They spent the next several minutes scouring the web for hints of a personal number for Dr. Lakewood. The only line listed went straight to voicemail, and was likely the phone they’d seen on the desk of the cluttered office next door.
“Dammit,” Drake yelled. “We’re wasting time. I’ve got little more than an hour left.”
Jamie put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands. They’d been so close to a possible solution. Her gaze landed on Herman, who sat quietly, lights blinking on and off occasionally.
She suddenly sat up straight. “What about this guy? He’s an assistant, right? And he’s helped us a lot so far.”
“Herman,” Drake said. “Do you have the personal phone number for Dr. Lakewood?”
“All personal and propriety information has been classified,” the robot replied, giving a series of beeps.
“But you can trust us,” Jamie said. “We have access to the lab, so clearly we have access to classified information.
There were several loud blips and whirrs from the ball as it tried to follow her logic. “Classified information is provided to security level three personnel only.”
Jamie sighed, but Drake wasn’t willing to give up so easily. “We are level three personnel. Give us the information.”
Another pause while Herman computed. “Please verify security level.”
“How, Herman?” Jamie asked. Then she elbowed Drake. “Show him your badge, Lance.”
Drake eyed her askance, but pulled out the badge. “See. I have the clearance, now provide the information.”
Herman rolled over for a closer inspection of the badge. “You are not Dr. Lance Cargraves,” he announced. “You do not have security level three access.”
“But he IS Lance,” Jamie said, patting Herman on what she assumed was his head. “He’s my fiancé. I think I should know my own fiancé.”
“Visual identification does not match photographic evidence presented,” the robot replied matter-of-factly.
“Oh that,” Jamie said with forced laughter. “Well, you see Herman, he’s in disguise. He’s deep under cover for NASA, investigating a conspiracy.”
There was a long wait as Herman went through a series of bleeps, bloops, and whirrs. “Dr. Lance Cargraves?” he asked finally.
“Yes,” Drake replied solemnly.
“You are seeking evidence of the conspiracy?”
A chill went down Jamie’s spine. Herman had said “the” conspiracy, not “a” conspiracy.
Drake looked at her, his eyes widening. He’d picked up on the discrepancy as well. “Yes, Herman. I’ve been sent here to uncover the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Dr. Sylvia Cohen.”
There was a mournful beep from Herman at the mention of Jamie’s sister. “Dr. Lakewood had warned me about a conspiracy. He himself was gathering evidence when I lost contact with him.”
“Dr. Lakewood knows about the conspiracy?” Jamie asked. “He knows what happened to my sister?”
Herman rolled closer to her. “Dr. Sylvia Cohen is your sister?” the little robot asked. “She was always very nice to me. We would race each other down the corridor and back. I was always faster but sometimes I wondered if she let me win.”
Jamie gave the little robot a sad smile while fighting back tears. “Sylvie’s like that. I need to get her back, Herman. Can you help us?”
He rolled back and forth a couple of times, and Jamie wondered if it was similar to a human head nod. “I will help. But Dr. Lakewood’s personal number will not matter. He has stopped picking up his phone.”
Drake frowned. “He hasn’t been in the office?”
“Correct,” Herman said. “He has not been here in approximately 167 days.”
“That’s close to six months,” Drake said.
“Correct.”
