She was interrupted by a sudden loud clanking sound. It rattled throughout the greenhouse. When she looked up, she saw that the skylights were rumbling shut.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"First guess would be your boss trying not to kill you," Remo said blandly.
Amanda spun toward the greenhouse doors. Like the skylights, they were sliding shut. They closed, followed by the hiss of the hermetic seal inflating. Through the special plastic panel next to the closed doors, Amanda saw Hubert St. Clair sitting uncomfortably at the control panel. He held an interoffice phone gingerly to his ear.
Feeling the first thrill of worry, she hurried over to the door, Remo and Chiun in her wake.
"Hubert," she said into the speaker next to the door, "could you please open the doors? I'd like to get out now."
On the other side of the glass, St. Clair hung up the phone. He unwrapped the handkerchief from his hand.
"You've been a big help, Amanda," the CCS head said over the speaker. "The pristine world of the future will thank you for your contribution."
"Hubert?" she asked, worry changing to panic.
"Hubert!" she yelled when he got up and walked from the room.
The second set of doors slid shut, sealing the airtight outer chamber.
Eyes wide, Amanda wheeled on Remo and Chiun. "Told you he wanted to kill us," Remo said. Amanda couldn't believe what was happening.
"This is insane," she gasped. "Dr. Schumar died in here, but he was asphyxiated by the C. dioxas. The trees are all dead. They've stopped producing carbon dioxide or ammonia. What does he think he's doing?"
As if in response, a new mechanical sound echoed throughout the greenhouse. When they looked up, they saw the massive fans that were positioned high up on the walls chugging to life. At the same time, thick mist began pouring from a network of twisted cones.
"Mind telling me what that's all about?" Remo asked.
"I told you. It's for the clouds," Amanda explained. "They're part of the artificial-environment program."
Propelled by the fans, the mist was swirling into the center of the ceiling. The sky beyond the glass faded as the cloud cover thickened.
"Okay, this has gotten too creepy even for me," Remo said. "Little Father?"
The Master of Sinanju nodded agreement. Twirling, he faced the closed door. Bony hands appeared from the folds of his kimono, daggerlike fingernails unfolding like desert blooms. With nail edges sharper than titanium glass cutters, Chiun attacked the plastic pane.
To the old man's shock, the surface gave. The glass refused to cut.
Remo was stunned when his teacher's deadly nails left little more than a scratch on the hard veneer. "What is this substance?" Chiun demanded.
"It's a special polymer," Amanda explained. "We needed to create a totally incorruptible environment."
"Anyone else here wish we'd run for the doors when we had the chance?" Remo asked.
The Master of Sinanju's wrinkled face had grown concerned. "Remo, help me," he snapped.
Chiun placed his palms flat against the pane. Remo joined his teacher. The surface of the door felt alien to the touch. Whatever it was made of, it wasn't ordinary plastic. Still, it was on a frame and so should pop free. With a shared nod, the two Masters of Sinanju exerted pressure against the door. The door met them with as much force as they put out. They pushed harder. Still nothing.
"It does not move," Chiun hissed.
"Reverse pressure," Amanda insisted. "The door frame is built to withstand vastly different interior pressures. It's part of our simulation of different atmospheres."
"It extends to the walls, too," Remo said. "They would have buckled otherwise."
"The ceiling's the same," Amanda offered worriedly.
She was eyeing the ceiling as she spoke. Sparks of electricity crackled within the swelling storm clouds. "Lightning?" Remo asked, his voice flat.
"I keep telling you, we had to have a natural environment," Amanda insisted.
Chiun's face was harsh. "There is nothing natural in this chamber of horrors," he spit. Hazel eyes watched the blackening clouds.
There was an overhang above the door at which they were standing. It would protect them from the rain.
"No biggie," Remo said. "A little rain never hurt anyone. Still, we better get out of here before winter sets in. I left my snow pants back home."
Glancing around, Remo's gaze fell on the pile of C. dioxas.
"One battering ram coming up," he said. Ducking out from under the small overhang, he raced back across the greenhouse to the trees.
The biggest trunk was nearly two feet around. Remo dumped it from the pile. With the flat edge of his hand he sheered off the branches and chopped off the top.
As he worked, he watched the clouds from the corner of his eye. Whites and blues flashed like indoor fireworks. He was flipping the bare, eight-foot-long tree trunk into his arms when the first crackling roar sounded above him.
The short hair on his neck and arms shot to immediate attention. An explosion of electricity lit the room. Before the lightning bolt could eat up the inconsequential space between floor and ceiling, Remo was already reacting.
He flipped the trunk in his hands straight up and flung himself to the floor. The bolt sought the tallest object in the room which, a moment before, had been Remo. It slammed the top of the C. dioxa trunk, pounding down into the packed dirt floor. When Remo scrambled to his feet an instant later, the end of the trunk was charred black and smoking.
A squeaky voice called to him from across the greenhouse.
"Remo, stop your tomfoolery!" the Master of Sinanju shouted.
Thunder bellowed too close to be real. The ground beneath Remo shook as if struck by the colossal foot of some gigantic primordial beast.
"I'll tomfool you, you old buzzard," Remo grumbled.
He was grabbing up the log when he noticed something in the dirt near one of the plant beds. With a deeply worried look that had nothing to do with the storm raging above his head, he snatched up the small object and stuffed it in his pocket. He grabbed up the trunk and was heading back for the doors when the first drop of rain fell.
The thick droplet smacked into the blue tree trunk in Remo's bare arms. Unlike normal rain, it hissed. The raindrop spit and smoked, burning his nostrils as he ran. A hole as big around as a quarter burned the log.
"This ain't water," Remo snapped as he rejoined Amanda and Chiun under the overhang.
Amanda examined the hole burned in the trunk. "I think it's acid," she said, fear tripping her voice.
"Acid rain," Remo muttered. "Gotta admire him for sticking with what he knows."