“Rats,” the Irishman replied. “The lot of you.”
A broad smile creased Kurt’s face. “More like three blind mice,” he said. “The question is, exactly where were you running to?”
For the next few minutes, Kurt pried information out of the miners, learning their names and a little bit about the operation. Masinga, the South African, had been there right from the start.
“Eight months ago, I stole a key from one of the guards,” he explained. “But he never reported it lost because Thero would kill him for losing it.”
“Took a lot of patience not to use it right away,” Kurt noted.
Devlin, the Irishman, spoke up. “Apparently, patience runs in his family.”
Masinga smiled. “I hoped a day would come when escape would mean more than just dying in the cold. Devlin here says he came on a ship. He says he knows how to get back to it.”
“I hate to tell you,” Kurt said, “but you’re going the wrong way. Nothing but excavation tunnels back this way.”
The other two prisoners looked menacingly toward Devlin.
“That’s what you get for listening to me,” Devlin said. “I’ve been here only two days.”
“So what’s the deal with this mine anyway? I don’t recall Thero having any mining expertise.”
“He has others,” Masinga explained. “It’s an uneasy relationship between him and the overseers. He keeps them on a short leash, yanking their chains from time to time, but for the most part he leaves them alone. They work us and sell the diamonds. Thero lets them keep a cut, or so I’ve heard.”
“Slave labor,” Kurt noted. “That’s one way to bump up the profit margin.”
“As we die off, they bring in more,” Masinga added. “Kidnapping and luring in people who have little else in the way of opportunity.”
Kurt understood. It was a whole new reason to put Thero out of business, but it ran a distant second to saving Australia. “Any new arrivals in the last few hours?”
“Are you looking for someone specific?” Devlin replied.
“I started out with some friends,” Kurt said. “Thero’s men attacked us. We got separated. I think they were probably captured.”
“That’s no good,” Masinga said. “Thero will torture them, until they give in or die.”
Kurt studied Masinga’s face. His nose had obviously been broken at some point, and a jagged scar next to his ear looked like the result of some violent blunt-force trauma. “I’m guessing you know where that would take place.”
“I do,” Masinga said.
“I need you to show me.”
“That’s back into the middle of this maze,” the third member of the trio said. “You’ll never get past Thero’s men.”
“Maybe I won’t,” Kurt corrected. “But
“Fine by me,” Devlin said. “I’ve got a bone to pick with one of them.”
“I do also,” Masinga said.
“Just tie me to the machine,” the third man said. “I’ll wait for you to come back.”
Kurt glared at him.
“What’s the difference? Three against thirty or four against thirty? Same odds, really. You don’t need me.”
In a roundabout way, the man was right. Kurt had another idea. “How many other prisoners down here?”
“Sixty or seventy,” Masinga replied.
“And how many of them might like a shot at revenge?”
“At least sixty or seventy,” the South African repeated, smiling.
“That makes the living quarters our first stop.”
Joe and Gregorovich remained in the interrogation room, sweating in what had to be hundred-degree heat. As the perspiration trickled down his face and dripped off his nose, Joe could barely believe the irony. “An hour ago, I thought I’d freeze to death.”
“Now they’re broiling us,” Gregorovich replied.
The small room had begun to feel stifling. Joe figured it was time to take drastic measures. He writhed around until he could rub the side of his wet face against the back of his hand. When the perspiration from his face and hair had coated his hand, he changed positions.
Squeezing his fingers together as tightly as he could, Joe eased his hand into the cuff. He felt like a contortionist, pulling and twisting.
“You’ll never get free like that,” Gregorovich said.
“I have large wrists and average hands,” Joe said. “And these old shackles have a lot of play in them.”
With the sweat acting as a lubricant, Joe finessed his hand deeper into the cuff. Finally, it came free.
Joe smiled victorious. “Blood, sweat, and tears,” he said. “That’s all it takes.”
Gregorovich looked down. “What about your feet? I don’t suppose you have big ankles and narrow toes.”
Joe hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“One step at a time,” he said. “One step at a time.”
FORTY-FOUR
In the island’s control room, Hayley was doing her best to act normal. She continued to speak to Thero as if addressing George, infusing her words with affection while trying not to look obvious.
As she fawned over him, Thero showed her the control panels for the great machine and led her to the viewing portal, through which she could see the great orb resting in the darkened cave.
He pressed a series of switches. Lights came on in a cave outside the window. A huge spherical construction appeared. She recognized it from a conceptual drawing Thero had shown her years ago.
“It’s incredible,” she said.
“My father was right,” he said. “This is proof. From here, we can direct vast amounts of energy through the Earth to any point on the globe. Energy we draw from the zero-point field.”
“You don’t need the generators?” she asked.
“Only to start the wave,” he replied.
That gave her an idea. If they could possibly destroy the generators she’d seen outside, perhaps they could prevent the machine from engaging.
“This is amazing,” she said, gazing through the observation window at the latticework. “How did you solve the dynamic feedback problem?”
“We’ve only partially solved it,” he admitted.
“Do you still end up with uncontrollable vibrations?”
“We use the water as a dampening field,” Thero said. “It absorbs much of the energy. Also, by creating a spherical emitter instead of an open-ended conductor, we get a much more stable wave.”
“You were always a step ahead of us, George,” she said, smiling. “That’s really quite brilliant.”
“My father did most of the theoretical work,” he replied. “But I crunched the numbers.”
As they spoke, she tried to gauge how strong a grip the George persona was exerting. Working on her own phobias, she’d learned a great deal about mental health. She’d heard of cases where subjects with multiple personality disorder had absolutely no idea what the other personalities in their minds were up to. To the point where they passed lie detector tests after committing crimes or even carried on affairs or entirely different lives when the dominant personality went dormant.
If that was the case here, perhaps she could coax George into letting them go, or surrendering, or at least
