Medusa (NUMA Files 8) - Page 57

“Dr. Klein, are you saying I don’t have a sense of humor?” Dr. Bennett asked. “I find your scientific papers very funny.”

The good-natured ribbing drew another round of laughter.

Dr. Mayhew said, “Dr. Bennett forgot to mention that the center’s assistant director is a woman as well: Lois Mitchell.”

“Will I get to meet her?” Gamay asked.

“Not until she gets back from-” Dr. Bennett caught herself midsentence. “She’s away . . . in the field.”

“Lois is working with Dr. Kane,” Mayhew said. “When she’s here, the island is not as male dominated as might appear at first glance.”

Gamay pretended she hadn’t seen Mayhew gently nudge Bennett’s arm and looked around at the other tables in the room.

“Is this the lab’s entire staff?” she asked.

“This is a skeleton crew,” Mayhew said. “Most of our colleagues are working in the field.”

“It must be a very large field,” she said in a lame attempt at humor.

There was deafening silence.

Finally, Mayhew showed his teeth.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he said.

He glanced around at the others, who took his comment as a signal to force grins on their faces.

Gamay had the feeling that they were all connected to one another with wires and that Mayhew had the switch in his hand.

“I met another woman on the dock,” she said. “I believe her name was Dr. Lee.”

“Oh, yes, Dr. Song Lee,” Mayhew said. “I didn’t count her because she’s a visiting scientist and not regular staff. She’s extremely shy, and even dines in her cabin by herself.”

Chuck Hallum, who headed the immunology section, said,

“She’s Harvard educated, and one of the most brilliant immunologists I’ve ever met. Speaking of off islanders, what really brings you to Bonefish Key?”

“My interest in marine biology,” Gamay said. “I’ve read in the scientific journals about the groundbreaking work you’ve been doing in biomedicine. I was planning to visit friends in Tampa and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take a firsthand look.”

“Are you familiar with the history of the marine center?” asked Mayhew.

“I understand that you’re a nonprofit funded by a foundation, but I don’t know much beyond that,” Gamay said.

Mayhew nodded. “When Dr. Kane started the lab, his initial funding came from the bequest of a University of Florida alumna who had lost a close relative to disease. There were some legal challenges to the will from disgruntled family members, and the funding was about to dry up when he formed a foundation and started attracting money from other sources. Dr. Kane envisioned Bonefish Key as the ideal research center because it would be away from the hubbub of a busy university.”

A bell rang to announce dinner, and they moved into the dining room, the bartender taking over as waiter. The meal prepared by the chef was fresh-caught redfish, with a pecan crust and seared to perfection, washed down with a delicate French sauvignon blanc. Conversation around the table was on the light side, with little talk about the work being done on the island.

After dinner, the scientists moved out onto the veranda and the patio. There was more chatter, almost none of it having to do with the lab. As darkness deepened, most drifted off to their cabins.

“We hit the sack early here,” Mayhew explained, “and we’re up with the sun. We close the bar, so there’s not much action after ten o’clock.”

Mayhew asked Gamay a few more polite questions about her work at NUMA, then excused himself and said he would see her at breakfast. Any remaining staff followed, leaving Gamay alone on the veranda to absorb the sights and sounds of the subtropical night.

Gamay decided to call Paul, and she followed the same path to the water tower that she had taken earlier. The crushed white shells glowed under the brilliant moon. She started up the tower, only to stop in midstep. A female voice was coming from the platform. Speaking in what sounded like Chinese.

The conversation ended after a minute or two, and Gamay heard soft footfalls descending. Gamay backed down the ladder and hid behind a palmetto. She watched Dr. Lee descend the ladder, then hurry off down the path.

Gamay followed the path to the cabins. All were dark except for one, and, as she watched, the light in its window went out. She stood there looking at the darkened cabin, wondering what Nancy Drew would do in a case like this.

Tags: Clive Cussler NUMA Files Thriller
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