Chapter 3: Salvaging the Files of Dr. Brantwell

Searching this place was like walking through someone else's house. Everything was in the same place someone left it years ago. I started in the front office. It looked like your basic reception area. The pictures on the receptionist's desk showed a pretty blonde dressed in 1960's style. Her date book sat open to September 13, 1968. I also checked out the other offices. They were small with the gray metal furniture. What I noticed was that, aside from a small number of reference texts, none of the desks had notebooks, not even pads to take phone messages on. Most of the desks didn't even have drawers.

Crossing the hall, I found the file room. It was packed from floor to ceiling with gray file cabinets and wooden shelves. Row upon row of notebooks and boxes. Everything had a file and project number on it. Nice and neat. Whoever had taken care of this place had been anal to the max. I crossed the reception area again and moved on to the next room.

Beyond the secretary's desk was a large office. This office suite had nicer, wooden furniture. I had entered "suit territory." Everything inside spoke of Old World taste and elegance. I sat in the large leather chair behind the huge wood desk. The desktop looked neat, even with thirty years of dust on it. I reached down to the desk's file drawer and I met with the first surprise. It was locked. Now what kind of person keeps stuff in a locked drawer when his office is 14 stories underground behind several steel doors? So, like an inquisitive kid who had just found a locked drawer in his parent's room, I jimmied the lock and looked inside.

A collection of bound books sat inside the drawer. The books had dates that ranged from the thirties to the sixties. I took the oldest one, dated 1935, and went back to the stairwell for lunch. Sitting on the metal stairs was uncomfortable, but it beat eating dust. I quickly taped a plastic sheet over the door to stop any drafts and then took my break.

Reading the book while I ate, I felt like I was intruding on another world. The book was the diary of a Dr. Louis Brantwell, a research scientist from Europe. Skipping through entries, I found where he started the diary on the ship while coming over to America. Originally from Dublin, he'd spent his student years in England. From the way he wrote, it seemed that his true love was pure, scientific research. The process of discovery was what made him happy. He studied a lot about the human mind, wondering how much more he could do if not for the obstacles of bureaucracy and funding. On the ship, he was elated. His new job with the Miskatonic University Department of Physics would allow him to do his own projects as leader of a research team.

I look through the diary for a while and then glanced at my watch. I'd been reading for almost three hours. No wonder my butt was asleep! Brantwell's diary was so interesting I wanted to read some more, so I tucked it into one of the inside pockets of my big fireman's coat. Going back to the office, I tried to think of a way to get the other books out without getting caught. My backpack seemed too obvious, but was the only thing big enough for the four other books. If I had gotten caught, I would have lost my job. But then again, it wasn't much of a job to lose and this Brantwell guy was the most interesting thing to come down the pipe in a long time. As was usual for a Friday afternoon, the guard barely glanced at me as I signed out and lined up for the bus.