Project Cyclops Part 55

But right now we have some unfinished business."

"What--?"

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d from up on the mountain. He had to be the one responsible. I know it was him. I can smell it." He drew out his 9mm Beretta and clicked off the safety, then angrily motioned for h.e.l.ling and headed out the door. "Come on, let's get the son of a b.i.t.c.h. I'm going to kill him personally."

12:25 A.M.

Now what?

Vance rose and started walking toward an opening he saw that led into the underground launch facility. Maybe, he was thinking, he could slip into Launch Control and somehow sabotage the vehicle itself. A dark tunnel branched off on his right--the lights were off--so he probably could go directly

Okay, he thought, a.s.sume one of the bombs must already be installed on the first vehicle and ready for launch. But given all the krytron detonators the Pakistani had, there could well be more. Maybe you should try and find them, see what you can learn. Could there be a way to disable the weapon now poised up there without having to reach it?

Maybe disarm it electronically?

He tried to guess what the firing mechanism could be. Clearly if you were planning to deliver a nuke, you were going to need some way to control the detonation. So how did it work? Maybe a pressure apparatus that could blow it on the way down, during the reentry phase? Why not?

As the vehicle encountered denser and denser atmosphere, pressure could activate a switch that sensed the alt.i.tude and instigated detonation at a preprogrammed height.

Or . . . another possibility was a radio-controlled device connected to the guidance system in the computer. That would be trickier, but it might ultimately be more reliable.

It also might be easier to abort. In fact, the whole thing might be doable from here on the ground. . . .

But what if he got caught? His Uzi was empty; Cally had his Walther; and nothing now stood between him and the terrorists except his own . .

. bad luck.

As he edged into the darkened tunnel, he felt the coolness envelop him.

The whole operation now felt as though it were in a shroud. . . .

He was almost at the end when he heard the steel door behind him slam shut. He whirled to look, but nothing betrayed any sign of life.

Instead there was only stony silence, punctuated by the mechanical hum of the facility's underground environmental control system. But as he turned back, two figures stood in the doorway ahead.

Oh, s.h.i.t!

He hit the floor just as it started, a ricochet of bullets slapping around him. Then, as abruptly as the fusillade had begun, it stopped.

He was so astonished to still be alive he barely heard the voice from the smoky doorway cut through the sudden silence. Then it registered, accent and all.

"Is that you, my friend?" A pause. "You are like the cat with nine lives, and until a second ago you had used only eight. I a.s.sume your ninth got you through my colleagues' burst of impetuosity just now. But I want to see you before I kill you."

"Your counting system needs work," Vance said, still in shock. He gingerly pulled himself up off the floor, fully expecting to be shot then and there. The thought made him giddy, feeling like a Zen master living as though already dead. "I've got eight and a half left."

"So it is you." The accent was unmistakable. "Don't make me sorry I didn't let Wolf here finish you just now. However, this matter is personal. I want the satisfaction of doing it myself."

Vance stepped into the light. "Sabri Ramirez. I can't really say it's a pleasure to meet you." The giddy feeling was growing. "I feel like I'm going to need a shower, just being in the same s.p.a.ce."

Ramirez stared at him, startled. "How do you know who I am?"

"I'll bet half the bozos who came with you don't know, do they?" Vance looked him over, feeling his life come back. Stand up and take it like a man. "Back from the dead. It's a miracle."

"Yes, I am back. But you soon will be entering that condition, and I doubt very much you will be returning."

Vance's mind flashed a picture of Ramirez strafing the Navy frigate, shooting the SatCom technician. Not to mention, he was planning to detonate a nuclear device somewhere in the world. Not a man given to idle threats.

He was also known to love torture, part of his personal touch.

"Incidentally," Ramirez went on, "perhaps you should pa.s.s me that Uzi.

I a.s.sume the clip is empty, but it's liable to make my friend Wolf here nervous."

"Wouldn't want that, would we." Vance handed it over, metal stock first.

"Thank you." Ramirez took it and tossed it to the emaciated, balding man standing next to him. "By the way, you know my name but I still do not know yours."

"Vance. Mike Vance." Why not tell him? he thought. It hardly matters now.

"Vance . . . that name rings a bell . . . from somewhere . . ." The thoughtful look turned slowly to a smile. "Ah yes, as I recall you work free-lance for ARM." He paused, the smile vanishing as he mentioned the name. "So tell me, are they planning to try to meddle here? That would be a big mistake, Mr. Vance, I can a.s.sure you."

More bad news, Vance thought. Ramirez is no fool. He must have known we did the security for this place.

"I've got a feeling they're going to be interested in what happens to me, if that's what you mean."

Ramirez moved closer, looking squarely in his face. "You know, the eyes of a man always tell more about him than any words he can say. And your eyes give you away. You're lying, and you're scared." He stepped back and smiled.

"And I'll tell you something," Vance continued, meeting his stare.

"When I look in your eyes, I don't see anything. But even a hyena can know fear. Your time will come." It was pointless bravado, but it felt good to say it.

"We'll see who can know fear." Ramirez scowled angrily at the use of the nickname he hated. "We will also learn something about your tolerance for pain, Mr. Vance. In very short order. You are not very popular with some of my men."

"They're not very popular with me." The defiance just kept coming; he wasn't sure from where. "And I've got some other news for you. You're about to find out that Andikythera is a very small, vulnerable objective."

"You persist in trying to antagonize me, Mr. Vance. I could easily have had you killed just now, and spared myself this pointless interview."

"Why didn't you?" The giddy feeling was coming back.

"I wanted to show you how stupid you really are."

He's right about that, Vance told himself. I think I've just proved it.

"But your nine lives have run out. I'm afraid I'm no longer interested in this conversation." He turned away and motioned for Wolf h.e.l.ling.

"Let me just shoot him and get it over with," the German said.

"Not just yet," Ramirez replied after a moment's thought. "No, I think Jean-Paul would enjoy softening him up first."

6:15 A.M.