Three feet.
He tried to move, tried to fight. But it was no use.
Anistaze was just too strong. Race looked into his assailant's eyes and saw nothing but hate.
Two feet.
Certain death was approaching. Race yelled in desperation.
'Arrggghhhh I I'
One foot.
At that precise moment, Renee ducked another blow from the technician and swung in swiftly behind him, then she grabbed him roughly by the hair and banged his head hard against the control panel on the wall.
The conveyor belt stopped on a dime.
Race stopped, too—the nape of his neck jolting to a halt an inch from the speeding blur of the helicopter's rotating blades.
Anistaze's face went blank in surprise.
What the fucks?
Race took the opportunity and kneed the Nazi hard in the crotch.
Anistaze roared.
Just as Race grabbed him by the lapels!
'Smile, motherfucker,' Race said.
And then he dropped down onto the conveyor belt and rolled quickly backwards, underneath the chopper's blur ring blades, using his newfound leverage to yank Anistaze forward, neck-first, right into the buzzsaw-like blades of the helicopter!
The rotor blades of the chopper sliced through Anistaze's neck like a chainsaw through butter, removing his head from his body in a smooth, frictionless cut.
An explosion of blood splattered all over Race's face as he lay on the conveyor belt, still holding onto Anistaze's lapels.
Race quickly discarded the body—yecch!—and rolled himself off the conveyor belt.
He shook his head. He couldn't quite believe what he had just done. He had just decapitated a man.
Whoa.
He looked up and saw Renee standing over by the control panel, standing astride the unconscious body of the Nazi technician. The tech had been knocked out cold by the blow she'd given him against the control panel.
Renee smiled at Race, gave him the thumbs up.
For his part, Race just fell limp against the floor, exhausted.
No sooner had his head hit the ground, however, than Renee was at his side.
'Not yet, Professor,' she said, pulling him to his feet. 'No resting yet. Come on, we have to stop Ehrhardt from detonating the Supernova.'
In the control booth high above the mine, the timer on the Supernova's laptop screen continued to tick downwards.
00:15:01 00:15:00 00:14:59
Ehrhardt keyed his radio. 'Oberstgruppenfuhrer?'
No response.
'Anistaze, where are you?'
Still nothing.
Ehrhardt turned to Fritz Weber. 'Something's wrong.
Anistaze's not answering. Initiate protective counter measures around the device. Seal the control booth.'
'Yes, sir.'
Renee and Race dragged Uli into the glass-walled office overlooking the mine and laid him down on the floor.
A large digital timer on the wall ticked downwards: 00:14:55 00:14:54 00:14:53
'Damn it,' Race said, 'they started the countdown!'
Renee immediately went to work on the gunshot wound to Uli's stomach. As she did so, however, a fax machine on the far side of the office began to clatter loudly.
Race, now carrying a G-11 assault rifle, went over to it as a fax began to scroll out. It read:
FROM THE OFFICE OF
THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
