The Forgotten Room

13

“My God,” Olafson said. He looked around, shocked surprise distorting his patrician features.

It was the following morning. Immediately after breakfast, Logan had tracked down the director and brought him here, making the laborious journey through the West Wing’s unfinished litter of construction, down lateral corridor A, beneath the tarp, and through his rudely constructed entrance into the secret room.

“So you had no idea this place existed,” Logan said.

“No.”

“Or what it might possibly have been used for. Or why it was kept secret.”

Olafson shook his head. “If this didn’t appear to be some kind of laboratory, I’d have guessed it predated Lux’s ownership. The original builder, you know, was famously eccentric.”

Logan nodded slowly. Hard as it was to believe, it appeared that — for many decades — Lux academics and scientists had worked and studied and experimented here in the West Wing... never knowing that, all the time, a secret room had lain hidden in their midst.

“Good lord,” Olafson said, following the beam of Logan’s flashlight as it settled on the heavy, armorlike metal suits that hung from the projecting bar in one corner. “What on earth could have gone on in here?”

“You’re the director,” Logan said. “I realize there’s not much to go on. But does anything you see here suggest projects that may have been undertaken during Lux’s early years at Dark Gables?”

Olafson thought a moment. Then he shook his head. “No.” He hesitated. “I don’t see any door. How did you find this room, exactly?

“That tarp had been carefully nailed over the exposed lath, along with this.” Logan reached outside, picked up the scrawled sign that read HAZARDOUS AREA — OFF-LIMITS. “I noticed a fist-sized hole in the lath, recently plugged with plaster. It aroused my curiosity. So I investigated.”

“And you said Strachey had just sent the workmen away,” Olafson murmured. He looked around again. “Do you suppose he was the one who made that hole, discovered this room?”

“He’d be an obvious choice. But then, why seal it up again, send the workers away on a pretext?” Logan pointed to the sign. “Does this look like his handwriting?”

“Impossible to say, given the block letters.”

“Want to hear something else interesting? I tried contacting the general contractor. William Rideout, based in Westerly. All I got was an answering service. It seemed that Mr. Rideout has abruptly retired, and is currently traveling, exact location unknown.”

Olafson took this in. He seemed about to speak, but then he simply shook his head.

Logan let the sign slip to the floor. “Who here could tell me more about the West Wing?”

“Ironically, Strachey would have been your man. He’s been living and breathing the place for the last six months.” Olafson paused, as if considering something. “Look here. We’d better not tell anybody about this place — at least, not until we have a better idea of what its purpose was and why it was boarded up.”

“And I’m going to examine the original blueprints in Strachey’s office. I’d like to see how this room relates to its surroundings — and figure out if the West Wing houses any other secrets we should know about.” Logan glanced at the director. “There’s something else. At dinner the other night, Roger Carbon told me that I should be asking about ‘the others.’ ”

“The others,” Olafson repeated slowly.

“I mentioned it to Perry Maynard, but he sidestepped the question.”

A frown crossed Olafson’s face. “Carbon is a brilliant psychologist, but he can be rather a divisive influence.” He hesitated. “Before Strachey’s death, there were a few reports of... ah... rather odd incidents involving some other residents here at Lux.”

“Odd how?”

“Nothing all that alarming. Certainly nothing anywhere near what happened to Will. Hearing voices, seeing things that weren’t there.”

Nothing all that alarming. “When was this, exactly?”

Olafson thought for a moment. “A month ago, maybe. Six weeks, at most.”

“And it went on for how long?”

“A week or two.”

“How many were affected?”

“A handful. We didn’t think there was a connection. And we didn’t want you to start barking up the wrong tree.”

“Can you get me a list of names of the affected personnel?”

Olafson frowned. “Now, Jeremy, I really don’t think—”

“I can’t afford to ignore any leads. And this sounds like a lead to me.”

“But... well, I doubt those involved would want others to know.”

“Carbon knew.”

Olafson hesitated again. “And I’m sure they’d be disinclined to talk about it. It’s... I imagine it’s a little embarrassing.”

“I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with embarrassing experiences. I’ll let them know they can rely on my utmost discretion.” When Olafson didn’t reply, Logan continued. “Look, Gregory. You brought me here. You can’t ask me to open an investigation and then tie my hands.”

Olafson sighed. “Very well. But I’ll require your utmost tact. Lux’s reputation as a conservative, serious-minded institution is its most important asset.”

“So I’m told.”

“Well, then. I’ll see about furnishing you with a list.” Olafson took another look around in the reflected beam of the flashlight, disbelief once more settling over his features. Then he turned and, without another word, allowed Logan to lead the way out of the shadow-haunted chamber and back toward the tenanted regions of Lux.