“Well?” Colin drawled, approaching the doorway.
Saffron withheld a sigh and went to Dr. Calderbrook’s desk. She had no idea if this search would turn up anything, let alone something she could conceivably turn over to Alfie and his collaborator.
It was possible, she reasoned as she started scanning the labels on the files in Calderbrook’s desk drawer, that nothing would come of turning over the information about the entomopathogenic fungus. She imagined it would take years to study, being an unidentified species possibly belonging to an equally unknown genus, as proven by Quinn’s attempts to name it that Alfie had shown her. Any attempts to engineer it into something the government could use would likely take years as well. If one ignored the thirst for deadlier weapons and the rate at which the development of those new weapons had occurred during the war, one could convince oneself that this potential weapon would never see the light of day. But Saffron could not ignore it. It was an icy fear, growing under her skin.
Colin had closed the door and stood in front of it, gun in hand. Its barrel followed her as she moved from Calderbrook’s desk to the next filing cabinet.
Papers went through her hands like sand through a sieve, their contents making similarly temporary impressions on her mind, until she’d reached the end of the first cabinet having found nothing. Colin tapped the pistol’s grip impatiently.
The only time she paused in her search was when she saw her own surname. This was her chance to see what Calderbrook wanted with her father.
Colin’s watery blue eyes did not leave her as she opened the file and searched the papers. Her own employment contracts were first, followed by a few of her father’s published articles relating to phytopathology.
“What did you find?”
Saffron jerked the file shut at Colin’s sharp words. “Nothing,” she said quickly. Regretfully, she shoved the file back into the drawer. There were more papers within, but she didn’t dare risk Colin growing impatient.
Dread and relief created a curious lightheaded feeling when she finished the last drawer of the final filing cabinet. “There’s nothing here,” she said.
“You missed something,” Colin said, straightening up. Sweat dotted his brow. Was he as nervous as Saffron was that they’d been in the office for twenty minutes already? Surely, someone would return here soon, Dr. Calderbrook or Joseph. And Saffron couldn’t allow them to be dragged into this. “Or, you found it and hid it.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Saffron said. “Two other lives are at stake, not to mention Elizabeth’s and my own. You left her alone in this laboratory, knowing that she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their safety or mine. I wouldn’t either.”
“The evidence says to the contrary,” he said, stepping forward and raising his gun slightly. “Yours are not the only lives Alfie will take if he’s disappointed. Give me the information. Now.”
Alarmed, Saffron stepped back, her hands automatically coming up in a placating gesture. “Colin. There is nothing here. Wells probably destroyed whatever of the research is missing.”
“Wells was a fool, but he was a greedy one. He didn’t destroy it. He hid it somewhere. It wasn’t at his house; Alfie’s boys searched it. And it’s not among the papers here in the lab.” He raised his gun higher, his eyes going slightly manic. “Where is it, then? Where could he have hidden it?”
Saffron’s mind raced, working double-time to think of how to calm Colin and find the answers he was desperate for. She’d hoped by now her gamble with Nelly would have paid off, but it seemed she would have to rely on her wits alone to get out of this. Until said wits decided to produce a brilliant scheme, she needed to stall.
“The greenhouse,” she said. “Wells would have hidden whatever you’re looking for in the greenhouse.”
CHAPTER46
There were six scientists gathered in the mycology lab, marked by their white coats, and one young man with a patch over his eye and an annoyed expression on his scarred face. Elizabeth knew that was Joseph Rowe. He stood next to a younger woman she guessed was Mary Fitzsimmons, by her youth and brown hair.
“I really must insist,” Mary said breathlessly, “that everyone don their protective equipment while in this laboratory.”
Everyone ignored her. Quinn and Sutcliffe—identifiable by his shouting about invaders of his domain—were already arguing. Burnwell and the other botanist, an older man, sat against one of the walls on metal stools. The older botanist watched the scene with far less amusement than Burnwell. His rounded cheeks were flushed and his bespeckled eyes bounced between Quinn and Sutcliffe as they shouted. That left the silent man towering over the scene with a slight frown, who must have been the other one who studied bugs.
Dr. Calderbrook, wiry and nearly shaking with apprehension, had come jogging down the stairs moments ago. He’d been eager to help shuffle everyone into the tiny room. Elizabeth appreciated he had no inclination to gainsay her right to shove them all into the mycology lab.
A final person entered the room, a slip of a girl with dark hair covered by a cap and a mousy manner to her that Elizabeth imagined was ideal in a maid. She edged into the room, eyes darting all around.When she caught Elizabeth’s eye, she shied away, as if she thought Elizabeth might bite.
Considering how the day was going, she might do just that.
“Thank you for assembling so quickly,” Elizabeth said. The shouting scientists quieted down.
Dr. Calderbrook, rocking on his heels, said, “I understand you have questions for us, but Mr. Hale already spent a good deal of time interviewing each staff member, even Betsy.” He nodded to the quivering maid.
“My colleague is woefully inadequate at his job,” Elizabeth said with real satisfaction. “I was sent here to finish what he couldn’t. Now.” She cleared her throat and took her time looking from face to face. They were apprehensive, save for Burnwell, who watched her with shudder-inducing interest. She might as well ask the questions she really wanted the answers to while she had them there. “First, I would like to know what happened to Specimen No. 28923.”
The reactions were disappointing. Confusion tightened the faces of some of the staff. All but Mary, Sutcliffe, and Quinn. The other bug scientist just looked bored.
“Well?” Elizabeth prodded. She glanced at Quinn. “You took notes about the specimen. Said it had potential.”
Quinn’s mouth fell open. “How could you possibly—where did you—?”
