Contest

Levine hadn't actually worked with Quaid before, but his reputation was legendary. Apparently Quaid had given himself the title of 'Commander' -- there was no such rank in the NSA -- when he had assumed command of Sigma Division's field team. Rumour had it that he had once killed a civilian by mistake while following up a bogus alien sighting. No investigation into the incident was ever held.

Tonight he was dressed exactly like a SWAT team member: blue fatigues, bulletproof vest, boots, cap and gunbelt.

'Sir,' Quaid said to Marshall.

'Harry,' Marshall nodded. 'You made good time.'

'As always, sir.'

Marshall turned to Levine. 'You've cordoned off the site?'

'They're finishing now,' Levine said. 'Tape's set up all around the building. Thirty yards. Even in the park.'

'Nobody's touched the building?'

'They were given strict instructions.'

'Good,' Marshall said. On the Eavesdropper satellite's last pass -- now targeted directly at the New York State Library -- an unusually large amount of electromagnetic energy had been detected surging through the outer surface of the building. Marshall didn't want to take any chances.

He turned to Quaid. 'I hope your boys are ready. This is the big one.'

Quaid smiled. It was a cold, thin smile. 'We're ready.'

'You'd better be,' Marshall said, 'because as soon as we figure out how to bring down the electric field around that building, you're going in.'

----ooo0ooo------

For the first time that night, Stephen Swain beheld the exterior of the New York State Library.

It was a beautiful building. Four storeys high, square-shaped, flat-roofed, with six majestic Corinthian columns stretching all the way up from the front steps to the roof.

In fact, it looked like an old Southern courthouse, grandly situated in the middle of a beautiful inner-city park, as if part of a town square. Only this was a dated town square, dwarfed by the skyscrapers that had grown up around it.

Swain watched the library from across the street, from the entrance to the subway station. He was breathing hard, and the wounds to his chest and forearms burned.

His wristband was still beeping.

8:00

7:59

7:58

Time was running out and the situation didn't look good.

The library had been sealed off.

A single ribbon of bright yellow police tape stretched from tree to tree in the park surrounding the big dark building, leaving at least thirty-odd yards of open ground between the tape and the walls of the library.

Half a dozen unmarked cars -- their headlights still on -- formed a tight circle in front of the main entrance to the library. And in the centre of the circle, towering above the cars, stood a big blue police van with a revolving dish on its roof. Next to the dish, flashing blue police lights spun crazily, splashing the park around the library in a strobe-like blue haze.

Damn it, Swain thought, as he watched the big blue van.

For the last two hours all he had wanted to do was get out of the library -- to get himself and Holly away from Reese and Bellos and the Karanadon -- to get out of the electrified cage the library had become.

And now?

Swain smiled sadly.

Now he had to get back in.

To get back in and stop this bomb on his wrist from going off. To get back inside the cage, where Reese and Bellos and the Karanadon were waiting for him, waiting to kill him.

But most importantly of all, to get back inside and save Holly. The mere thought of his only daughter trapped inside the library with those monsters made him feel ill. The thought of her being trapped in there after he was dead, made him feel terrible. She'd already lost one parent. She wasn't going to lose another one.

But he still had to penetrate the electrified walls.

And who were these new people?

7:44

Swain's gaze came to rest on some shadows at the rear of the library building. Darkness there. Good. It was a chance.

Swain ran across the street.

The park surrounding the State Library was a pretty one, flat and grassy, with evenly spaced oaks spread around three sides of the central building -- only now, the oak trees were joined by the bright yellow tape.

Outside the perimeter of oaks, on the eastern side of the building, stood a splendid white rotunda. It was essentially an elevated circular stage, free-standing, with six thin pillars supporting a beautiful domed roof twenty feet above the stage itself. A lattice handrail circled the stage.

It was a beautiful structure, popular for outdoor weddings and the like. Swain even remembered taking Holly to the pantomimes they held here in the summer -- Wizard of Oz-type shows that involved clouds of coloured smoke and the deft use of a trapdoor in the centre of the stage.

Swain scampered across the open grass and ducked behind the rotunda's stage, out of sight.

Twenty yards to the nearest oak.

Thirty yards from the oak to the library.

He was about to run for the treeline when he saw a garbage bin next to him.

He stopped. Thinking.

If they had set up police tape around the library, it was likely they would have someone patrolling the building, warding off any would-be intruders. He had to find a way...

Swain rummaged through the bin and found some crumpled old newspapers. He was grabbing a handful of them when he caught sight of something else.

A wine bottle.

He picked it up and heard the sloshing of liquid still inside it. Excellent. Swain upended the bottle and poured the excess wine onto his hands. The alcohol stung the scratches on his hands.

Then, with bottle and newspapers in hand, he bolted for the treeline.

7:14

7:13

7:12

Swain thrust himself up against the thick trunk of the tree and felt his pockets.

The broken phone receiver and the equally broken lighter were still there. He cursed himself for leaving the handcuffs back at the train tracks.

In the flashing blue light of the van, he saw the nearest corner of the building.

Thirty yards.

He took a deep breath.

And ran out into the open.

Levine yawned as he leaned on the bonnet of the Lincoln. Marshall and Quaid had gone off to check out the parking lot while he had been left to watch the front of the building.