as it formed in her head she had the distinct feeling that it was exactly the right word to describe the plastic cages — were airtight, with what were apparently remotely operated systems allowing food and water to be provided to the animals isolated within each of them.
Each cage had a ventilating system that kept the atmosphere within the cells constantly circulating, and a large computer monitor displayed the composition of the atmosphere within the confines of the plastic boxes. In an instant Katharine understood: the tanks in the equipment room she’d found a few moments ago were supplying the atmosphere for the boxes.
She moved closer to the wall of cages.
The cells were of varying sizes and contained various species.
In the smallest were mice, a few of them alone, some in pairs. In one there was a nursing female, with half a dozen babies suckling at her teats.
A row of larger cells contained cats and dogs. They were all caged singly, and most of the cats were curled on the floors of their prisons, some licking at their fur, others sleeping.
Or perhaps they had died?
Katharine’s gaze shifted to one of the monitors; the display, a series of letters and numerals, indicated the composition of the atmosphere within the confines of the plastic box. She picked out familiar chemical designations: NH3, CH4, CO.
Ammonia.
Methane.
Carbon monoxide.
There were half a dozen other chemical formulae, a few of which she was familiar with, most of which she was not.
But all of them, she suspected, were equally deadly gases. Dear God, what was going on here?
Katharine moved closer to one of the cages and rapped on it sharply. The cat within stirred, then settled down and appeared to go back to sleep.
All but one of the dogs were awake. Two of them sat staring at her, but with none of the eagerness of puppies hoping to be played with. Rather, their eyes seemed oddly empty, as if they understood they would never be released from the plastic boxes in which they were imprisoned. The other three were sprawled out, apparently looking at nothing at all. With a shudder of revulsion, Katharine recalled the meaning of the project’s name: canaries in the mines — that’s what these poor animals were! Impulsively, she reached out, opened one of the cages, and lifted the puppy inside into her arms, then quickly closed the cage door against the foul-smelling fumes that spewed from it.
The puppy, wriggling gratefully, snuggled against her bosom, and as she stroked its soft fur, outrage at the experimentation going on in this room rose inside her. How could anyone do something like this? To subject all these innocent animals to—
Her thoughts were interrupted by a strange wheezing sound from the puppy in her arms. Then it was wriggling, as if trying to escape her hold on it, and when she looked down, it was gazing up at her with frightened eyes, its mouth gaping as it gasped in a struggle to catch its breath.
Dying! The puppy was dying in her arms!
She cuddled it close, trying to ease its fear, but a moment later it was over. The puppy lay limp in her arms, silent and still. Katharine stared at it numbly for a moment.
What should she do with it?
And then she remembered where she was and what she was doing. If someone found her—
Quickly she returned the lifeless puppy to the cage from which she’d taken it.
She should leave — leave now, before she was discovered. But there was another room beyond this one, and even as she tried to bring herself to leave the strange laboratory complex, she knew she could not. She had to try to find out exactly what they were doing down here.
How was it possible that any of the caged animals remained alive, given what they were breathing?
She moved on through a series of laboratories that were deserted but for a few technicians in white lab smocks, most of whom seemed to be concentrating on their work.
She barely paused, and asked no questions, determining to go unnoticed as long as she possibly could.
And finally she came to the last room.
It was a small chamber. In its center, enclosed in a thick glass case, was a sphere, perhaps three feet in diameter, made of a gray-black substance that could have been either metal or stone. From the sphere a tube protruded, which curved around, then went straight down, apparently through the case and into its base.
On one wall of the room was an instrument panel that appeared to be monitoring every possible condition within the case, from temperature and humidity to air pressure and the presence of trace elements within the atmosphere itself.
Katharine circled the case, studying it from every angle, but each aspect of the sphere inside appeared to be the same as every other.
Her back was to the door when a voice startled her.
“First time you’ve seen it?”
She whirled around, realizing a second too late how guilty she must look, then did her best to recover. “My God! You have no idea how you startled me!”
“Sony,” the technician replied. Then he smiled, “I suppose you’re pondering the eternal question?”
“Excuse me?”
“ ‘What is it?’ ” the technician asked.
The question caught Katharine off guard. “That’s just what I was going to ask you,” she replied.
Now the technician’s expression turned slightly quizzical “That’s what we’re all trying to find out, isn’t it? I thought maybe a new face might have a new idea.”
Katharine floundered for a moment, then composed herself. “I wish I did,” she said. “But I’m afraid I’m as puzzled as everyone else. Actually, I was just looking for Dr. Jameson.”
“Not here,” the technician replied. “He went up to the meeting at Hana.” Now the last of his smile disappeared, and his eyes narrowed with a hint of suspicion. “Why aren’t you up there?”
Katharine decided simply to tell the truth. “I wasn’t invited,” she said. “And since Dr. Jameson isn’t down here, I suppose I might as well go back to my office and do something useful, huh?” Feeling the technician’s eyes watching her every step of the way, Katharine quickly retraced her steps, again resisting the urge to look over her shoulder.
But even when she was back in Rob’s office, the feeling that eyes were watching her every movement lingered on.
In a private conference room at the Hotel Hana Maui, tucked away at the end of thirty-five miles of some of the most winding highway in the world, Takeo Yoshihara faced the seven members of the Serinus Society who had flown in over the last thirty-six hours from every continent on the planet.
“I have good news,” he began. “Four of our latest canaries have not died. One of the two new subjects in Chicago, along with the newest ones in Tokyo and Mexico City, seem to be doing well.”
A murmur of excitement rippled through the room, which Yoshihara silenced with a slightly raised hand.
“We also have a problem. A boy died here on Maui two days ago, apparently after having been exposed to our compound.”
The excitement in the room turned to consternation.
“And there are three other boys here, all of whom are—” He hesitated, searching for the right word, then smiled faintly as he found it. “All of whom are, shall we say, ‘faring better’ to varying degrees. Dr. Jameson will tell you about them.”
Accompanied by uneasy whispers from the audience, Stephen Jameson rose to his feet. At the same time, photographs of Josh Malani, Jeff Kina, and Michael Sundquist appeared on a screen hanging on a wall behind him. “As you know, it was never our intention to carry out any of our human experimentation so close to our research headquarters. Be that as it may, at least four boys on Maui appear to have come in contact with the substance with which we are experimenting.” He glanced up at the three faces on the screen, then fixed a laser pointer on the image of Jeff Kina. “This is a seventeen-year-old male of Polynesian heritage. He is six feet two inches tall, and
