At The Edge

7

Dan never lost consciousness, but his memories remained hazy. He had the presence of mind to toss the receiver into the brush after he hit the ground and to feign unconsciousness when he heard the voices. The men said nothing of interest, only grunted and complained that Dan was heavy.

At some point he felt a needle prick his arm and remembered nothing more. Blackness for only God knew how long.

He came to with a bright light in his eyes, its intensity magnified by a throbbing headache. He tried to sit up.

"Hey, hey, take it easy there," a deep male voice said. A hand on his shoulder kept him lying flat.

The voice belonged to a gray-haired, white-coated man who looked all business. The age lines in his face were faint but discernible, teeth not quite even. He was carefully dressed in a starched white coat over a pressed blue shirt and his demeanor said "doctor." Two other men, big guys in blue jeans and muscle-filled T-shirts, stood back, saying nothing.

"How many fingers?"

He held up his hands. "Where's Maria?"

"Right here," she groaned. He looked to his left and saw her lying on a folding cot. Glancing around the room, he could see white cupboards with masking tape on the doors with various labels, like flasks, beakers, dewars, and a lot of names for materials or equipment that he didn't understand. He was also on a narrow, folding cot, narrower than a twin bed, perhaps four feet away from Maria. Everything was white. For some reason he couldn't quite articulate, it appeared they were in a modular building in a room about twenty by thirty.

"She appears to be fine other than a lot of bruises," the man said. "Now, how many fingers?"

"Seven."

"What year is it?"

"2002."

"Who's the president?"

"Dick Cheney."

"Sense of humor's intact."

"What was the last thing you remember?"

"Climbing a tree."

"Why were you trespassing?"

"Where am I?"

"You're in the facility you were spying on."

"What facility?"

"That's private."

"That's baloney," Maria said.

"I can assure you we have legitimate reasons for keeping it confidential. We're protecting the forest."

''How are you protecting the forest?'' Maria asked. ''And where are my clothes?"

''Being cleaned. What's left of them. I'm afraid they were badly torn in your fall out of the tree."

Dan realized now that he was completely nude under a wooly blanket. Judging from the bra straps on her shoulders, he surmised Maria still wore her underwear.

"I didn't just fall out of the tree. Something hit me in the chest."

"Really, I can't imagine what. Are you sure you are remembering things correctly? You were sort of knocked silly."

"I'm positive."

"Strange. At any rate we'll return your clothes just as soon as they are clean. Then the police will come and get you."

"The police?"

"We're making a citizen's arrest. You were clearly trespassing."

"Oh, come on," she said. "We weren't hurting anything."

''That really isn't the point, is it? We're entitled to privacy for our work. The nature of our project requires that we keep it completely confidential for the good of this ecosystem."

"You're on Metco or Amada land or both. Since when are they concerned about trees? They're in the business of cutting them down and making lumber."

"They're also in the business of growing them back. But I'm not going to bicker. Nothing improper is going on here. Quite the contrary."

"Well then, you shouldn't mind telling us what you're doing."

"Why were you carrying a radio receiver? What drove you deep into a private forest past barriers and numerous NO TRESPASSING signs?"

Maria glanced at Dan. He took a deep breath. "Look, is this going to be a trade? Our secrets for yours? Or is this a one-way street?"

"You were on our land. You were breaking the law. It's already a one-way street. You made it that way. So what were you doing here?"

"OK. We were picking mushrooms and this is a bad dream."

"A friend of Dan's is a biologist for Otran Enterprises," Maria interjected. "It's another timber company."

"We know who they are."

"Well, they're doing a study on land over the mountain there. We must've gotten a wrong radio signal, yours instead of theirs. Of course when we came out into this forest and found the barriers and all the signs, we couldn't imagine what anybody would be doing here."

"So you just kept coming even though you knew you were breaking the law."

"More or less, although we didn't consider that we were doing anything terribly wrong," Maria continued. "Like I said, he's an attorney for Otran Enterprises and was concerned that maybe you had something going on in your forest you didn't know about. Maybe a pot-growing operation or something. I mean, you do work for Amada or Metco. True?"

"And you are?" He ignored her question.

"She's my girlfriend," Dan said. "And she's an attorney as well."

"Also for Otran Enterprises?"

"She does a different kind of work-"

"Yes," Maria interrupted, and cut a look at Dan. "And I'd like my clothes immediately."

"We'll check on it. Your last name is Fischer?"

"Yes."

"And you are Dan Young?"

"You've been checking our wallets." Dan eyed their billfolds lying on a nearby table.

"Had to. We didn't know if you'd regain consciousness. We'll bring you your clothes when they're washed and dried. Please don't leave this room. The door will be locked and we ask that you not try to climb out the windows. The dogs will be right outside." The man started to leave, then turned back as if he'd forgotten something important. "And we're going to leave the lady with her blanket, but once we're outside, we'll ask you to pass yours around the door-we really don't want you leaving."

After they had left the room, one of the muscled arms snaked around the door, the hand beckoning.

"I'm keeping the blanket," Dan said as he rose.

The arm flung the door open, and the two big men walked purposefully over to Dan.

"Pass your blanket or we'll take it," one of the burly bodyguards ordered.

"Maybe you should give it to him," Maria said.

Looking at the dark-haired man, Dan guessed his weight at about 230 pounds. Of the two muscle guys, he appeared the leader. The second, who now stood beside him, was at least as big and a lot meaner-looking. With boots Dan gave himself a fair shot at taking them both. Without, he would probably lose. Giving in didn't occur to him. Making sure his eyes never wavered and his shoulder never dropped to betray his intention, he kicked straight at the lead man's testicles.

The man reacted too late. Doubling over, he groaned, and after a good breath, screamed. With his blanket wrapped around him, Dan moved in quickly with a very square upper-cut to the face. The guy went down deadweight. Now the odds were considerably improved. Instinctively he knew the legal situation might be manipulated if he did it right.

The remaining man assumed a fighting stance.

''Wait." The commanding voice of the white-haired man rang out. "Leave him alone." Then addressing Dan, he warned: "But I'm telling you, if either one of you tries to escape, we will use the force necessary to stop you."

"We aren't going anywhere," Dan said. "We're waiting for the police. In fact, we welcome the police."

Groaning, the man on the ground rolled over, staggering to his feet. With their disappointment clearly showing, the two men withdrew with their boss-the injured man still hunched over.

"That wasn't very bright," Maria said. She smiled a little. "So now that you've done your Tarzan act, what's next?"

"We look around," he whispered, pointing at the door. He had wrapped the blanket around himself as one would wrap a towel, but left a considerable amount of fabric on the floor. She turned away, wrapping her own blanket high on her body, tucked just under her arms.

"You take the drawers; I'll take the cabinets," she said.

"There's nothing interesting in here or they wouldn't have left us alone. It's a storage area for research equipment and supplies."

"So what, then?"

"So we're going through there."

Dan pointed at a vent grate.

"You'll never fit." Her tone betrayed a hopelessness.

"I can try. You'd clearly make it."

"Oh yeah. Right."

Dan began rummaging through the cupboards and drawers. ''We need a screwdriver.'' He found nothing resembling the necessary tool. He did find a spackling knife of the sort Sheetrockers use and immediately stood on his bed, loosening the screws. It was remarkably easy.

With the grating removed, he considered how he would get up into the duct. By putting a chair on the bed, he was able to stick his head in the metal passageway. The metal appeared thin and it was supported by little more than flimsy brackets and the Sheetrock. Even if he could fit, he would fall through the ceiling.

"You might have better luck over here," Maria said.

She had opened a big walk-in closet and had pulled aside a rack of brand-new lab coats. Behind the coats was a wall with an old pass-through door, probably used to access papers or supplies.

"Unless you like falling through the ceiling."

He got down quickly. It looked much more promising.

Taking the putty knife, they pried the drab green door. The flimsy metal bent.

"I'm sure this is a modular unit just set here. The pass-through was probably for another place and another time. I think it's painted shut. We need something stronger to pry with," he said.

Maria began rummaging in the drawers. Dan did the same. He found a first-aid kit with a pair of heavy scissors inside.

"These might do," he said, thrusting them under the sliding door. At first it moved a half inch, enabling him to get his fingers underneath. He needed leverage, so he jumped up on the sill in front of the pass-through, losing his blanket in the process. Maria retained a solemn expression, keeping her eyes fixed on her fingers that were now also thrust under the stubborn door.

They both lifted, straining as hard as they could. Instantly it gave way, sliding up into the wall. He noticed her biting her cheeks and staring straight ahead as if struggling not to smile. Dropping to the floor, he picked up the blanket.

"If you'll allow me," he said, hefting himself over the lip and through the wall. Inside was more storage and one solitary door in the middle of the wall, a sturdy door set on heavy hinges similar to those found on a bank vault. At eye level there was a small window made of very heavy plate glass that allowed visual inspection of the room.

To open the door, one would grab a large metal handle and pull it down. At the moment it was held in place by a heavy combination lock.

"What's in there, I wonder?"

Maria was intent on the door as well. "Let's look."

But neither moved for a moment while they took in their surroundings. Stark white walls with pastel green cabinets brought to mind a medical clinic. The floor was speckled green vinyl, probably laid over a wooden sub-floor, up to an area about a foot from the door of the special room, where the floor turned to concrete slab. Stacked to either side of the door were boxes of vermiculite, a growing medium for plants. Down the hall on the opposite side was a more normal-looking door. At either end of the hall were doors that appeared to be interior to the complex, one of which looked composite and economy driven, the other heavy wood with multiple panels.

They approached the double-plated window, looking inside. It was a room about twenty by fifteen. There were two desks, numerous cabinets, and a microfiche reader. In a far corner of the room hung a television camera behind a heavy wire-mesh grid.

"What do you make of that?" Dan said.

"It's a secured document room. The sort of place you'd keep highly confidential information."

"What do you suppose is through that door?" Dan said, nodding to the right to the end of the hall and the economy door.

"I don't know, but I doubt we're meant to find out," she said. He began walking. "Young, let's discuss this." She moved in front of him with one hand on his chest.

"You talk and I'll listen," he said as he reached around her for the knob and began slowly turning it.

"All balls, no brain," she muttered as she stepped from between him and the door.

He peeked through the crack at 3,000 square feet of modern laboratory, packed with all sorts of equipment that looked electrical and chemical. There were at least a dozen people in casual attire, concentrating on then" work. In the middle of the lab were two huge vats with a lot of tubing running around them and apparently in them. He guessed they were under pressure.

"What do you see?" she asked.

"Take a look."

She stepped around him and put her eye to the crack.

"What are they doing?"

"Something they obviously don't want us to know about. What if we just walk out there in our blankets and introduce ourselves-maybe they're not all bad guys," he said.

"Dumb idea. We'd never leave with anything."

He put a hand gently on her head, moving her down the crack so that he could hunch over the top of her and get a better view. After a minute or two a couple of technicians began walking toward the door.

"Close the door, they're coming."

"In here," he said, opening a storage-room door. It was a room perhaps twenty feet long and fifteen feet wide, lined floor to ceiling with large shelves stacked with ordinary-looking supplies. Mostly it appeared to be paper products. On the floor in front of a large bottom shelf was a row of five-gallon cans of industrial cleaner. Behind the small aluminum drums the shelf appeared empty.

"Come on," Maria said, moving a couple of cans and crawling onto the shelf.

"Are you crazy?"

"Hurry, damn it."

Dan crawled in backward, only to discover that there wasn't enough room.

"I'll get on top," Maria said, sliding over him. He stayed prone underneath Maria, who lay facedown on his back.

With considerable effort he pulled the cans in front of the shelf.

"If they were coming, they'd already be here," Dan said.

Then a woman's voice.

"I think the file folders are in the big locker."

''You can look, but I think they took them all out of there and I think we've run out. We go through those damn things like bugs on a chicken farm." Male voice.

The door opened.

"Somebody keeps leaving the lights on."

Dan held his breath. Fortunately, Maria was a small person. Neither of them made a sound. He could see the woman's legs in navy blue slacks. She wore cheap white tennis shoes that squeaked over the floor as she rummaged through the shelves. She was working her way back and would surely see them if she began moving cans or looked just over the tops. It was inconceivable that she would miss them. Glancing back, he noticed Maria's petite white thigh on top of his meatier, even paler version, the blankets scrunched to the side. He liked her taste in panties-bikini style but not thong. It surprised him; he would have had her pegged for more matronly briefs. Unfortunately, nothing else in this place was the flesh white of their untanned thighs or the ivory white of Maria's underwear.

One shelf back the lady was searching too thoroughly. They were going to be found.

The door opened.

"If you're looking for file folders, we moved them over to the file room."

"Well, why didn't somebody say something?"

"Hell if I know."

The door slammed; the lights went out.

"That was close." Maria let out a deep breath.

First Dan moved two cans; then he let her slither out, unable to ignore the smooth warmth of her skin sliding on his. More concerned for Maria's safety than he cared to admit, he slowly opened the door, finding an empty hallway once again.

At the opposite end of the corridor stood the heavy wooden door, dark in color, that looked more executive than the rest. Instinctively they were drawn to it. They both hurried, imagining that at any moment the door from the laboratory might open once again. When he tried the door, he expected it would be locked. It opened.

A soft light in the corner partially illuminated the office. Inside, it had been decorated much more lavishly than the other rooms they had seen. There was a window with vertical mahogany blinds, a cherry television cabinet, custom bookcases to match, a large rosewood desk, a beige carpet overlaid with real or imitation Persian. There was a large folding-door, freestanding closet that when opened revealed various items of clothing on hangers, a lot of snack foods, rain gear, golf clubs, two rifles, and a sawed-off shotgun.

"Damn, look at that," Dan said.

Maria flipped up the corner of the rug.

"It's real. Handmade. Let's see what we can find." She went to another door that led into a small bathroom complete with a shower.

Dan tried the filing cabinet behind the desk. It was locked.

They both rummaged through the drawers of the desk but found no key.

"Most morons put the key in the desk," he said.

She went to the other filing cabinets and began looking through them.

"We better do this fast," he said.

"I'm hurrying."

"Oh, look what I found." She held up a flat gray box.

"What is it?"

"Box full of keys, all labeled and each key attached to the bottom with Velcro. And one says fireproof cabinet."

"Bingo."

Quickly they opened it and started rooting through files full of paperwork. Many pages of equations were unintelligible. They found computer printouts with chemical names and numerous spreadsheets that contained numbers and chemical symbols.

"Look," she said, holding a stack of photos. They were pictures of dead-looking bats.

"What's that mean?" he whispered.

"What's any of it mean? Those equations look formidable," she said. "A lot of very fine print. Whoever wrote them must be a math or chemistry person."

"Why do chemistry people take bat photos?" he said.

"Or write stuff about bat neurons," she said, holding up an equation with an explanation related to brain activity and consciousness. "We better get the hell to the other side of that wall before they find out we know about this."

"I'd like to know what it is that we know," Dan said. "Let's take one bat photo and these pages of chemical equations."

"I wish we knew what we were doing," she said, sliding the drawer closed. Dan was still rifling through another. "You wanna die in here? Come on." She opened the door a crack. "Shhh!" She closed the door quietly. "In here, quick."

"What? Why?" he whispered as she shoved him in the bathroom.

"We have been crapped on by the gods, that's why," she said, opening the shower. They both stepped in and quietly closed the frosted-glass door. "The white-haired guy is at the other end of the hallway talking to the thugs. Listen."

The outer office door opened and closed, then silence for a moment.

''Let me talk to Hans." There was a pause. ''Hmm. Hmm. They're in one of the supply rooms.'' After a time he cleared his throat. "I've already called the cops. They're trespassing." A long silence. ''You do that and they could never leave here, Hans. No way. And even if we did, we don't know for sure whether anybody knows they're here.

"I know all about the division of labor." More silence. "Well, you can damn well do as you please next time. But the cops will be here in half an hour." Sounds of the chair rolling on plastic and a deep sigh punctuated the silence.

"I don't want to know. That's your deal. Your department.. " There was a solid smack on wood, then the sound of liquid pouring and the clink of a crystal decanter. ''Yeah? Well, fuck you too, Hans." He slammed the phone.

After a few minutes the office door closed again.

"Let's go," Maria said.

"I don't need any encouragement."

The hallway was empty. They rushed through the office door and down the hall to the pass-through, their bare feet whispering over the linoleum.

"Let's get back in there," she said, prying it open.

While she was crawling through, he went to the cupboards in the hallway but was only finding more meaningless computer printouts. He wished they had found something he could understand, something in plain English.

"Will you come on?" she pleaded.

With one photo and five pages in Maria's purse, they lay on the cots and tried to look as calm and bored as possible.