By then, because of his talents, he loomed so large in the director's plan that he might one day be in a positon to destroy it.
Snake's education, therefore, remained wholly under Michael's control.
Nevertheless, Snake endured it all-for his own good. Michael shed his tears, but hit the man with every psychological assault ever devised, every nonlethal persuasion ever invented. Only torture and death were tools forbidden the technicians.
Not only did Snake resist the Maoist faith, he refused to recant any other.
So they finally discarded him. But, like a cracked cup that might come in handy someday-perhaps as leverage on Michael-not completely. The director kept him on a back shelf.
Two years later Snake Cantrell was just another tunnel miner, fed, worked, and ignored. He had won. The staff had given up on him. His only service could be to help the academy grow.
While Cantrell hauled baskets of broken rock, Michael studied, trained and administered. He became a brilliant marksman, superior in hand-to-hand, and, in exercises, revealed a strong sixth sense for personal danger. He rapidly soared to the top of the academy's heirarchy. As the years marched, he, and the elect stay-behinds and men who would be repatriated as 'live,' aware Chinese agents, gradually took command of the American division.
In July 1972, Michael assumed the post of director of curricula for the entire institution. He was the senior officer inside, answerable only to Huang himself.
His cozy little world began fraying almost immediately. The director called within the month.
'Damn Henry Kissinger!' he exploded after breaking the connection.
What was he going to do?
He had known it was coming, someday, but had hoped the petty bickering about table shapes and such would delay the inevitable a lot longer than it had.
Without the war he would be out of a job.
He summoned his administrative assistant. 'Dwight, I just talked to the Old Man,' he told Jorgenson. 'He said get ready to close up shop. Peace is going to break out any day now.'
'We're going home?' The man seemed to glow.
'That's the word. Maybe as soon as six months. So we've got to close the American division down, get everybody back to the camps, and clean up the evidence.' He never mentioned that some two hundred men would be staying. That would be the most carefully guarded secret of all. Only those staying would know. No one had more potential usefulness, the director felt, than a man who didn't exist.
'Physical plant shouldn't be much problem,' Michael mused. 'We'll just turn off the lights on our way out. Personnel, though… bring me the lists. I'll have to work out who goes where in a way that'll maximize security.'
'Aren't you excited?' Jorgenson couldn't hold still.
Michael could only think of a wife and children he would never see… Well, he had made his choice. It was as much for their sakes… He hoped Nancy would find herself a good man. The kids would need a father… No. No need to worry. Mom would make sure…
He shoved them out of his mind. Remembering hurt too much.
'Of course. My kids… they'll be in school by now… But it's so sudden, and there's so much to do. Find me those lists, then go see who wants to claim some of our American space. Samarov has been bugging me since I took over. Give him anything he thinks Russian division can use. Check with Burmese and Indian, too, for sure. They're doing a lot of business. We'll have a staff meeting this weekend. I want to carve up the pie before Peking cuts the budget or moves some other operation in here.'
Michael studied the personnel lists the rest of that month. Men had to be placed precisely, according to their preparation and how knowledgeable they were. The least little error…
Time and again his treacherous eyes stopped at:
37. CANTRELL, A.O. 314 07 54 E-5 US Army 8 July 67 05 3 Jan 70
38. CANTRELL, W.J. 05798-69 0-3 US Navy 19 Dec 71 02 12 July 72
An accidental transposition…?
And Snake went home while a young lieutenant from the last class admitted disappeared among the excavator crews.
XXIII. On the Y Axis;
1975
Old Man Railsback was prancing like a kid in desperate need of a visit to the bathroom. Cash didn't ask why. He had arrived fifteen minutes early, trying to beat everyone in. But Hank had gotten there ahead of him anyway.
'Come on in here, Norm,' the lieutenant called from his lair.
Cash entered on tiptoe, perpetually poised to flee.
'Sit down. And settle down. The shit ain't going to hit the fan just yet.' He shoved the door closed. 'Purely business.'
'Well?'
'First, soon as Gardner comes through with a warrant, we start taking the Groloch place apart. Brick by brick. I
