“That’s Professor Tremelo to you, whatever-your-name-is.” The professor didn’t let the fact that his pajama jacket was sticking out of the top of his lab coat stop him from giving the NSC representative a glare that had withered many a bumptious colleague.
It nearly made Harkness’ piggy little eyes pop out of their sockets. “Now see here, Tremelo! You don’t take that tone with me . . . ”
* * *
Lieutenant Salinas was returning to the scene, triumphantly carrying packets of real creamer he’d found in a refrigerator in an adjoining lab, when he heard Professor Tremelo erupt like a volcano. Salinas was still an entire corridor’s length away, but the verbal imitation of Mount St. Helens stopped him in his tracks. The tall gray-haired physicist had one of those piercing voices which, when raised in anger, can carry for an incredible distance.
“God grant me patience, you mindless idiot! What do you mean—A FAKE? If I ever had a student as stupid as you, Harkness, I’d flunk them all the way back to the second grade. No substance absorbs all energy. That material is harder than diamond, it absorbs laser with no effect, it—”
The violet discharge from the apex of the pyramid cut the diatribe short. Tom Harkness got his wish. The device had finally done something. It made Harkness disappear.
Professor Tremelo found himself leaning over empty air.
Lieutenant Salinas would have described the next few seconds as being full of screaming and running, if he hadn’t been too busy to notice. He was busy both screaming and running. Well, nearly everybody was. He found out later that one of the remaining FBI agents stood his ground emptying nine-millimeter rounds ineffectually at the pyramid before fleeing. The rest of them didn’t waste that much time.
Three of the NSC team had vanished, including Tom Harkness. Two of the six FBI agents had disappeared too. So had one of the scientists . . . as abruptly as a promised Christmas bonus.
* * *
It was just as well that all the survivors ran like hell. A few seconds later the pyramid expanded once again. It didn’t just topple bookcases, it sent entire stacks sailing like so many missiles.
Miggy Tremelo knew that slowing down to look back was plain foolishness. But he had to. Therefore he saw the ceiling above the pyramid shatter explosively as the object trebled in size and drove right through it.
“RUUUUN!” he yelled.
That bellow saved a good many lives.
The floor did not succeed in resisting the pyramid’s sudden expansion either. When the debris finally stopped falling, the black pyramid was now resting on the ground floor. It emerged from the cloud of dust, amid the tumult of falling masonry. Oddly, no dust clung to the sides of the pyramid. It gleamed as slick as new-cut metal. An academic confetti of thousands of volumes fluttered gently down amid the bedlam of crashing shelving and shouting people.
When it was all over, the interior of the library’s west wing was a gutted ruin.
* * *
In his visiting professor’s office on the Oriental Institute’s third floor, Jerry Lukacs was supremely unaware of all this. Actually, in his ardent pursuit of the genii-sphinx linkage in the disparate mythologies of the Near East, Jerry was as near to being absent from this world as you can be—outside of a coma or death.
* * *
In the air handler room two floors below, Lamont Jackson was now enjoying some Coltrane. His only concern was whether he could reasonably milk the job long enough to spend the whole day at the Institute. It was a cheerful sort of concern. Lamont’s skill at overstating the difficulties of a job was not much less than his skill at the actual repair work itself.
No sweat, he told himself. Think I’ll play Thelonious Monk next.
* * *
In her office, less than two blocks away, Liz De Beer finally began shaking off her sorrow. Yesterday was yesterday, she reminded herself firmly, and today is today. Besides, she had work to do.
4
I don’t think so . . .
Major Gervase pointed at the map stuck up on the wall. “Radio is being intermittently interrupted again, so we’ll be using telephone linkage as much as possible. The SITREPS coming in are confused as hell.” His lips quirked slightly. “As you might expect, given the—ah—unusual situation.”
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156