'The temporary termination of our plans in New York came at a fortuitous time,' Marcy explained. 'We have been able to channel our energies – and those of our workforce – into something that will further our cause to a far greater extent.'
Jack didn't like the sound of that.
Marcie wheeled the trolley through a set of double doors, and into a large, white room completely at odds with the other areas of the dingy warehouse he'd seen. It was somewhere between Frankenstein's laboratory and an ultramodern operating room. Modern microscopes and slim laptop computers shared workbenches with smoking, bubbling beakers heated by bunsens, and clunky equipment that looked old enough to be steam-powered.
Then, from behind an inelegant bank of baffling equipment, a man emerged.
'Hal Dane,' Jack croaked, recognizing Marcy's husband – and Ava's father. 'Just like old times, isn't it?'
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