BDP53
The next morning I buried myself under a mountain of paperwork and stayed there. When Weis asked me what I was doing, I told him I was staying out of trouble. I didn't trust myself not to be bitchy. He seemed about to say something but changed his mind. He just nodded, relieved that I was being practical. If only he knew.
The pile on my desk was all legitimate work, mostly things I'd been putting off. I really did need to catch all the files up, and correlate the data. Sometimes I let the stuff go that I like the least until it reaches nightmare proportions. This stack wasn't that bad yet, but there was enough to keep me busy for hours.
About 1020 I heard raised voices coming down the hall. Since I had left my door closed to aid in the distance between the rest of the lab and myself, I couldn't make out any details. There was only the rising level of sound as they came closer.
It would appear that my self-imposed hermitage was coming to a premature end. I had hoped to be left alone until at least lunch, but knew it unlikely. When the women left, someone was bound to note that there was one less than there should be. Dr. Pym would doubtless dump the complaining civilian on me and go back to entrenching his position in Casca's absence.
However long THAT was. I wasn't holding my breath that he'd be gone long, but even a day without him had to feel very liberating to poor Pym. I wondered what he would do. There should be some shuffling among the ranks now that Casca had been exposed as merely mortal.
I made a mental note to check in with the hospital and see what their diagnosis was. I doubted they would find any damaged tissue or blocked arteries, but he could very likely have some form of heart disease, maybe even arterial sclerosis. Just playing the odds, I had a sixty percent chance that he had something wrong with him, he was male, Caucasian, and slightly overweight. I might suggest, if his physician hadn't thought of it already, that they check for microcardial angina.
The invasive nature of that battery of tests brought a genuine smile to my lips, just in time for the door to open. I watched Pym enter the room, followed by a burly civilian. Built more for intimidation than mobility, he was tall and heavily muscled. I doubted that his arms had hung at his sides in years. Finish it out with a military short buzz-cut and an inky scar crawling over his lantern jaw and you had an image that screamed 'professional muscle'.
Thanks to the cousins 'in the business' I had been exposed to this kind of specialized flunkie before, just in a more relaxed environment. I knew that these men liked everything simple. They followed orders very well, but they were not good at creative thinking. Him, I could bullshit. By the time he reported in and his superior had finished taking him apart, Beth's trail would be very cold indeed. I turned that smile on him and said brightly, "What can I do for you sir?"
"You can tell me where Ms. Bronte is." He glowered at me, clearly not in the mood to exchange pleasantries.
"I took her home last night, as she requested. Has something happened to her? In spite of her profession, she seemed like a nice girl." I played stupid, trading on men's tendency to think that all really intelligent women had no common sense.
I've actually met a few in my time; the 'Ivory Tower' complex unfortunately has its basis in reality. It was easy to pretend that I was one of those women. I just hoped that Pym didn't give me away; he was giving me the strangest look. Ok, so maybe calling her a nice girl, especially after my attitude yesterday had been a bit much.
"Where exactly did you drop off Ms. Bronte?" He actually cracked his knuckles for emphasis.
I had to stifle a grin; this guy must read old private detective novels in his spare time. "Why?"
"I was sent to pick up all the women. If one is missing, I must report to my superior. I like to have all my facts in order. Surely you can understand that." He was trying, I had to give him that.
"Why certainly. I don't remember exactly though, I'm sorry to say. We went up and down a few blocks before she found her apartment. Said she'd just moved in and couldn't remember anything but that it was next to the bus route. I think her building ended up being on 22nd St. I hate to admit it, but I got turned around trying to find my way back. I don't get to far from downtown when I do get off base. Sorry." I shrugged.
He closed his eyes for a moment, I could almost hear him thinking, 'Women!' Which was fine with me. "Why did you take her anywhere then?"
Ohh, a glimmer of intelligence, and perfectly timed to take the heat off me, "Ms. Bronte was most insistent that she be taken home. I think her feelings were hurt, since she was the only one not chosen. I asked Dr. Pym if he wanted to do it, or assign an M.P. but he told me to deal with it since I was already there. I'd have rather not had to deal with it at all, truth be told. I had to be back in the lab at 0800."
"Thank you for your time. If you should remember anything else, please don't hesitate to call," he handed me a business card.
The card said Vorshlag Industries, big surprise there. I smiled up at him, "Certainly." I watched him leave. As soon as the door closed, I threw the card in my wastebasket. The only thing I was going to call him was a galar togalach, and I didn't need a phone for that.
I tried to put Vorshlag and it's employees out of my mind and get back to work. After the third error in as many minutes, I sat back in disgust. I looked down at the stacks of paper on my desk with irritation. I just couldn't get back into the groove.
I reached for my coffee cup and found it empty. Seizing the convenient excuse, I picked up the mug with the 'Kiss My Shamrock' motto on it and headed for the little community kitchenette for a refill.
Matheson was already in there, watching the pot percolate. I leaned against the cabinet next to him, "So, what's up? You haven't stopped in to mock me for letting my paperwork get out of control. Not even an 'I told you so.' I'm starting to think you don't love me anymore."
"Hey, is that what you've been doing? I thought you were staying away from the lab in protest. I was actually thinking about joining you." Matheson looked troubled. He would not even meet my eyes, staring at the coffee pot as if it were fascinating.
"The political maneuvering was the main reason I decided to spend the morning playing catch-up. I take it the back-biting and position jockeying was pretty fierce?" I thought there was more to it than that, but I wanted to let him volunteer the information. I think he needed to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him anyway.
"Well, there was that. Naturally. It's more Weis' game than mine. I'd rather expend my energy in a more productive manner. No, it was the situation in the lab this morning. Whatever reason you chose to stay away, it must have been inspired. You didn't need to see that." Matheson shuddered a little, like he'd taken a chill.
"See what?" I demanded more than asked. I flexed my hands, feeling the remaining stiffness from the bruises on my wrists. I had a bad feeling I knew what he was going to say.
"Some of them are." there was a pause filled with meaning, "having difficulty walking. It took an hour to get them patched up and out of the lab."
I hung my head, guilt weighing heavy on my mind. I could just imagine what kind of shape the women were in this morning.
"Some of the men are asking permission to visit a priest. I think Dr. Pym is going to arrange for someone from the chaplain corps to come here instead." In a rare fit of anger, Matheson threw his mug across the room. "Dammnit! The rooms were being monitored. Why didn't they get those women out of there!?!"
I looked at the white shards, Matheson's face too naked in it's emotion to watch comfortably. I was afraid I knew, and the reason was as bad, if not worse, than what he was thinking. I didn't have anything comforting to say, so I laid a hand on his shoulder. It was all the support I could give.
The next morning I buried myself under a mountain of paperwork and stayed there. When Weis asked me what I was doing, I told him I was staying out of trouble. I didn't trust myself not to be bitchy. He seemed about to say something but changed his mind. He just nodded, relieved that I was being practical. If only he knew.
The pile on my desk was all legitimate work, mostly things I'd been putting off. I really did need to catch all the files up, and correlate the data. Sometimes I let the stuff go that I like the least until it reaches nightmare proportions. This stack wasn't that bad yet, but there was enough to keep me busy for hours.
About 1020 I heard raised voices coming down the hall. Since I had left my door closed to aid in the distance between the rest of the lab and myself, I couldn't make out any details. There was only the rising level of sound as they came closer.
It would appear that my self-imposed hermitage was coming to a premature end. I had hoped to be left alone until at least lunch, but knew it unlikely. When the women left, someone was bound to note that there was one less than there should be. Dr. Pym would doubtless dump the complaining civilian on me and go back to entrenching his position in Casca's absence.
However long THAT was. I wasn't holding my breath that he'd be gone long, but even a day without him had to feel very liberating to poor Pym. I wondered what he would do. There should be some shuffling among the ranks now that Casca had been exposed as merely mortal.
I made a mental note to check in with the hospital and see what their diagnosis was. I doubted they would find any damaged tissue or blocked arteries, but he could very likely have some form of heart disease, maybe even arterial sclerosis. Just playing the odds, I had a sixty percent chance that he had something wrong with him, he was male, Caucasian, and slightly overweight. I might suggest, if his physician hadn't thought of it already, that they check for microcardial angina.
The invasive nature of that battery of tests brought a genuine smile to my lips, just in time for the door to open. I watched Pym enter the room, followed by a burly civilian. Built more for intimidation than mobility, he was tall and heavily muscled. I doubted that his arms had hung at his sides in years. Finish it out with a military short buzz-cut and an inky scar crawling over his lantern jaw and you had an image that screamed 'professional muscle'.
Thanks to the cousins 'in the business' I had been exposed to this kind of specialized flunkie before, just in a more relaxed environment. I knew that these men liked everything simple. They followed orders very well, but they were not good at creative thinking. Him, I could bullshit. By the time he reported in and his superior had finished taking him apart, Beth's trail would be very cold indeed. I turned that smile on him and said brightly, "What can I do for you sir?"
"You can tell me where Ms. Bronte is." He glowered at me, clearly not in the mood to exchange pleasantries.
"I took her home last night, as she requested. Has something happened to her? In spite of her profession, she seemed like a nice girl." I played stupid, trading on men's tendency to think that all really intelligent women had no common sense.
I've actually met a few in my time; the 'Ivory Tower' complex unfortunately has its basis in reality. It was easy to pretend that I was one of those women. I just hoped that Pym didn't give me away; he was giving me the strangest look. Ok, so maybe calling her a nice girl, especially after my attitude yesterday had been a bit much.
"Where exactly did you drop off Ms. Bronte?" He actually cracked his knuckles for emphasis.
I had to stifle a grin; this guy must read old private detective novels in his spare time. "Why?"
"I was sent to pick up all the women. If one is missing, I must report to my superior. I like to have all my facts in order. Surely you can understand that." He was trying, I had to give him that.
"Why certainly. I don't remember exactly though, I'm sorry to say. We went up and down a few blocks before she found her apartment. Said she'd just moved in and couldn't remember anything but that it was next to the bus route. I think her building ended up being on 22nd St. I hate to admit it, but I got turned around trying to find my way back. I don't get to far from downtown when I do get off base. Sorry." I shrugged.
He closed his eyes for a moment, I could almost hear him thinking, 'Women!' Which was fine with me. "Why did you take her anywhere then?"
Ohh, a glimmer of intelligence, and perfectly timed to take the heat off me, "Ms. Bronte was most insistent that she be taken home. I think her feelings were hurt, since she was the only one not chosen. I asked Dr. Pym if he wanted to do it, or assign an M.P. but he told me to deal with it since I was already there. I'd have rather not had to deal with it at all, truth be told. I had to be back in the lab at 0800."
"Thank you for your time. If you should remember anything else, please don't hesitate to call," he handed me a business card.
The card said Vorshlag Industries, big surprise there. I smiled up at him, "Certainly." I watched him leave. As soon as the door closed, I threw the card in my wastebasket. The only thing I was going to call him was a galar togalach, and I didn't need a phone for that.
I tried to put Vorshlag and it's employees out of my mind and get back to work. After the third error in as many minutes, I sat back in disgust. I looked down at the stacks of paper on my desk with irritation. I just couldn't get back into the groove.
I reached for my coffee cup and found it empty. Seizing the convenient excuse, I picked up the mug with the 'Kiss My Shamrock' motto on it and headed for the little community kitchenette for a refill.
Matheson was already in there, watching the pot percolate. I leaned against the cabinet next to him, "So, what's up? You haven't stopped in to mock me for letting my paperwork get out of control. Not even an 'I told you so.' I'm starting to think you don't love me anymore."
"Hey, is that what you've been doing? I thought you were staying away from the lab in protest. I was actually thinking about joining you." Matheson looked troubled. He would not even meet my eyes, staring at the coffee pot as if it were fascinating.
"The political maneuvering was the main reason I decided to spend the morning playing catch-up. I take it the back-biting and position jockeying was pretty fierce?" I thought there was more to it than that, but I wanted to let him volunteer the information. I think he needed to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him anyway.
"Well, there was that. Naturally. It's more Weis' game than mine. I'd rather expend my energy in a more productive manner. No, it was the situation in the lab this morning. Whatever reason you chose to stay away, it must have been inspired. You didn't need to see that." Matheson shuddered a little, like he'd taken a chill.
"See what?" I demanded more than asked. I flexed my hands, feeling the remaining stiffness from the bruises on my wrists. I had a bad feeling I knew what he was going to say.
"Some of them are." there was a pause filled with meaning, "having difficulty walking. It took an hour to get them patched up and out of the lab."
I hung my head, guilt weighing heavy on my mind. I could just imagine what kind of shape the women were in this morning.
"Some of the men are asking permission to visit a priest. I think Dr. Pym is going to arrange for someone from the chaplain corps to come here instead." In a rare fit of anger, Matheson threw his mug across the room. "Dammnit! The rooms were being monitored. Why didn't they get those women out of there!?!"
I looked at the white shards, Matheson's face too naked in it's emotion to watch comfortably. I was afraid I knew, and the reason was as bad, if not worse, than what he was thinking. I didn't have anything comforting to say, so I laid a hand on his shoulder. It was all the support I could give.
