Even allowing for Goldblatt’s dislike of the new computer unit, his behavior still did not make sense. It suggested collusion with Mannerheim and Drake, and for Goldblatt to be siding with Mannerheim, if that were the case, something out of the ordinary had to be going on. Something very bizarre.
Philips sat up and snatched his list: Marino, Lucas, Collins, McCarthy and Lindquist. After McCarthy he had written “Neurosurgical lab.” If Mannerheim could be devious, so could he. Philips walked out of his dim office into the brightness of the corridor. Toward the fluoroscopy rooms he saw what he was looking for: the cleaning carts of the janitorial staff.
Having accustomed himself to working long hours, Martin had had numerous opportunities to become acquainted with the cleaning crew. On several occasions they had cleaned his office with him in it, joking that he secretly lived under his desk. It was an interesting group composed of two men in their middle twenties, one white and one black, and two older women, one Puerto Rican, the other Irish. Philips wanted to speak to the Irish woman. She’d worked for the center for fourteen years and was their nominal supervisor.
Philips found the crew inside one of the fluoroscopy rooms having their coffee break. “Listen, Dearie,” said Martin to the woman. Dearie was her nickname, because it was how she addressed everyone else. “Can you get into the Neurosurgical Research lab?”
“I can get into everything in this hospital except the narcotics cabinets,” said Dearie proudly.
“Wonderful,” said Martin. “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” He went on to say that he wanted to borrow her passkey for fifteen minutes to get a specimen from the Neurosurgical lab which he wanted to X-ray. In return she could have a free CAT scan!
It took Dearie a full minute to stop laughing. “I’m not supposed to give this out, but considering who you are … Just have it back before we leave Radiology. That gives you twenty minutes.”
Philips used the tunnel to get to the Watson Research Building. The elevator was waiting in the deserted lobby and he got right in and pressed his floor. Although Martin was in the middle of a busy medical center within a populous and sprawling city, he felt isolated and alone. Research was done between eight and five and the building was vacant. The only sound was the wind hissing in the elevator shaft as the car sped upward.
The doors opened and he stepped out into a poorly illuminated foyer. Passing through a fire door he found himself in a long hallway that ran the length of the building. To conserve energy nearly all the lights were out. Dearie hadn’t given him a key, she’d given him her whole brass ring of keys and it jangled in the silence of the empty building.
The Neurosurgical lab was the third door on the left, close to the other end of the corridor, and as Martin got closer, he felt himself tense. The door to the lab was metal with a central frosted pane of glass. After glancing over his shoulder, he slipped the passkey into the lock. The door swung open. Philips quickly stepped in and closed the door. He tried to laugh at his own sense of suspense, but it didn’t do any good. His nervousness had increased out of proportion to what he was doing. He decided he’d make a lousy burglar.
The light switch made an inordinately loud snap when he turned it on. Banks of fluorescent light bathed the huge lab. Two central counter tops ran down half of the room, complete with sinks, gas jets, and overlying shelves of laboratory glassware. At the far end was an animal surgical area, which looked like a modern operating room in three-quarter size. It had operating lights, a small operating table, and even an anesthesia machine. There was no separation between the operating area and the lab except that the operating area was tiled. All in all it was an impressive setup and stood as tribute to Mannerheim’s ability to obtain research grants.
Philips had no idea where a brain specimen would be stored, but he thought there might be a collection, so he only looked in the larger cabinets. He drew a blank but noticed there was another door down near the surgical area. It had a clear glass panel with embedded wire mesh and he leaned against the window, peering into a dark room beyond. Just beyond the door he could see a series of bookshelves containing glass jars; a whole group of which held brains immersed in preserving fluid.