Chapter 3

January 23, 2009

Somewhere

BUZZ!

The alarm rang once then twice before Robin was able to hit the off button. As she preferred, the CD player activated automatically and one of her favorite albums began to play. It was an older song from the mid '90s but it cheered her up.

Because maybe

You're gonna be the one that saves me.

And after all

You're my wonderwall.

"Another day, another experiment." Robin stretched out on her double bed. She looked around her spacious quarters.

Next to her bedroom was a luxuriously equipped bathroom. There was a a small sitting area with several book shelves filled with DVDs and books, a large screen television with no outside channels, a DVD player, an expensive stereo system and a small refrigerator kept stocked with drinks and snacks. A comfortable couch and recliner completed the picture. She had nearly everything she could want except windows, fresh air and freedom.

On her bedside table in front of her reading light, were the only framed pictures she kept displayed. There was a picture of her with her parents and another with her, Mac, Felicia, Maxie and Georgie. They were not current pictures but they were her favorites. Copies of the ones she had at her old Paris apartment.

The other bedside table held her clock and her nightly glass of water. She had put up no other pictures on the cream walls. After so many years, seeing too many pictures was a painful event. If she couldn't numb the pain, she'd avoid inflicting it on herself. That was for the best.

A discreet knock came at the door followed by the beeping of the electronic locks as the correct entry code and key card was used. The door swung open and Hilda came in with a breakfast tray. "Good morning, Robin."

"Morning," called out Robin. She could hear Hilda bustling in the other section of the room. She didn't need to watch as Hilda carried out her usual routine inspection assuring herself that everything was where it was supposed to be.

Robin turned on her light. She and Hilda had devised the signal last year. Robin valued the scant privacy she was allowed and the light meant that Hilda didn't need to physically enter her bedroom to verify her presence. Hilda waited until Robin was in the shower to inspect her bedroom.

Today, Robin had skipped her shower. She washed her face and returned to her bedroom with hair brush in hand. She caught Hilda looking at the framed pictures.

"Such a handsome family. It reminds me of the families that I used to work for," remarked Hilda.

"You were a nanny, weren't you?"

"For twenty years. I quite enjoyed it." Hilda chuckled. "But, I'm getting on and can't run after the little ones. Your father is very good-looking. Not many men can carry off a morning suit."

"That was taken at their second wedding."

"Your mother is strikingly beautiful."

"You know I don't think she ever saw herself that way."

"All she has to do is look in a mirror."

"She knew she wasn't ugly, Hilda," said Robin smiling. "She just wasn't vain about her looks. It wasn't who she was."

Hilda cleared her throat. "I could ask for some newer pictures for you. Your mother, uncle and -"

"No, no, that's all right. These are the only ones I want."

"But, Robin, aren't you curious?"

Robin faced a small oval mirror she had personally attached to the wall. She brushed her shortened hair as she spoke. "I am but it's better that I only remember them as they were. If ... if I saw new pictures, I would only have questions. My questions stopped being answered a long time ago."

"If that's what you want. Before I forget, I have your laundry." Hilda left and returned with a some dry cleaning and a basket of folded clothes. "What would you like today?"

"Jeans and a turtleneck," said Robin.

Hilda selected her clothes then suggested, "How about this blue cardigan?"

"No, I want to work in the main lab today. It's warmer there. The turtleneck is enough."

Hilda handed her the clothes for the day and began to walk out. "I will arrange for your escort. About what time do you want to leave?"

"Right after breakfast in about an hour."

After Hilda left, Robin put on the worn jeans. They weren't Levis but they were comfortable. The coarse cloth had softened over time. She'd stopped looking at clothing labels. Most of them were in a language she couldn't understand. The white turtleneck was new and felt a little tight.

As she sat down and ate her breakfast, her mind began to drift to past breakfasts that were filled with laughter and teasing jokes. She shut her eyes willing the memories to stop playing like an old film displayed on a flat white wall. Tears leaked out. She wiped them away with jerky, angry movements.

"Stop it! This is stupid!" Robin exclaimed. "Let it go. It's over. Nothing is going to bring back Dad. Mom's moved on with a new family. My past is gone."

The smooth concrete-paved floor belied the roughhewn walls of the tunnel. Robin chattered amiably with her two burly escorts.

"How have you been, Jerry?" asked Robin in French. "How was New Years? Is that celebrated here?"

"We see the new year as a religious event in my family," replied Jerry in passable conversational French only slightly marred by his thick Slavic accent.

"Quiet. We are not to talk with her," warned the other guard in accented English.

"There is no harm. What could she do?" replied Jerry. "Where could she go?"

"I like to practice my French but Ben is right, Jerry. I don't want to get you in trouble," said Robin.

They stopped talking for a while until Ben said, "Robin, why do you call me Ben? It is not my name."

Robin's lips twitched and she hid her smile. She couldn't tell them that Ben and Jerry's was a brand of ice cream back home. "Ben and Jerry are common American names short for Benjamin or Jerome. You look like a Ben to me."

"It is not a bad name?" asked Ben. "We are not bad people but we must do our job."

"I understand that. Really I do. The names are not insults. Ask an American about it and they'll smile." Robin patted Ben's arm. The two men were over six feet tall and heavily muscular but, over time, Robin had been surprised by their intelligence more than their brawn. "Can I practice my French now?"

Robin barely listened to Ben's reply. Her eyes were drawn, as they always were, to a steel door protruding out from the wall of the tunnel. It was obviously old but a combination lock shone shiny and new on its knob. One particular day she had noticed a stack of boxes beside the door and the lock nowhere in sight. On her return, the boxes were gone and the lock was back on the lock. She deduced that the door had to be in use and it had to lead somewhere.

The somewhere question was one she pondered when she could not sleep. Did it lead outside? Did it lead to another tunnel or a series of tunnels? Was it a way inside to another building? The door seemed to be made of heavy cast iron. Its hinges were enormous.

Questioning Ben and Jerry for information about the tunnels had netted her two pieces of information - the tunnels were built during the second world war and it had been converted to commercial use in the mid-1980s. That last factoid could account for the strange mix of old and new that Robin noticed.

Robin turned her attention back to what Jerry was saying in French. She replied with, "For us, the new year is celebrated with a party with family and friends. We have silly games, eat great food, talk about everything and wait until midnight."

"I never remember midnight. I am too drunk!" said Jerry. They all laughed.

In the main lab, Robin was greeted by Britta, her titular assistant, but in reality, Robin thought of Britta more a warden than anything thing else. If Hilda saw to Robin's personal needs, Britta micromanaged Robin's work or tried to.

"Robin, you were not expected today," said Britta. Her voice had a rich continental accent that belonged anywhere from Berlin to Paris to Milan. She was a statuesque woman in her mid-twenties who was always smartly dressed. "Today is not on your schedule for lab duty. I have nothing prepared for your review."

"I know. I wanted to look over my transcribed notes from last month. I don't have them any more so here I am," said Robin in a cheery voice that she knew would annoy the younger woman. Behind her, she heard the series of clicks that locked the electronic doors to and from the main laboratory.

"Your hand please," Greta requested.

With gritted teeth, Robin extended her hand while Greta affixed a tracking bracelet on her left wrist. Three years ago she had nearly escaped. Her captors had improved their methods since then. She was moved more frequently and without notice. Electronic locks were used at all times and their codes changed randomly. Her every move was recorded by camera or bracelet unless she was in her personal quarters.

They had punished Hilda once before for bending the rules and hired Britta to enforce them. Robin cared for Hilda and cooperated with her. But Britta had set her on edge from their first meeting. Time had not changed her mind about her.

"While you retrieve my notes, I'll be in my office," said Robin.

"Very well. Do you wish a verbal status report on the latest trials?" asked Britta.

"No written reports?"

"As I said, I was ... unprepared for your arrival," said Britta curtly. "Your willful disregard for procedure leads to inefficiency."

"My disregard, willful or otherwise, is MY prerogative. As I recall, you are MY assistant," replied Robin succinctly. "Please have a full report of the newest trials prepared before I leave in two hours."

Britta swallowed her reply but her eyes were angry. "Of course, Robin. You will have it."

"Thank you." Robin turned and walked towards her small office. She turned her computer on and slumped into her custom-made office chair. She rubbed at her temples. Dealing with Britta always gave her a headache.

The computer was, in her mind, no more than a glorified word processor and spreadsheet generator. Its case was carefully sealed to be tamper-proof. There was no Internet, modem or optical drive. The installed applications were closely monitored. She used it to type her journal entries, study case files and record lab results. On the surface that was all and everything.

On her desk, a stack of scientific periodicals, DVDs and paperbacks tied up with a red ribbon caught her eye. Each item was carefully pre-screened to assure that there was no content that Robin could find useful.

"My two years old reading and entertainment supply," Robin sighed. "Happy new year to me!"

Author's Note: This story was begun and posted on September 2010 on my home page. It's similarity to any current GH storyline(s) is coincidental. This is a sequel to The Telltale Lie. Though it's not necessary to read that previously, it would be helpful. Please see my profile home page on the status of this story.