Jericho Iteration

…”

In that instant, I remembered the last ace I had up my sleeve. It was a long shot, but … “You got a phone up here?”

“Jeff, give him the phone, please,” Richard said, “then stop whining and get behind the other ’puter. I need you to do something.”

Morgan’s face reddened. He looked at me querulously as I rolled over on my side, pulled out my wallet, and searched through a stack of dog-eared business cards until I found the one I had forgotten up until now. God, if I had lost it …

No, it was still here: the phonecard George Barris had given me at the Stadium, little more than twenty-four hours ago. “Phone!” I snapped. “Hurry up!”

Morgan dug into his windbreaker and pulled out a pocket phone. I snatched it out of his hand, snapped it open, and ran the card’s codestrip across its scanner. Holding the receiver against my ear, I heard a faint buzzing. The second buzz was interrupted halfway through by a calm, familiar voice:

“Redbird Leader.”

Barris.

I took a deep breath. “Colonel Barris, this is Gerry Rosen. Remember me?”

A brief pause. “Of course, Gerry. I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

“I’m sure you have,” I replied, trying to keep my voice easy. “Just wanted to give you a little how-do, see what’s on your mind-”

“Just a moment, please.” A click, then a moment of silence as I was put on hold. The bastard was probably trying to have the call traced. The phone clicked again, and Barris came back on the line. “I’m sorry, Gerry, but I’m a little tied up just now. If you’d care to let me know where I can reach you, I’ll-”

“Sure thing, Colonel,” I said. “I’m in the Compton Hill water tower. There’s about a dozen of your boys surrounding me, so I’m kinda busy myself … you still want to call me back?”

I heard a sharp intake of breath.

“I thought you’d be interested,” I went on. “Look, you asked me to call you if I happened to find Dr. Payson- Smith or Dr. Morgan. Well, here they are. I’ve lived up to my side of the bargain. What about yours?”

“Mr. Rosen,” he replied evenly, “I appreciate your assistance. If you surrender yourself to my men, I promise that you’ll be treated well-”

“The same way you treated Beryl Hinckley this afternoon?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gerry, but I can assure you-”

I heard Richard snap his fingers; looking around, I saw him hastily gesturing for the phone. “Well, Colonel,” I interrupted, “I’d love to discuss this further, but I think Dick here wants a few words with you.”

I handed the phone to Payson-Smith; he cupped it between his chin and shoulder. “Colonel Barris?” he said, his hands still racing across the keyboard. “Yes, this is Richard Payson-Smith. How do you do …?”

A long pause. “Well, the offer is quite flattering, but I’m afraid I cannot trust you … no, no, that’s out of the question-”

The Apache buzzed the tower again. I picked up the nightscope, crawled across the floor to an eastern window close to where the two scientists were seated, and peered out. More troopers had taken up positions on the crumbling limestone stairway just below the reservoir wall, while the Cayuse continued to hover above the reservoir itself.

“Let me make you a counterproposal instead,” Richard went on. “If you’ll withdraw your men and the helicopters immediately and allow us to leave the reservoir, I promise you that no one will be harmed.”

What the hell?

I glanced over my shoulder at Payson-Smith. He now held the phone in his right hand, his left forefinger idly tapping the edge of the Apple. Jeff Morgan was no longer in a blind panic; he had quietly settled down in front of the Compaq and was now quickly entering commands on its keyboard.

“No, sir, I’m not joking,” Richard said. “We do not intend to give ourselves up, now or … Colonel, please listen to me …

Not bothering to crouch, I dashed to the other side of the room and raised the scope to a western window. The Apache was now hovering in midair at a parallel distance and altitude from the Cayuse, slightly above the height of the water tower; like the other one, it was now facing the tower.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted swift movement on the ground; looking down through the scope, I saw ERA troopers sprinting away from the tower, giving up their cover behind trees and benches. I ran the scope to the armored car closest to the park; troopers were practically shoving each other aside in their haste to get through the LAVs’ rear hatches.

It looked like they were retreating.

I felt a momentary surge of relief … then the nightscope almost dropped from my numb hands as I realized what was about to happen.

“The Apache’s going to launch its missiles!” I shouted.

“Just a moment, Colonel …” Payson-Smith cupped his hand over the receiver. “Ruby confirms TADS lock-on and Hellfires arming.”

“Sentinel flyover in sixty-six seconds,” Morgan said softly, his eyes riveted to his screen. “Initiating satellite uplink and c-cube interface.”

“We don’t have sixty seconds!” I shouted. “That chopper’s going to-”

“Gerry,” Richard said, “please shut up and get away from the window.”

I took a couple of steps away from the window, then stopped when I saw what was displayed on the computer screens. Payson-Smith’s had opened a window depicting a cutaway view of an Apache AH-64; Morgan’s screen displayed an aerial map of downtown St. Louis, with the Compton Hill Reservoir epicentered within a red bull’s-eye.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Colonel,” Payson-Smith said, uncupping the phone again. “But you’ve been warned-”

There was a bright flash through the western windows.

I looked around just in time to see sparks erupt from beneath the nacelles of the Apache as two Hellfire missiles launched from the chopper.

Then I threw myself to the floor.

I didn’t even have a chance to scream before the supernova erupted.

There was a brilliant white flash, then an immense thunderclap pummeled my ears. Windows shattered, glass spraying across my back, as the stone floor trembled beneath me. I lay still, my eyes squeezed tightly shut, my hands wrapped around my head, waiting for the tower to collapse around me.

But that didn’t happen.

The light faded, the thunder subsided, the floor stopped shaking.

The missiles hadn’t hit the tower.

I raised myself to my elbows and looked around, not quite believing I was still alive. Glass from the broken windows on the eastern side of the room was strewn across the floor; a cool predawn breeze wafted through the shattered panes, carrying with it the harsh odor of burning aircraft fuel.

“What the fuck happened?” I murmured.

“Hello, Colonel?” I heard Payson-Smith say. “Do you hear me?”

Richard and Jeff were picking themselves off the floor from where they had ducked for cover. Payson-Smith still had the phone in his hand; he was listening to it as Morgan crawled to the computer terminal and tapped a couple of keys.

The stench of burning gasoline was stronger now. I raised myself to my knees and stared through the broken windows. A thick plume of black smoke billowed up from behind the reservoir walls, obscuring the downtown lights. I could hear the steady thrum of a helicopter’s rotors from behind me, but it sounded more distant than before.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Payson-Smith was saying. “Ruby Fulcrum-and I’m sure you’re aware of what that is-has accessed the source codes of the programs controlling your Apache’s onboard computers.”

I could hear the faint voices of men yelling outside the tower, sounding almost as confused as I was. I felt