Project Cyclops Part 30

She had her arms crossed, mainly to try to keep her hands from shaking.

When Chris was shot, she was so stunned she'd repressed the horror. Now the numbness was wearing off and she wanted to scream. Just one long wail to purge everything. She was biting her lip to try to repress the impulse. "I need to go down to the launch facility and check with the tech crews."

Toughen up and think, she told herself. These terrorists are up to something, and the sooner you figure out what it is, the better for everybody.

"As a matter of fact"--he nodded--"I need to go down myself and see how things are proceeding. So why don't we both go, Miss Andros."

"Around here I'm called Dr. Andros." She was feeling her control coming back. Two could play the power game.

"But of course." He nodded. "In a professional environment we all like to be treated accordingly. I respect that, and expect no less myself."

He surveyed the room, its SatCom technicians still stunned. Then his eye caught the tall, bearded Iranian, Salim, now lounging by the door with his Uzi, and motioned him over.

"Get this body out of here."

The Iranian nodded and strolled over. Cally studied him, wondering. She had been trying to size up the team for some time, and she still had not figured them all out. But this one, heavy-set and defiantly bearded, seemed somewhat at odds with the others. He clearly had no taste to clean up Number One's murder; you could see it in his eyes.

"Where--?"

"In the lobby. It's disrupting the professional environment."

He nodded again and without a word grabbed Chris Schneider by the shoulders and began dragging him past.

"Dr. Andros"--Number One turned back to her--"already I feel closer to you than I do to half of my men. I think you and I will make a good team."

"You have got to be f.u.c.king kidding."

He merely laughed, then spoke to another of the terrorists, a young Arab. After apparently ordering him to stay behind in Command to keep an eye on things, he motioned Cally to lead the way through the security doors.

They edged around Salim, still moving the body, and out into the lobby.

The first thing she noticed was that the guard was missing from the front security station. Instead a wide dark stain covered the desk.

Blood.

She whirled on Number One. "What happened to Milos, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

"Regrettably he is no longer with us." He shrugged, not pausing as he took her arm and shoved her on.

"You mean you murdered him, too?" She felt herself about to explode.

She had loved that Greek, who spent more time worrying about soccer scores than he did about security. Thinking about his death, she felt a wave of nausea sweep over her. "You bloodthirsty--"

"Please, we're going to try to be professionals, remember," he interrupted her calmly. "We will be working together in the days ahead, and animosity will serve no purpose."

She thought of several responses, but squelched them all. Talking wasn't going to make things any better. In that respect, he was right.

Talk would have no effect.

They were facing the tunnel leading to the mechanical- systems sector at the other end of the island. The large metal doors, operated from the security system at the desk, had been opened, slid back, and permanently secured. The short- circuiting of the security system had disabled all the electronic locks in the facility.

Scrutinizing them, she felt sadness. All the months of fine-tuning and technical calibration throughout the facility, had all that effort been wasted? Probably not, she suspected. These goons, true to their word, had taken great pains not to disturb anything in Command. So far everything had apparently conformed to their plan, except for something to do with a helicopter. Whatever that was, it had taken them by surprise. What was it?

Ramirez said nothing as they started down the asphalt pavement of the underground pa.s.sageway. Over a thousand meters long and illuminated by fluorescent lighting, its cinderblock walls were wide and high enough to accommodate a standard Greek truck or two small lorries. Cally noted the deserted guard desk at the far end. Had he been killed as well? she wondered.

"Let me put your mind at ease," Number One announced, as though reading her thoughts. "The other guards have merely been disarmed and locked in their quarters. As I said, we have no desire for any unnecessary bloodshed."

"More lies?" She tossed her hair.

"You should try to believe me. Again, trust will make things easier for us both."

She pushed past the doors at the end of the pa.s.sageway and together they entered the first sector, Launch Control. Beyond, another set of doors led to the giant underground installation for the superconducting coil, which fed into a ma.s.sive gla.s.s tube holding the wiggler, heart of the Cyclops. Above that, now unseen, stood the launch vehicles, "rockets" that carried no fuel.

Neither was yet primed; they planned to ready the vehicle designated VX-1 just before launch. In fact, nothing had happened since the test the night before. Tech crews were checking the instruments, knowing only that a communications breakdown with Command had occurred and some strange visitors had shown up in a helicopter. Something was going on, but n.o.body knew what.

"A very impressive installation," Number One said, watching as the technicians all nodded their greetings. "Incidentally, there is no point in alarming any of them now. For the moment, you should just proceed normally."

"That's why you're here, right?" she shot back. "To make sure there's all this normality. Things were pretty normal before you and your band of thugs barged in."

"We are colleagues now, Dr. Andros. I'm here to observe the lift-off we all are so anxious for. Please, for starters I would like to tag along and have you show me around. You're a congenial guide."

You bet, she thought. You'll discover how "congenial" I am soon enough.

Of course, she had not yet formulated a strategy. One bright spot was the voice on the radio this morning? Was somebody on the island still free? She had peeked out into the lobby long enough to learn that the mysterious "guard" had shot one of the Germans and then escaped. So who was it? That was what she wanted to find out next. . . .

But first, business. She approached Jordan Jaegar, a young Cal Tech graduate and friend of Georges who had been with the project from the start.

"J.J., how long did the coil temperature stay nominal?"

Although he had a master's in mechanical engineering, Jordan sported shoulder-length hair and had just gotten a tattoo on his right bicep--an elaborate rendering of his initials, J.J., which he much preferred to be called. He liked the fact Dr. Andros remembered that.

"For just over twenty-one minutes," he announced with pride, his eyes discreetly taking in her hourgla.s.s figure. "Long enough. Then it started creeping up, but we'd have almost inserted into orbit by that time. And after twenty-nine minutes it was only five degrees Celsius higher. No sweat, Dr. Andros."

Who, J.J. was wondering, was this hotshot standing next to Dr. Andros?

He had seen a lot of SatCom bra.s.s come and go, but this dude was definitely new. What was his scene? No question, though, the boss lady was really p.i.s.sed about something. She also did not seem interested in introducing this new creep to anyone. Fine. There was enough to worry about without more head-office bra.s.s.

Cally nodded. "The on-line readout in Command showed that the Cyclops reached saturation at twelve point three-five gigawatts."

"Right," J.J. agreed. "The wiggler went critical and we used the phased array to dissipate the energy." He beamed. "h.e.l.l, we could have sent her up last night. The whole thing was textbook."

He knew she already knew all that. But he figured there was no harm in impressing this front-office creep that all the money they'd spent hadn't been wasted. SatCom was definitely on-budget from his section.

Management had to be happy. Payoff time was just around the corner.

This time next week, SatCom's stock was going to be pure gold. After VX-1 went up, there wouldn't be any more s.h.i.t from Arlington. They'd be pa.s.sing out stock bonuses like f.u.c.king peppermints. He figured a hot new Nissan was definitely in his future.

"Good," Dr. Andros said, but she seemed distracted, having trouble staying focused. Something was definitely wrong, but she was hiding it.

"How about sending a data summary to my terminal in Command."

Cally walked on past J.J., thinking as fast as she could. None of the technicians here knew what had happened. When they found out, were they going to fall apart, endangering everybody and everything? Maybe, she thought; it would be better now to just continue normally as long as possible.

Number One, whoever he was, wasn't carrying an Uzi now; instead he had a 9mm skillfully concealed beneath his double-breasted. It was all very stylish. He was keeping the takeover on low profile, at least down here where the vehicles were. Maybe, she told herself, he doesn't feel as sure of himself here, or maybe he needs to keep their plans a secret.

So they're definitely up to something.

As they walked past the ma.s.sive steel housings enclosing the wiggler's controls, Ramirez suddenly paused and cleared his throat.

"Dr. Andros, what is the payload for the test launching? You certainly wouldn't put a multimillion-dollar communications satellite at peril during your maiden run."