The Fog of Dreams
Page 29
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It took Richard Grace ten minutes to leave Norwood and cross the bridge into Hammon, where he guided his car into student parking at the medical school. He had a few meetings to attend to today, and he hoped the second would be as enjoyable as the first. There was something about seeing the steely resolve of someone melt with the presentation of a mere single sheet of paper that made his job so worthwhile.
The meeting with Worthy wouldn't be so easy. He pulled the keys from the ignition and tucked them into the narrow pocket of his fitted suit pants, then opened the door and slid out into the morning sun. Slowly traversing the parking lot, his fingers pulled the sunglasses from over his stern eyes and he stashed them away, squinting underneath the bright and powerful yellow sunlight. Sliding open the glass door of the on-campus biomedical library, Grace entered the large windowed building and turned left to head down the hall near the main area. A door marked "Employees Only" was the second door on the left, and Grace slid his identification card through a slot, and the door clicked open. He walked down a few short flights of stairs, then through two sets of doors, and three men in lab coats approached him. Quickly recognizing him, they pushed aside, letting him pass into the room beyond. It was a large, rectangular room, mostly metallic gray in color with featureless walls and floor. A room built only for function, not for aesthetics. Tables were scattered throughout it with holding tanks, large-scale computer mainframes, and enough lab equipment to stock a dozen Frankenstein films. A slender, older man in a white coat stood draped over a computer console.
"Doctor?"
The man turned, his eyes glinting. "Agent. Welcome back."
"We have some developments, Doc."
Dr. Worthy pulled his hands from the keyboard, almost as if stuck there by some invisible adhesive, and glanced closer at Agent Grace.
"Strickland?" he asked curiously.
Grace nodded.
"What do we have?"
The NSA Agent went through the events of the previous two days in minute detail, with Worthy nodding every few minutes and scratching his chin when he wasn't nodding. His eyes pried deep into Grace's in a way that almost made the agent uncomfortable, but he continued relaying the tales as heard from the field agents.
"His memory is? recovering?" Dr. Worthy asked.
"They don't believe so, Doc, no. Just the?I don't know?the fog is lifting. It's been two days, and he's already a lot more focused and attentive. Less crazed and over-emotional."
"Is it the cocktail?" Worthy asked, turning back to his computer.
"No idea, Doc. Certainly wasn't the planned timeline."
"Well, we're still refining. Why did he get the treatment so early?"
"That's classified, Doc."
Worthy rolled his eyes. "Okay, so this is still a work in progress. And you say his emotional state has leveled out? Even considering his family?"
"Yeah. I can't explain it either, Doc."
"Okay. Watch this one carefully. He's an abnormality. The other subjects have been sticking right to the formulary."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Too early to tell, Agent. My gut is this could be a good thing. If he can be controlled. Can he be controlled?"
"Controlled? Strickland? Heh. You didn't know him before, did you?" Agent Grace chuckled to himself.
Dr. Worthy sat back down in his swivel chair and resumed hammering on his keyboard. "No, I did not. I prefer it that way."
"Suit yourself, Doc. What else can I tell you? Anything else you want to know?"
"That will be fine, Agent. Same time next week?" Worthy looked up from his laptop screen.
"You're the boss, Doc," Grace replied and walked towards the exit, his brightly shined shoes squeaking on the smooth metallic floor.
As he went up the flights of stairs, Grace looked at his watch, happy to see the meeting was short and sweet. That gave him a few extra minutes to run across the campus green and grab the best cup of coffee in town. Maybe today would end up better than it began.