The Enclave (15 page)
“I said I would.”
“Very well. Don’t forget to take your cube.” She gestured at the plastic cube lying on his chair.
He picked it up with a sigh and headed for the door. But as his hand closed on its latch, she said, “You are such a wuss, Cameron Reinhardt. No wonder they drummed you out of the service. I don’t know what Parker sees in you!”
He looked over his shoulder at her, shocked by the venom in her voice. She walked toward him. “You’re just going to take whatever I dish out, aren’t you?” she demanded, disgust souring her voice.
“You’d like me not to?”
“I’d like you to show some backbone.” She stopped before him. “This passive-aggressive behavior is just . . . It’s cowardly. And hypocritical. And I find it galling that you can stand there and ask me to transfer Manny for not being a team player when you yourself provide him such a sterling example of the same.”
He frowned down at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. First she’ d told him he must do whatever Swain told him, then rebuked him for not standing up to her. Passive-aggressive? Show some backbone?
She grimaced and turned away from him. “Go. Your little girlfriend is no doubt waiting to speak to you in the hall. From the moment you walked through the door, she could hardly keep her eyes off you.”
He stared at her in renewed befuddlement. What little girlfriend? He recalled no one who couldn’t keep her eyes off him. . . .
“I said go,” Gen repeated.
And he did. The moment he stepped into the hall, he realized she must’ve meant Lacey McHenry, though since the only looks McHenry had given him in the last hour had been fish eyes of astonishment and distaste, he had no idea why Gen would think she was his “little girlfriend.” Nor why it would make her so angry.
The one thing he did know was that Lacey McHenry was not likely to be confronting him again about the events of last night.
At dinner every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, it was the custom for department heads and senior managers to sit at the subordinates’ tables, and according to the regular rotation, Cam was to sit at Table A5 tonight. Instead he arrived to find himself reassigned to B4, Manuel Espinosa’s table. That was Gen’s doing, for sure. Punishing them both for annoying her in the unity meeting, and a tacit reminder to Cam of her demand that he make more effort to be a team player.
Any other night he might have made such an effort, but the closer he got to the hour of his covert meeting with Rudy, the more preoccupied he became. It didn’t help that someone had told Manny that Cam’s mental health issues stemmed from an incident during his military service where his installation had been overrun by Taliban fighters. Cam refused to say whether it was so or not, and Manny refused to let him off the hook without giving an answer. It was not an enjoyable meal.
Finally it ended, and at 7:30, as had become his custom, he left the ziggurat to walk the paved paths that encircled the central park. He strode out around the loop, passing the Vault and the resort and the five-star Casa del Oro restaurant and finally circling back toward the ziggurat. It loomed ahead of him, a stairstep pyramid of glazed windows and polished granite walls reflecting the setting sun’s warm light in a golden monument to the immensity and audacity of Swain’s vision.
Cam rounded a bend, following the path down a gentle incline toward a line of cottonwood trees and the quiet pond beyond them. Spiky stands of green cattails lined the water’s edge, already steeped in shadow behind the stretch of protective railing that curved along the path.
He stopped at the bottom of the hill, leaned his forearms on the railing, and waited. A pair of ducks glided across the mirrorlike pond. Frogs croaked around him in shrill chorus as bats swooped and fluttered overhead. The scent of wet earth filled the still air, refreshingly cool here at the water’s edge. Slowly darkness clotted among the cattails, as crickets added their songs to that of the frogs, and in the cottonwood leaves above him, a cicada started buzzing.
The minutes ticked by. He began to wonder if he’ d overreacted. If Juan wasn’t Rudy after all and this mission was nothing but the result of his awakening paranoia finding far too much meaning in a couple of coincidences.
After all, hadn’t he told Swain this morning that it was
God
who’d brought him to Kendall-Jakes?
Caught in the midst of an intradepartmental squabble, Cam had been on the edge of no job at all when Swain’s offer had come in. Though it had seemed like a career saver, he’d balked at the prospect of working at the Longevity Institute. He’ d asked his Stanford department head, Sandy Ravenshead, flat-out if he should take the position. She’ d said he should, convinced it was a phenomenal opportunity not only to advance the field of genetic investigation but his own career.
Despite her strong encouragement, he’ d remained conflicted, praying repeatedly for guidance. Only after interviewing personally with Swain had he finally felt genuinely led to come to the Institute. All his Bible classes at the time had revolved around the importance of extending grace, of thinking the best, of focusing on the fact that Jesus had died for everyone, and willed that no man should perish. And on living in one’s ambassadorship. If God wanted him to serve as witness . . . how could he say no?
Besides, there’d been no other door. Except Home Depot . . .
So he’d come, telling himself he really wasn’t compromising his faith. But now . . .
Now he was up to his ears in compromise, with the grim specter of having been set up—tricked and betrayed in the worst possible way —hanging at the back of his thoughts.
Darkness had settled thickly around him when he sensed a presence in the shadows and was startled to realize he’ d missed his friend’s approach altogether. He stood near the rugged trunk of the cottonwood to Cam’s left, barely an arm’s length away, and almost invisible.
Cam felt the hairs on his nape lift as his stomach churned anew.
They stood for a long time in silence. Then, “That was fast thinking, you bagging her coat up like that and leaving it for me to find” came a low, familiar voice, utterly stripped of the Latino accent. “I wasn’t sure you still had it in you.”
Cam gripped the railing with trembling hands.
“Wasn’t sure you’d recognized me yet, either.”
Cam let out his breath in a low sigh, then murmured, “I hadn’t.”
“So why bag up the coat, then?”
“I couldn’t stand the blood.” Rudy was one of the few who would know exactly what he meant, and he telegraphed that understanding by a protracted period of silence. When next he spoke his tone was low and serious. “You’re having flashbacks again?”
“Starting last night.”
Another too-long interval elapsed. Then, “Did you see him? The intruder?”
“No. And what did you mean by ‘anomalous,’ anyway?”
“Exactly that. We suspect genetic modification.”
Nausea swirled in Cameron’s gut. There’d long been whispers that Swain’s early work in those privately funded international research facilities had involved cutting-edge advances in human genetic manipulation. “So you’re investigating Swain, then.”
“Indeed we are. Kidnapping, murder, fraud, extortion, illegal experimentation. He’s got a worldwide network of followers. Seven different international locations like K-J, but far less publicized, most of them where the local governments are happy to look the other way for the right price. There are rumors of reproductive human cloning, organ trafficking . . . slavery. Unfortunately, he’s grown intensely paranoid after his last run-in with the law. Trusts no one but his Inner Circle— several of whom are also under investigation. His security systems are state of the art, with redundancy upon redundancy, and the vetting process is exhaustive. I’d originally wanted to go in as a biologist, but it was soon obvious that would never fly. As it was, it took me a year to get on as a janitor.”
“I thought you hired on as an electrician.”
“I did. And worked the last eighteen months waxing floors and emptying trash bins in various locations around campus.”
Cam felt as if he’ d been gut-punched. “So you brought me in.”
Rudy said nothing.
Cam closed his fingers around the top rail, quietly furious. “So the debacle at Stanford was all a setup, then?”
Rudy let out a quiet breath. “More or less.”
Cam’s head swam. His heart pounded. “And Dr. Ravenshead? Was she in on it?”
“What difference does it make? It wasn’t like she had a choice.”
The coldness in the pit of Cam’s stomach congealed into an icy, leaden lump. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am.”
Cam choked on his expression of disbelief.
“I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since you left the unit.”
“I didn’t leave the unit. I was drummed out of it.”
“Only because they knew you intended to leave. And, anyway, you needed to. Back then. I’ve kept an eye on you, though. Prayed for you—”
“Don’t tell me that!” He turned to look straight at the other man, a darker shadow in the shadow. “Don’t you dare say that! You betrayed me. Not once but twice now. So don’t tell me you’re
praying
for me.” He shook his head and swore softly. “I can’t believe you did this to me.”
“I had no choice, Cam. You are the only man for this job.”
“This
job
?! I came here to contribute to the field, to uncover new information that might benefit the world. I came here to maybe give the gospel to some of these folks—not lie and scheme and betray them all. Whatever you want me to do, I won’t. No matter how you pressure and position me. I won’t. If Swain is dirty—”
“He most definitely is.”
“Well, I’ll not be the one to drive the knife in his back. I’ll leave first. In fact, I’ve already drafted my resignation.”
His words, soft but intense, died away into silence. The chorus of frogs and crickets filled his ears. Bats fluttered in brief silhouettes against the still-gleaming pond as over in the parking lot the street-lamps began to glow.
Finally Rudy loosed a long, low sigh. “He’s not just dirty, Cam.
He’s playing with fire, something I suspect you’ve already figured out. We didn’t select you just because of your expertise in genetics. Or even mainly because of it, though it helps tremendously. No, it’s your experience in Afghanistan we need.”
“Well, you’re up a creek without a paddle,” Cam said grimly, “because I can’t remember anything from Afghanistan.”
“You just said you were having flashbacks.”
Cam said nothing to that. He’ d begun to shake so badly, if not for the railing he’ d have collapsed.
“There is literally no one else who fits the bill like you do, Cam,”
Rudy said. “In my opinion, God himself has prepared you for this.”
“Rudy, you know I can’t do this stuff anymore. You of all people
know
!”
Rudy shifted against the tree trunk, the fabric of his uniform rasping against its rough bark. “You did pretty well last night, my friend. Despite whatever demons you were fighting in your head.” He paused, the silence between them filling again with frog and insect song. Then he whooshed out another breath and said more quietly than ever, “We think he might have some sarcophagi.”
Cam’s fear metastasized into terror. The air turned to thick, cold syrup as sweat popped out on his brow and chest. The tunnel of flashing fire flickered before him, but he fought it off, gripping the railing hard. “I can’t!” he rasped. “Get someone else.”
“There is no one else.”
“Well, you’ll have to find him, because it’s not going to be me.” His voice shook. “I’ve done my time. And it darn near killed me.”
He pushed up from the bar. Rudy’s next words stopped him from going farther.
“If you don’t help us, he may kill us all.”
Cam stood still, ears roaring.
“Start with their ATR program,” Rudy said. A string of murmured numbers followed, then a coded password: “Golf-Zero, One-Delta, Three-Yankee-Three.”
As old habits of mind kicked into action, already committing the sequence to memory, Cam shoved away from the railing, terrified he was going to lose everything he’ d spent the last eleven years building.
Even as he knew deep down it was already lost.
Lacey returned with Jade to their dorm room on floor B1 around midnight. That was considerably later than she’ d hoped to get to bed after her very long day, especially given her newly realized fragility. Nonetheless, she counted the time expenditure worth it.
After dinner Jade had invited Lacey to join her, Aaron, Mel, Pecos, and Lauren in the game room for a collaborative board game whose name she couldn’t recall. Afterward they sat around talking, and for the first time since arriving, Lacey felt like she might actually belong.
It was as if she’ d passed some trial by fire. She took comfort in knowing she wasn’t the only one who’d come unglued from the stress. Yes, she’ d fallen apart. But as Aaron had said just minutes ago, it was over now and she should move on.
Which was pretty much what Cameron Reinhardt had told her, though his words had carried a sense that she should simply ignore what she believed to be true and move on for the sake of her job. Which was probably more a manifestation of his personality than any reality of the situation.
“I’m glad you invited me to play, Jade,” she said as they stopped before their door. “That was fun.”
“
I’m
glad you said yes,” Jade replied, swiping her card through the reader. “Lets me know you’ve taken some of our advice to heart.” She opened the door as it unlocked and pushed into the room.
Lacey followed, shutting the door behind her. “Yeah, well, I really should have gone back to the prep room and run another couple loads of pans and tool packs. People will be howling for them tomorrow.”
“Hey, it’s Friday night. And you’ve taken next to no downtime since you got here. Besides, tomorrow’s Saturday, so we can sleep in.” She kicked off her clogs, then sat on the bed to pull off her red cotton socks.
“Which is why I said yes,” Lacey said with a grin. “Since I knew I could go in early and get a head start on everything.”