Robin Cook - Shock

"I agree," Deborah said. "I also didn't buy her disclaimer about having no knowledge of a problem between the two."

"Well, it's not our concern."

"That's for sure," Deborah agreed.

The next step in the women's preemployment process was a visit to security. Contrary to Joanna's earlier concerns, it was an easy procedure. The location was one of the cubicles in the administration area manned by a guard wearing the same uniform as the individual with the clipboard at the front gate. He took Polaroid photos of both women and created laminated plastic Wingate Clinic ID cards which the women were instructed to have on their person at all times while on the premises.

The second part of the security process involved the blue entry cards. The guard produced these by entering the women's predetermined level of access, obtained from material given by Helen, into a form displayed on his workstation monitor. It took a moment because he typed with only two fingers. Once the typing was completed, the cards were extruded automatically. He handed them over and told the women to be careful with them.

The next step was computer access. That involved going to a different cubicle where the women were introduced to Randy Porter. According to Helen they were lucky to have caught him at his workstation. Randy was a sandy-haired, slightly built fellow who looked like he was still in his teens. He explained to the women that when they sat at their workstations for the first time and swiped their blue cards through the slot on the top of their keyboards, a prompt would pop up asking them for a password. He said they were to select NEW and then provide a secret word which only they would be apt to know and which they could count on remembering.

"Should the password be a specific number of letters or digits?" Joanna asked.

"That's up to you," Randy said. "But it is best if it is six or more alphanumeric ciphers. Just be sure it's something you can remember, because if you forget your password, you have to come to me, and that can take some time."

Helen gave a short, corroboratory laugh.

"Any other questions?" Randy asked.

"What kind of a system is it?" Joanna asked.

"The operating system is Windows 2000 Data Center Server."

"And the hardware?"

"It's an IBM Server xSeries 430 with a Shiva firewall," Randy said. "Is that what you're asking?"

"Thanks," Joanna said simply.

"It's all Greek to me," Helen said. "Is that it?"

"That's it from my end," Randy said. "Unless there are more questions."

As they left the network administrator's cubicle Helen checked the time. It was almost one o'clock in the afternoon. She hesitated in the aisle.

"I'd like to introduce you to your respective department heads,' Helen said. "But it is lunch time. Perhaps I could invite you to have something to eat in our dining hall. Gauging from Dr. Saunders's response, I'm certain he would not want you to go hungry."

Joanna started to decline the invitation but Deborah interrupted her by saying, "Lunch sounds good to me."

"Wonderful," Helen said. "I know I'm famished."

The dining hall was located on the second floor of a two-story curved pavilion attached to the back of the central section of the building. Helen led the women back on the same route they'd used to get to the directors' office, but after the fire door they took a light instead of a left.

"Damn it! Why did you have to agree to eat here?" Joanna whispered sotto voce to Deborah when she was confident Helen had gotten far enough ahead so she could not hear.

"Because I'm hungry,' Deborah said flippantly.

"The more we do here today and the longer we stay the greater the chance we'll be recognized."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," Deborah said. "Besides, the more we learn about this place, the greater chance we'll have succeeding tomorrow when we're here in earnest."

"I wish you'd take this more seriously."

"I'm taking it seriously!" Deborah blurted.

Joanna shushed her as they came up to Helen, who'd waited for them.

The dining room was semicircular in shape with windows looking out the rear of the building. With the ground sloping downward, the view to the east was expansive. Deborah recalled that the lab had a similar view although from smaller windows and hence it was not quite as dramatic. The roof peaks and chimneys of some of the living quarters could be seen sticking up above the budding trees as could the much larger chimney of the power station. Also, the red top of a silo was just visible between the power station and the living quarters.

Helen restrained the women at the threshold while she scanned the diners, obviously searching for someone in particular. The room was large, and like the rest of the building it had numerous Victorian details, including a central, period crystal chandelier. Considering its size, the room was hardly crowded. Only thirty to forty people were sitting at widely separated tables. Their voices caused only a soft murmur.

Joanna stiffened as she caught sight of Dr. Donaldson sitting with five other professional-appearing colleagues. Turning her back in the doctor's direction, Joanna grabbed Deborah by the upper arm and motioned with her head. Deborah immediately comprehended.

"Relax, for goodness' sake!" Deborah said. Joanna's anxious paranoia was getting on her nerves.

"Is something wrong?" Helen asked.

"No, nothing,' Joanna said innocently. She gave Deborah a dirty look.

"There they are," Helen said, pointing off to the right. "There's Megan Finnigan, the laboratory supervisor, and Christine Parham, the office manager. Conveniently enough, they're sitting at the same table. Come on, let me introduce you!"

Joanna cringed and tried to keep her back toward Dr. Donaldson as she followed Deborah, who'd fallen in behind Helen. Helen was leading them toward one of the tables near the window. To Joanna's dismay, the sound of Deborah's heels on the aged parquet floor combined with her tawdrily provocative outfit had caught the attention of everyone in the place, including Dr. Donaldson.

Deborah was unconcerned about the stir she was causing. Her attention had been absorbed by a table of Spanish-speaking diners she'd passed near the dining room's entrance. They were all young, compact, darkly complected women who Deborah guessed were South American or Central American natives. What caught her attention was that they all appeared to be pregnant – and all of them seemed equally far along.

Following the introductions to the two department heads who had finished their meals and were about to depart, Helen took Joanna and Helen to a separate table. There they were served by another woman who, like the young women they'd seen on the way in, appeared to Deborah like she was from South or Central America. She, too, was pregnant to the same degree as the others.

Once the lunch was served, Deborah's curiosity got the best of her, and she asked Helen about the women.

"They are Central Americans," Helen said, corroborating Deborah's impression. "They're from Nicaragua. It's an arrangement that Dr. Saunders has made with a colleague in that country. They come for a number of months on a work visa, and then return home. I have to say, they have solved a big problem for us by providing kitchen, cleaning, and serving help, which we were unable to find in this area."

"Do they come with their families?"

"No, just by themselves. It's a chance for them to make a serious amount of money, which they send back home."

"But they all look pregnant," Deborah remarked. "Is that some kind of coincidence?"

"No coincidence at all," Helen said. "It's a way for them to earn extra money. But listen, eat up! I really would like to show you the living quarters which I hope we can talk you into taking advantage o£ I know you'll be pleased with the rents. They're shockingly reasonable, especially compared to those in Boston."