NOVEMBER 3, 2015, 11:15 PM
NATIONAL CANCER INSTITUTE
BETHESDA MD
Dr. Sandra Wilkins had acquired many skills in her years as Deputy Director of the National Cancer Institute’s Department of Epidemiology, but as she was quickly discovering tonight, covert operations was not one of them. When she had planned her evening in the lab of her protege, Dr. Samuel Malachi, she hadn’t considered how her nerves might affect her activity. It was as if someone had shot her full of adrenaline, causing her clammy hands to shake as she logged into the office security system to see if anyone was left in the building.
A petite and remarkably average looking woman, Dr. Wilkins had flown under the radar with ease, as she planned meticulously for the pivotal night ahead of her. First, she logged on to the building security system to check that no one remained in the building. Next, she launched the iPhone app version of the system to notify her if anyone entered the building, allowing her time to leave without notice, if necessary. Finally, satisfied no one else was there, the small, mousy doctor made her way to Samuel’s lab and swiped her card for entry. Thanks to her clearance level, she had full access to all of the labs under her supervision. As she entered, her nose was assaulted with an abrasive combination of alcohol, rodent musk, and that indescribable institutional aroma characteristic of every research lab. It reminded her of the many years she had spent in labs as a young researcher; still filled with the well intentioned dreams of discovering cures for the world’s most confounding diseases.
In her lab coat, she had twelve vials. Each contained injectable cancer cells along with two well-known tumor viruses, simian virus 40 and polyomavirus, both commonly used in cancer research. Despite her precautions to ensure that she was alone, she was still nervous. Each vial held a sufficient dosage for four of the Wistar rats used in Samuel’s research. With more apprehension than expected, she approached the section of the lab that held the rats, each in their own glass enclosure, marked with control numbers. Her goal was to inject all forty eight rats with the substance, which would ensure rapid malignant tumor manifestation and growth. Pushing her fear as far from her mind as she could, she donned a pair of blue nitrile gloves and thick safety glasses and began her methodical procession from cage to cage.
“Here, little guy, don’t be scared,” she said as she held the first rat in her hand. The rat peered at her through her glasses, as if it saw straight through the plastic and into her soul. She pushed the unsettling feeling out of her mind and recited aloud what she had been telling herself for weeks: “I’m sorry it has to be this way little guy, but your life will serve a greater purpose.”
Despite her conviction, she couldn’t help but be startled by nearly every creak in the walls and floors. She became convinced that her peripheral vision was sabotaging her. With each rustle the rats made in the distance, she swiveled around, half expecting to find a confused colleague who had just caught her red handed.
Half an hour had passed as she approached the last cage. At that moment, her phone vibrated. She glanced at the notification on the screen from her office security app: Entry at door 9 at 11:47, ID: 4723. She knew door 9 was the side-entry near the researchers’ parking lots, two floors below the labs. There was no time to investigate the person’s identity. She hoped desperately that it was someone from the cleaning staff, which normally started at midnight on the first floor. Still, she knew she was in no position to be taking chances. Dr. Wilkins quickly injected the last rat, sealed its door, removed her protective gear, and hastily left the lab. By now, her heart was pounding so fast that she was beginning to feel light-headed. She reached up to wipe the sweat dripping from her forehead when she felt her phone vibrate yet again. This time, it showed that someone had gained access to the elevator on the same wing of the building as the labs. If this intruder got off on her floor, she had no chance of making it back to her office without being seen.
She was quickly approaching full-on panic mode. It would be hard enough to explain being there at such a late hour, but on top of that, people in her position seldom visited the labs themselves. Being found there alone, so late at night, would certainly invoke suspicion, especially once the inevitable unexpected epidemic began with Samuel’s rats.
She waited for the ding of the elevator’s arrival on her floor, but it hadn’t come yet. It seemed as if minutes had passed, but it could have been seconds – she wasn’t sure. On a leap of faith, she peeked out from behind the wall. Seeing no one, she darted down the hall toward the men’s restroom, the next door on her right. Just as she turned the corner, her phone vibrated again: Elevator stop at Lab Wing, floor 3.
“Please don’t let it be a man,” she mumbled as she raced into the last stall, silently praying that it was wasn’t a man who needed to piss. As she closed the stall door, she glanced at her shoes, realizing someone with blue pumps would never be in the men’s room. Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching. With cat-like reflexes that she had no idea she possessed, she clamored up onto the toilet seat, straddling the porcelain beneath her, while using her arms to brace herself against the stall walls. She could hear the blood rushing through her ears like water rushing through a pipe. Whoever was out there walked with heavy steps deliberately toward the bathroom. Thud. Thud. Thud. Then the footsteps stopped just outside the bathroom door.
She heard a voice echoing from outside. It was definitely a man! She couldn’t make out most of what he was saying, so she awkwardly shifted her weight forward, pushing her hands against the front of the stall and turning her face, so her right ear pressed against the crevice.
“Look Mom, I’m really busy. It’s too late to talk about this right now. I’ll call you back in the morning, okay?” She wasn’t sure if it was her paranoia or the truth, but the voice sounded suspiciously like Samuel. After a short pause she heard a curt goodbye. The footsteps continued down the hall, past the men’s restroom, and out of earshot. Profound relief flooded her veins, but she knew she wasn’t in the clear yet. She still had to get back to her office without being discovered. Somehow, she forced herself to count out sixty seconds before she quietly left the stall and cracked the bathroom door, listening for any signs of life throughout the floor. She slipped out of the restroom and tip-toed briskly back to her office, taking extra care not to let the heels of her pumps hit the ground, so that her footsteps wouldn’t be as loud as the man’s that she had heard only moments before. Stealthily as she could, she slipped into her office and allowed herself a moment to exhale a deep sigh of relief. Still curious about where the intruder had gone, she checked her phone once more. There was a new notification indicating that the man had indeed accessed the lab she just left. It had to be Samuel.
Dr. Wilkins sat at her desk and tried not to let herself become distracted by the enormous relief she felt. There was still work to do. She logged into the security system and reviewed the activity of the last hour. First, she had to remove the log entries that showed her access to Samuel’s lab. In less than ten seconds, she was able to remove all evidence of her time in the lab. Next, she accessed the security personnel records to find out definitively who was assigned ID 4723. Just as she had suspected, it was Samuel. Still, she couldn’t understand why he was there so late at night.
There was no time to ponder that now. She needed to move quickly to ensure that she didn’t have another close call with Samuel on her way out. As she removed her lab coat and hung it in the closet, she began to empty the contents of her pockets into a small bag used for waste disposal. Carefully, she took inventory of each of the items: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 empty vials, the syringe, with its needle and cap, and her rubber gloves.. Wait… glove. She was one glove short. Frantic, she searched on the floor under her desk, then in front of her desk, then near the door to her office. Desperately, she looked on the closet floor and triple checked the lab coat pockets. No glove. For the second time that night, fear took hold of her so fiercely that it felt as if there were two very real hands pressing on her lungs, suffocating her slowly. If Samuel found that glove in the lab, he would know that something wasn’t right. He was a stickler for tidiness and would never allow such sloppiness in his lab.
Dr. Wilkins had to make a decision quickly, but she had few options that made any sense. She could leave now and pray Samuel wouldn’t find the glove. She could retrace her steps back to the lab, in hopes that the glove was laying on the floor in her path. Or, she could call Samuel and summon him to her office, hoping to distract him before he discovered a wayward glove on the floor. None of the options were without risk. If she left, Samuel might find the glove and grow suspicious. If she walked back toward the lab, she might run into him . Calling Samuel meant that she would have to explain her presence in the building at that time of night – not to mention, he may have already discovered the glove anyway.
She was running out of time. Opting with her gut instinct, she decided to walk back down the hall toward the lab. Glancing down the hall, she saw nothing on the floor. She moved quickly past the elevators toward the men’s restroom where she had hidden before. There was nothing on the floor in the bathroom entrance. As she approached the stall where she had hidden mere minutes ago, she prayed to a God she didn’t even believe in, that there would be a glove behind the door. No such luck. She was devastated. Now she had no choice, but to walk back toward the lab. Hearing nothing in the hall, she quietly opened the restroom door and gasped.
“Dr. Wilkins! What are you doing here at this time of night?” Samuel said as he glanced up to notice she’d come from the men’s restroom.