The Centauri Conspiracy

by G Russell Peterman

Chapter Twelve

  Secret basement

  A half hour later without any buzzing from Wray off on the Bakman Report, the door opens behind him again. A surprised Bakman turns to see who it is and smiles at his wife.

  "Duffy, you got a few minutes free."

  "Nothing pressing this morning, Dee . . . What's up?"

  "I want you to come with me to the basement."

  "Why?"

  "Stop that Duffy. Trust me. Just come along . . . Okay!" and with a serious face Dee steps forward to take his hand, easily pulls him out of his chair, and toward the door.

  "Okay, Dee," Bakman tells his wife as they walk out through the door, across the empty outer office, and stand waiting for the elevator door to open smiling at each other. Inside the elevator Dee's finger presses Basement Level Six. On the trip down she smiles up at Duffy and whispers.

  "I want you to see where I work."

  Just as Bakman's returning smile fades and starts to lean over to kiss Dee the door opens, and his wife leads him to the far end of the main hallway. The sign on the last gray metal door reads "Service Closet." Her plastic card flashes down the slot. The Service Closet door opens.

  Inside, it contains all kinds of cleaning supplies on shelves on three sides. Dee pulls Bakman inside and closes the door. When her hand lifts a black can of cleaner on the second shelf by the door, the floor goes down. When it stops, Dee flashes her card again in a slot and an exit door swings outward.

  When they step though an open door with shelves attached, it closes automatically behind them. Bakman hears the one floor elevator rise again. Dee leads Bakman down a short wide hallway past one closed doorway labeled, “Conference room,” opens the right half of a double door across the end, and inside is a large open space with white painted concrete and metal supports crossed. Only several white plastic curtains block his view of the entire secret basement floor. A busy bank of computers and view-screens hum.

  It is something that looks like a science lab, rows of artificial womb cloning units, and a nursery with seven healthy-looking days old sleeping babies. People in white coats and facemasks are walking around doing an assortment of tasks. Most workers stop a moment and look at Bakman. When they see the stranger is with Dee they know every thing is okay and go back to work.

  One man is extremely tall, an inch and three-quarters short of seven-foot, and very thin. The tall man walks toward them pulling off his facemask.

  Dee introduces him. "Doctor Tjercks, I'd like you to meet my husband, Duffy Bakman."

  "Glad to meet you, Mister Bakman. We had wondered when you would get around to us. Thought that this might be a useful place for you considering the things you’re planning.”

  When Bakman frowns Doctor Tjercks explains, “Dee tells us everything.” Doctor Tjercks’ long thin face smiles at Dee before continuing. “She’s like my own daughter. Dee has studied cloning and worked in our lab for most of her life. She will be responsible for making sure that this part works well. Trust her."

  "I do Doctor and thank you for having us. Will you show me around?"

  "No, I need Dee to help me for a few minutes. I will have someone else show you around," and Doctor Tjercks turns and orders loudly, "Dee, Come here for a minute."

  A small petite silver-blond woman in a white coat and mask walks toward them, and Bakman gets a surprise when the mask comes off. It was Dee's face. After the first shock of seeing another Dee, his mind tells him this is his other mechanical. As the mechanical Dee steps toward him in Dee’s walk, it flashed in his brain that this is where his wife’s replacement disappears to and reappears from.

  "Dee, show Mister Bakman around the place."

  "Yes Doctor Tjercks," the mechanical Dee answers in a voice that was also the same as the real Dee.

  A smiling mechanical Dee takes Bakman's arm. The real Dee and Doctor Tjercks start talking about a problem, turn, and move away. The Doctor and the real Dee exit the large area through a nearby door in a plastic curtain wall.

  For the next twenty-two minutes, the mechanical Dee explains to Bakman in more scientific detail than he could ever remember about each operation. What each one is and how it worked. Just as his mind was starting to wander from information overload, Doctor Tjercks and his Dee return.

  The Doctor hands Bakman a plastic card. "In case you need to get back down here. Any hour, we never sleep. Someone’s always on duty. If you need another card for someone else ask Dee.

  "I might at that," Bakman replies as he accepts the card and slips it into his pocket. Only then does he say, "Thank you Doctor for you kindness,” and bows to the mechanical Dee adding, “and thank you Dee for a most impressive tour."

  Before he can say more his wife, the real live Dee, takes his hand and leads him away. In moments the elevator lifts them back up to the basement sixth level and they stand inside the Service Closet. Before Dee will let him exit her finger presses the top of a screen on a shelf to the left and studies a round fish-eye view of the outside hallway. The doorway and hallway outside look clear. When Dee opens the door the screen blanks out. Outside, in the hallway they walk hand-in-hand to a waiting elevator.

  Inside, Dee turns so he cannot press the panel, crowds in close, and whispers. "I've just harvested my last eggs for our project. I was your friend. Now, Duffy, I'm ready to be your wife."

  "Are you going to be more than a paper-wife?" Bakman whispers back grinning and wrapping his arms around her.

  "Yes, and in spite of our silly government’s rule I hope to have a dozen babies," was all Dee said smiling, stretching up on tiptoes, and her arms pulls down his face to explain her feelings for him with their first real kiss.

  When their long passionate kiss ends Dee presses 25 on the elevator panel and kisses him again. The elevator stops at his office’s floor as their second emotional kiss ends, but Bakman touches the panel and the elevator moves upward again. This time he kisses his wife first.

  Upstairs Vee and Zee stand looking at a security screen by the elevator door. When the elevator door opens on his floor with Duffy and Dee still kissing Vee and Zee quickly smile. They watch for a brief moment, before both mechanicals move away to their rooms as a feverishly kissing couple hurry to Duffy’s room.

  On minute before ten across town that morning Sullivan Traud steps off a public hover on the Seventh Causeway and takes the elevator down to the Sixth floor. Twenty feet left is a stairway up under Seventh level bridgeworks jutting out from the DeBartolo Building and inside is the “Maroon Room.” A sign light flicks on and off announcing to any in the causeway below that the business is open. Traud walks up, steps inside, and through a dozen mostly empty tables, stares at a small empty dark stage, and stops at the bar. Looking around Traud realizing that the place for Woll is more of a cover and safe meeting place than a money maker.

  A bald chunky bartender standing behind the counter washing glasses mutters, “Yeah.”

  “Pour me a hot Curtain Raiser.”

  The bald man stops washing, steps around the bar, looks and pats him down for weapons, takes the book out of his pocket, and then motions with his finger for Traud to follow him. Two steps behind, Traud follows the bald man through a door behind the far end of the bar.

  Inside, the glass-washer points to a three-sided inch-thick plastic paneled booth with a small head-high opening, a double ball and dart proof shield for Woll. Traud steps inside it as directed. The floor feels like stepping on a weight recording platform. Sullivan Traud wonders if his weight has activated an explosive charge or a poison dart aimed at his back.

  The dish washer thumbs through the pages of Traud’s book looking for anything and finds a card introducing Sullivan Traud as a representative of Duncan Bakman and with contact information.

  In less than a quarter minute Traud’s weight starts a small maroon light blinking on the far wall in front of him. He knows something behind him has been armed or the floor will opens to get rid of him. Wonders which as a long nervous minute passes before a door
slides open opposite the front plastic shield.

  A tall, wide-shouldered, dark brown-haired, oval-faced clean shaven handsome man not yet thirty steps through leaving the door open behind him to escape through if necessary. Frowning and serious faced, the man speaks like one used to being obeyed.

  “I am Woll the Clone. What do you want?”

  “I am Sullivan Traud representing Duncan Bakman. Your man has my card and book.”

  Woll motions for both items; the bald glass-washer hands them to his boss. For a long moment Woll the Clone reads the card and ponders over an old fashioned Middle History volume.

  “Look at page 233,” Traud tells him, “and look at the numbers in the middle of the page between two commas.”

  Woll the Clone’s index finger finds the page and numbers. He looks up frowning.

  “That number is to an account worth one million dollars. It is a retainer fee from Duncan Bakman. He wants four robbery teams, four teams to move stolen goods, and three teams to move people. That money is not for a job. It is for your administrative costs, a set-up fee. Mister Bakman will pay a book a job in advance. He wants you to see that it is real money and then you two can talk.”

  “All right,” Woll the Clone replies and nods.

  The glass-washer touches a spot on the wall and suddenly the floor feels solid.

  “The double ball behind you is unarmed. You may leave. If everything is as you say we will meet again and I will meet Bakman.” Woll steps back through the door and it slides shut ending the meeting.

  Slowly Traud turns, walks back into the bar, walks through the Maroon Room, down the stairs to the elevator surprised that he is sweating. Waiting at the elevator he felt lucky to get out alive.