Whistleblower

of the compound, noting the electrified fence that circled the entire complex. The main road led straight to the front gate. Except for an unpaved fire road, labeled not maintained, no other approaches were apparent.

'All right,' she said. 'Assume you do get through the front gate. You still have to get past two locked doors, two separate guards and a laser grid. Come on.'

'The doors are no problem,' said Victor. 'It's the two guards.'

'Maybe a diversion?' suggested Milo. 'How about we set a fire?'

'And bring in the town fire department?' said Victor. 'Not a good idea. Besides, I've dealt with this night guard at the front gate. I know him. And he goes strictly by the book. Never leaves the booth. At the first hint of anything suspicious, he'll hit the alarm button.'

'Maybe Milo could whip up a fake security pass,' said Ollie. 'You know, the way he used to fix us up with those fake drivers' licenses.'

'He falsified IDs?' said Polowski.

'Hey, I just changed the age to twenty-one!' protested Milo.

'Made great passports, too,' said Ollie. 'I had one from the kingdom of Booga Booga. It got me right past the customs official in Athens.'

'Yeah?' Polowski looked impressed. 'So what about it, Holland? Would it work?'

'Not a chance. The guard has a master list of top-security employees. If he doesn't know the face, he'll do a double check.'

'But he does let some people through automatically?'

'Sure. The bigwigs. The ones he recognizes on—' Victor suddenly paused and turned to stare at Cathy '—on sight. Lord. It just might work.'

Cathy took one look at his face and immediately read his mind. 'No,' she said. 'It's not that easy! I need to see the subject! I need molds of his face. Detailed photos from every angle—'

'But you could do it. You do it all the time.'

'On film it works! But this is face-to-face!'

'It's at night, through a car window. Or through a video camera. If you could just make me pass for one of the exec's—'

'What are you talking about?' demanded Polowski.

'Cathy's a makeup artist. You know, horror films, special effects.'

'This is different!' Cathy said. The difference being it was Victor's life on the line. No, he couldn't ask her to do this. If anything went wrong, she would be responsible. Having his death on her conscience would be more than she could live with.

She shook her head, praying he'd read the deadly earnestness in her gaze. 'There's too much at stake,' she insisted. 'It's not as simple as—as filming Slimelords!'

'You did Slimelords?' asked Milo. 'Terrific flick!'

'Besides,' said Cathy, 'it's not that easy, copying a face. I have to cast a mold, to get the features just right. For that I need a model.'

'You mean the real guy?' asked Polowski.

'Right. The real guy. And I hardly think you're going to get some Viratek executive to sit down and let me slap plaster all over his face.'

There was a long silence.

'That does present a problem,' said Milo.

'Not necessarily.'

They all turned and looked at Ollie.

'What are you thinking?' asked Victor.

'About this guy who works with me once in a while. Down in the lab...' Ollie looked up, and the grin on his face was distinctly smug. 'He's a veterinarian.'

The events of the past few weeks had weighed heavily on Archibald Black, so heavily, in fact, that he found it difficult to carry on with those everyday tasks of life. Just driving to and from his office at Viratek was an ordeal. And then, to sit down at his desk and face his secretary and pretend that nothing, absolutely nothing, was wrong —that was almost more than he could manage. He was a scientist, not an actor.

Not a criminal.

But that's what they would call him, if the experiments in C wing ever came to light. His instinct was to shut the lab down, to destroy the contents of those incubators. But Matthew Tyrone insisted the work continue. They were so close to completion. After all, Defense had underwritten the project, and Defense expected a product. This matter of Victor Holland was only a minor glitch, soon to be solved. The thing to do was carry on.

Easy for Tyrone to say, thought Black. Tyrone had no conscience to bother him.

These thoughts had plagued him all day. Now, as Black packed up his briefcase, he felt desperate to flee forever this teak-and-leather office, to take refuge in some safe and anonymous job. It was with a sigh of relief that he walked out the door.

It was dark when he pulled into his gravel driveway. The house, a saltbox of cedar and glass tucked among the trees, looked cold and empty and in need of a woman. Perhaps he should call his neighbor Muriel. She always seemed to appreciate an impromptu dinner together. Her snappy wit and green Jell-O salad almost made up for the fact she was 75. What a shame his generation didn't produce many Muriels.

He stepped out of his car and started up the path to the front door. Halfway there, he heard a soft whht! and almost simultaneously, a sharp pain stung his neck. Reflexively he slapped at it; something came away in his hands. In wonderment, he stared down at the dart, trying to understand where it had come from and how such a thing had managed to lodge in his neck. But he found he couldn't think straight. And then he found he was having trouble seeing, that the night had suddenly darkened to a dense blackness, that his legs were being sucked into some sort of quagmire. His briefcase slipped from his grasp and thudded to the ground.

I'm dying, he thought. And then, Will anyone find me here?

It was his last conscious thought before he collapsed onto the leaf-strewn path.

'Is he dead?'

Ollie bent forward and listened for Archibald Black's breathing. 'He's definitely alive. But out cold.' He looked up at Polowski and Victor. 'Okay, let's move it. He'll be out for only an hour or so.'

Victor grabbed the legs, Ollie and Polowski, the arms. Together they carried the unconscious man a few dozen yards through the woods, toward the clearing where the van was parked.

'You—you sure we got an hour?' gasped Polowski.

'Plus or minus,' said Ollie. 'The tranquilizer's designed for large animals, so the dose was only an estimate. And this guy's heavier than I expected.' Ollie was panting now. 'Hey, Polowski, he's slipping. Pull your weight, will ya?'

'I am! I think his right arm's heavier than his left.'

The van's side door was already open for them. They rolled Black inside and slid the door closed. A bright light suddenly glared, but the unconscious man didn't even twitch.

Cathy knelt down at his side and critically examined the man's face.

'Can you do it?' asked Victor.

'Oh, I can do it,' she said. 'The question is, will you pass for him?' She glanced up and down the man's length, then back at Victor. 'Looks about your size and build. We'll have to darken your hair, give you a widow's peak. I think you'll pass.' She turned and glanced at Milo, who was already poised with his camera. 'Take your