The dial tone hummed in Deepak’s ear. He shook his head and slowly set down the phone. “I’ve signed on with lunatics.”
The image on the screen had shifted. It showed a satellite view of the eastern Mediterranean Sea. A circular cloud with a long stalk was rising to the stratosphere, glowing like the phosphorescent mushroom it resembled.
Deepak turned up the volume.
“We repeat, the carrier force dispatched to aid Israel has been obliterated. Congress is in special session and any minute now the president will address the nation. Speculation is running rampant that war will be declared.”
The newscaster became even more grim.
“No one can predict whether the Chinese will carry through with their threat to attack any country that threatens their Mideast allies. There are reports of Chinese troops massing along the Russian border. There is also a report that a fleet of North Korean submarines is bound for the West Coast of the United States, but that hasn’t been confirmed.”
“It’s the end of all things,” Deepak said softly. “Some of us don’t die so easy.”
Startled, Deepak spun so fast he nearly fell out of his chair. A man stood just inside the door. He wore a dark blue trench coat over a black Rudolpho suit, white shirt and silk tie. His shoes, Kleins from Germany, were polished to a mirror finish. His hair was black, cut short with long sideburns. He had the most piercing blue eyes.
“I beg your pardon. Are you with corporate?”
“Mighty Mouse,” the man said.
Deepak blinked. “Mr. Slayne? I just got off the phone with the compound. They told me you would be fifteen to twenty minutes yet.”
“I ran all the red lights.” Slayne stopped and seemed to be waiting. “And yours?”
“My what?”
“Mighty Mouse.”
“Oh. Yama. Mine is Yama.” Deepak grinned self-consciously.
“Aren’t those code words silly?”
“I was the one who suggested Carpenter use them.” “Really?”
Slayne offered his hand.
Bracing himself for the inevitable, Deepak shook it. He had small, delicate hands, and it upset him to no end that many men felt compelled to crush his fingers in grips of iron, as if by doing so they somehow proved how masculine they were. But to his surprise, Slayne’s grip was powerful yet controlled. Only a hint of pressure and a suggestion of strength, and then the man in the blue trench coat stepped back and motioned toward the door.
“After you.”
“I’m not ready yet. There are some discs I want to back up.
Then we need to swing by my apartment so I can—”
Slayne held up a hand, cutting him short. “Have you looked out your window recently?”
“No. Why?”
“Maybe you should.”
Deepak stood. He smoothed his Argoni jacket and went around his desk. The first thing that caught his eye, before he even reached the window, was the smoke. Columns of it, rising from several points throughout the city. He heard sirens, so many it was impossible to tell one from another. He gazed down from the vantage of the eighty-fifth floor, and even from that height, the word that leaped to his mind was “chaos.” “Is it as bad as it looks?”
“Worse. There’s a rumor going around that New York will be the first city nuked. Panic has set in. Every bridge, every street out is clogged. Looting has started. The police are trying their best, but there aren’t enough officers to control the people in the streets. The mayor has appealed to the governor for the National Guard, but it will be tomorrow morning before the Guard can show up in any force.”
“How is it you know all this? I didn’t see anything about the traffic jams or the riots on the news.”
“You will soon. I have other sources. In case no one has told you, I’m with Tekco. Maybe you’ve heard of us?”
Indeed, Deepak had. Tekco Security was global, with offices in dozens of countries. “You’re in charge of protecting Carpenter’s retreat? That makes sense. Tell me, what specific challenges do you foresee?”
Slayne consulted his watch. “We can talk about that later.
Right now I need to get you out of New York before all hell breaks loose.”
“Give me a minute.” Deepak went to turn from the window when there was a loud krump in the distance, and the entire window shook. He was appalled to see a roiling fireball rise over the warehouse district. “Was that an explosion?”
“Yes. Hurry, please.”
“What in the world is happening out there?”
“People have begun to realize this isn’t a short-term crisis.
Most are trying to flee before the missiles start coming our way.
Those who can’t flee are helping themselves to what they’ll need in order to survive.”
Deepak gazed down again. “Thousands of years of culture and civilization are unraveling before our eyes.”
“Civilization is only skin-deep.”
“I don’t believe that. Deep down all people are basically good.”
“Crisis tends to bring out either the best in everyone or the worst. We’ll just have to see which side prevails.” Slayne motioned again. “But we need to hurry.”
It took a minute for Deepak to gather up his backpack and a few personal items. He followed Slayne out the door and down the long hall to the elevators. Other workers hurried out of cubicles and offices, headed in the same direction.
A portly man, sweating profusely, bustled up. “Can you believe this, Deepak? Can you fricking believe this?”
“Hey, Alf. To be honest, I’ve expected something like this would happen for a long time now.” Deepak almost revealed more. He almost told his friend about the compound, but a sharp glance from Slayne smothered the impulse.
“You and everybody else, buddy. I thought it might, but I never actually thought it would. I mean, how crazy do you have to be to start World War Three?” Alf Richardson shook his head in disbelief.
Deepak noticed that two of the elevators were in use and the third was almost full.
“Think about it,” Alf went on. “Nuclear bombs, nuclear missiles, neutron bombs, military satellites, biological weapons, chemical weapons. Does anyone seriously think the human race will survive?”
“I know one man who does,”
