Out of Reach (16 page)

The cluttered drawers and atrocious filing
system take me several minutes to navigate. In the end, my efforts
are rewarded with a small file on compound 253B. Thumbing through
the pages no helpful information surfaces—the report is nothing
more than a bare bones bio about the compound, chemistry analysis,
and structural diagram. As I look more closely at the picture of
the chemical structure, I’m sure it’s been fabricated. That would
fit with an earlier comment made by Gwen. She’d indicated when her
team first started this project compound 253B appeared similar to
the last few agents they’d worked with, but as things progressed
she’d discovered compound 253B was like nothing they’d ever seen
before.

Returning the file to its place, I scrounge
through Joe’s desk. As I thumb my way through several spiral-bound
notebooks, I find some chicken scratch notes about the project and
a heavily revised procedural plan for attempting to stabilize the
compound.

Odd
, I think to myself.
How would
freezing a Sylph’s essence be of any benefit?

Pulling a pen and paper from my back pocket
I quickly copy down the procedure, and recall Gwen telling me that
Joe and Charlie had made the most progress thus far. Sitting down
at the desk, I power up Joe’s laptop and perform a cursory search,
looking for more information.

Ten minutes later I’m out the door with a
little more information than I started with and headed for Gwen’s
office. Letting myself in I take a mental picture of the place
before touching anything. Gwen is OCD and far more likely than Joe
to notice if something is out of place, and by something I mean a
pen lying the wrong direction. Ridiculous I know, but thankfully,
because she is OCD, her filing cabinet is efficiently arranged and
each item is clearly labeled.

Easily locating her file on compound 253B I
find it’s much more substantial than Joe’s was. Sitting down at her
desk I see the notebook she’s always carrying around. Flipping open
the manila folder and the notebook simultaneously, I quickly become
immersed. I had no idea about the scope of this project. Gwen’s
team has put a huge amount of energy and resources into it. Each of
their failed attempts and procedural revisions has been
painstakingly documented in Gwen’s spiral-bound notebook. Flipping
back through the stack of paperwork, an odd piece of stationary
catches my attention and I pause: It’s a one-page letter
essentially asking about the project’s status and how everything is
going. The content of the letter appears harmless enough but it’s
written on the CEO’s personal stationary.

Now why would Mr. Taylor be keeping tabs on
a run of the mill chemical screening project? At such an early
phase no one has any idea if a compound will show enough potential
to move on into drug development.

Unless he already knew the
compound in question had considerable potential
, I think to myself. Thumbing through the file from the
beginning again, I find two additional letters on the same
stationary. Bile rises in my throat. Scouring Lab 4B will have to
wait; it’s high time I pay Mr. Taylor a visit.

* * *

I hesitate at the top of the stairwell, not
knowing what to expect through the next door. It’s probably safe to
assume the executive office floor is on the same cleaning schedule
as the general office floors, but one can never be too careful. I
have very little first-hand knowledge of what transpires on this
floor, never having needed to penetrate this deeply into the
management side of Preston-Ward before.

I take a deep breath and exit the stairwell
as quietly as possibly. Faint sounds of human activity assail my
oversensitive ears and I duck back against the wall, silently
thankful for my good fortune that the unattractive stairwell is
masked from the reception area by a half wall. Clinging to the wall
I venture a peek around the corner—the room appears empty save for
a custodial cart sitting smack dab in the center of the floor. Just
when I'm about to duck back around my corner, I catch sight of
Mike, chief custodian, pulling the doors to Mr. Taylor's office
closed and locking them with one of the many keys attached to his
belt. I fall back out of sight before he turns around. Under my
cloak of concealment I know he can’t see me, but being overly
cautious never hurts.

Working to keep my breathing slow and
regular I wait. Moments later the audible noise of a large cart
lumbering toward me catches my attention. The elevator is just to
my left, in the center of the room, and, as long as Mike doesn’t
decide to come around the partial wall, my position is secure. The
grinding of gears is followed by the soft chime of the elevator’s
arrival a minute later. The lumbering sound starts up again as Mike
maneuvers the large cart onto the lift. When the doors slide shut I
let out a sigh of relief.

Slipping from my hiding place I cross the
floor, think the doors unlocked, and enter Mr. Taylor’s office.
“Okay, Taylor, what’re you up to?”

As I stride toward the desk I watch out for
any sensors or other booby traps that might trigger an alarm. I may
be immune to the video surveillance but motion detectors and the
like still pose a threat. Not finding anything out of the ordinary
I sit down at the desk and turn on the computer. After a few
minutes of fishing around it becomes apparent data encryption and
hidden files are Mr. Taylor’s forte. Luckily I’ve been around for
ages and there are very few things I can’t hack my way into. This
time my biggest problem is that I don’t really know what I’m
looking for.

Here’s where a file name
would really come in handy
, I silently
chuckle. Luckily for me time is on my side and after some careful
scouting around I hit the jackpot. Shock turns to horror, though,
as I peruse document after document. The scope of what this man is
trying to do will have world-shattering consequences should he
succeed.

Running a hand through my hair I realize
that he is in fact succeeding: Joe and Charlie have nearly
accomplished the first step—stability of a singular unit of Sylph
essence at room temperature. My brothers need to see this.

Risking exposure I quickly
begin printing off the contents of the file using Mr. Taylor’s
personal printer. Emailing them would be faster but traceable
through the company’s computer security software. Printing here in
his own office implicates no one. Halfway through the process I
shoot Z another text:
We have a serious
problem. My place, one hour.

I jam the phone into my back pocket and
wander the room looking for a hidden safe, loose floorboard, false
drawer, hidden door, anywhere a Sylph’s sphere could be concealed.
During my second lap around the room, I pause in front of a lovely
painted landscape. Just below the picture frame, etched into the
chair rail along the wall, is an intricate floral pattern ... and
one of the circles looks a lot like a button.

“Ah ha.”

Pressing firmly on the spot I wait. There is
a soft snick of a mechanism being activated, followed by ...
nothing. Absolutely nothing happens.

Angry I rip the picture off of the wall and
see that a hidden panel has indeed slid open to reveal a wall safe.
Using a little more power I think the thing open. Sitting on a
black velvet bag inside the safe is a sphere. Lifting my arm to
reach in I stop short, realizing I cannot collect it tonight.
Removing the Sylph would alert Mr. Taylor someone had caught wind
of his scheme. I can’t risk anyone knowing I was here until I
figure out exactly how many people are involved, which,
unfortunately, is not something I’ll be able to accomplish tonight.
The seriousness of the information I’ve gathered needs to be shared
with the others immediately.

I close the safe door and press the wall
button, watching the panel slide closed, once more hiding the
danger within from view. After carefully re-hanging the painting, I
collect my papers from the printer tray and shut down the computer.
Leaving without the sphere is one of the hardest things I’ve ever
done; it goes against everything I am to leave it in unwitting
human hands. I clench my jaw and remind myself it won’t be for
long. Tomorrow night the Wanderers will return and collect the
sphere.

* * *

I find Zafir crouched with his back against
the wall outside my apartment door when I get home, his eyes
bright, like he’s on alert, ready for anything. It’s obvious the
guy hasn’t slept despite the late hour.

“You could have let yourself in, ya
know.”

“Not my style,” he tells me standing up. I
hand him the stack of paperwork and begin to rummage around for my
keys to let us in.

“I assume this is the SOS you were referring
to,” Z says eyeing the stack of papers like it has a stinger. I
laugh.

“Just a couple of bedtime stories to help
you sleep, my man.”

Grimacing, Z dumps the papers on the coffee
table and flops his massive body down onto the sofa. “Just give me
the short version.”

“The CEO of Preston-Ward is in possession of
a Sylph.”

Snapping his neck around, Z sits up
straighter and glares at me. “You’ve been there for, what? Three
years? How could you miss that?”

“Hey, stand down. I don’t appreciate your
tone.”

Z raises both hands out in front of him with
a half apology, half fill-me-in gesture. I run a hand through my
hair and sit down, claiming the chair next to him, before I
continue.

“It’s worse than it seems,
I’m afraid. We need to conference with Adil and whoever else is
available
immediately
. I don’t want to have to explain this twice.”

I pull open my laptop and log in to make the
call to Adil.

“I texted Adil on the drive over, so he’s
expecting us,” I tell Zafir as we wait for our brother to pick up.
Adil answers on the second ring, coffee cup in hand. I turn the
computer screen toward Z and then push him to one side so I can
join him on the couch.

“Good morning, boys,” Adil’s drowsy voice
greets us. “Basal will be the only one joining us unfortunately.”
With everyone on the move traveling right now this couldn’t have
come at a worse time.

“I understand.”

Basal pulls up a chair beside Adil and nods
hello. I sift through the papers in front of me nervously, afraid
of the facts. I clear my throat and begin.

“As I was telling Z moments ago, the CEO of
Preston-Ward pharmaceuticals is in possession of a Sylph. I don’t
know where he obtained it or how long he’s had it.”

Adil and Basal whisper together for a minute
and Z eyes my foot, which has begun to tap incessantly.

“Have you been able to locate the sphere?”
Adil finally asks.

I nod. “I know what his plans for it
are.”

Stopping short, Adil exchanges a look with
Basal. “Beyond the usual wishes?” Basal asks, chuckling at what he
thinks is obvious.

“Mr. Taylor has found a way to harvest the
Sylph’s essence and is packaging it into small unit doses.”

Shock and disbelief war across the faces of
my brothers and I swear Zafir has stopped breathing beside me.

“The samples have all been frozen, and I
don’t know how many are out there. He fabricated a chemical bio for
the frozen essence and has given it to a chemical screening team.
If they can find a way to stabilize it at room temperature and
synthetically replicate it, Taylor plans to develop it in pill
form, marketing the powers of the Sylph to the wealthy.”

Every man is dead silent for a handful of
heartbeats and then the bubble bursts and everyone begins
shouting.

“Fucking humans!” Z snarls next to me,
jumping up off the couch so he can pace.

“Ramifications ... can’t be possible ...”
Basal babbles over the computer, most of the words lost over the
cacophony of voices.

“Alright! Everybody shut up!” Adil finally
shouts. “Kade, it’s not possible, is it? How many other people are
involved?”

I run a hand through my hair and share a
look with Z before answering. “After months of set backs, two
members of the team managed to achieve stability at room
temperature for about thirty minutes last week. They are
succeeding.”

“Fuck, shit.”

“Put a cork it in it, Zafir!” Adil yells,
annoyed.

“The file doesn’t mention anyone else, but I
don’t know if we can assume he’s working independently,” I
reply.

“Greed can’t be this guy’s sole motivation,”
Basal adds. “He could have just wished for money if that was the
case. What’s he really after here?”

“I don’t know, Basal, but
this couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Adil replies. “Kade,
Zafir, shut this down
now
. Collect the sphere immediately
but a full-scale investigation will have to wait until after the
resealing. Basal, how soon could you be there?”

“Eleven, maybe twelve hours. I’ll leave
straight away.”

“Good. Kade, I’m sending Basal but this is
your rodeo. Clean up then meet us in Utah.”

Signing off our video call, I turn to Z who
has yet to stop pacing.

“Brother?” I say tentatively, more a
question than a statement. Glancing up in acknowledgement he pauses
in his pacing, hands on his hips.

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah, it certainly is.” I smile. “Take a
seat, Z—you’re making me nervous.” Nodding he drops down into my
recliner, rubbing the leather arms with his hands. “I didn’t want
to say anything to the others, but Z, the team working on this
project is Gwen’s.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, wiping his face with a
hand.

“The day Joe and Charlie achieved stability,
well, the thing lost stability less than a minute after Gwen
touched it.” Z sucks in air and I glance up at him, realizing I’d
been staring at the carpet.