Chapter 10

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In a computer lab several doors down from the bunk room, Hank tapped into an encrypted channel and set up video chat with Brasco, and confirmed the samples were part of the original Project Nano. Florescent lights illuminating the lab washed out any color in Hank's already pasty face.

"You look like shit. Are you gonna be able to do this?" Brasco asked. Reading people was one of his talents. He hoped he'd gotten it right this time.

Hank bristled at the insult. "It's one o'clock in the morning and I've been dealing with that giant-pain-in-the-ass Clair since 9:00 am," he said. I have a right to look like shit, he thought. "And, I don't trust her."

"Well, you shouldn't," Brasco said. "I'm monitoring her cell phone right now and she and those guys in the lab are texting each other. You should have taken away their cells, Hank. There should be no communication outside that lab. Oh, and FYI – she just called you a mad scientist."

"What? I told them not to call anyone after they made their one phone call. Hang on, I'll go get the phones." He was seething.

"Stop!" Brasco shouted at his tablet. "I can block their cells. There will be no more texts tonight." Compared to what was ahead, he knew that jamming cell signals was relatively easy.

Hank plopped down again in the seat in front of the computer, ranting. "Mad scientist! She's just a pencil pusher – some no-name nerd who probably slept her way to Executive Director of this irrelevant lab! Mad scientist—why—why—I'm—published! What else did she say?"

Brasco noted that Hank didn't look pasty anymore. "Not much. They're trying to figure out what they're dealing with. If Clair realizes how significant this is, she'll want in."

"If what you've been telling me is true, there will be enough money to go around," Hank said.

"I said 'significant,' not profitable. There is a difference. Anyway, if she thinks there's an opportunity for career advancement, you bet she'll want in on it." Brasco hoped he wouldn't have to decode everything for Hank. He checked Clair's cell activity.

Hank changed the subject. "Did you find James yet?"

"About that, are you sure you want him on this project? There are plenty of other good scientists you don't have a wretched relationship with we could use" Brasco said, now looking at the file on Buck.

"No," Hank said. "Even when he fails it turns out to be genius. I have my reasons, Brasco. You promised." Over the past few years, his resentment toward James had grown to epic proportions. Hank was determined.

"Ok then, I'll get him." Brasco reassured him. "Get to your hotel; I'll be there in a couple of hours. I expect our company to arrive at 3:30 am sharp. Clair told her boyfriend not to expect her tonight. She's going to Buck's to take care of some critter and then she says she has some 'snooping' to do. She has nothing to snoop through, right Hank?" Brasco asked. Forgetting to take the phones from the goofs in the lab was a harmless mistake, Brasco reasoned. There were much more damaging things Hank could have overlooked.

Hank's rage shifted into full-blown paranoia. He MapQuested Buck's address as he spoke. "Nope," he said, and ended the call.

Brasco took the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway through Virginia to get to the mountainside inn where Hank was would be staying. The moonlight provided a stunning backdrop to the towering evergreens along the drive. I should get up this way more often, he thought as he soaked up the scents and sights of the Appalachian Mountains.

He arrived at the Inn at 2:30 am, parked in front of cottage seven and walked directly to cottage four. The door was unlocked. He stepped inside and shut and locked it behind him. He was pleasantly surprised to find the living area simply decorated – dark wood and earthy colors – cabin colors. He supposed he had expected a more feminine feel for something called a "cottage," like delft blue and white pine. This room had a masculine feel.

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