Terminal

“How’s it going?” Sean asked. He reintroduced himself in case David had forgotten him from the day before.

“Things are going as well as can be expected,” David said.

“What are you working on?” Sean asked.

“Melanoma,” David answered.

“Oh,” Sean said.

The conversation went downhill from that point, so Sean drifted on. He caught Hiroshi looking at him, but after the stairwell incident Sean avoided him. Instead he moved on to Arnold Harper who was busily working under a hood. Sean could tell he was doing some kind of recombinant work with yeast.

Attempts at conversation with Arnold were about as successful as those with David Lowenstein had been. The only thing Sean learned from Arnold was that he was working on colon cancer. Although he’d been the source of the glycoprotein Sean was working with, he didn’t seem the least interested in discussing it.

Sean wandered on and came to the glass door to the maximum containment lab with its No Entry sign. Cupping his hands as he’d done the day before, he again tried to peer through. Just like the previous day, all he could see was a corridor with doors leading off it. After glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was in sight, Sean pulled open the door and stepped inside. The door shut behind him and sealed. This portion of the lab had a negative pressure so that no air would move out when the door was opened.

For a moment Sean stood just inside the door and felt his pulse quicken with excitement. It was the same feeling he used to get as a teenager when he, Jimmy, and Brady would go north to one of the rich bedroom communities like Swampscott or Marblehead and hit a few houses. They never stole anything of real value, just TVs and stuff like that. They never had trouble fencing the goods in Boston. The money went to a guy who was supposed to send it over to the IRA, but Sean never knew how much of it ever got to Ireland.

When no one appeared to protest Sean’s presence in the No Entry area, Sean pushed on. The place didn’t have the look or feel of a maximum containment lab. In fact, the first room he looked into was empty except for bare lab benches. There was no equipment at all. Entering the room, Sean examined the surface of the counters. At one time they had been used, but not extensively. He could see some marks where the rubber feet of a countertop machine had sat, but that was the only telltale sign of use.

Bending down, Sean pulled open a cabinet and gazed inside. There were a few half-empty reagent bottles as well as assorted glassware, some of which was broken.

“Hold it right there!” a voice shouted, causing Sean to whirl around and rise to a standing position.

It was Robert Harris poised in the doorway, hands on his hips, feet spread apart. His meaty face was red. Dots of perspiration lined his forehead. “Can’t you read, Mr. Harvard Boy?” Harris snarled.

“I don’t think it’s worth getting upset over an empty lab,” Sean said.

“This area is off limits,” Harris said.

“We’re not in the army,” Sean said.

Harris advanced menacingly. Between his height and weight advantage, he expected to intimidate Sean. But Sean didn’t move. He merely tensed. With all his street experience as a teenager, he instinctively knew what he’d hit and hit hard if Harris threatened to touch him. But Sean was reasonably confident Harris wouldn’t try.

“You are certainly one wiseass,” Harris said. “I knew you’d be trouble the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Funny! I felt the same way about you,” Sean said.

“I warned you not to mess with me, boy,” Harris said. He moved within inches of Sean’s face.

“You have a couple of blackheads on your nose,” Sean said. “In case you didn’t know.”

Harris glared down at Sean and for a moment he didn’t speak. His face got redder.

“I think you are getting entirely too worked up,” Sean said.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Harris demanded.

“Pure curiosity,” Sean said. “I was told it was a maximum containment lab. I wanted to see it.”

“I want you out of here in two seconds,” Harris said. He stepped back and pointed toward the door.

Sean walked out into the hall. “There are a few more rooms I’d like to see,” he said. “How about we take a tour together?”

“Out!” Harris shouted, pointing toward the glass door.

JANET HAD a late morning meeting with the director of nursing, Margaret Richmond. She used the time from Sean’s wake-up call until the moment she had to leave to take a long shower, shave her legs, blow-dry her hair, and press her dress. Although she knew her job at the Forbes hospital was assured, meetings such as the one she was anticipating still made her nervous. And on top of that, she was still anxious about Sean’s potential for heading back to Boston. All in all she had plenty of reason to be upset; she had no idea what the next few days would bring.