Project Cyclops Part 79

"You know, I don't know why you're doing this, but it seems awfully dangerous."

"Maybe I'm trying to make amends for being such a screw-up." He was half serious.

"That's very n.o.ble, but frankly I think we'd better wait for your friends from ARM." She picked up the automatic and examined it again, then looked him over. 'To be brutally honest, they've got a slightly better track record."

"Good point. Except now they've got a casualty to worry about, and we're running out of time. So this has to be solo." He kissed her, this time on the lips. "Wish me luck."

"You're really going to do it, aren't you?"

"I'm going to try." He finished tucking in his s.h.i.+rt.

"You're crazy. You won't listen to anybody."

"Sometimes that's a help." He kissed her again, more lightly than he wanted to. Was she still mad? It was hard to tell, but she was definitely distant. "Okay, get ready. And for G.o.d's sake, don't hit me.

Fire wide."

"Wide?" She grinned.

"Extremely wide."

7:24 A.M.

"Thought you might be getting lonesome." Vance had walked into Launch Control, directly through the entrance next to where the fallen gantry had been. Ramirez had met him, with his Beretta 9mm trained on him from the instant he came in the doorway.

"Always the joker, Mr. Vance." Ramirez did not appear to think he was very humorous. "I see you're roaming around again, like a cat."

"Nine lives, remember."

"Yes, I should have put an end to them earlier." He gestured Vance forward with the automatic. They now were in Launch Control, the wide windows looking out over the vehicles. "But then I wanted you to myself."

"Here I am." He felt a chill. Was Ramirez just going to shoot him before he had a chance to do anything?

The terrorist, however, seemed to have other things on his mind. "You know, you've been missing out on a lot of the fun. There was something of a ruckus in Command just now. As it happens, it was on that TV there." He pointed to a monitor, its screen now filled with snow. "A decidedly second-rate entertainment, but I watched awhile anyway."

"Sounds exciting. Want to tell me what happened?"

"The broadcast encountered technical difficulties before the end. For all I know, the show may still be going on. But perhaps I should break some news to you. That a.s.sault force, whoever they were, merely saved me the trouble of tidying up myself."

"You were planning just to murder all your helpers anyway, right?" He settled into a sculptured chair next to a console, as casually as he could manage. "Neatness. Guess I should have thought of that."

"You should have thought of a lot of things, Mr. Vance."

"And how about you? Did the ransom money come through? I a.s.sume this operation had a price tag attached."

He laughed. "Of course the money came through. All eight hundred million. What do you take me for?"

"Respectable chunk of change. So why in h.e.l.l are you going to still launch an A-bomb?" Even Vance was impressed by his perfidy. "That's not very sporting."

"I'm not a sporting person."

"That's hardly a news flash." He felt his outrage spilling over. "Mind telling me the target?"

"Not at all. I'm going to incinerate the U.S. air and naval base at Souda Bay. The Americans don't care anything about civilians, as they have shown any number of times, but they are very attached to their Sixth Fleet."

"Jesus, you're totally mad." It was worse than he had imagined. "You're going to kill hundreds, thousands. How in h.e.l.l can you do that?"

"Easily. As a matter of fact, it's as good as done. In a few minutes."

He checked his watch, then glanced up and examined Vance a moment. "It looks like Jean-Paul did a fairly good job. I should have told him to just finish it."

"He got close enough, believe me."

"Looking at you, I'd have to agree." He smiled, eyes behind his gray shades. "All right, Mr. Vance, I a.s.sume you came back in here for a reason. What is it?"

"The truth is, I'm dropping by to see if we couldn't talk over a deal."

"I don't really think so."

"You may be able to set off a bomb, but the way things stand, no way are you going to get out of here in one piece." He was trying out the speech he had been rehearsing. "In case you didn't realize it, the U.S.

Navy has the airs.p.a.ce around the island totally closed down. The skies over the eastern Med are currently an F-14 parking lot. But if you'll put a stop to all this insanity, release the hostages, then--"

"Don't try to bluff me, Mr. Vance." He gestured him forward. "Come, take a look at my collateral."

He led the way across to a second row of workstations, these on the side and closer to the window. "When I leave, which is imminent, I will have company. A certain professor. I think you've met him."

And sure enough, there in the comer sat Isaac Mannheim, looking as though the world had already ended. The old man appeared to be in a dark s.p.a.ce of his very own, his face pitifully sunk in his hands.

"It can't be stopped," he was mumbling, almost incoherently. "d.a.m.n them. There should be a special rung in h.e.l.l for them."

"Don't worry," Vance a.s.sured him. "There is." He turned back to Ramirez. "It isn't going to work. The U.S. is not going to be bluffed."

He hoped it was true. Somehow, though, he didn't feel all that confident. Ramirez was smart, very smart, and the U.S. had a history of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g these things up. Just outside the window VX-1 awaited, primed and about to lift off. Unlike the s.p.a.ce shuttle, it had no clouds of white condensate spewing out; instead, it stood serene and austere, its payload prepared to wreak havoc on thousands of unsuspecting U.S.

citizens. The loss of life would be staggering.

"He got Johan to call off the a.s.sault," Mannheim continued, interrupting his thoughts. "It was because of me. He wanted to save me.

He did, but he only made things worse. He should have just let them kill me and have done with it."

Vance examined him and stifled a sigh. Now he had Mannheim to worry about. He didn't want Cally to start shooting up the place with him in the room, so he couldn't go to the window and signal her the way he had planned. What to do?

"Look," he said finally, turning to Ramirez, "if you need insurance, why not just take me and let Mannheim go? You and I have some unfinished business. He's not part of it."

"He will go, all right. With me on the helicopter. You, on the other hand, are . . ." Ramirez glanced out the wide window and fell silent as he studied the Sikorsky. The main rotor was starting to power up, and something about that seemed not to sit well with him. Suddenly he seemed galvanized. He glanced at his watch, then checked the safety on his Beretta.