Terminal

After everything they’d been through, Janet figured there wasn’t much point in resisting now. She let Sean help her through the window.

They were standing in a men’s lavatory. There was the scented smell of disinfectant coming from an oval pink cake in the base of the urinal attached to the wall.

“Fifteen minutes!” Janet said as they cautiously opened the door.

Outside the men’s room was a hall running the length of the building. A cursory check of the floor revealed a large laboratory across from the men’s room that also ran the length of the building. On the same side as the men’s room were a ladies’ room, a storeroom, an office, and a stairwell.

Sean opened each door and peered inside. Janet looked over his shoulder. Entering the laboratory proper he walked down the central aisle, glancing from side to side. The floor was a gray vinyl, the cabinets a lighter gray plastic laminant, and the countertops stark white.

“Looks like a normal, garden-variety clinical lab,” he said. “All the usual equipment.” He paused in the microbiological section and looked into an incubator filled with petri dishes.

“Are you surprised?” Janet asked.

“No, but I expected more,” Sean said. “I don’t see a pathology section where they’d process biopsies. I was told the biopsies are sent here.”

Returning down the main hall, Sean went to the stairwell. He mounted the steps. At the top was a stout metal door. It was locked.

“Uh oh,” Sean said. “This might take more than fifteen minutes.”

“You promised,” Janet said.

“So I lied,” Sean said as he inspected the lock. “If I can find some appropriate tools it might be sixteen minutes.”

“It’s been fourteen already,” Janet said.

“Come on,” Sean said. “Let’s see if we can find something to act as a tension bar and some heavy wire to use as picks.” He retreated down the stairs. Janet followed.

STERLING’S CHARTERED Sea King touched down with a squeal of rubber at seven-forty-five in the morning at the Key West airport and taxied over to general aviation. At the commercial terminal right next door an American Eagle commuter plane was in the final boarding process.

By the time Sterling had gotten a call back from the charter company it had been close to five A.M. After some persuasion which included a promise of extra money, the plane was supposed to have departed around six, but because of refueling problems it wasn’t ready to leave until six-forty-five.

Both Sterling and Wayne took advantage of the delay to catch some sleep, first at the Edgewater Beach Hotel, then in the waiting area at the airport. Then they had slept most of the flight.

Arriving at the general aviation building in Key West, Sterling saw a short balding man in a floral print short-sleeved shirt gazing out the front window. He was holding a steaming foam cup.

As Sterling and Wayne deplaned, the balding man came out and introduced himself. He was Kurt Wanamaker. He was of stocky build with a broad, suntanned face. What hair he had was bleached by the sun.

“I went by the lab about seven-fifteen,” Kurt said on the way to his Chrysler Cherokee. “Everything was quiet. So I think you’ve beaten them if they are planning on coming at all.”

“Let’s go directly to the lab,” Sterling said. “I’d like to be there if and when Mr. Murphy breaks in. Then we could do more than merely deliver him to the police.”

“THIS SHOULD work,” Sean said. He had his eyes tightly closed while he fiddled with the two ballpoint pen refills. He’d bent the end of one to a right angle to serve as a tension bar.

“What exactly are you doing in there?” Janet asked.

“I told you back at Forbes,” Sean said. “When we were trying to get in the chart vault. It’s called raking the pins. There are five of the little guys in there keeping the cylinder from turning. Ah, there we go.” The lock opened with a click. The door swung in.

Sean entered first. Since there were no windows, the interior was as dark as a moonless night, save for the light that spread up through the stairwell. Groping on the wall to the left of the door, Sean’s hand hit against a panel of switches. He flipped them all on at once and the entire ceiling lit up in a wink.

“Well, look at this!” Sean said in utter amazement. Here was the lab he’d expected to see at the Forbes Cancer Center research building. It was enormous, encompassing the entire floor. It was also very white, with its white floor tiles, white cabinets, and white walls.

Slowly Sean walked down the center aisle, appreciating the equipment. “Everything is brand new,” he said admiringly. He put his hand on a desktop machine. “And strictly top notch. This is an automated southern blotting instrument. It runs at least twelve thousand dollars. And here is the latest chemiluminescence spectrophotometer. It’s a cool twenty-three. And over there is a high phase liquid chromatography unit. That’s around twenty grand. And here’s an automatic cell sorter. That’s at least one hundred and fifty thousand. And my God!”