Nash slowly made his way down the line of men and women, calmly shooting each of them at point-blank range, one after the other. His eyes were hard, cold, devoid of any emotion as he clinically executed his enemies— his fellow Americans—one by one.
Some of the Navy-DARPA people started to pray as Nash levelled his pistol at their faces. Some of the civilians started to sob. Race, helpless to stop the slaughter, saw tears well in Renee's eyes as she watched the shocking series of executions.
Soon there was only one man left, the last man in the line.
Marty.
Race just watched as Nash stood in front of his brother.
He felt completely helpless, powerless to assist Marty.
And then, strangely, Nash lowered his pistol. He turned to face Race, didn't take his eyes off him as he spoke: 'Lauren, would you get me my laptop from the ATV, please?'
Race frowned, confused.
What the hell—?
Lauren hurried off to the ATV, still parked in front of the citadel. She returned a minute later with Nash's laptop computer, the one he had been using during the early stages of the mission. She handed it to Nash who— strangely— passed it on to Race.
'Turn it on,' Nash said.
Race did so.
'Click on “u.s. ARMY INTERNAL NET”,' Nash said.
Race did so.
A title screen appeared.
U.S. ARMY INTERNAL MESSAGE NETWORK
The screen then changed to reveal a list of secure-line email messages.
'Now there should be a message there with your name on it. Do a search for the name “Race”,' Nash instructed.
Race punched in his own name and hit the 'SEARCH' button.
He wondered where Nash was going with this.
Suddenly, the computer beeped: '2 MESSAGES FOUND'.
The long list of e-mails shortened to two.
DATE TIME SUBJECT
3.1.99 1801 SUPERNOVA MISSION
4,1.99 1635 WILLIAM RACE ISSUE
'See the one with your name on it?' Nash said.
Race eyed the second message, double-clicked on it. A message screen appeared:
4 JAN 1999 16:35 US ARMY INTERNAL NET 617 5544 89516-07 N0.187
From: Special Projects Division Leader
To: Nash, Frank
Subject: WILLIAM RACE ISSUE
Do not leave Race in Cuzco. Repeat. Do not leave Race in Cuzco. Take him with you to the jungle. Once the idol has been obtained, liquidate him and dispose of the body accordingly.
GENERAL ARTHUR H. LANCASTER
U.S. Army Special Projects Division Leader
'I just wanted you to know that you should have been dead a long time ago, Professor Race,' Nash said.
Race felt his blood run cold as he stared at the email.
This was a death warrant, his death warrant. A missive from the general in charge of the Army Special Projects Division ordering that he be killed.
Jesus Christ.
He tried to remain calm.
He looked at the time of the message.
16:35, January 4.
Late in the afternoon on the day he'd left New York.
Hence this message must have arrived while he had been flying to Peru on board the cargo plane.
The flight to Peru.
