Free V - The Original Miniseries by Kenneth Johnson Page A

We've had another requisition from the L.A. Mother Ship for more lab animals." "But we gave them a shipment just last week!" Doctor Metz exclaimed. "They need more? Did they say what for?"
     
"Of course not," said Ruth sardonically. "No," admitted Taylor. "They did say, however, that they've been breeding their own, and expect in a month or so to be able to supply their own stock."
     
"Well, send them what they've asked for, of course," said Metz with a worried frown. "Of course," mumbled Juliet, so softly that nobody but Ruth heard. "I'm getting curiouser and curiouser to see that Mother Ship."
    ROBERT MAXWELL UNLOCKED THE DOOR TO ARCH QUINTON'S Office, then stood in the doorway for a moment, his eyes roving its familiar features. The "current" box was empty. Frowning, he opened several file cabinets, searching with quick, impatient movements, then, frustrated, slammed the gray drawer back into its casing with a bang.
Reaching for the phone, he dialed quickly. "Kathy? Let me talk to Robin for a second."
A pause. "Robin, this is Daddy. Are you sure Doctor Quinton said the stuff he wanted me to look at was in his current files?"
     
His frown deepened. "Okay. Thanks, hon. See you later." Almost as soon as he hung up the phone it began to ring. Maxwell picked it up. "Hello? Doctor Maxwell here. Yes, this is Doctor Quinton's office. I'm one of his associates."
    He listened intently for a moment. "No, I've been trying to reach him. Nobody's seen him today. I called his landlady-he didn't come home last night, as far as she knows. He called about midnight last night, and spoke to my daughter. Said he was working late."
    Absently, he began searching Quinton's top desk drawer, then lifted the blotter and peered underneath it. "Listen, Officer-Robeson, did you say? Have you checked with the L.A. police? Any sign of his car?"
He paused. "He drove-" He corrected himself quickly, with a grimace of worry, "drives a gray Granada. A '78, I think. Yes, it's got a campus parking registry."
     
His breath hissed sharply. "I'll meet you there. The parking lot behind this building?" Maxwell was running by the time he erupted into the sunlight. It was Saturday, and this early the parking lot was nearly empty. Quinton's car stood off by itself.
     
Robert Maxwell felt strangely reluctant to approach the vehicle-somehow it looked abandoned, forlorn. He swallowed, forcing himself to walk numbly toward it.
    The door gave easily beneath his hand-not locked. He reached out, past the steering column, then moved away with Quinton's worn leather-tab key ring in his hand. There was an odd smell hanging about the automobile that sickened and repelled Maxwell, making the fear mounting in the back of his throat turn to nausea.
He swallowed again, fighting not to breathe too deeply, turning to look around the interior. Empty. Clean, just as Quinton had always kept it.
    His eyes turned to the door. The handle on the driver's side hung askew, and an oily black stain marred the red vinyl. Maxwell realized he was shaking with deep tremors that twisted his gut. His heart seemed to be directly between his ears, throbbing.
    Putting out an unsteady hand, Robert touched fingertips to the stain, then sniffed them cautiously. Bile flooded his mouth, and if his stomach hadn't been empty, he'd have vomited. He spat on the cement, then spat again, then leaned back against the Granada's rear door, feeling dizzy, emptied.
Footsteps ... quick, heavy. The campus cop Robeson. "You Maxwell?" Robert swallowed, scrubbing the foulness of that oily stain off on the roughness of his jeans. "Yes, I'm Doctor Maxwell."
    "This Quinton's car?" "Yes, it is. I found his keys in the ignition."
Robeson took the key ring with a reproachful tchh of his tongue. "Shouldn't have touched it, Doc. There might be fingerprints."
    "Sorry." Maxwell's shock was turning to grief now, a paralyzing sense of certainty that he'd never see Arch again. He tried to think rationally, convince himself that