Peter scanned the instruments. Everything appeared on track. He wished deeply that he felt the same about his own systems-now the pain was lancing up from his gut and, at ten seconds, he definitely felt the room spinning, saw his hand going out to Beatrice. Then the weapon fired.
The sound of the pulse was audible even through ten feet of reinforced concrete-a deep, electrical throb that peaked with a thunderous clap of energy The on-range video screens burned to white. That’s all right, thought Peter, as Beatrice’s nails dug into his palm. That’s to be expected, he said to himself, and Beatrice relaxed her grip. What was unexpected was the explosion that followed-a sharp, brutal blow against the bunker that sent all of them reeling. Every red light on the panels flashed, everything that wasn’t nailed down toppled, and the blast wave that arrived a heartbeat later slapped clothing against flesh and left ears ringing. “No one move until we have an all-clear!” shouted Chu, as he clawed his way back up to the control panel. The monitors were coming back up, and the multi-angled view of the target hillside they offered was the most eerie sight imaginable. Each station that had been occupied by an animal was now the site of a bonfire of tissue, bone and hair. There was nothing in sight that resembled life, not anywhere. Oscar Henderson let out a bellow of delight. “You see that? God Almighty.”
Fighting for breath, Peter struggled to his feet. There were ragged cheers and feeble backslaps among a few of the brass, but for the most part an awed hush had descended on the bunker. Nobody had expected a force like that. “Holy shit,” Alex Davies was whispering-over and over, like a mantra. Beatrice, stunned into silence like the others, now stared at her husband, a nameless anxiety rising in her throat. Peter’s face was ashen. “Peter?”
“I’m fine.” He walked up to the monitor and surveyed the mayhem at ground zero. Cap Chu peered at him uncertainly, shaking his head. “What was that audible explosion, Dr. Jance? I thought this was supposed to be a stealth kind of thing, no?” Peter took a deep, painful breath. He knew without looking. “We had a camera on the weapon, didn’t we?” Chu nodded and punched the switch.
There was nothing but snow on the screen. “What?” said Colonel Henderson, as Peter bulled past him for the door. Outside, the temperature had shot up from its normal desert, blast-furnace intensity to something primal and terrifying. On the target hill, the fires were guttering out, hundreds of black plumes drifting into a single dark stratum. Peter forced himself to look where the weapon had been. There was a crater of twisted metal and intense flame. Nothing more. He turned and saw Henderson puffing up toward him. “Well,” Peter muttered gruffly, “we might be able to sell it to the Polish army, Aim it at your enemy and blow your own head off.” “But you’re close, dammit!” Henderson said with huge enthusiasm. “I mean, look at the targets.” He stared raptly at a smoking hillside that moments before had been teeming with animals. “You know what went wrong?”
“The weapon exploded,” said Peter.
Henderson was doggedly upbeat. “But you do know why?” “Yes, I know why,” said Peter angrily. “Because we rushed. Because we didn’t test adequately, Because if we had pushed forward the deadline as we should have, it would have put us three million over budget. You refused. I thought we might get lucky. I guess not.” Henderson looked at the smoking pit where the weapon had stood. “We have another one where that came from, don’t we?” “Halfbuilt. Funding was stopped by your office, I believe.” Henderson’s thickfeatured face twisted into a grin. “That was before you atomized a full division at a kilometer and a half.” He threw a large arm around Peter’s bony shoulder. “If you think you’ve got an idea how to fix it, then by God you’ll start up again on that second unit tomorrow morning.” “Only one problem with that,” said Peter. “We’re broke.” “I’ll see to it you get your money, don’t worry. All it takes is a phone call.” Chuckling happily to himself, Henderson strode away, passing Beatrice, who was standing in the bunker doorway, “You oughta be damn proud of your hubby,” Henderson told her as he went in. “Oh, I am,” said Beatrice, and gamely held out her arms to her husband, smiling as if Peter had just run a touchdown. She said something, and Peter tried his damnedest to hear what it was, but everything was being sucked into a black vortex deep inside his head, and the rushing sound drowned out every single word. The next moment he fell as if pole-axed. 3
ST. MAURICE, SWITZERLAND
“Lizzy, I don’t like seeing you like this. And I can’t believe it’s not affecting your work.” “The agency’s happy-nobody’s complaining,” said Elizabeth, staring out over the water as the fall breeze riffled its surface. Winter was in the offing, and the poplars that framed the view of Lake Geneva had wrapped themselves in blood reds and rich gold-parchment like leaves lofted over the table of the sidewalk cafe’ where Elizabeth Parker and Annie Rodino sat having a late lunch. “I do like your hair though,” said Annie. “Do you? It’s sort of betwixt.” She dabbed at it obligingly. It was longer than it had been in months, and slowly recovering its natural blond color after a Lancomemandated foray into piano-key black. Had Hans ever seen her with black hair? She couldn’t remember- all she could think of was the fact that she hadn’t heard from him in two weeks, but had been having a weird feeling all afternoon that he was going to call and apologize. But he hadn’t. “This guy’s bad for you,” Annie declared. She was four inches shorter than Elizabeth and ten pounds heavier, with curly auburn hair, freckles and plump little hands that were constantly in motion, Elizabeth nodded. “I know. Except sometimes I think he’s the best thing that ever happened. too.” “You are not thinking straight.”
“Granted,” said Elizabeth tactfully. She knew Annie, her closest friend, liked to think of her as the vulnerable one and tortured one. show you. You’re making excuses for him, and you deserve so much more. You’re a wonderful, bright, attractive, generous human being-” “Easy, my bullshit meter is redlining.”
“You are. You’ve got an old soul and you’re letting it be corrupted.” Elizabeth made a face. “This New Age streak in you sets my teeth on edge. If I have a choice here, I’ll take your psychobabble over this stuff.” “I’ll take that as a sign I’ve touched the truth,” Annie said happily. “I think you’ve lived beforeyou were born wise. That’s why this Hans thing doesn’t make any sense, even to you.” Elizabeth threw up her hands in exasperation. “Okay, if you insist on talking gobbledygook, then if I’m an old soul, so is Hans, okay? It’s probably why we connected. Great sex and old soul hood-a match made in heaven.” “You’re crazy.
Elizabeth grinned, perfectly willing at the moment to accept that appraisal. “Isn’t love supposed to be a little crazy? “A little. Let’s say you’re on the Titanic and you have a gin and tonic in your hand. The ice in the drink is a little. The ice in the iceberg coming at you dead ahead is not a little. See the difference?” Elizabeth said nothing. Then a cell phone rang out at the table. Both women reached for their bags. “It’s mine,” said Elizabeth, adding hopefully, “it’s Hans.” She flipped open her cellular. Right away she could hear he was in his car-and he was apologizing profusely, before she could get a word in. “I’ve been hellishly busy,” he was saying. “Next week, I promise. We’ll go up in the Learjet again. You loved that. Or out to the pistol range. “No,” said Elizabeth, with a look at Annie, who was giving her the sternest of looks. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not going to see you again,” said Elizabeth. Delighted, Annie pumped her fist in the air. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what I mean.” It was the truth-she had spoken without thinking, and what had come out had sounded horribly final and wrong. “You’re worried about me. Don’t be.”
But in saying this, his words had just the opposite effect of what he intended. She immediately found herself worried big-time, wondering what it was he was worried about. “It’s Yvette,” he said, before she could ask aloud. “What about Yvette?”
“I think maybe she’s having me followed. Hey, if you’re listening in,” he said loudly, “I’m on to you people.” And then he added, quickly, “I’m kidding, Elizabeth.” “Are you? It didn’t sound like it.”
“I didn’t mean to burden you with this. It’s just stupid paranoia.” She felt a chill sweep through her, and she found herself saying, “Hans, I think I’m the burden here. Take care, okay?” “Elizabeth? I am sorry.