The Forgotten Room

43

Two hours later, around eight thirty p.m., Kim Mykolos was sitting cross-legged on her bed, typing industriously on a laptop. A sudden slam caused her to look up abruptly.

She glanced in the direction of the bathroom she shared with Leslie Jackson. It was unoccupied, and Leslie’s own room, beyond the bathroom, was also dark and empty — she’d left that afternoon to ride out the hurricane with relatives inland. Kim had no relatives within easy driving distance, and she’d turned down an offer from a friend to stay with his parents in Hartford. Despite the hurricane, the huge stone mansion seemed as safe a place as any... and besides, she was onto something interesting.

Another slam. This time, she realized it was a wooden shutter banging against a nearby casement, shaking the butterfly cases that sat on her bedside table. Earlier in the afternoon, maintenance had come by to make sure all windows were secured against the blast. One of the shutters must have come loose in the wind.

The phone on her pillow began to vibrate. She picked it up, glanced at the number of the incoming call. “Yes?”

“Kim. It’s Jeremy.”

“Where are you?”

“At a gas station, just north of Roger Williams University.”

“I thought you’d be back here hours ago.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But the Sakonnet bridge is out, so I had to take the long way, via Warren and Bristol. And with this weather, traffic on 103 and 136 is crawling. I guess you’re not leaving?”

“No. I’m here for the duration.”

“In that case, you can do something for me.”

“What?”

“You know those two small devices we found, stored in the Machine?”

“Know them? I’ve been slaving over one for what seems like days now.”

“I want you to hide them away someplace. Someplace safe. And get the one from inside the radio in Strachey’s rooms, please. Hide it as well.”

“But I’m in the middle of...” She hesitated. “Got it.”

“And then I’d like you to search my bedroom for another device, just like those others. It would most likely be hidden somewhere along my common wall with Wilcox, maybe behind a dresser or a bookcase. If you find one, put it with the others. I’d do it myself, only I don’t know when I’ll get there — and I don’t want to leave this to chance.”

“What is all of this about, exactly?”

“I told you why I went up to Fall River, who I was hoping to see. Well, Sorrel revealed a lot about Project Sin. It seems they were working on a way to treat schizophrenia using high-frequency sound waves.”

Mykolos caught her breath. No wonder...

“They’d managed to reproduce schizophrenia-like symptoms in normal people, using a particular sound frequency, and hoped a different frequency would have the opposite effect in actual schizophrenics. But they never succeeded. In fact, modifying their experiment only made the effects worse. So the project was mothballed.”

“And the small devices you want me to stash?”

“I think you were right. They’re tone generators — built to emit the ultrasonic wave Project Sin was studying.”

“That makes sense,” Kim said. “Because I’ve analyzed the Machine further, and as best I can make out it’s some kind of amplifier. A primitive, yet nevertheless very complex, amplifier.” She paused a moment, thinking. “But why do you want me to hide those things away?”

“So they can’t be used to hurt anybody else.”

Kim froze as the meaning of Logan’s words hit home. “Are you saying—”

“I’m saying that whoever found the forgotten room and resurrected the research is using those devices — first on Strachey, and then, I suspect, on me.”

“So he, or they, intentionally drove Strachey crazy?”

“In order to halt work on the West Wing.”

“Then why didn’t... sorry, but I have to ask: why didn’t it have the same effect on you?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. I think it has to do with our, ah, ‘ghost catchers.’ ”

“Those necklace things we’re wearing?”

“Yes. The hemishell of a nautilus is the central component. I’m no acoustical engineer, but I’ll bet the logarithmic design of the shells’ chambers breaks up, distorts the sound waves, reducing their effect. Reducing, but not nullifying — because I’ve been feeling rather unstable myself these last few days.”

“And you suspect I’ll find that device along the wall you share with Wilcox because he had no such... protection.”

“Exactly. Instead of me being incapacitated, Wilcox ended up in the ICU.” There was a pause. “Kim, I just didn’t see it. I was convinced the Machine was a device for detecting, maybe communicating with spectral entities. Given my line of work, I guess that’s the kind of assumption I’d easily slip into.”

“Well, I’d say the Machine is a device for communication — just not the kind you initially thought.”

“All those materials I found in Lux’s files about ‘ectenic force.’ No doubt somebody was looking into paranormal phenomena — but it wasn’t those three.” Another pause. “Look, I’d better get back on the road. Traffic’s looking a little lighter and the storm’s growing worse — I don’t want to risk a closure of Route 114. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Kim. And please — be careful. Don’t take any chances.” There was a click as Logan hung up.

As Kim placed the phone back on the pillow, she heard another noise. But this was no slam of a shutter — it sounded like a footstep, coming from the direction of Leslie Jackson’s room.

“Leslie?” Kim called out. “What, you decided not to go after all?”

No reply.

Frowning, Kim rose from the bed and walked to the middle of the room, peering through the common bathroom and into the room beyond.

“Leslie?” she called again.

Was that movement, black upon black, amid the woven shadows of Leslie’s room? If Leslie was there, why wasn’t she answering? Why hadn’t she turned on the light?

Had somebody been there all along, in the darkness, listening in on her phone call?

Suddenly, and for the first time, Kim felt, understood, the full weight of the danger she and Jeremy Logan were now in. If somebody had resurrected the work of Project Sin, and was willing to let Willard Strachey die to protect their secret...what would happen if her own role was discovered?

Be careful, Logan had said. Don’t take any chances.

Was that more movement in the deep shadows? The cold gleam of metal?

Instinctively, Kim wheeled toward the door. As she did so, her feet slipped on the carpet; falling, her skull impacted the wainscoting of the nearby wall with an ugly sound of bone against wood; and her body dropped to the floor.

A moment passed. And then a tall, thin man emerged from the darkness of Leslie Jackson’s room. His expressionless eyes surveyed the scene. Then he slipped a heavy blackjack back into a pocket of his tweed jacket and dragged Kim’s body into a nearby closet. And then, plucking the pillow from the bed, he dabbed away the blood and tossed the pillow into the closet, as well.

“I’ll be back for you shortly,” he murmured, then slipped once again into the shadows.