“A scientific time capsule,” Logan said.

“In effect. To be reopened — or, at least, reconsidered — one hundred years later.”

“And, no doubt, all paperwork, journals, and notes on the project were moved from Lux’s central files to the forgotten room itself. That would account for the gaps in the record.”

“Most likely. And then the room itself was sealed.”

“No.” Logan rose to his feet and began pacing. “I don’t think it needed to be sealed. The only entrance was hidden inside a column in a disused storage room on the floor above. The secret room was, to all intents and purposes, already sealed off.”

“In any case,” Olafson went on, “the few scientists who had worked on the project took solemn oaths of secrecy and left Lux within months of the project going black. That much I know.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Not much. In my office there’s a safe — a special safe. It contains a sealed dossier. In 2035, that dossier is to be opened, and a panel convened to determine whether the old research can be safely reactivated. When I took this position eighteen years ago, I was told — among various other things — about the existence of this dossier. It is the duty of each outgoing director of Lux, in fact, to brief the incoming director on it, and to explain the importance both of the dossier itself and of the year 2035.”

“Passed down, in secret, from one to the next. The same way an outgoing president briefs the new one on intelligence matters, hands over the nuclear football.”

Olafson grimaced. “I can’t say I like the allusion, although that’s it in a nutshell. But you see, Jeremy, I am four directors removed from the events that took place here in the midthirties. I was told about the secret work, about the dossier in the private safe, during the course of a five-minute conversation years ago. By the time Will killed himself, I’d forgotten all about it — or, I suppose more accurately, it never occurred to me that it might have any bearing on recent events.”

“No,” Logan said. “No, of course not.”

“That’s why I had no problem sanctioning your exploration of that room — and also why I didn’t link its existence with Will’s death. But given what you’ve discovered, given that device you just showed me…I don’t think there’s any doubt.”

“I agree.” Logan stopped pacing. “So let’s go.”

The director frowned in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Let’s open the safe.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“You don’t understand.” Now it was Olafson’s turn to stand, alarm on his face. “By telling you this, I’ve already broken my oath as director of Lux.”

“But the answers we need are in there, and—”

“Jeremy. I’ve told you this, I’ve voiced what no director has since 1935, to let you know that you’re right. Secret work, dangerous work, was being done here, no doubt within the secret room. You’re close to an answer now — I know it. Now I’ve provided you with the confirmation you need to keep you on the right course.”

Logan, almost dazed by this sudden refusal coming on the heels of such an unexpected revelation, struggled with conflicting emotions. “Greg. It’s your moral and ethical duty to show me the contents of that dossier.”

Olafson shook his head almost sadly. “No. I’ve already broken my oath as director. I’m sorry, but I can’t compound that by breaking my promise to the Lux charter.”

“Then more people are going to die,” Logan said quietly.

It was one p.m. by the time Logan returned to his office cum apartment on the third floor. He’d spent the latter part of the morning restlessly wandering the grounds under a gunmetal sky, the violent beating of the Atlantic against the rocks a counterpoint to his own inner frustration. He’d considered, and then dismissed, a dozen ways to wheedle, cajole, or threaten Olafson into opening his private safe. In the end, he’d put the question aside and determined to get back to work, at least for the time being. Lunch was now in full swing, but the last thing he felt was hungry.

He looked around the office, then picked up the phone and dialed Kim’s extension.

“Mykolos,” came the reply.

“Kim? It’s Jeremy.”

There was a brief pause. “Yes?”

“I wanted to apologize for my outburst last night. It was uncalled for, and you didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end.”

“Apology accepted — if you’ll explain what caused it.”

Logan sank into the chair behind his desk. “I haven’t been feeling myself lately.”

“Yeah, you’ve been looking a little peaked, to say the least. But I’m guessing it’s more than that.”

“You’re right.” He hesitated. “Kim, those devices we found in the secret room last night — I think one of them was the cause of Strachey’s death.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Are you sure?”

“Almost positive.”

“How?”

“You mean, what do they do? I don’t know. But I do know this: it was Strachey’s discovery of the room that indirectly led to his death.”

“Jesus.” There was a silence in which Logan could practically hear the gears turning in Mykolos’s head. “Um, I almost don’t want to ask this, but…if that’s the case, why are we still alive? Why haven’t we wigged out and killed ourselves, too? I mean, we’ve been messing around in that room, as well.”

Logan had been afraid she would ask this question. He’d been wondering the same thing. He decided to give her the easier, less alarming reply. “I don’t think the killer thought we’d discover the secret room — at least, not so quickly. But now that we have, and now that Olafson knows what’s going on — yes, he does — I think the killer has gone to ground. But if you’d rather back off from the assignment, I understand completely—”

“No. No way. But you have to let me do something, for a change.”

“Agreed. And that’s the second reason for this call. I want you to go ahead and research one of the devices we found last night. Pull it apart, put an oscilloscope to it, reverse engineer it. Try to find out what makes it tick, what its relationship is to the Machine. I know it’s a job and a half — after all, somebody removed all the operating manuals. But you’re much better suited to it than I am. And, Kim — you must be extremely, extremely careful. Document everything with the camcorder. Work slowly. Treat the thing as if it were a live bomb.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. In fact, I’ve had some ideas about that.”

“Like what?”

“You know those hulking suits, hanging from the back wall of the room? The ones that look almost like armor?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I think they are armor. I think the operators of the Machine put those on before firing it up.”

In retrospect, it seemed so obvious. “What led you to that conclusion?”

“Did you ever look at one up close? See the wire mesh set into the glass of the visor?”

“I noticed, yes.”

“Well, it got me thinking. About microwaves.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Didn’t you ever look at a microwave that was heating something, stare in at the steaming food, and wonder why you weren’t getting cooked along with it?”

“I always assumed there was some kind of barrier.”

“Exactly. The reason you weren’t harmed by the energy inside the microwave — one of the reasons, anyway — is the wire mesh in the faceplate of the window. It acts as a Faraday cage.”

“A what?”

“A Faraday cage. An enclosure made of a conductive mesh that ensures the electrical voltage on both sides remains constant. It also blocks certain electromagnetic radiation, such as radio waves. Anyway, I think those suits act like reverse Faraday cages, keeping the radiation — and I’m sure we’re dealing with some kind of radiation here — out, rather than in.”

Logan considered Kim’s words. “I’m just a historian. Still, it sounds plausible. I’ll feel better knowing you’re protected. But be cautious nonetheless. And keep the power level to a minimum, please: you may be wearing a Faraday cage, or whatever, but the rest of us here won’t be.”