The Fold: A Novel Part 10

"Okay flight, got the car, found the place. I'm here now."

"So, how's it going?"

"Oh, great people. All of them." Mike used his toes to pry off his shoes. "I'm expecting the first brick through the window later this evening."

"That bad?"

"I think Bob Hitchc.o.c.k is willing to let me crawl out of here with only a beating, so he's probably my biggest fan right now."

"Are you always this pessimistic when I'm not around?"

"Well, I'm in a monotone trailer with no appliances and sitting on my one piece of furniture. It deadens the mood a bit."

Reggie snorted. "You see that Amex card?"

Next to the cot was the briefcase Reggie had given him. The smartphone and computer tablet had been in it, along with some other odds and ends. The ants a.s.sembled a complete inventory of the contents. "Yeah."

"It's a prepaid card," he said. "You've got fifteen thousand dollars on it for the next three months. If you want to drop a couple hundred at Target for a few bookshelves and a microwave, knock yourself out. Just save your receipts."

"How long do I get to keep the card?"

"Until you annoy me too much, and I cut you off," Reggie said. "If you need more on it, let me know."

"Thanks."

"Perks of the job. Speaking of which, anything yet?"

"Only been here a few hours. I'm still getting a feel for it. They know you've got worries about them, and they have perfectly rational explanations for your worry."

"Anything odd about the tech?"

"I still don't know enough about what they're doing." Mike set the tablet down, propping it up against the pillow. "Let me ask you something."

"Sure."

"You said you first saw them do this almost three years ago, yeah?"

"Just about."

"They did it again for me today."

"Did you do it?"

Mike shook his head. "Olaf Johansson. I watched from the control booth."

"What'd you think?"

"You're right. It's d.a.m.ned amazing."

"Told you."

"So why does it need more testing? They've had it working for a year and a half. You saw it months ago. Today's run was number 168 with a human subject. There've been no side effects or dangerous technical glitches. I'd say it works."

"And they say it needs more testing."

"But why? I mean, I gather there's still the time limit issue, but so what?"

On the tablet screen, Reggie shook his head. "I've asked Arthur a dozen times since they first showed it to me. He insists it's not ready to be revealed yet."

Mike could feel the ants itching to get at it in his mind. "And you're willing to release it now?"

"Yes. It takes care of the whole funding issue."

"And they know this?"

"They're not stupid. I would've done it the day after they first showed me, if Arthur hadn't been so insistent about the testing." Reggie had never been the type to waste time beating around the bush. He'd been slapped for it more than a few times in college.

"Huh," said Mike.

"Wow," Reggie said. "I am so glad I'm paying top dollar for your insight into this little puzzle."

"I'm holding off diving in as long as I can," said Mike.

Reggie's face s.h.i.+fted. "I know. I appreciate you doing this for me."

"You'd better."

"I do. You still want to do it?"

"Yep."

"If you haven't looked at anything yet, you could still back out. I could have you back in Maine in time to watch the sunrise."

Mike picked up the tablet. "I'm going to do it."

"Good. Now stop complaining."

"Yes sir, mister boss man, sir."

Reggie shook his head. "You know it's three times as offensive when you speak to a black man that way, right?"

"That was my goal. If it's okay with you, I'm going to lay back on my piece of furniture, singular, watch a movie, and go to sleep."

"Jet lagged?"

"Yeah."

"It's worse when you come back. You stay up until two in the morning."

"I do that anyway."

"So you'll be staying up until five."

"I'll call you in a couple days, let you know how it's going."

"Okay." Reggie paused. "I'm glad you're out there. Really. Thank you."

"Yeah, you're thanking me now. Wait until you see my bill."

"What bill? I just gave you a new tablet."

"Oh, that reminds me..." Mike swept his fingers across the screen and ended the session. He tossed the tablet onto the end of the bed, then had second thoughts and shoved it in a drawer. Reggie probably had a way to turn it on remotely. He'd have to go through the tablet's system tomorrow and see what kind of extras were in it.

Mike pulled off his s.h.i.+rt and stretched out. The cot squeaked and swayed beneath the thin mattress. After a moment he rolled the waferish pillow into a cylinder and braced it under his neck.

He closed his eyes, blocking off the gray ceiling of the trailer. In his mind, he scrolled back over all the movies he'd ever seen, and decided it might be worth watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier again. The darkness behind his eyelids became the flickering Marvel logo.

Mike relaxed into the springy cot and immersed himself in the adventures of Steve Rogers, slowing the images whenever Scarlett Johansson graced the screen to search for any resemblance to Olaf.

TWELVE.

Mike found a small kitchenette in the main building with some breakfast basics. It was stocked better than the teacher's lounge at his school, but not as well as the cafeteria. The delivery woman gave him a vague "Good morning," as she opened a box filled with donuts, m.u.f.fins, and other pastries. He glanced up from his bowl of cereal and examined the selection of pastries.

He was eyeing a sugar-crusted blueberry m.u.f.fin when Jamie pushed past him to grab a black coffee mug that could hold a softball. THE MACHINE SEES EVERYTHING was printed across its broad expanse in a digitalesque font. "I wouldn't," she said.

"Wouldn't what?"

Jamie emptied half of the coffeepot into her mug. "The blueberry m.u.f.fin. It's Sasha's. You really don't want to get between that woman and her breakfast."

His fingers s.h.i.+fted targets. "Thanks for the heads-up."

"No, not the old-fas.h.i.+oned. That's Bob's."

"What about the bagel?"

"Olaf's."

"The cruller?"

"Mine," she said, plucking it from the box and setting it by her mug. He stopped himself from grabbing it back and looked down at the box. "Is there anything here that someone doesn't have dibs on?"

She peered into the box, then tore open three sugar packets at once over her mug. "I think that jelly donut's up for grabs."

"I hate jelly donuts. There's nothing else?"

"Nope." She grabbed the cruller and a napkin in one hand, her coffee in the other, and waved him out of the way. "Guess you should've been here earlier."

"I was the first one here," said Mike.

"I meant earlier in the project," she called back from the hallway.

He finished his cereal, debated the jelly donut, and decided against it. He walked the halls, wondering when the scientists started their day. He wasn't sure if there was any sort of daily schedule. He'd need to ask Arthur about that.

The control room was still locked. His key card didn't work on it. Something else to ask Arthur about.

He wandered down to the main floor and found himself standing before the twin rings of the Albuquerque Door. The only sound was a faint crackle of cold from the nitrogen tanks. A spot of color on the floor moved, a roach scurrying back under cover.

Ten minutes ticked by on the clock in his head.

He walked back to the kitchen. The box of donuts and m.u.f.fins was gone. The coffeepot was empty, but the machine gurgled as it worked on a new one.

Mike went back to the front desk. The receptionist, Anne, was speaking to someone on the phone. She smiled at him, held up a finger, and finished her call. "Good morning," she said. "Did you get settled in last night?"

He nodded. "All things considered." He glanced around the lobby. "I don't suppose you know where everyone is?"

She glanced past him. "The conference room, I think. They're always in there on Wednesday mornings."

Mike bit back a sigh. "Where's that?"

Anne checked her screen and stood up. "Come on. I'll show you." She led him back down the hall. Her hair reached all the way down her back, he realized. It was smooth and straight, like a silk scarf or shawl. He'd had one or two students who'd tried using their hair as a living accessory, but none of them pulled it off as well. Combined with her eyes, her hair made jeans and a collared s.h.i.+rt look elegant.

They stopped at a door across the hall from the kitchen. Anne rapped twice, and Arthur's voice echoed a greeting from inside. She gave Mike a quick smile and headed back to the front. He opened the door.

The conference room was dominated by a long table and several swiveling chairs. A flatscreen hung on the wall near the door. The far wall held two of the rare windows that marked the front of the building.

The team sat around the table, filling every chair except the one at the far end. Mike glanced at the men and women, then singled out Arthur at the head of the table. "What's this?"

There were a few glances around the table. Bob took a long, slow sip of his water, while Neil became engrossed in the two lines written on his notepad. Arthur cleared his throat. "It's our weekly review and brainstorming session."

"Oh," said Mike. There was another pause. "Am I not supposed to be here for some reason?"

"I'm sorry," Arthur said. "It just slipped my mind. We're not used to having someone watching over our shoulders."

Olaf coughed while Jamie sketched something in the corner of her own notepad.

Mike nodded. "Do you mind if I sit in?"

"We're wrapping up, actually."

"Okay. Anyone willing to share notes?"