At Hiawatha Academy, Dr. Michael Ammar met with the principal, Rodney Sandin, who was in his office, squeezing a tennis ball rhythmically in his left hand. His feet rested on the desk before him. “The left hand’s the most important, because you grab the shaft of the golf club with that one. The left has to be the strongest.”
Michael nodded, bored and anxious to see the students. With the launch of the plot coming in a few days, he didn’t have time for this wasted conversation. Michael felt a dribble of sweat work its way down the side of his chest. There were so many details left to be accomplished. In spite of all his meticulous planning, certain events threatened the entire launch. He’d have to protect the network. Take care of loose ends. Make sure people didn’t talk. And, of course, there was the fieldhouse that must be prepared for the Science Expo. That was where the jihad would begin.
“Thanks so much for your help with the students’ projects for the Expo, Dr. Ammar,” Sandin said. “As you know, we’ve had a longstanding agreement with Health Technologies to send their scientists out to help us. We really appreciate it, and it’s good practical experience for our students.”
“I enjoy it, and I want to help these young people understand the importance and the excitement of science.” He looked at his watch. “I should get over to the fieldhouse now. We’re setting up the actual labs inside today. Lots of heavy carrying.”
“Sure. Well, thanks again, Dr. Ammar.”
Michael left and hurried across the grass lawn, heading for the fieldhouse. It took him ten minutes to reach it. At the corner of the building, he ran into Jim Miller, the head engineer who ran the physical plant. They almost collided when Michael rounded the corner.
“Hey, Doc. What’s the rush?”
“I’m late for the work. And I’ve got a class here today.”
“I suppose with the Expo coming up, you’re working overtime.”
“Right. So I have to get in there.” The staff liked Michael and appreciated his work, but he didn’t want to get too friendly with any of them. Besides, he had lots of work for both the Expo and his own preparations that would be done in secret.
When he got inside, the space stretched far off to the point he could hardly see people at the other end. The fieldhouse was large enough to host hockey games and a separate event within the same building at the same time. A temporary lab had been set up on the west side of the building. He ran over and found his class. Ms. Hall, the permanent teacher, was wrapping up the lessons. She brightened when she saw Michael. “Here he is now,” she told the students.
All twenty-two students turned and applauded for Michael. He half raised his hand and felt slightly embarrassed.
Hall said, “I want the four chapters ready for next week. I know many of you are presenting for the Expo, so I’ll give you more time. Dr. Ammar.” She looked up at him. “Are you ready for this crew?”
“I’ll take them all,” Michael said with a laugh.
After she left, he assigned each student who was participating in the Expo to demonstrate their progress. The students scraped out of the chairs, pushed and shoved each other in fun, and went to the tables set up for the lab. They started to work on the projects.
One of the most intense kids, Sergio, came up to Michael. “Do you want to see the heart sections I’ve displayed?”
“Sure. Where are you?”
Sergio pulled him to a lab table in the corner. “Here at 5-B.” Lifting a box off the floor, Sergio removed a remarkably lifelike model of the human heart. “It’s plastic material I can mold by hand. When it sets, it looks pretty real, doesn’t it?”
Michael marveled at the model. All the chambers, muscled walls, and arteries looked accurate.
Sergio explained, “This first model shows the heart with the arteries blocked.” He pointed to an area in the upper chamber. Turning around, Sergio lifted another model out of the box. “This one’s been surgically repaired. And in between each model, I’m gonna put up the videos I got off the Internet that show the actual surgery. Lots of blood and guts.” He laughed.
“That should cause people to stop smoking,” Michael said. He pulled back his cuff to see the time. There was so much work left to do, particularly downstairs under the fieldhouse. He couldn’t spend a lot of time with the students today.
One by one, he hurried around the lab to attend to each of the students. He offered advice, congratulated others, and pointed out problems in projects that didn’t look complete. He’d come to like the young people —to a degree. But they all had been corrupted by the materialistic culture around them. None of them understood how privileged they were. Although he suspected they professed a number of different religions, none of them took any of that seriously. They were spoiled and selfish.
He told the last student, “I have something to do. In the meantime, keep working. I’ll be back soon.” He left them in the corner and hurried across the expanse of concrete floor. His shoes clopped over it, causing Michael to worry he’d be noticed. He found the metal door to the basement. He glanced behind, saw that no one was watching, and slipped through quietly. Michael took a deep breath and descended the stairs into the darkness below.
Chapter Twenty-Three