Thunder (24 page)

Treva grinned. “I'm into cellular biology now.”

Ganston heard security tell arguing merchants to lower their voices or they'd be leaving. He frowned. He hated coming here when it was busy. The noise bothered him.

Treva suddenly seemed more interested in something at the other end of the hallway. Her glance darted to the side and then to the floor.

“Treva-a,” Ganston said, wagging his finger at her. “I know that look. You're about to tell me something I won't like.”

She glanced down the hall one more time then grimaced. “You know me so well, I might as well tell you. Sort of like ripping the bandage off all at once.”

Ganston hugged her again. The fresh smell of her hair made him remember her youthful innocence. “You're stalling, young lady.”

She lowered her head. “I'm working on Dr. Everling's Lander project.”

Ganston released her and backed up a step. “You're doing what?” He felt the air being sucked from his lungs. In his peripheral vision he could see Stemple standing at the southeast corner of the corridor. What was he doing here?

“I understand your years of history with him and I know you don't approve, but it was a job I really wanted,” Treva said. She gave him the pleading look she'd used as a child when there was a special sugary treat she wanted that he knew would ruin her appetite for dinner.

Ganston ignored her act, focusing on Stemple. Was the
man watching him? Or was he watching Treva? He decided to test the theory. He wasn't overly paranoid, but it was better to understand the man's intentions.

“Uncle, you seem distracted,” Treva said as she rubbed the sleeve of his jacket.

Ganston looked at his ComTex. “I'm very late for an appointment, but I want you to promise me that you'll come by my quarters for dinner. We need to talk about this job, and my project.”

Treva unfurrowed her eyebrows and smiled broadly. “I'll call and we can make a date.”

“Promise it will be in the next two weeks.”

Treva pulled back her chin and narrowed her eyes. “If that's what you want. What are you up to, Uncle?”

“Yes, that's what I want, my sweet.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I have a much brighter career move to offer you.”

“And you don't want to tell me now?” She smiled.

Ganston kissed her forehead again. “There is a time and a place for everything. I love you, my child.” He turned and left.

Treva stood among the throng. Was her uncle going to offer her a position at Stone Braide? She didn't want to leave the Mountain before the Landers were freed. Well, she'd worry about that later. Right now her focus was to find Glade's daughter. She moved toward the security area.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and whipped her around. Adrenaline rushed to her chest as she stood face-to-face with Stemple.

“What do you think you're doing?” His voice boomed, bouncing from the wall.

Treva wrestled her arm free and raised a fist. “This is the second time. Don't put your hands on me again. I may look like a lightweight, but I assure you, Mr. Touchy, I can lay you out on this floor for manhandling me.” She'd have yelled for security, but that wasn't the kind of attention she wanted right now.

Stemple threw up both hands. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to feel like an attack. But you have to know that if Everling ever saw the display of affection you just demonstrated with Ganston, you'd be out of a job in two seconds flat.”

“What is it with the two of them? Uncle feels the same way about Everling.”

Stemple shook his head. “The rivalry goes back too far for me to care. What are you doing down here? This is the last place I expected to find you.”

Treva needed a plausible explanation. She chastised herself. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? “I-I . . .” Her eyes darted over his shoulder as she looked to invent a reason. “I was looking for a merchant.”

Stemple stared at her. “What do you need with an outside merchant?”

Her mind raced as her glance crossed the pallet of snake skins. “I was interested in studying the cellular biology of the large predator snakes from down south, and I remembered seeing those-size skins come in with the merchants.” She gestured to the pallet.

Stemple eyed the pallet but seemed satisfied. She breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“I would say that you have too much work in the lab to be here looking for additional work to study. Did you get the data correlated I sent you this morning?”

Treva glanced down the corridor. She'd never make it to the holding cells with Stemple around. “Um, no. I was taking a little break. What are you doing down in this area?”

He straightened. “The biometric log-in triggered an alert in the lab that there might be a Lander present. Everling wasn't in my area, so I came down to check out the details.”

She faked what she hoped looked like surprise. “Wow. Do you need me to go with you?”

“No. I'd be more comfortable if you were back in the lab, doing the work I assigned. I need those results later on this afternoon, and I don't want my own work languishing because yours isn't complete.”

Treva intertwined her fingers as her shoulders dropped. There wasn't much chance of getting around him. How was she going to get to the holding cells? And what was she going to do if he got there first?

“Are you listening to me?” he asked.

Treva jerked. “I'm sorry. My mind seems so preoccupied lately. Yes, I'll get on it right away. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Her mind raced, searching for options. She needed a minute to think. Where could she go so he wouldn't see her?

Treva stepped back against the wall to allow three merchants with large bundles slung over their shoulders to pass.

Think
.

“So I can expect your report before you leave today?” Stemple was getting impatient with her. She could tell by his tone it was time for her to vacate his line of sight.

“Yes, I'm going now,” Treva said with a wave of her hand. She started slowly back up the long corridor. She couldn't leave. She'd promised Glade. If Stemple corralled his daughter, there was no telling what would happen. He seemed upset at the idea of dismantling the project, but she couldn't be sure of his intentions.

Her heart thumped with the speed of her steps, and her stomach churned. She reached the end of the security section and turned corridors twice. There was no chance of Stemple seeing her from here. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and ran through all the available options. Her eyes flew open.

The holding area end of the security station opened into an area connected with a JetTrans pod. She could get in that way, or at least observe from there. The loop of connecting streets would take her out into the Mountain community, and she could circle back around Science Consortium structures. It would take about four minutes. Would they still be there?

Treva took off at a dead run.

G
anston seethed as he watched Stemple manhandle Treva. Her father had died days before her second Birth Remembrance, and a month later Ganston had vowed to her mother, on her deathbed, that he would protect Treva to his last breath. After what he'd just witnessed, that time might be now.

Ganston waited for Treva to turn the second corner on her way out of the security station before he confronted Stemple. He didn't want her involved in his tirades. She'd probably know soon enough.

Stemple moved farther into the station toward the holding cells. That seemed odd in itself, but Ganston disregarded it as he wove among the merchants. Stemple stopped at the security station. The officers were both occupied with other tasks, so he waited, allowing Ganston to catch up to him.

“Stemple, I want to talk to you about the way you touched my niece,” Ganston said in a loud voice.

The man turned slowly to face him with disdain. “What are you talking about, old man?”

Ganston frowned. “Your behavior was rude. It seems you only act civil when you're around Everling.”

“I act civil when the gesture is reciprocated. You seem to have an overly active relationship with one of our key researchers, and I'm sure Dr. Everling would find it a cause for concern.”

Was he trying to intimidate by threatening Treva's job?

“I couldn't care less what Everling worries about, but I do worry about the display I witnessed. I don't want you putting your hands on my niece again.” Ganston glared at Stemple, who moved closer.

“You need new glasses, old man. I didn't hurt Treva in any way. The discussion about her work requirements and what she needs to do to accomplish them was very civil.”

At that moment the officer who'd brought Ganston the tablet to sign for the chip procurement spotted him and approached. “Mr. Ganston, can I be of further service to you?”

Ganston sputtered a resounding no and waved the man off. He looked in the direction of the containment cells. The walls were no longer transparent, so he couldn't tell if the subjects had been released, and he dare not ask. He needed to leave before the guard chose to call him back with any other questions about the detainees. It wouldn't do to have to explain to one of Everling's stooges why he was giving payment chips to merchants.

He turned to Stemple and leaned in close. “You just stay out of my way.”

Everling stood between two of the check-in stations at the near end of the security station, watching Stemple and Ganston. He'd hurried down here because of the alert code for interlopers. Or at least he thought that was why he came down. Was that today? Or yesterday? His vision blurred and he shook his head. The days were running together.

No overly excited guards. Everything seemed normal. He lost interest and turned his attention to his assistant and his enemy.

Both Ganston and Stemple had walked past him without noticing. The noisy crowd congregated in the area helped, but the dramatic change in his looks took center stage for his open-faced deception.

The regression had continued. In the last twenty-four hours he'd lopped off at least another ten years from his appearance. Not bad. But he'd begun to worry. The shots he'd administered to himself and Bethany were designed to slow down the process but didn't seem to be working fast enough. Or maybe they were. His thinking was muddled. Anger surged. Was it because he couldn't remember details or because he was seeing the men colluding?

Stemple and Ganston stood with their heads together, deep in conversation. He wasn't stupid. He knew what they were up to—taking control of the Mountain from him. How long had they planned an overthrow? How many others had they convinced? Maybe Bethany? No, never Bethany. His mind raced with thoughts of betrayal.

A sharp twinge coursed through his side. Everling flinched and pressed his fist into the spot. He backed into the singular security room between the stations.

The guard looked up at him. “Sir?”

Everling held his breath at the pain. He ran his ComTex over the security scanner, which registered his name and level of clearance. The guard didn't know him by sight. He looked at the screen and nodded.

Everling managed a few words. “I need to use the section office.”

The guard hit a switch and Everling heard the door unlock. As he lurched toward the door, sweat poured from his brow, soaking his collar. Breathing hard, he closed the door and leaned against it. He rummaged in his pocket for the vial and needle, then pulled off the cap with his teeth. With shaking hands he filled the syringe with pale yellow liquid, the elixir of life responsible for slowing down the process. A laugh pushed from his lips. What should he call aging in reverse—
unaging
?

He flicked the cylinder and pressed the plunger to remove the air. A squirt of the precious liquid jetted from the tip of the needle. He pushed up a sleeve. Tremors wracked his hands, but he remained steady enough to plunge the needle into the muscle of his arm.

The liquid pulsing through his muscle tissue felt like a searing knife cutting through flesh. Everling leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. Steadiness returned to his hands and the wobble left his legs. Fresh and renewed once again, he rose to his full height. It was time to take care of Ganston and Stemple once and for all. He would put them both to death if they wanted to thwart his programs. Perfectly logical and acceptable. Anything or anyone defying his authority would be squashed.

Everling opened the door and walked through the small security room without acknowledging the guard. He looked to the place where Ganston and Stemple had been conspiring against him. Ganston was nowhere in sight, and Stemple was talking to a guard in the area of the containment cells. Everling strolled in that direction. He would have to be cunning and sharp to catch a prey such as Stemple. The man was very good at hiding his game face, the one that colluded with Ganston.

He walked up behind Stemple. “Why are you here and not working on the important task I gave you to complete?”

Stemple swung to face Everling and flinched. He stared into the man's enraged eyes. Fear and wonder fought to overtake the top spot in his brain. Everling had clearly regressed further in the aging process. His fresh younger features were unrecognizable as the older man who had been his boss just a week ago.

“Answer me!” Everling shouted. Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes darted wildly like fleas dancing on a dog.

“I-I'm sorry, sir. I'm not sure what you're asking me,” Stemple said in a calm tone, trying not to elevate the man's reaction any further.

“Do you think I didn't see you talking to Charles Ganston? I suppose now you think it's time to move on to greener pastures.”

Stemple frowned.
What is he talking about?

“Oh, that. I was talking to him about T—” He stopped.
If he let it slip Treva was the man's niece, his career would be over.

“What? Talking about what? Helping him to take over the Company?” Everling turned, pacing from side to side in the hall. “So he thinks he's found the chink in my armor that will allow him to wheedle his way in like the burrowing insect he is.” He screwed his index finger into the air to illustrate.

Stemple's heart pounded as though trying to get out. He wanted to crawl inside himself to avoid this madman. Everling was clearly having a psychotic break. Maybe it was a reaction to the new drug cocktail to slow the biological change.

He glanced around. Everling's voice was beginning to attract attention. He needed to get him back to the lab where he could do tests and review the latest findings of the tox panel he'd started running before he came down to security.

“Uh, sir.” No response. “Dr. Everling.” Stemple touched his arm.

Everling swung around with hands raised. Stemple grabbed Everling's fist before it connected with his face.

“Doctor, take it easy. It's me, Drace Stemple.”

A moment of clarity registered on Everling's face. It was quickly masked by the wild-eyed slobbering wreck of the younger man he had become.

Stemple took him by the arm. “Sir, we need to go back to the lab.”

“Yes, yes we do. I have some very important business to take care of right away,” Everling said with a gleeful sneer. His steps faltered.

Stemple reached out and steadied him. Everling brushed away his hand. He searched the doctor's face. There was no
recognizable ounce of Everling. Not appearance or attitude. Stemple steered him through the merchants. He needed to find Bethany. Maybe she was in better shape and she could help him. He hoped he could find something to alleviate the man's stress.

Stemple cringed as he listened to Everling's ramblings. The stress was beginning to take its toll on his stomach. Bile rose in his throat as they approached the lab. The more the old man's—well, to be precise, the younger-looking old man's—rhetoric intensified, the more Stemple regretted his part in the program. Why had it taken him so long to see the error in his judgment?

They stopped at the entrance. Everling's hands waved about in jerky movements as though he were conducting an orchestra. He'd expounded on every conspiracy theory he'd ever thought of, going back to the debacles at the time of the Sorrows. By the time he'd exhausted his speech, the words were beginning to slur.

Stemple's concern heightened as Everling coded the door twice and got it wrong both times.

“Dr. Everling, maybe you should think about taking the rest of the day off. You could go home and enjoy a restful evening with Bethany.” Where had that woman gone? Lately she'd been hovering everywhere. Now that he needed her, she'd disappeared.

Everling swung around with eyes ablaze and came within an inch of Stemple's nose.

“The world decreased so we can increase. We are the new world that will rise from the ashes to claim immortality!”

Another filament of bile snaked up Stemple's throat. This
was the second time the doctor had spoken like that in the last few days. Was it symptomatic of a psychosis? Were there hallucinations involved? This could become dangerous.

Stemple smelled a fruity sweetness on the deranged man's breath. It appeared his body was trying to get rid of excess acetone. It must be ketoacidosis. His body functions were out of whack, so the psychosis could just be a chemical imbalance. Stemple needed to get him inside and start testing.

He went through the motions to get them into the lab. Everling watched with disdain.

“You do that all so easily, as though you're entering your own lab. What about me? Nobody cares that I've dedicated my whole life to this Mountain. Even you! You've always wanted my job and my position in this community. I've always known what you were striving toward.”

Stemple ignored the ranting and led Everling toward his section of the lab. Everling pulled free and strode quickly toward Lab Section Ten. Stemple dropped his head in resignation. He'd have to follow the man around until he could guide him in the right direction.