“Is this a job interview?” Lois said in an icy voice.
“I guess you could call it that,” Phelps said. “You’ve been doing some work that my bosses are interested in.”
“Who are your bosses?”
“They’re kinda shy. Just think of them as the folks that sign my paycheck.”
“Did they pay you to kill Dr. Logan?”
He frowned. “That wasn’t in the plans, Dr. Mitchell. That was an accident, pure and simple.”
“An accident like hijacking the lab, I suppose.”
“Guess you could say that. Look, Dr. Mitchell, you may not like me, probably hate my guts, and I don’t blame you, but it’s best for you and your staff if we try to get along because we’re going to be working together.”
“What do you mean?”
“My bosses didn’t tell me exactly what you’re doing here in the lab, but I heard it’s got something to do with jellyfish.”
Lois saw no reason to hold back. “That’s right. We’re using a chemical found in a rare species of jellyfish to develop a vaccine for an influenza-type virus that has a lot of people worried.”
“My bosses said that you’re about ready to wrap things up here.”
So much for secrecy, Lois thought.
“That’s correct,” she said. “We’re within days of synthesizing the chemical used as the basis of the vaccine. You still haven’t answered my question about working together.”
“When we get to the new location, you’ll continue your research. You’ll have free run of the lab except for the control room. You’ll report your results to me on a regular basis. I’ll pass the reports along to my bosses. Otherwise, it’s business as usual.”
“And if we refuse to work for you?”
“We know we can’t make scientists do their jobs by beating them with truncheons. We’ll just leave you down here on your own and withhold food and oxygen until you feel like working again. The rules are simple: If you go on strike, you will die. Not my idea, but that’s the way it is.”
“Thank you for your kind advice. I’ll pass it along to my colleagues as soon as you allow me to rejoin them.”
He stood up and opened the door.
“You can go along now, if you want to.”
Lois stayed where she was.
“One question,” she said. “What happens after we complete our research? Are you going to kill us or leave us to rot on the bottom?”
Phelps was a hard man and seasoned professional. He considered his job as a mercenary a link in a proud profession that stretched back hundreds, probably thousands, of years. Older than prostitution, he often joked. He had his own peculiar sense of honor that would not allow him to harm a woman, especially one as attractive as Lois Mitchell. He pushed the dangerous thoughts aside. There was no room in his business for personal attachments, but he vowed to keep a close eye on Lois.
“They hired me to hijack this nifty little hideaway and to make sure you keep on working. My contract doesn’t say anything about killing you or your friends. They know that when the work is done, I plan to take you from the lab and drop you somewhere close to civilization. We’ll probably run into each other in a bar in Paris or Rome someday and have a big laugh over this thing.”
Lois had no desire to see Phelps ever again. More important, she had no idea whether Phelps was telling the truth or not. The strength seemed to flow out of her body. She felt as if she were being smothered even though her lungs were hyperventilating. She concentrated on her breathing, taking breaths deep into her diaphragm, and after a moment the hammering of her heart began to subside. She became aware that Phelps was watching her reaction closely.
“You okay, Dr. Mitchell?”
Lois stared into space for a moment, reordering her jumbled thoughts, then rose from her chair. “I’d like to go to my quarters now, if you don’t mind.”
He nodded. “I’ll be in the control room if you need me.”
Lois made her way to her room. The floor still swayed, and she had to walk wide-leggedly to keep from losing her footing. Somehow, she made it to her quarters. She crawled into her bunk and pulled the covers over her head, as if she could shut out the world she had found herself in, but to no effect. Thankfully, after a few minutes, she fell into a fitful slumber.
CHAPTER 12