Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
M arise spent the morning researching Com Co Cleaning Services.
They had a solid reputation: ISO-certified, background-checked staff, and an office in Long Island City. These weren’t shady subcontractors she could bribe for information; if she wanted a name, she needed to be clever about it.
She dressed in tailored black pants, sensible flats, and a plain grey coat to visit their office.
No perfume, no glamour, hair in a bun, and a pair of black rimmed glasses completed the look of an HR consultant who billed by the hour.
Her alias this time was Lauren Manley, compliance officer for Occupational Safety and Health.
When she stated her business, the receptionist led her to an office at the back. She knocked on the door and poked her head in. “There’s a lady to see you, Mrs Hill. She’s from OSHA.”
“Send her in.”
Hill glanced up when Marise approached the desk. “I’m Ellen Hill. What can I do for you?”
Marise handed over the ID credentials she forged, and said with a no-nonsense tone, “We are undergoing a safety audit for the restricted floor at the Atlantic Research Institute. I believe Com Co’s responsible for the nighttime lab cleans?”
Hill frowned, clearly put out. “We are, yes. Is there a problem?”
Marise gave her a reassuring smile. “There’s no need to worry. This is a routine compliance inspection we conduct yearly. Your firm has been chosen for an audit. Have you ever been audited?”
“No. What does it entail? I’m very busy at the moment.”
Marise looked down at the mess of papers on the desk. “I understand. I have a few questions, and then I’ll undertake an on-site inspection.”
Hill sighed and gestured to a chair. “Sit down, Lauren. I’ll give you ten minutes.”
“This won’t take long,” Marise assured her, taking out her notebook and a pen. “Are you allotted secure night parking.”
“Yes. The institute’s basement is protected by automatic gates. Our employees have keycards for remote control access, and it has CCTV Surveillance.”
Marise kept her tone professional. “Who’s on the current roster for that site?”
The woman hesitated, but slightly. The request was routine enough. “That’d be Lena Forde. She does the secure zones and flagged areas—Class 2 and up.”
“She uses the parking facility?”
“Yes, she drives from her home in Kips Bay.”
Marise leaned in slightly. “Does Lena normally come by the office before her shift?”
“No. She’s one of our senior staff and goes straight to the site.”
“What time does the night shift start? I can meet her there if you’re busy. I need to tick off this audit.”
A flicker of relief reflected in the woman’s face. “At eight; all the staff would have left the building by then. Dr Knowles and her assistant are the only ones who sometimes are still there.”
Marise smiled. “Then I’ll catch Lena at work. Tell her I’ll be waiting at the entrance ramp.”
Hill nodded. “I’ll text her now. Anything else?”
“No. I’ll send my report to you next week.”
“Very well,” Hill said, already turning back to her laptop as Marise rose to go.
Marise chuckled to herself as she walked into the street. No one liked to be audited, and instead of questioning her more thoroughly, the woman couldn’t wait to get her out the door.
A t ten to eight, a blue sedan pulled up at the entrance of the parking ramp where she was waiting. The woman who stepped out of the vehicle was in her late forties, stocky, and wearing a blue uniform with the Com Co’s logo, two intertwining Cs on her pocket.
Marise came forward to greet her, clipboard in hand, her ID badge clearly visible on her coat.
“Are you Lauren Manley?” the woman asked, her voice not unfriendly.
Marise nodded. “That’s right. And you are Lena Forde?”
“Yes. Ellen said you would be waiting here. I believe you’re doing an audit.”
“A Routine workplace compliance check,” Marise replied. “I’ll walk the route with you for a while to observe procedures, note any access issues, then let you get on with your shift.”
Lena smiled. “Okay. Hop in and I’ll drive to the basement.”
Marise slipped into the passenger seat, noting that the car was clean, smelled faintly of disinfectant, and a small plastic lunch container rattled around in the console.
As the car moved into the lower level of the garage, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long lines across the concrete floor. Marise watched the surveillance cameras track their entry and mentally noted the security points.
Lena pulled a lanyard from the glovebox and handed it to Marise. “A spare card. Use it to open the security doors.”
“Thank you.”
They stepped out onto the concrete and Marise followed as Lena walked to the service lift at the rear. Lena pressed the button for level 2.
“That’s the main lab floor?” asked Marise.
“No. It’s the restricted area,” Lena said. “Dr Knowles' lab is at the far end. They haven’t been staying late this last week, so I doubt they’ll be there tonight.”
Marise hoped not. This subterfuge would have been all for nothing if either Kathleen or Ted were working late.
When the lift doors opened, Lena led her out into a quiet corridor lined with closed doors. Each bore a discreet silver placard and a red keycard scanner. She swiped them through the first checkpoint and stepped aside.
“This is the start of my route,” Lena said. “Vacuuming, surface sanitising, and biohazard bin checks.”
Marise nodded. “I’ll follow along.”
“Suit yourself.”
Marise fell into step behind her, eyes flicking over the cameras, wall panels, and badge scanners.
She trailed Lena down a sterile corridor flanked by reinforced lab doors.
Each room had a discrete metal number and a tiny green light blinking at the scanner.
Their shoes made no sound against the spotless floor, and for a while, the only noise was the soft hum of the ventilation system and Lena’s practical commentary as she tidied and wiped surfaces.
“Unit 2A’s empty, with only microscopy junk,” Lena muttered, sweeping a mop head around the corner with the efficiency of someone who could do it blindfolded.
“3B has a refrigerated rig, but no one's touched it in weeks. Dr Knowles is in 4C.”
Marise clocked the door as they passed it.
Kathleen’s lab.
They kept moving, Lena rattling off routines—what she cleaned, what she avoided, where the bins went. Marise tried to remain engaged, nodding, making the occasional note on her clipboard, but her patience was wearing thin.
She didn’t need to know how often the hallway sinks got wiped down. She needed to get inside that room.
Finally, after Lena finished spraying down the last corridor door handle, she gestured back toward 4C. “This one gives me the creeps.”
Marise’s interest sharpened. “Why is that?”
Lena huffed and swiped her badge. The door beeped and opened with a mechanical hiss.
“You’ll see.”
They stepped into the mutely lit lab and Marise stopped cold.
The centre of the room was dominated by two rectangular tanks, waist-high and framed in chrome.
Each was filled with water so clear it might’ve been glass, except for the soft electric-blue glow pulsing from within.
Floating inside were enormous plants—four in each tank.
Their leaves were broad and translucent, gently rippling without current, like jellyfish made of foliage.
Their stems didn’t touch any soil or base.
They simply hovered in place, suspended in the liquid.
But it wasn’t only the visual impact that startled her. The moment Marise entered, she had the unnerving sensation of being observed.
One of the plants slowly tilted, its wide, glowing pad turning in her direction.
Then another.
Marise took a small step forward and the entire left tank subtly shifted. Not physically, but in posture. As if the plants were aligning themselves to face her.
“What the hell,” she murmured.
Lena crossed her arms and stayed near the door. “I told you they were creepy.”
“They’re following me.”
“Yeah. It’s not you.” Lena sniffed. “I swear, they can hear and maybe even see. That one on the end always watches when I mop under the bench.”
Marise circled the nearest tank slowly. The bioluminescence inside was steady, a calm rhythmic glow that pulsed every few seconds like a breath. There were no wires, no visible monitoring equipment, no roots or anchor points. Only water and eight massive sentient-looking leaves.
She had to fight the urge to reach out and touch the glass.
Lena nodded toward a high shelf lined with journals and sealed notebooks. “I’ve heard Dr Knowles and her assistant are the only ones who come in here.”
Marise’s mind whirled.
This was no algae that produced oil. Kathleen had engineered something uncanny.
She crouched near the base of one tank, inspecting the locking seals. They were reinforced, double-gasketed, more like aquarium vaults than anything lab standard.
“How long have these been here?” she asked.
“They were here when I started this site six months ago, but much smaller. Freaky little suckers.”
Marise straightened and slowly turned, letting her gaze sweep across the rest of the lab.
Shelves were lined with vials, nutrient data scrawled in coded shorthand, and a digital whiteboard with simulations of rootless growth algorithms.
She had no idea what the plants did, and doubted Darlene Hunt had a clue either. It was all supposition and speculation.
Marise looked at Lena. “Can you give me ten minutes alone to document the safety procedures?”
Lena didn’t argue. “Fine. I’ll go grab a coffee and start upstairs. Buzz me if you need anything.”
As the door hissed shut behind her, Marise exhaled slowly and stepped closer to the left tank.
The plant nearest her gave a soft shimmer of blue and tilted toward her.
“Hello,” she murmured.
It glowed brighter.
Marise paced slowly between the tanks, and knelt once to check for tubing beneath the floor.
she ran her hand along the lip of the tank, even leaned over slightly to catch a better look at the base.
No filters, no hidden pumps. Only a seamless container of water that glowed faintly blue and a set of massive floating plants that behaved more like animals than vegetation.
They didn’t blink. But they watched.
The nearest one adjusted again when she crouched down. Not randomly— in response. It was as if the whole organism had spatial awareness, and it was eerily focused on her.
She pulled out her phone, pretended to check messages, and subtly activated the hidden camera in her jacket lapel. A few steps back, a slow sweep from left to right. Even in low light, the camera should pick up enough.
The tank water shifted gently as the plants floated upward in tandem.
Marise stared, brow furrowing.
What were they? Some kind of genetically engineered symbiotic algae?
They were far too large for anything naturally aquatic.
And they certainly didn’t look like fuel crops.
The ones used in synthetic biofuels had root systems and oil sacs bred for harvest. These…
didn’t even have stems. Just glowing pads and undulating fronds that waved slowly in the water like they were listening.
Kathleen had said nothing about them to anyone or documented it in her background reports. Nothing in the patents or shell company filings hinted at this.
Whatever these were, they weren’t marketable. This was a new prototype plant.
Marise leaned closer, resting her hands on the glass. “You don’t produce oil, do you?” she murmured.
The glow didn’t change. The plants stayed still now, but it was the stillness of alertness, not rest.
She studied them for another few minutes, but there was nothing else to glean. No data consoles connected to the tanks. No exposed labels or notes. If there were answers, they weren’t written down here.
Eventually, she exhaled and backed away.
A dead end.
Or maybe the beginning of something she didn’t understand yet.
She exited the lab and found Lena outside in the hallway, sipping a coffee from a vending machine.
“You were right,” Marise said neutrally. “They’re creepy things.”
Lena nodded. “I told you.”
They walked back down the corridor in silence, and Marise couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched the entire way, not by Lena, but by the glowing things left behind in the tanks.
She exited the building shortly after and hailed a cab, her thoughts scattered. Usually, she left a scene with more than she’d entered. A planted bug, a photograph, a flash drive, something.
This time, she’d left with only questions.
Kathleen Knowles had engineered something extraordinary. Something nobody knew about. Not the academic community, not her colleagues, not even her closest friends. Marise, for all her digging, still had no idea what they did.
That was the most unsettling part.
She stared out the window of the cab, playing the footage again on her phone in the grainy reflection. The glowing plants shimmered silently in the background.
When she let herself into her hotel suite, she faced her dilemma. She should finish the contract, report what she’d seen, then get the hell out of Dodge. But to do that would break Kathleen’s trust and she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
She sensed deep down, that those plants in the tanks could prove to be the biggest scientific breakthrough of the twenty-first century.
And her contract was petty in comparison.