Suspicious Minds (Stranger Things Novels #1)(73)

“Now, now,” the director cut in. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Yes.” Brenner breathed carefully to keep his face relaxed. “Jim knows the importance of this work better than anyone. He recruited me to oversee this installation personally.”

The director frowned, not liking to be reminded of that. Bob was taken aback for a second, too; he must not have known.

“Priorities can change,” the director said. “It just depends on the costs versus the benefits.”

Brenner smiled and imagined himself among sharks. No need to worry. He was one, too. “I couldn’t agree more.”





3.


Terry drummed her fingers on the van seat beside her. Ken had been five minutes late, and so when the van took the turn into Hawkins they were running behind schedule. But then she spotted the…scene up ahead at the guard booth and it took everything she had to keep a grin off her face. They pulled up short behind it.

The rest of them exchanged glances. She’d filled everyone in on her phone call.

Dr. Brenner marched across the parking lot to join the guard on duty, who was speaking to a man and a woman in a clunky old car of mysterious make, just in front of the van. Terry didn’t know how much reporters made, but she’d willingly place a bet this was her guy. The doctor placed his hands on his hips when he got to the guard, who said something to him. He hesitated, caught in a moment of indecision.

Terry had never seen Dr. Brenner show a hint of uncertainty. Her bet was that he wouldn’t risk embarrassment or raising more questions by turning them away. But she needed to do everything she could to ensure that.

Before anyone could stop her, she hooked her fingers in the van’s door handle and opened it. “What are you—” came the driver’s words behind her, but it was too late. She leaned up and out, standing on the running board.

“What’s up?” she called. “Is there a problem?”

The man in the car leaned his head out to look at her. She took that as a cue to leave the van.

The driver of the van started to follow, but Brenner raised a hand and he stayed put. When she reached the other car, the woman on the passenger side lifted a camera and clicked the shutter. Brenner’s hand was still up.

“Wait,” he said. “We haven’t granted permission for photographs.”

“It’s fine with me.” Terry was pushing it, but she couldn’t help herself. “Oh, except I guess: Who are you? What are the photographs for?”

She put a hand up to the neck of her flowy blouse to feign shyness. The man had a scruffy beard and sport jacket, the kind of rumpled look that fit her idea of a reporter. The photographer was younger, maybe Terry’s age or a couple of years older, in a T-shirt and cords.

“We’re from the Gazette,” the man said. “Here to do a story on the lab.”

“Are they doing a story on our experiment?” Terry asked in a surprised tone.

The reporter squinted.

Brenner’s lips pursed, then he relaxed. “Not as such; they say they’re here to do a profile on me. I must have gotten the wires crossed on my schedule. I’m afraid today’s not good.”

“Well, it’s fine with me,” Terry said with generosity. “I’m sure the others won’t mind.”

“I didn’t ask,” Dr. Brenner said. But he noticed the reporter’s speculative squint and relented.

“Give them a parking permit,” he ordered the security guard. “I’ll meet you all in the lobby.”

And he hurried back inside.

Terry gave the journalists her best smile. “I can’t wait to see what you think of everything. I’ve been dying to know more about Dr. Brenner’s background. He’s fascinating.”

“Fascinating,” the reporter said, the way someone might say “jerk.” He reached past her to accept the parking pass from the guard.

She got back in the van, even though it was only to park.



* * *



—

They moved down the interior hallway in a clump, Dr. Brenner explaining that because of his busy schedule he’d be handing them off to a colleague named Dr. Parks. And that because of the sensitive nature of the facility and the research they’d have to get permission for any photos up front.

“Okay,” the photographer said, her hands still on the camera dangling from the strap around her neck. “How about one of you with these subjects?”

“I don’t have much time to give you.”

“We should change into our usual gowns,” Terry said. “So it looks accurate. We can do it right away.” She wanted visual evidence of all of them here, evidence of Brenner, too.

“We can make it fast to accommodate your schedule,” the photographer said.

A slight frown from Brenner and then, “Yes, of course.”

Terry enjoyed plunging Dr. Brenner into chaos. Now you know how it feels.

They were led to their usual rooms, where other staff waited. “You’re not to divulge any details of what we do here,” Dr. Parks told Terry, clearly on orders from Dr. Brenner. She left, presumably to deliver the same message to everyone else.

They all emerged in their gowns.

Brenner waited at the end of the hall with another woman in a gown Terry had never seen before. The reporter scribbled on his notepad while the photographer waved them into formation against the concrete walls.