Book 3: Dobie's Dilemma

Episode 2

Secret Lab

Lehavre was prepared to fly in Jules from Belgium to fix the problem at the lab. His last name was something unpronounceable, so everyone just called him Jules from Belgium. Lehavre-NA’s boss, Miss Jessica Broyles – CEO, with a bunch of credentials after that – wanted me to try my luck at the lab before flying Jules in from across the Atlantic.

The facility was out in the sticks, near Ducktown and Turtletown, not far from Little Frog Mountain in the southeast corner of Tennessee. The Ocoee River runs through the area. Either way, it was a lot closer than Belgium.

I thought, “Road trip!” My biggest concern was which snacks to bring. I was so innocent back then... two months ago.

Miss Jessica ran into me in the building’s cafeteria on the ground floor as I was tossing snacks onto my tray. Tim and Griffin called her Jessica Rabbit behind her back. I guess it was her curvaceous good looks, red hair, and maybe some men fantasize about female cartoon characters? I don’t know. They are a lot less trouble than the real thing.

“Health nut, eh, Dobie?” she nodded at my unhealthy snack choices. I slid my tray toward the cashier – a large, smiling middle-aged woman – along those steel tray rails that surround cafeteria food displays.

Miss Jessica touched my arm. Caressed it, really, when she said, “I was joking, Dobie, but you can take the company jet. It has better snacks.”

She puffed out her chest as she said it. Was she offering those as a snack? The Jessica Rabbit reference was making more sense.

“There’s an airport near the facility,” she said. When I looked surprised, she added, “A very small local airport. Easy to miss. I’ll have someone down there pick you up. Your teammates are dropping like flies,” she laughed – a bit too happily, I thought, but let it slide – “and I want to make sure you get there safely!”

I was tempted. Probably should have taken her up on it. But, with me and Cori not getting along, I was happy for an excuse to get out of town. Besides, I love a good road trip and wanted to impress Jessica with my concern for the company’s bottom line.

I paid the cashier, entered the dining area, and began to look for an available table. “Fuel for the jet there and back,” I said, “would cost ten times more than driving a few hours round-trip, even after you reimburse for gas.”

I was sucking up – and try to avoid that – but might be moving up the company ladder, through attrition if nothing else. I had to play the game. “Ingratiating myself” sounds better. Let’s go with that.

“Go for it!” she said. “But, if things get messy and you have to spend the night, there are motels nearby.”

She squeezed my arm as I sat at an empty table, but remained standing herself. Definitely hitting on me. I don’t mean to be conceited but some women find me attractive. I blame my parents. Either way, I got the impression she wanted me to punch her Mile High Club card.

“Just add it to your per diem,” she continued, “but someone from the lab will most likely let you stay with them, free of charge. They really are some of the nicest people.”

Darla came to mind, but I pushed it away. Didn’t need that kind of trouble. Halfway down there, I was kicking myself for not taking the jet. When would I get another chance like that?

Sooner than expected, it turned out, but for all the wrong reasons.

~ ~ ~

The lab director, Brice – a bit younger than me, of average height and build, with brown hair and mustache – greeted me in the lobby upon my arrival at the facility. Darla was noticeably absent.

He had me sign a waiver – which I didn’t bother to read – and drop my phone into some sort of black bag. We then headed for the production line room. You hear about the heroes of the world running toward trouble. That was me: IT Man, leaping broken-down old computers in a single bound!

“What, no tour of the facility?” I joked as we made a bee line down the hall into the fray. Brice sneered.

Turning the corner and entering the room labeled Production: Authorized Personnel Only, we immediately put on hair nets, blue paper booties and latex gloves.

“What about masks?” I asked.

“You mean like what people wear during so-called pandemics?” he sneered again in case I missed it the first time. “Those don’t protect against viruses.”

“You’ve got viruses in there?”

“Among other things, but everything is safely stored. When we’re in production, everyone wears what you might call a hazmat suit. Otherwise, like now, it’s safe. The hair nets and booties are to keep us from contaminating the area, not the other way around.”

We entered the room and turned another corner. The signs everywhere saying “radioactive” and “hazardous” gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I powered through. We were then joined by another man. Black, with glasses, shorter and thinner than Brice, he was introduced as Harold.

Something felt off and it must’ve shown on my face. Brice and Harold exchanged a glance.

On cue, two huge, armed guards appeared behind us. Stealthy suckers. Grim. Unsmiling.

I had yet to meet any of these “nicest people” Jessica mentioned earlier. Brice was only minimally polite. Not even the receptionist was nice, and that’s in her job description. It was kind of weird a place like this had a receptionist at all, but, whatever.

I gave the security guards a wary look. Brice assured me they were only going to keep an eye on me as they would with any visitor, but his assurances carried little weight. I’ve dealt first-hand with people like Serge, Ludwig and Riva who have probably made people dig their own graves before putting a bullet in the back of their head.

~ ~ ~

I wasn’t seriously worried about that bullet in the back of the head, but it did cross my mind. They can keep their little secrets. My main concern was that I had never fixed this particular piece of hardware before, and didn’t want to screw it up. This problem at the lab hadn’t happened yet when I visited Griffin in the hospital, so couldn’t ask him about it.

Still, the place gave me a gnawing sense of unease.

“I’ll need to take notes,” I made an excuse to gather my thoughts. “You got office supplies? Would’ve used my phone, but you had me drop it into that bag. What was that, anyway?”

“Faraday bag,” Harold answered. “It blocks...”

“...electronic signals,” I interrupted. “I’m familiar with Faraday. Just didn’t recognize the bag in person.”

Harold looked mildly offended.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I apologized

Brice sighed deeply and gave directions to the office supplies while he and Harold stayed behind to talk.

On my return, notepad in hand, armed guard in tow, I tried to convince myself that everything they did here was legitimate. I’ve worked for the company over two years now. I should be used to this, but it’s one thing to know what kind of work your employer does, completely different being in the field, in person.

Brice and Harold were just around the corner from me, and I could hear them speaking in hushed tones, using words like dengue, Ebola and Marburg. Everyone’s heard of Ebola, but I remembered those other two from biology class.

“It’s crucial we get this fixed,” Brice was saying.

I froze in my tracks. There was a convex mirror at the top of the corner wall. I backed up a few steps before they spotted me through that. Didn’t want my hesitation to cause suspicion.

Even if this place was legitimate, did I want to be working for this sort of company? Not really, no. Dealing with biological specimens was bad enough, but if I saw any dogs or cats in cages, I was out of there... with as many of them as I could fit in the back of my car.

People like me can’t up and quit, though. We have bills to pay. Until I win the lottery, I have to deal with whatever life throws at me. Only the wealthy can afford to be irresponsible.

Maybe my premonition was a reaction to the overly sanitized environment. I like a bit of mess to make me feel at home. There were no dirty Petri dishes in any of the sinks. No dirty lab coats and scrubs on the floor in the corner, waiting to be washed. I’m joking, but my guard was up. Alarm bells going off.

I came around the corner with a forced smile to meet the challenge. “Point me to the control panel.”

Harold walked me over to a green metal box with red lettering standing in stark contrast to the room’s otherwise white and stainless-steel decor. It was connected to the production line, among other things, through metal hoses and wires.

I dismantled the control box, disconnected things only to reconnect them – the reboot method – in case that magically fixed anything. It did not.

That’s when Miss Jessica joined us. She must have flown down, after all. Harold took her arrival as his cue to leave.

I checked the control panel for blown fuses and whatnot, poking and prodding its innards with a multi-meter and voltage meter.

“Where do you keep this thing’s spare parts?” I asked Brice. “It’s got a blown fuse.”

He gave me a look like something wasn’t adding up. “Try the tool closet,” he said finally.

“And that is... where?”

“Jimmy’ll show you.”

“And Jimmy is... where?”

Brice stayed behind as Jessica and one of the security guards escorted me to the administrative section of the building in search of Jimmy. We found him in a hallway amid rows of gray cubicles and walls adorned with lithographs of local wildlife interspersed with photographs of kayakers and canoeists navigating those famous Ocoee River rapids.

Jimmy, a middle-aged man of average height and build, with salt-and-pepper hair parted down the middle, walked with a rhythm to his gait, captivated by whatever he had coming through his ear buds. He made a move to go around us until Jessica stepped in front of him.

He smiled wide, happy to see that she wanted him for something. He pulled out one of his ear buds and left it dangling. Jessica nodded at me and let me explain the situation.

With considerably less enthusiasm for me than he had for Jessica, Jimmy listened to what I had to say. He nodded, gave Jessica one last smile, and led me to the tool closet.

I looked around but never caught sight of Darla. Jessica stayed put and chatted with a gaggle of employees who had gathered nearby. She had a rock star appeal, almost always the most attractive woman in the room. Her employees were her fans. That must be why she thought everyone was so nice. When you look as good as she does, people tend to be nice... and invite you to spend the night.

Inside Jimmy’s walk-in tool closet sat three full-height gym lockers, each with its own lock. It took him two seconds to work the combination and open the door.

I spotted the box of fuses and pointed at it. He gave me a look that said, No shit.

I gave a fake smile and look that I hoped conveyed, Just hand me the fuses, and I’ll be on my merry way.

As Jessica and I – and the ever-present security guard – returned to the lab, she said, “Good news, bad news, Dobie. Which one do you want to hear first?”

“Bad news first, always.”

She nodded. “The bad news is that Griffin has died....”

“Oh no!”

“...and with Tim’s recovery... there have been complications. He might not make it.”

I nodded soberly.

“The good news is that you’re being promoted, with commensurate title and salary bump... assuming you fix this thing.”

That should have brought a smile but, given the circumstances, I just nodded.