It wasn’t raining this time. Mark had a plate of cookies on the chair next to him, and was whistling along with the music in the truck. Every time an image of the monitor or a memory of the labs popped into his mind, he quickly thought of something else. Whatever was going on, if something was going on, Jeremy had certainly been right. There was no sense in uselessly wondering about things he couldn’t explain, and confusing or stressing himself out about them was the least helpful thing he could do. He had to focus on something productive: the people who did know.

The gate opened as he pulled up. That was a good start to the shift. He didn’t even let himself focus on the other cars, but just pulled right into the stall closest to the door, picked up the plate, and made his way inside. This time as he crossed the lobby, it was silent. He had worn his rubber-soled boots tonight. They weren’t what he had been asked to wear with the uniform, but he guessed that it was unlikely anyone would even notice.

“Nice boots.” Except Jeremy, of course. The older man was in the center of the lobby. “You shouldn’t have,” he said looking at the cookies with a smile.

“Haha, nice try. You’re welcome to have one, I guess, but the rest are for Zack. Figured the kid could do with some cheering up after the spill yesterday.”

“That’s real nice of you, Mark.” He seemed genuinely impressed. “I’m sorry to say that Sherman wasn’t too keen on the guard-as-janitor idea.”

“Ah, well, their loss.”

“No doubt.” The two men locked eyes, and Jeremy’s face got serious. “Sherman did tell me, however, that he has started paying the regular janitor extra to come in a couple hours early. So you should expect him to show up at 4 AM.”

Mark nodded, “Good to know.”

“Don’t forget it.”

Nodding again, Mark got a sense that there was more to this conversation than he was aware of.

“Well, since you’re here, and everything’s quiet, you mind if I duck out a few minutes early?”

“Not at all.” With a single nod, Jeremy passed him, shoes tap-tapping across the floor, then out the door. There was a beep, and a snick, and Mark opened the door to the Security Office. He pulled up the single outdoor camera on the main screen and watched a few seconds before the parking lot gate opened, then a couple seconds later Jeremy’s SUV passed through and onto the visible road, the gate closing behind it.

Setting down the cookies, Mark turned and went back out into the lobby, crossed silently towards the main doors. About halfway across he heard a light “click” sound from behind him. He turned, forcing himself to not overreact. The Security Office door was closed. It was the same sound he had heard several times from the other side. That must have been it. For the first time he didn’t have noisy shoes hiding the sound of the door closing from this side.

He turned and continued out to his truck. Opening the passenger door he retrieved a duffle bag and brought it back inside to the Security Office. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a Kel-Tec KSG tactical shotgun. It was on a sling. He opened his locker, lifted the heavy jacket he had in it, and hung the shotgun, then replaced the coat over the weapon.

He still hadn’t bought a padlock for the locker, not feeling any need to do so, and he wasn’t going to add one now. It would just look suspicious. Besides, he reminded himself, he hadn’t brought the shotgun because he was paranoid. He had brought it just to be ready for anything. Precious seconds wasted opening a padlock may be the difference between the gun being useful and useless.

As proof to himself that he wasn’t paranoid, he hadn’t brought any extra shells. The gun could hold twelve in its double ammo tubes, plus one in the chamber. Which there was. Plenty for any critical situation this lab might offer.

Reaching into the bag again, he pulled out a small canister. He exited the Security Office and crossed the lobby in silence, except for the small click of the door closing behind him. Flicking open a tube on the conister, he pointed it right at the hinges on the break room door and pulled the trigger, applying a liberal coating of WD-40 to all three of them.

Gripping the handle, he tested the door. It made a slight screech at first, but with a few swings it was silent as the grave. Or at least, as silent as something else that was quiet and not so ominous. Smiling, Mark returned to the office, put the can back in the duffle, then returned the duffle to his truck.

Back in the Security Office again, he reached for the patrol wand, then stopped. Being the same color as the desk, the card underneath the wand had gone unnoticed until now. Mark picked up the wand, then the card. It was credit-card sized, and plastic, but had an oblong hole in one side. A security badge of some sort? But there were no markings on it, it was blank.

“Janitor... 4AM… Don’t forget it.” Mark remembered Jeremy’s words, and the hidden message was suddenly clear. Unless he had completely misread the old soldier, this badge would unlock the elevator. Jeremy wanted to be sure Mark didn’t get caught on the upper floors by the early janitor.

Another thought occured to Mark. He left the office and glanced towards the lab door, then around the lobby. He was alone. Following the wall he passed the elevator, there was the click, and came up to the HR office. He looked at the reader on the door frame. It was a risk. The only person who ever accessed this room was Sherman, and he was on a pretty regular routine, in at nine every morning. If the badge didn’t work, it would be obvious to anyone that might be monitoring the lock’s logs, and the badge would probably be traced down and deactivated.

But if it worked, the type of information Mark would have access to in that office could come in handy. If there was a reason. He decided to wait. He’d check the upper floors after the break, and see if there was any reason to go poking around further.

That lead Mark to wonder why Jeremy had even left him the badge. There could really only be two answers. Either Jeremy knew something nefarious was going on in this place, and wanted Mark to find out about it, counting on the younger man’s skills to be helpful in exposing whatever that might be; or Jeremy could tell Mark was suspicious, and he hoped that giving him access to the entire building would help assuage his concerns. Mark truly hoped it was the latter.

Slipping the badge into his pocket, Mark started his first patrol. Things were going well, several of the lab technicians even greeted him, he asked how they were doing. For the first time, he almost felt like he was just a security guard at a typical lab. If only the items in the tanks, jars, and other containers didn’t creep him out so much. Once again his mind was wandering to try and figure out what exactly was going on in this place, and he had to stop it. The people. You can understand the people. They can help you understand the rest.

A few minutes into the patrol he entered Cardio, the seventh lab room on the route. The place looked clean, and a single tech was sitting at a white desk, entering some data into some unrecognizable software on the computer there. All of the mobile trays in the room were empty, not even a jar was present. “Zack?” Mark asked, not sure if it was the same tech as the night before. The tech turned and looked at Mark, then went back to typing. It was Zack.

“Sorry to interrupt if you’re busy, I was--”

“I am busy.” Came a curt reply, then a his fingers stopped. “But, I’m sorry, it’s OK. What can I do for you? Mark wasn’t it?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah, I can talk later if it’s a problem.”

“No, it’s fine. I owe you, I suppose. Thanks for the help yesterday.”

Making a dismissive wave, Mark continued, “Not a problem. Glad to see you’re still here.” He wanted to ask about the things in the jars. He wanted to ask about the cameras, and about a dozen other things, but he was patient. “I won’t keep you, but I wanted to let you know that I brought you something. I’ll give it to you at break time.”

The man’s eyes stared blankly back at him from behind thick plastic and large glasses. “You brought me something?” The question was formed awkwardly.

“It’s nothing special, just some cookies. You seemed so worried yesterday, just wanted to help you feel better.”

This got a surprising response, as the man’s eyes widened and he cocked his head, asking almost eagerly, “They aren’t gluten free, are they?”

Pausing, Mark thought a moment. He hoped this hadn’t been a waste of time. “Umn, no, they’re not. Sorry if-”

“Oh, thank god.” The man actually laughed. “My wife has been keeping us both on this gluten free diet. It’s absolutely miserable.”

Smiling, Mark passed by Zack, “Don’t worry, I got you the good stuff. See you at break time.” Zack made a small wave and went back to his work. Mark swiped the wand against the button on the next door frame. A little light glowed green and he went through the door, continuing his patrol.

Two hours later, Mark was standing by the metal detectors as lab techs streamed through. Their mood was the same it always was, but for the first time Mark was calm enough to really notice. They were, it seemed, happy. They chatted excitedly to each other about TV shows and video games. The first one through was Dan, and he had attempted to give Mark a high-five, not relenting until Mark obliged, which started the trend. The rest of them were high-fiving Mark as they passed.

Dan then cried out. “Duuude! You’re the best!” He was standing at the break room door, swinging it open and closed. Several of the techs started clapping. It was such a cheery scene, that Mark almost missed it. Without years of experience dealing with dangerous people, and recognizing the body language, the facial signs, he probably would have. They were all faking it.

The smiles, the laughs, the friendly chatter and banter, it was all surface. They were trying to convince themselves and each other that everything was fine. Then came some that weren’t even bothering to try, which really broke the facade. The high-fives stopped, and the chatter of the stream of scientists died to murmurs, only sometimes interspersed with more friendly tones.

Zack nodded to Mark as he passed by, “I’ll grab a seat by the door.” Mark nodded in response. After everyone had passed through the metal detectors, green light the whole time, and into the break room, Mark returned to the Security Office, grabbed the cookies and made his way across the silent lobby. He reached for the door, but paused. His mind raced. Something was missing. What was he expecting? Not the screeching door, he’d solved that. Spinning on his heel he glanced around the lobby. Nothing seemed out of place. He took a deep breath, then opened the break room door.

The noise of dozens of people talking and eating filled the air. He entered the room. Microwaves were buzzing and beeping; vending machines clunking; chairs shuffling; utensils poking and cutting; all the noises of a cafeteria. There was Zack, with a lunch bag retrieved from a fridge, a paltry, no doubt gluten-free meal in front of him. Outside of the suit, he looked older than Mark had expected, probably in his mid-thirties, maybe even pushing forty. He sat down across from the man and set down the plate between them.

“Dig in.” With a slim grin the pencil-thin scientist removed the plastic wrap and picked up a chocolate chip cookie.

“Thanks again, Mark, I can’t believe how excited I am to eat a cookie.”

“Looks like you could use it,” Mark said with a smile.

He chuckled between bites then said, “No, the diet isn’t that bad. I’ve always had an overactive metabolism.” Mark was pretty sure he could crush the other man’s upper arm with a single hand. That didn’t seem normal. As he looked around the cafeteria he noticed that Zack wasn’t in the minority. It seemed that a good three-fourths of the room either suffered from malnourishment or obesity.

It was stress. He could see it in the faces, hear it in the voices, he could even smell it in the sweaty atmosphere. “So tell, me, Zack, how long have you been working here?”

He munched a few more bites of a cookie, looking thoughtful. “Oh, I guess, going on two years? Yes, I suppose it has been that long.” This seemed to surprise Zack, though because it was too long or too short, Mark couldn’t tell.

“Given the hours and the environment, you must either really enjoy it or it must pay extremely well.”

“Well,” he started, then thought a moment, “At first, I really enjoyed it. We’re working with cutting edge stuff here. I wouldn’t get to work with this kind of stuff anywhere else. But in the long run, I suppose it’s the pay that keeps me here. They do pay extremely well.”

This point had been brought up enough times that Mark was curious. “Mind if I ask how well?” he said in a quieter voice that he was pretty sure, given the noise in the room, only Zack could here.

Zack seemed a bit nervous and glanced around. Mark was about to shrug and tell him not to worry about it, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot, but just then Zack put his elbow up on the table, leaning a bit to cover his other hand, which he had brought up near his chest and using his fingers made a three, then a five, then a zero. Three hundred fifty?

“K?” Mark asked, meaning kilo, or thousand. Zack got it, and nodded. Mark kept a poker face, but his mind was reeling. That wasn’t good pay. That was bribery. Like blackmail, but in reverse, a way of keeping people silent with a really, really big carrot. And that was with only two years. How much was Wanda making? Suddenly, he thought that Zack had been the right person to pick. The stress of losing that kind of income, if the lab tech was still worried about his job, just might give Mark the opening he needed, and no one else was likely to say a peep for fear of losing their paycheck.

He felt a little bad about it, but he knew now what he had to do. He had to stoke Zack’s fear of being fired. First a few more questions to keep him from getting suspicious.

“So, how long have you been married?”

“Three years this next January. You?” He had noticed Mark’s ring.

“Twenty three years.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Any kids?”

“Yeah, three. Boy in college, girl in highschool, and another girl just getting into middle-school.”

“We’re still waiting.” Mark nodded.

“Well, I better get back to the lobby. Thanks for the little chat, Zack, it was nice to get to know you. Shame about that accident yesterday, but hope the cookies helped.” The man’s smile faded a little bit.

“Yeah, thanks again.”

Mark got up and left the room. As the door closed behind him the silence returned, with only a low murmur of activity making it through into the lobby. This door did an impressive job of blocking out all that noise.

About thirty minutes later Mark was closing the door behind the last scientist. He double checked the break room and the bathrooms, then was back in the lobby staring at the elevator. It was time to see what secrets the upper floors contained. He held the white keycard up to the reader, it beeped and a green light lit up. The elevator doors opened.

He quickly passed through the opening, spun and hit the button with two triangles pointed at each other. Before the door was even all the way open, it was closing again. Now he paused, looking at the set of floor buttons. The were arranged vertically, but did not have numbers on them. From top to bottom they read: E M L B.

Surely the “L” stood for lobby, as the LED screen currently showed that letter. So there were two upper floors, and a basement. Now the only question was where to start.