PART 7 — An unexpected ally
The door caught for a moment, but was then pushed open with a gentle shove. A figure slipped inside, clad in a dark raincoat. The hood was pulled low over their head. I raised the candlestick, ready to strike as soon as the person stepped into the living room. "Don't, Frank," a weak, familiar voice called out. The figure threw back the hood. In the faint glow of the streetlight, I saw a wrinkled, pale face.
It was Doctor Van der Meer. I lowered the candlestick, but my suspicion was higher than ever. "What are you doing here? How did you find my address?" Van der Meer closed the door carefully behind him and slid the deadbolt into place. He was breathing heavily, as if he had run a marathon. "HR has all the home addresses of the staff. And I had to find you before De Jong did." "Why would you help me?" I snapped.
"You worked with them all those years! You knew about that experiment, you knew about that underground wing!" Van der Meer walked to the table and looked down at the blueprint. His eyes were red with fatigue and guilt. "Because I thought I was saving lives, Frank. They told us it was groundbreaking medical research into cell regeneration. It wasn't until I met your husband that I understood human beings were being used as guinea pigs." He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
"And tonight I saw how far De Jong was willing to go to keep this quiet. He locked Dr. Houtman in the archive. They're going to wipe everything, Frank. All of it. By morning, there won't be any evidence left." "And Thomas?" I asked, a lump in my throat. "Is he really still alive in Unit 4?" Van der Meer paused for a moment. He bit his lip. "He was alive three weeks ago.
But they were preparing a 'transfer.' To another facility, somewhere abroad, where no one would ever find him." The ground felt like it was sliding out from under my feet. "Then we have to go back now," I said with determination. "Not tomorrow. Now." Van der Meer slowly shook his head. "Just the two of us won't get inside. Security is on high alert. They have orders to eliminate anyone who gets too close." I walked over to the cabinet, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a heavy iron pipe wrench—a tool I had taken from one of my cleaning jobs years ago. "Then we're not going through the front door," I said coldly. "We're going in through the place where no one dares to look."
