively.

  "State of the art, George," he said. "We'll make quick time with this."

  He squatted beside the cage.

  George knew what the man was seeing: an elongated head that had taken on the contours of a pointed snout; a protracted jaw, the mandible a lustrous ivory where laboratory lights glanced off a layer of razor-sharp bone; shortened arms with pincer claws where hands had once been; a slim, abbreviated torso flowing into long, powerful legs with feet designed for burrowing; and an entire body covered with what looked like iridescent scales—soft and delicate.

  George chuckled to himself. This young man's mind was open and curious. Right this instant, he had an urge to reach into the cage and touch the flesh, see if it really was scales or simply looked that way.

  "A hell of a thing to happen, George," Dane said softly. "I have to tell you, if I were in your shoes, I'd be mad as an Arizona rattler with his tail stepped on."

  He kept a running chatter as he worked, explaining exactly what he was doing and why. At one point, he drew a rough sketch of his idea, and held it up to the cage bars for George to see.

  "I know my yapping doesn't mean a thing to you, but it helps me to think, so bear with me, okay?" Dane again squatted beside the cage. "Now, we've got a problem," he said. "I need to measure how tall you are—or how long. Whichever. I also have to find some way to project your ultimate weight gain." Dropping to sit on the floor, he clasped his hands around his legs, and stared into the cage. Picking up the measuring pen, he punched the button. George watched the light play down the length of his legs and back up again.

  "This isn't going to work, old fellow," Dane said, as he glanced at the measurement. "You're apt to end up with quarters about half the size of this black box you're in now."

  The misshapen head lifted; large, topaz eyes looked straight into Dane's with liquid intensity. Slowly, the creature scooted toward the center of the cage, its eyes never leaving the engineer's face. Its snout drew back into a snarl of silent pain as it stretched its legs straight and ever so carefully lowered its upper body to the floor of the cage. At last, it lay supine in the confines of the cage with feet elevated up the side of one end of the cage and the head bent forward as shoulders rested against the other end.

  "My God," Dane whispered. "You do understand what's being said, don't you?"

  A thin film closed across the yellow eyes, dulled the color. Slowly the film lifted.

  "Oh, Christ," Dane said. "Oh, jeezus. To be locked into that body is one thing, but to know what you've become must be pure hell." He rocked back and forth.

  George listened to the mental confusion of the man sitting beside the cage. He tried to shift his foot and felt his claw scrape down the bar. Somfbitch, he thought. Is he going to measure or is he going to rock? Much more of this and I might be tempted to do a little nudging.

  His other foot slipped a fraction of an inch.

  Dane's head snapped up at the sound. "The poor devil's in pain, Wyland," he muttered. "Get him measured." Thumbing the button down, he played the beam along George's body and jotted figures into the notepad lying beside the black bag. Topaz eyes followed his every move.

  "She doesn't know, does she?" he jerked his thumb toward the paneled door.

  George lowered the eye film twice in succession.

  "But why?" Dane made a final measurement and clicked the beam off. "She's trying to help you."

  Black hate raged into the yellow eyes and the lower limbs jerked to the creature's chest. Unable to control his burgeoning emotion, George clicked his eyes shut. It would not do for this man to know just how fierce the rage was. He might decide not to come again, not to build the container. He could hear Dane counting the seconds, knew that the engineer was holding his breath.

  At last, the brilliant topaz glowed again. With slow, precise movements, George pulled himself to a sitting position, scooted back into the corner of the cage, and lowered his head in the abject ignorance of a dumb animal.

  "Well, don't worry about me telling her," Dane muttered. "Whatever's happened here is between you and her. Me? I'm going to build you a house." He closed the bag and carried it back to the exact spot where he had found it.

  At the door, he paused to look back at the creature, so still and silent. That man—animal is planning revenge, his mind said. When he's ready, he'll kill anything that gets in his way.

  An intelligent man, George thought, following the rambling mental chatter. I will that. Indeed I will.

  Dane's mouth puckered to the side. I'll have to tell her, his thoughts continued.

  The creature's head lifted. You fool, he thought. If you tell her, I'll know and it will be the last thing you ever do. A low, ominous growl rumbled up his throat and topaz eyes glared.

  Dane jerked back around. Hands shaking, he raised the intercom switch and spoke softly. A clicking sound echoed from the unlatching lock. The door slid back. George followed the man's thoughts as the engineer left the room.

  What did happen here? Dane asked himself as he stepped into the outer laboratory. Was it Raborman's mistake that contaminated the virility experiment? Did Ellery Jensen know about this? Was that why she left Tartarus? He determined to ask her when he arrived for dinner. He would keep this newfound information to himself until he had more answers.

  The door closed and George relaxed. An interesting turn of events, he thought. Bianca's old nemesis appeared to still be involved with the goings on at Tartarus. This Dane Wyland might prove useful after all. He settled back against the bars. He would wait—and watch. His time would come.

  Chapter 54

  Munoz

  Slapping Bianca's report against his hand, Munoz prowled the outer laboratory like a caged lion. "Three years, Bianca! Thirty-two Dakotans in three years. This will never do. Never do at all. I'm beginning to believe Leann Carter was one step ahead of you after all."

  "Not likely. She was still typing when I hit the delete key. There was nothing to send." Her own voice matched his belligerence. "Why they went underground is anybody's guess."

  "Oh, really. Have you considered indiscreet elimination? I would think that a series of fatal accidents involving Dakotan males might send them into hiding. Wouldn't you agree? That was careless, Bianca."

  Bianca flushed.

  "I want Ellery Jensen put under surveillance. You can bet she knows where they went. The woman wouldn't stay behind without a reason—culling information, I suspect. Sooner or later, she's going to make contact with someone." His face turned livid. "On second thought, perhaps it's time to bring her in, try a little persuasive questioning."

  "Ha! You might as well question that ape over there for all the answers you'll get. The type of persuasion you're talking about will never work on her. She'd go to her grave laughing at you."

  "You are an expert in the art?"

  "Listen, Raphael, I know how her mind works. You're going about this all wrong. Personal attacks, surveillance, your specialized questioning? She's prepared for that. No. You have to keep Ellery off balance, keep
her mind focused on other areas. When her fear for Dakotan safety becomes too great, she'll have to personally make certain that daughter of hers is fully protected. When she does, we'll be there."

  "Like you were with Matthew Jensen?" Munoz strode back to her desk and leaned his face close to hers. "What about him? I told you he was needed."

  Her eyes challenged his. "The opportunity was just too perfect, Raphael. The takeover mentality of that revolutionary group had to be squelched. His brother's death didn't do it—maybe his will. As it is, their concept has spread like wildfire. Or haven't you noticed the placards and riots?"

  "I'm not blind. The Aristocrats are in every nation I've visited over the past eighteen months. If it weren't for Vittorio's vigilance, I have no doubt that the rabble would have breached the Vatican itself." He straightened and his body moved back and forth. "No matter. Every country is now linked to the master control center and all grid power is on. Without a cause, such a group can't survive."

  "Don't sell them short, Raphael," she said. "It isn't just the grid anymore. Their battle cry is loud and clear: freedom or die. That's a powerful cry for the masses. Matthew Jensen kept the Aristocrats going and if other Dakotans are as deeply involved in the organization, your blueprint for world domination could fail. You know that, don't you?"

  His black eyes glittered and his rocking movement abruptly ceased. "That will never come to pass, Bianca. Never. Not if you stick to the plan."

  "Sometimes plans have to be adjusted to accommodate the circumstances." Bianca leaned back in the chair, clasping her hands across her stomach. "It's time we widened our circle of influence."

  His brow lifted questioningly.

  "It occurred to me that what we have here isn't a gene at all. It's a debilitating disease—communicable if activated. The public needs to be protected from this Dakotan abomination the same as they're protected from diphtheria or smallpox. Mandatory vaccination. That's the operative word here."