Life Blood---XXII---Page No 75

That was when I spotted the outlines of another door— why
hadn't I noticed it sooner?—this one steel, there on the left. Alex
Goddard might walk in any second now, but I had to try to learn
everything I could as fast as I could. What was going on besides
what was going on?

Alert for any new sounds from outside, I quickly went over and tried the knob.

It was locked tight.

Figured. Now I really wanted to know what was in there.

When I glanced around the office, I noticed a ring of keys on the desk. Could he have forgotten them?

More important, would I blow everything if he caught me
snooping? In spite of his attempt at a cool veneer, he might go
ballistic.

I made a snap decision. Take the chance and give them a try.
        My hands were so moist I had trouble holding the slippery
 keys, but finally I managed to shove in the first one. It went in, but nothing would turn.

Come on. I managed to wiggle the next one in, my hand

trembling now, but again the knob wouldn't budge. Footsteps

outside marched up to the door and I stopped breathing, but then they moved on.

Hurry. I was rapidly losing hope when the fifth one slipped in and the knob turned. Yes!

Taking a deep breath and working on a story in case Alex

Goddard walked in, I clicked the lock and eased the door inward just enough to look inside.

Hello, what's this? The space was a fully equipped medical
research lab. The lights were off, but like the office, it was
illuminated by the glow of several CRT screens stationed above a
long lab bench. There also was a large machine, probably a gas
chromatograph, with its own screen, flanked by rows of test tubes.
Finally, there was a large electronic microscope complete with
video screen.

One non-medical thing stood out, though: There in the middle
of the workbench was a two-foot-high bronze Dancing Shiva
presiding over whatever was going on. It was breath-takingly
beautiful.

So . . . what was The Lord of the Dance giving his blessing to? Time to try and find out.

Now clanking noises were filtering in from out in the hall, along with the pounding of heavy boots, and my pulse jumped again. Was the Army coming to drag me away?

Just go in. Do it.

The CRT screens were attached to black metal containers,
their doors closed, that all were connected to a power supply,
doubtless to maintain some temperature. It looked like Goddard
was incubating something in a carefully controlled environment.
The whole arrangement was very carefully organized and laid out.
        Finally I noticed a row of large steel jugs, six in all, near the
back and covered with a sheet of black plastic, thin like a wrap.
What could they be? Some kind of special gas for use in the lab?
        Voices in Spanish drifted in from the hallway. A woman and a
man were arguing about something.

Okay, get out of here. Come back and check this out when nobody's around.

I stepped back into the office, clicked off the thumb latch on
the door so it wouldn't lock, and closed it. I realized I was pouring
sweat.

What next? Well, see if the phone's working again and try
calling the Camino Real and see if Steve's come back there for
some reason, maybe a change in plans. It would be a long shot,
but still . . .

My hand was shaking as I opened up the phone case. Thank God, the diodes were all quiet. Maybe . . .

The steel door I'd closed only moments before swung open
and Alex Goddard walked through. Did he realize I'd left it
unlocked? How did he get in there? Was there another door?
        He'd changed clothes and was wearing a pale blue surgical
gown. I shut the phone case, as though just finishing with it. Could he tell I'd turned myself into a nervous wreck? I tried to smile and look normal, but my shirt was soaking.

"Ah, I see you're finished," he said, not seeming to notice.

"Good. As I said, I've got an in-vitro procedure scheduled now for
one of the couples here in the village. You're welcome to observe.
It might help you decide what you want to do in your own case."
He was moving across the room. "You can watch on the closed
circuit."

He reached up and snapped on a monitor bolted to the wall in the corner.

"Oh, just one small word of forewarning." He was turning

back. "Down here I've made certain . . . cosmetic changes in the

procedure to keep patients' anxiety levels as low as possible. It wouldn't be appropriate in your case, but . . . well, you'll see."
        Before I had time to wonder what he meant, he disappeared
back through the steel door with a reassuring smile.