Except for distant voices and Matt's strained breathing, Hood heard nothing else. Op-Center seemed as lifeless as poor Mac. It was strange. He was able to compartmentalize the death of the man. It was a terrible event, but Hood would mourn later as he had Charlie Squires, Martha Mackall, and too many others. It was much more difficult to get his brain around the idea that Op-Center was a marble-silent tomb. This facility had given his life purpose, the only direction he seemed to have. Absent that, Hood felt as dead as Mac. Except he was still breathing.
Mike would say that means there's still hope, Hood thought. Maybe that would follow. Right now, all Hood felt was helplessness bordering on fear. He knew he had to get that under control. He had to focus.
Hood went over to Stoll. The computer scientist was squatting beside the jagged ruins of the water cooler and the adjoining debris field.
Stoll had removed a penlight from his shirt pocket. He had taken it from an emergency supply kit in the Tank. He was examining the floor closely without touching anything. He looked like a boy studying an anthill.
'Does this tell you anything?' Hood asked.
'The bomb was not homemade,' Stoll said.
'How can you tell?'
'They used eighteen-gauge clear sterling copper wire,' he said through the handkerchief as he pointed with the penlight. 'That gives an electromagnetic device a bigger pulse than standard twelve-gauge gold copper wire. But that is only true if the copper is free of impurities. A bomb maker needs some pretty sophisticated thermographic and harmonic testing equipment to qualify wire of that size.'
'I assume the military has that capability,' Hood said. 'Who else?'
'A university laboratory, an aircraft or appliance manufacturer any number of factories,' Stoll told him. 'The companion question, of course, is in addition to having the technical wherewithal, who would have the logistical chops to put an e-bomb inside a water bottle?'
'Or a reason,' Hood said, thinking aloud.
'Yeah,' Stoll replied, rising. 'I don't imagine that Chrysler or Boeing has it in for us.'
The emergency rescue team arrived then, their flashlights probing the misty air. The smoke had achieved a consistency that made visibility a little easier. Mike Rodgers was the first man to enter. Seeing him, in command of the team and the situation, gave Hood a boost.
'Be careful where you step,' Rodgers said. 'This is a crime scene.'
The four men who followed turned their lights on the floor. They walked carefully to the body of Mac McCallie and tried to revive him.
'Are you two all right?' Rodgers asked Hood and Stoll.
Hood nodded. 'Did everyone get out?'
'Yes,' Rodgers said. 'Bob complained, but the blast killed all the electronics on his wheelchair, so he did not have much choice. The wheels locked when the servo-mechanisms got fried.'
'Jesus, what about Ron Plummer?' Hood said, suddenly alarmed. 'He has a pacemaker '
'He's okay,' Rodgers said. 'We took him up with Bob. The med techs got to him right away.'
'Thank God,' Hood said. It seemed strange to thank God in the midst of this carnage. But Hood was grateful for that one bit of good news.
Hood, Rodgers, and Stoll moved aside as two of the rescue technicians carried Mac away on a stretcher. They moved quickly, even though there was no need. The other two ERT personnel went deeper into the facility to make sure there were no other injuries or individuals who might have been overcome by smoke.
'The base commander put a team to work getting a generator running,'
Rodgers said.
'Matt, how long until the computer monitors and fluorescent lights go dark?' Hood asked.
'It'll take another ten or fifteen minutes for the internal-system gases to lose the electromagnetic charge,' Stoll said.
