four by four. Let's see. Five in this incubator, five in the next, five
in the . . . There were over two hundred dishes in all!
Impossible. I looked down at them again, feeling a chill. Nothing
seemed to be in them yet, at least as far as I could tell, but then
human eggs are microscopic. So if ova were . . .
When he supposedly was doing that _in vitro _on the Mayan woman, was he
actually extracting eggs?
Get serious. That was not where they came from.
By then I was well along the Kubler-Ross scale, past denial and closing
in on anger, but still . . . so many! How could they all--
I turned and examined the row of plastic-covered jugs at the back of
the lab, lined up, six in all. Now I had to know what was in them.
I was still shaky, but I steadied myself, walked over, pulled back the
plastic, and touched one. It was deathly cold, sweating in the moist
air. When I flipped open its Frisbee-sized top, I saw a faint wisp of
vapor emerge into the twilight of the room . . .
Then it dawned on me. Of course. They were cryo-storage containers.
He'd need them to preserve fertilized eggs, embryos.
I lifted off the inside cover and placed it carefully onto the bench,
where it immediately turned white, steaming with mist. Then I noticed a
tiny metal rod hooked over the side of the opening. When I pulled it
up, it turned out to be attached to a porous metal cylinder containing
rows of glass tubes.
What's . . .?
Feeling like I was deep in a medical fourth dimension, I took out one
of the freezing tubes. It was notched and marked with a code labeled
along the side: "BL -1 la," "BL -1 lb," "BL-1 lc," and so it went, all
the way to "g." But nothing was there.
I began checking the other tubes. They all were empty too. So why was
he freezing empty containers?
Go with the simple answer. He's getting them ready for new embryos.
I slid the rod back into the cryo-tank, then walked over and hoisted
myself onto the lab bench next to the Dancing Shiva, creator and
destroyer. And when I did, I again felt a stab of pain in my groin. The
bastard. I was shaking, in the early stages of shock. More than
anything, I just wanted to find him and kill him. . . .
I thought I heard a scraping noise somewhere outside, in the hall, and
I froze. Was he about to come in and check on his "experiments"? Then I
realized it was just the building, his house of horrors, creaking from
the wind.
I took one final look at the incubators, and all the pain came back.
The whole thing was too much for my body to take in. I sat there trying
to muster my strength.
Don't stop now. Keep going.
I got back onto my feet. The phone. Use the telephone. Find Steve,
alert the embassy, then get Sarah. Do it now, while you still can.
I was holding my breath as I walked over and pushed open the door to
the office and looked in. It was empty and dark. Good. I headed
straight for the black case of the Magellan World Phone.
When I picked up the handset and switched it on, the diodes went
through their techno-dance of greens and yellows and then stabilized
giving me a dial tone. Thank you, merciful God.
I decided to start off by calling the hotel in Belize again, on the
long shot that Steve had managed to get the hell out of Guatemala.
Baby, please be there. My watch said the time was five-twenty in the
morning, but he once told me they manned the desk around the clock. No
problem getting through, though the connection had a lot of static. But
then came the news I'd been dreading: no Steve Abrams.
"He still not come back, mon."
Where was he? I wanted to scream, but I was determined to keep a grip.
All right, try the Camino Real and hope you can get somebody awake who
speaks English. Maybe he went back. Please, God.
I had the number memorized, so I plugged it in, and I recognized the
voice of the guy who picked up, the owner's son, who was trying his
best to learn English.
"Hi, this is Morgan James. Remember me? I'm just calling to see if
there's a Steve Abrams staying there now?"
"Hey, _que pasa_, Senora James. Very early, yes? _Momento_." There was
a pause as he checked. Come on, Steve, be there. Please, please be
somewhere.