The Enclave by Karen Hancock Read Free Book Online

assistant and two secretaries on separate shifts strained to keep up with his demands. Which the particularly malicious rumors said involved frequent stints on the plush leather couch in his ninth-floor office.
    His audience now waiting in expectant silence, he hesitated, regarding them all with that provocative wordlessness he so liked to use in his presentations. Then, just when it seemed someone had to move or speak, he raised his chin dramatically and said, “I have an honor to bestow this morning.”
    He paused to let his words sink in as Lacey’s heart fell, her disappointment so great it nearly choked her.
    Swain went on. “As most of you know, nearly a year ago we at Kendall-Jakes were pleased to welcome Dr. Cameron Reinhardt into our ranks. By now most of you have had the privilege of meeting him and some few the greater privilege of working with him. But I’ll wager our modest doctor has not mentioned to any of you that he’s just had his fourth paper published in the last three years. Nor that he has been selected by the ASHG to receive the Stern Award for that same series of papers at this year’s fall meeting.”
    Of course he’ d make this announcement first, Lacey told herself. Just be patient. He’ll get to the other at the end.
    “In light of these honors,” Swain continued, “and the honor they bring to all of us, as well as his exemplary contributions to the field, K-J’s board of directors has unanimously voted to grant him our coveted Black Box Citation.” Swain held up a large wooden plaque with a dark metallic glazing, the Institute’s familiar ziggurat shape shining in hologram upon it. “Dr. Reinhardt, would you come up here, please?”
    Polite applause echoed through the dining hall as Dr. Reinhardt rose from his spot at the table in front of Swain. Unfortunately, he took the edge of the tablecloth with him for a moment, giving all the place settings a good lurch—even as he tipped his chair backward out of control. It would have fallen to the floor had Dr. Viascola not caught it.
    No one laughed nor spoke because it was so typically Reinhardt. “The brilliant man in his bubble, wreaking havoc as he advances,” as Aaron liked to say. Nothing like the man she’ d seen last night who had carried her easily to the prep room and so swiftly and competently doctored the bleeding cut on her arm.
    Reinhardt ascended the stage without further mishap and stopped at Swain’s side, half a head shorter and dressed in jeans and a blue flannel shirt. Appearing bemused and embarrassed, he shook Swain’s hand and accepted the plaque, mumbled an inarticulate response into the microphone, and looked as if he’ d give anything to get off the stage. Instead of releasing him, however, Swain spoke again into the mike, going on about Reinhardt’s educational past and his road to this moment.
    Lacey hardly heard him as it became clear there would be no report about last night’s intruder, and thus no exoneration for her from the nasty rumor someone had set into circulation. The realization brought tears to her eyes, and she spent a few moments blinking them back and fighting for emotional control.
    After a moment, Swain’s words registered again. “And now he’s here with us.” He turned to Reinhardt. “It’s an honor, Doctor. You are an outstanding scientist and a brilliant mind, despite your archaic and irrational belief system.”
    Reinhardt smiled sheepishly, and a number of the audience tittered. Cameron Reinhardt, as Swain made sure everyone knew, was a Christian. A born-again, evangelical, Bible-believing Creationist. Aaron liked to mock that in him, too.
    Swain’s voice blared over the speakers: “We forgive you for it, though. Mere temporary insanity.”
    The director grinned good-naturedly, though Lacey did not think Reinhardt appreciated the jab nearly so much as Swain had enjoyed giving it. With that the director held out a hand toward Reinhardt. “Friends and colleagues, may I