Terminal

Janet struggled against ponderously heavy eyelids made worse by the muffled drone of the engine and the gentle jostling. She wanted to press Sean for more of an explanation of what was going through his mind, and she thought the best way to do that was to get him to talk about molecular biology and what he was planning to do when he got back to the lab at Forbes. But she was too exhausted to go on.

Janet had always found driving calming. Between the little amount of sleep she’d gotten aboard the boat and all the running around they’d been doing, it wasn’t long before she nodded off. She fell into a deep, much needed sleep and rested undisturbed until Sean pulled off Route 1 onto the grounds of the Marathon Airport.

“So far so good,” Sean said when he noticed Janet was stirring. “No roadblocks and no police.”

Janet sat up. For a moment she had no idea where she was, but then reality came back in a numbing flash. Now she felt worse than she had when she’d fallen asleep. Running her fingers through her hair made her think of a bird’s nest. It was hard for her to imagine what she looked like. She decided not to try.

Sean parked the car in the most crowded part of the parking lot. He thought its presence would be less likely to be noticed that way and thereby give them more time. Hefting the cardboard box from the back seat, he carried it into the terminal. He sent Janet to check on commuter flights to Miami while he went to inquire about the availability of rental cars. He was still searching for a rental agent when Janet returned to tell him that a flight to Miami left in twenty minutes.

The airline agent helpfully taped Sean’s box closed after plastering the outside with “fragile” stickers. The agent guaranteed the parcel would be treated with the utmost care. Later, as Sean was boarding the small turbo prop commuter plane, he saw someone casually tossing his box onto a luggage cart. But Sean wasn’t worried. He’d found bubble wrap back at Basic Diagnostics when he packed the reagents. He was reasonably confident his primers and probes would survive the trip.

Once at the Miami airport, he and Janet rented a car. They used Avis, avoiding Hertz in case the Hertz computer indicated that Janet Reardon was already in possession of a red Pontiac.

With the primers and probes in the back seat, they drove directly to Forbes. Sean parked next to his 4 × 4 near the entrance to the research building. He got out his Forbes ID card.

“You want to come in or what?” Sean asked. Exhaustion was catching up with him at this point too. “You can take this car back to the apartment if you want.”

“I’ve come this far,” Janet said. “I want you to explain what you’re doing as you do it.”

“Fair enough,” Sean said.

They got out of the car and walked into the building. Sean did not expect any trouble, so he was surprised when the guard stood up. None of the guards had ever done that. This one’s name was Alvarez. Sean had seen him before on several occasions.

“Mr. Murphy?” Alvarez questioned with a definite Spanish accent.

“That’s me,” Sean said. He’d bumped into the turnstile arm which Alvarez had failed to release. Sean had his ID in his hand visible for Alvarez to see. The cardboard box was under his other arm. Janet was behind him.

“You are not permitted in the building,” Alvarez said.

Sean put down his cardboard box.

“I work here,” Sean said. He leaned over to hold his ID closer to Alvarez’s face in case the guard had missed it.

“Orders from Dr. Mason,” Alvarez said. He leaned back from Sean’s ID as if it were somehow repulsive. He picked up one of his telephones with one hand and flipped through a Rolodex with the other.

“Put the phone down,” Sean said, struggling to control his voice. Between everything he’d been through and his general fatigue, he was at the end of his patience.

The guard ignored Sean. He found Dr. Mason’s phone number and started punching in the numbers.

“I asked you nicely,” Sean said. “Put the phone down!” He spoke now with considerably more force.

The guard finished dialing, then calmly eyed Sean as he waited for the connection to go through.

With lightning speed, Sean reached across the Corian desk and grabbed the phone line where it disappeared into the woodwork. A sharp yank tore the cable free. Sean held the end of the cable up to the surprised guard’s face. It was a tangled mass of tiny red, green, and yellow wires.

“Your phone is out of order,” Sean said.

Alvarez’s face turned red. Dropping the receiver, he snatched up a truncheon and started around the desk.