“Weigh my options.”
“You know,” he said helpfully, “Cindy Crawford majored in chemical engineering at Northwestern.” “Is that a fact?”
“Yep. And Brooke Shields was magna cum laude at Princeton.” “I’m sure you’re driving at something,” she said. “You just seem so. . . knowledgeable. So intelligent.” “Compared to what?” she said.
“Nothing. Never mind. I guess I’m just being… what?” “Geno-centric?” she suggested.”Yeah, okay. Actually. stupid is the word I was looking for. Listen, is there anything else I can do for you?” She considered. “Does your computer have a modem?” “It sure does.”Within minutes she was online to her own computer in St. Maurice. To her great joy. there was another message from Alex. She read it once, and then erased it.”Thank you,” she said, standing and shaking the reporter’s hand. Then she went through the lobby to catch a cab to Jose Marti International Airport. The message, which she had memorized without effort, went around and around in her head.Subj:EndgameDate:99-03-30From:IslandlMan@AOL.comTo:SwissMs@Int lAccessCornpuServe.comJUST THOUGHT YOU’D LIKE TO KNOW, THE WEAPON ISWAY OVERAMPED. I FAKED ALL THE COMPUTER MODELS.HOPE THAT HELPS. HAVE A GOOD LIFE, YOU EARNED IT.MAYBE WE’LL MEET AGAIN SOME DAY.WHITE SANDS: SIX MONTHS LATERThe weapon had been finished in record time. With the Fountain Project closed down, extra funding for the Hammer had poured in. And Peter Jance’s notes and computer files had all survived the explosion at Vieques, having been carefully archived by Alex Davies before his defection and then recovered upon his return. There were more than two hundred animals on the hillside, tethered and monitored, as well as Russian tanks captured during the Gulf War and other weapons being tested for resistance to assault. And more cameras than had witnessed the launching of Apollo 13. The weapon itself was small enough to fit on a modified Abrams assault tank, an astonishing reduction in bulk that delighted the development team in the cramped bunker. In addition to Alex, whose attendance was deemed essential by Henderson’s successors, all of Peter’s eager young acolytes-Hank Flannagan, Cap Chu and Rose-marie Wiener-were present. None had been near enough the medical facilities to suffer so much as a nosebleed from the explosion, although Flannagan, a born-again Christian, had been jolted out of bed and thought for a moment that the Second Coming was at hand. The wrangler, Perkins, was there as well, although he had come to hate the entire project with a passion. He could only bear it because in two weeks he was leaving to begin studying veterinary science at Utah State University. He was looking forward to the many years he would spend saving animals rather than setting them up for incineration, but right now he needed these last two weeks to pay for tuition. Everyone braced for the countdown.On zero, the weapon fired and disappeared from the face of the earth. It self-destructed with such force that the blast doors of the bunker were blown ajar as $2.5 billion dollars worth of research and development was reduced to atoms. The cloud of hot gases was so intense that it shot heavenward, sucking an acre of dust and scrub brush along with it. Everyone in the bunker was blown off his or her feet by the impact, but the three-foot-thick walls managed to spare them their lives. Nobody could remember exactly how long it took to regain their senses, but eventually they all staggered out into the desert glare. One entire side of the sky was blackened by the soaring cloud, which was now taking on the familiar mushroom shape of a nuclear detonation. Charred sagebrush, rocks and glassy chunks of fused sand poured down as the survivors huddled for protection under the overhang of the bunker. “Well I’ll be dead and rained on,” Perkins finally said. “Can’t win em all,” agreed Alex, nodding solemnly. He pointed off in the opposite direction from the smoking crater where the weapon had once been. There on the hillside were the animals’ overturned cages, with snapped chains and pulled-up stakes. The creatures themselves were nothing more than a series of dots racing over the hill beyond. And to judge by their speed and their determination, these animals weren’t going to be looking back to their human caretakers anytime soon. Alex thought that Elizabeth, Peter and Beatrice would have been pleased.