Doomsday Exam [BUREAU 13 Book Two] by Nick Pollotta Page A

in his rumbling baritone.
    Ken reached into his shirt pocket, paused and then started patting his pockets. “I could have sworn they were here."
    Next to me in the control room, Prof. Burton chuckled and twirled the sunglasses about on a finger. “I was tempted to substitute a pair of normal sunglasses that wouldn't show any auras just as a confusion factor,” she said. “But then decided that it was no fun kicking a cripple."
    Sheesh, and the prof was on our side.
    On the huge screen, the students were busy checking the front hallway closet. It was completely filled with pre-aged clothes that disintegrated at a touch. No information there. Ken spotted the rigged rat trap bolted on the inside of the door, and Patricia detected the razor blade welded onto the killing bar. That put them in a somber mood. As well it should. Anything but critical wounds could be healed within minutes. So nothing would kill them outright, but death was the only limitation. Agents learned their job here, or died in combat out in the real world taking countless civilians with them. It was a final exam in more ways than one.
    After a quick peek in the lavatory, they moved on. Good thing too. If anybody had taken a seat, steel needles would have extended from the walls-ceiling-floor to stop but a scant foot away from the target. Prof. Burton started to de-activate the lavatory, then stopped. Fair enough. Maybe later they'll get stupid, or sloppy.
    Parting the curtain, they found an unlocked door whose faded lettering read ‘BrOOM CLOSET'. They discussed it, chuckled and moved on. The professor didn't mark a plus, or minus. Interesting.
    Coalescing into a vertical tornado, Sir Reginald became solid to report that the hallway seemed vacant of hostile forces. This gave the group courage, and they proceed to search for the iron gem with a vigor. They looked behind portraits, inside the pages of books, under seat cushions, unscrewed lightbulbs, emptied flower vases, lifted rugs, thumped the floors, and pounded the walls. Nothing was discovered, so they moved on.
    During the lull, I made a note that once we had our new recruit, to check with the Facility and see if they had discovered what Lumpy was yet and where it came from. If there was a trans-temporal breach to a dimension full of his kind, we could be in for serious trouble.
    Entering the Living Room, directly in front of them was a small glass aquarium on a wrought iron stand. Inside the aquarium was a school of winged, clockwork, wind-up goldfish wearing cowboy hats. The wire screen lid was ajar. Patricia reached to straighten it, but Sir Reginald stayed her hand. Another plus! Funny does not equal harmless, and nothing kills faster than stupidity.
    Switching positions, Steven and Connie entered the Dining Room on point. The table was set for a sumptuous feast, with the most amazing china dishware and silver goblets. Steven smiled, and Connie frowned. Glancing above the table, she became furious, and Steven flicked his free hand at the wood rafters above them. Darkening into view, a now-dead spider hidden in the shadows lost its grip and slammed onto the suddenly vacant table with a meaty thump.
    Not satisfied, Ken screwed a silencer onto his pistol and pumped two rounds into its head. That's my boy!
    The Trophy Room proved to be empty of anything interesting, save an eight foot tall animated stuffed grizzly bear, which the students tripped to the floor, shoved into the fireplace and ignited. Child's play.
    It was starting to seem as if the professor had set this whole level of Hell House on neutral. Burton must be trying to lull them into a false sense of security before getting tough.
    In the Library, Steven and Connie found a loaded Ruger .44 revolver in a desk drawer. But it only took Sanders a second to discover that the barrel was blocked solid with lead. Pull the trigger and the backblast would blow a hand off. He got another plus mark.
    The Kitchen yielded only a suspiciously half empty