His head drooped, and he collapsed to his side. Out again.
She whirled, gun up, at fresh footfalls below her. Booted feet.
The black man from back at the cave raised a free hand to her as she stopped on the trail.
“Friend,” the man said. He was gasping for air and streaming with sweat.
Caroline realized that every muscle in her body was painfully tensed. She relaxed a bit and suddenly felt tired, more tired than she’d ever remembered being in her life, and felt herself drifting away until strong hands shook her by the shoulders.
“Caroline!” the black man was in her face and shouting. “Time for that later! I need you strong!”
She swallowed hard. She pressed her eyes closed. She opened them again and focused.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m all right. You know my name. What’s yours?’
“Call me Chaz.”
He let the rifle drop in its combat sling and lifted the unmoving Jimbo into a fireman’s carry.
“You’re a Ranger now,” Chaz grunted. “You lead the way.”
17
Back In The Now
The helicopter, a big-ass fourteen-seat Sikorsky, landed in an open area behind the Tesla tower. When the rotors slowed to a stop and the dust had settled, men in windbreakers sprang out ahead of a thin man in his twenties. The thin man wore a summer-weight suit of Italian cut. He gestured to the two windbreakers with an open hand to stay as if they were a pair of guard dogs.
He made his way to the collection of pre-fab buildings beyond the tower to find Dr. Morris Tauber speaking to a man by a car marked Alamo Taxi Service. The car drove away, and Tauber stepped forward to greet the visitor.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Tauber said. “Gus Martin.” The young man extended a hand and crushed Tauber’s in his tennis grip. “I’m a V.P. at Gallant. Sir Neal wanted me to deliver the news in person.”
“News?” Tauber frowned.
“We’re shutting you down,” Martin said and looked around at the sad metal buildings baking in the late morning sun.
“But we’re in the middle of an exercise,” Tauber said.
“You have forty-eight hours to pack up and leave everything as it is.”
“That’s impossible. I’m not sure what you understand about this facility and our work here, but we still have people in the field. I can’t guarantee they’ll return in two days.”
“Frankly—” Martin removed a pair of sunglasses and placed them on his nose, “—I’m really not up to speed on this. And I don’t need to be. My official title is Vice President of Facilities Management, but what I am is a fixer. Sir Neal wants this shut down, left just as it is, and you and your people gone. I’m to see that gets done.”
“But the Tauber Tube is a creation of my sister’s.” Tauber realized how weak the words sounded as he said them. “You can’t just take over.”
“The ‘Tauber Tube’ or whatever it may be called in the future is the property of Gallant Industries, Dr. Tauber. It was paid for with corporate funds, along with all the recent extras and personnel you’ve requested.”
“But—”
“Look, Tauber. I don’t think you grasp what a total fuckup this little enterprise has been. Your report to Sir Neal was alarming, to put it in the kindest terms. You’ve lost personnel. Two confirmed dead. More missing and their fates unknown. There will be questions. Criminal allegations. The kind of allegations we can’t paper over with ND agreements. We’ll be lucky to limit inquiries to state authorities.”
“But the Tube is a success. It performed precisely as we presented it would.”
“That’s the only thing keeping Sir Neal from throwing you to the wolves. Your device may be of some actual value to the company down the road. You keep your compensation package. But your further participation here is no longer required, necessary or welcome.”
“This deadline is absurd!” Tauber was shouting now. Behind him, Parviz and Quebat exited the reactor building. They looked like kids playing at spacemen in their Tyvek overalls and goggles.
“You make it work however you can, Doctor,” Martin said evenly, and gestured to the two Iranians. “And make sure those two are far away from here, and any connection to Gallant Industries is erased. They’re a walking Homeland Security investigation, and we don’t need that kind of attention. Excuse me, any more of that kind of attention.”
“You’re making an impossible demand,” Tauber said, but Martin had already turned his back and was starting back to the copter.
“It is what it is,” Martin said without turning. “Wrap it up. Pack it up. Get out. Forget you were ever here.”
Parviz and Quebat made their way at a brisk walk toward the residence hut.
Tauber stood, hands fisted, and watched until Martin reached the copter and it rose airborne in a storm of dust and grit to bank south and out of sight.
The Iranians were preparing some of their high power espresso when Tauber banged the door open and confronted them.
“No excuses. No explanations. No bullshit. I need the nuke powered up as soon as you can make it happen.” Tauber was red-faced and breathless.
Parviz and Quebat blinked at him. “They’re shutting us down.”
The expresso machine gurgled.
“And I don’t think they much care if we have personnel on the other side.”
Parviz set down his cup and turned off the burbling expresso machine. He muttered a translated summation to Quebat.
“Doctor Tauber, we will do the very best we can,” Parviz said. “We can create a controlled surge of the required levels within twelve hours.”
Tauber stared open-mouthed at them.
“I’ve been asking you for that kind for performance for months,” Tauber said. “Now, all of a sudden, you can make max levels inside a twelve-hour window?”
“We were concerned with the longevity of the reactor, Doctor,” Parviz said. “If they are ending the project, then our long-term needs are no longer of consideration. We will finish our espresso and perhaps some toast, and then return to the reactor and be bringing it back to the required power levels.”
Parviz blinked. Quebat smiled at
