“The other one is a general. United States Army. His name’s Ernst Klinger.”
Scowling, Sam said, “Then this is a government project?”
“Surprisingly, no. Just Salsbury, Dawson, and Klinger. A bit of private enterprise.” Paul took three minutes to outline what he had learned about the field test and the conspiracy behind it.
Sam’s scowl disappeared. He risked a slight smile. “Then we have a chance of stopping it right here, for good.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s just a simple four-part problem,” Sam said. He held up one finger. “Kill Dawson.” Two fingers. “Kill Ernst Klinger.” Three fingers. “Destroy the data in the computer at the house in Greenwich.” Four fingers. “Then use the key-lock code to restructure the memories of everyone in town who’s seen or heard anything, to cover up every last trace of this field test.”
Paul shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t sound so simple to me.”
For the moment at least, positive thinking was the only sort of thinking that- interested Sam. “It can be done. First where did Dawson and Klinger go when they left here?”
“To the logging camp.”
“Why?”
Quoting Salsbury, he told Sam about Dawson’s plan to organize a search in the mountains. “But he and Klinger won’t be at the camp now. They intended to fall back to the mill and establish a sort of field headquarters there once the manhunt was underway. There are about eighty or ninety men working on the night and graveyard shifts up there. Dawson wants to post a dozen of them as guards around the mill and pack the rest of them off to join the search beyond the logging camp.
“Any guards he posts are worthless,” Sam said. “We’ll use the code phrase to get past them. We’ll move in on Dawson and Klinger before they know what’s happened.”
“I suppose it’s possible.”
“Of course it is.”
“But what about the computer in Greenwich?”
“We can deal with that later,” Sam said.
“How do we get to it?”
“Didn’t you say Dawson’s household staff is programmed?”
“According to Salsbury.”
“Then we can get to the computer.”
“And the cover-up here?”
“We’ll manage.”
“How?”
“That’s the least of our problems.”
“You’re so goddamned optimistic.”
“I’ve got to be. So do you.”
Paul pushed away from the wall. “All right. But Jenny and Rya must have heard the shots. They’ll be worried. Before we go to the mill, we should stop back at the church and fill them in, let them know where we all stand.”
Sam nodded. “Lead the way.”
about-Salsbury?”
Later.
They left by the rear door and started across the parking lot toward the alley.
After a few steps Paul said, “Wait.”
Sam stopped, turned back.
“We don’t have to sneak around the long way,” Paul said. “We’re in control of the town now.”
“Good point.”
They circled around the municipal building and went out to East Main Street.
11:45 P.M.
Klinger stood in the velvety darkness, two-thirds of the way up the bell tower stairs, listening. Voices drifted down from above: two men, a woman, a child. Edison. And Jenny Edison. Annendale and his daughter…
He now knew what was happening in Black River, what the carnage at Thorp’s office signified. He knew the extent of these people’s knowledge of the field test and of all the working, planning, and scheming that lay behind the field test-and he was shocked.
Because of what he had heard, he knew that they were motivated to resist, at least in part, for altruistic reasons. He didn’t understand that. He could easily have understood them if they had wanted to seize the power of the subliminals for their own. But altruism . . . That had always seemed foolish to him. He had decided a long time ago that men who eschewed power were far more dangerous and deadly than those who pursued it, if only because they were so difficult to fathom, so unpredictable.
However, he also knew that these people could be stopped. The field test wasn’t an unmitigated disaster; not yet. They weren’t going to win as easily as they thought. They hadn’t yet brought him or Dawson to ruin. The project could be saved.