Michael Palmer - A Heartbeat Away

“Community activists, social workers, and other mental health professionals have been uniform in their condemnation of the Certain Path’s alleged methods,” the reporter said. “Some are opposed to the ministry and its soup kitchen remaining open to the public. In the meantime, Brother Xavier Bartholomew is free on bail and back at work. A trial date is projected for sometime next year. Bartholomew and his attorney declined our requests for an interview.”

YouTube faded to black. Griff pointed to the stats that showed the video had originally been uploaded four years ago, and over that time had amassed only 725 views.

“Guess a video about abusing drug addicts isn’t going to sweep the world,” Griff said.

“Certainly not like all those dancing overweight cats with ten million views apiece,” Forbush replied.

“I think I need to try and find Brother Bartholomew and get some answers for ourselves.”

“What’s so important?” Melvin asked.

“Because if we’re right, and Chen was experimenting on people, I would assume that the subjects were referred to her by Bartholomew.”

“It’s possible.”

“What’s possible?”

“For a man of the cloth to go bad. In Night of the Hunter, Robert Mitchum—one of my favorite actors, incidentally—plays Harry Powell, a serial killer and self-proclaimed preacher, who has L-O-V-E tattooed on the knuckles of one hand and H-A-T-E on the other. Then there’s Reverend Phillip Shooter in Hot Fuzz and, of course, Cardinal Richelieu in all the Three Musketeer movies and spin-offs. Those are just for starters. Now that I think about it, there’s—”

“Melvin, I get the point. I want to know how these people were chosen, where they were treated, and what was done to them. And most of all, I want to know what happened to J. R. Davis. Was he just some sort of clerical error on Sylvia’s part, or is he still alive?”

Griff held up Davis’s lab report, distinguished from the others in the fax set by a result that did not conclude with the word “deceased.”

“Could Bartholomew be in jail?” Forbush asked. “That news report was from a few years ago.”

Griff surfed the Web some more.

“It says here the case against him was dropped a few months before trial. That was about two years ago. Doesn’t say anything about the ministry closing down.”

“And Allaire can’t know about this?” Melvin asked.

“Allaire might have orchestrated all of this,” Griff said. “I don’t know the man well enough. He doesn’t trust me, anyway. What if he ordered Chen to conduct human experiments? You’d think he would have told me if he knew Chen was dosing people with the virus, but I’m just not sure. If he’s involved, he might decide I’m going to use this stuff against him. Or else he’ll think I’m just setting it up to give me leverage to bolt. For now, Melvin, nobody else can know about this—at least not until we know more ourselves. It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. Can you sneak me out of here, the way you did Angie?”

“What about our work? Orion? Our experiments?”

Griff rubbed at his eyes.

“What experiments are we going to continue, Melvin?” he asked, his voice cracking. “The ones that aren’t working? The ones that never had a chance to work? I was on this job for years at Columbia, then here before they arrested me. Find a way to keep WRX3883 from killing people—that was my original assignment. And I failed. A lot of scientists fail. That’s just the way it is. We fail and we fail until one day we shift gears and change direction and something works. So now, I’m being asked to do in a week or two what I couldn’t accomplish in years. You tell me what I’m leaving?”

“We could lose a lot of time. It could be the end of the line for the people in the Capitol.”

“I’m telling you, Melvin, it’s the end of the line already. I’ve done everything I can think of. If this J. R. Davis really did survive his WRX infection, then we might have something. We might have that change of direction.”

Forbush sat pensively for a while, then said, “I don’t believe we should take the chance of trying to sneak you out in the trunk.”

“Why not?”

“I think Angie and I were lucky. Now that we actually did it, I would bet eight out of ten times we’d be caught.”

“Maybe they were under orders to let her go so she could be followed.”

“Now that you mention it, that seems possible. I lied to the guards about a critical experiment being in jeopardy unless I got to town for some supplies we didn’t have, so they might have been in a rush. Plus, I do asthma attacks well because I actually have it. The guard was rummaging through the glove compartment for my inhaler when Angie slipped into the trunk.”

“So the trunk isn’t going to work. What else?”

“What about the exhaust system?”

Griff saw the possibilities immediately.

“How many of the ventilation ducts have surface access outside the wire?”

“Only one,” Forbush said. “We have a dedicated single-pass air exhaust discharge for the Kitchen ventilation system that pumps HEPA-filtered air to the surface. It was intentionally installed far from occupied buildings and the other air intake vents. It’s interlocked with the other subsurface supply and exhaust fans to prevent positive pressurization in the Kitchen labs.”

“How wide is that vent shaft?”

“Big enough to fit you inside, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“But not a heck of a lot bigger in diameter than that. Plus, from what I recall, after it leaves the Kitchen, the duct makes a pretty intense vertical rise. There are not many sharp bends in ductwork, or long horizontal runs, because those put a lot of strain on the exhaust fans. On the plus side, the discharge is well outside the perimeter of the base.”

“So nobody would see me exit?”

“Not even if they were using searchlights.”

“How do I get in?”

“First, you have to be suited, so that’s going to make the work harder.”

“What tools do I need?”

“A screwdriver and ratchet should do it. You’ll have to remove the pre-filters first, then the HEPA filter from its housing, clear the bags from the safety and cinching straps and such, the blower too. Piece of cake.”

“That’s some cake. Is the exhaust system alarmed?”

“It is, but I can shut that down.”

“How long will it take me from the Kitchen to the surface?”

Forbush pondered the question.

“Twenty minutes, I would guess. You’re going to have to shimmy your way to the top. That will be the hard part. Keep your hands and feet pressed to the sides of the duct and inch your way up.”

“Sounds tough.”

“If you slip, you’ll fall like you were on one of those giant water chutes. You could twist an ankle or break a bone when you hit bottom, in which case you’d never get back up to the safety grate.”

“You don’t sound very optimistic.”

“That depends on how well you kept yourself in shape in that cell. Give yourself thirty minutes instead of the twenty I said. There’s a ladder bolted into the duct at the far end. That should help.”

Griff checked his watch.

“I have a couple of things I want to finish in the lab. I’ll be ready to go at two this afternoon—no, make it three thirty. It’ll be almost dark then. If it takes me longer than we think, I don’t want you waiting around in the dark in the middle of noplace. Can I just climb out at the other end?”

“The safety grate is heavy. You won’t be able to push it off without a winch pulling from the other side.”

“Do we have one of those?”