Doyle said, “Assuming we can even get the bat where we want her using this dubious Pac-Man gambit, we can always use ethyl chloride.”

“Yes,” Weeks said. “Yes, I like that.”

“What’s ethyl chloride?” the mayor asked.

“It’s a congealant,” Weeks said. “A liquid that vaporizes at room temperature and freezes whatever it comes in contact with.”

“We use it as a local to numb kids’ skin before we give them stitches,” said Emergency Medical Services chief Lipsey. “Fast-freeze-turns everything white. A large enough dose will induce hypothermia.”

“We’ve got a lot of it on hand from the rat sweep we just finished. All we’d have to do is barge it down from the boat basin on West Seventy-ninth,” Doyle said.

“What are the risks?” the mayor asked.

“Frankly, not many,” Weeks said.

“Do you agree?” Taylor asked Whalen and Irizzary.

They both nodded.

The mayor looked at Joyce. “So we have the agent. But do we have the subject? Doctor, I’m more than a little worried about betting everything on-what did you call it, Al?”

“The Pac-Man gambit.”

“It’s the Dumbo effect,” Gentry muttered.

“The what?”

“The Dumbo effect,” Gentry repeated. “Using a mother image to lure out a child. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Doyle said nothing. Joyce smiled slightly.

Weeks asked Joyce, “If what you’re saying is true, why not use a recording of a real bat heartbeat?”

“Because the video gameworked. The bat’s mother had been exposed to nuclear waste and God knows what else in Russia, then came to a totally new environment in New Paltz. I have no idea what effect the radiation and the change in climate and diet had on her metabolism-whether her heartbeat was normal or irregular, whether it was stronger or weaker than that of a normal bat. Whatever the special sound or rhythm was in that video game, it ‘spoke’ to the giant vesper. I suggest we stick with it.”

Everyone was silent.

The mayor nodded thoughtfully. “Gordy?”

Weeks sighed. “Dr. Joyce is the expert on bats.” He looked over at her. “I say we bet on her game plan.”

The mayor slapped the table. “Then let’s make it happen. Otherwise we’ll all be living in Jersey.”

The mayor thanked everyone, rose, and left the room. The press secretary was sitting to Joyce’s left and thanked her for her efforts. Commissioner Veltre came over to congratulate Gentry on the fine work he’d done since the crisis began.

“The fine work you’ve doneagain,” was how Veltre put it.

Doyle slipped away without a glance.

As everyone else left, Weeks came over, thanked them both, and asked them to continue as members of the team.

“There’s a lot of work we’re going to have to do over the next few hours,” the OEM director said. “We’ll have to get the ethyl chloride down here and figure out exactly where to draw the bat to, and also how loud the video game has to be relative to where the bat is.”

“You don’t want to make it so loud that the sound is distorted,” Joyce said. “Then it may not sound like what she heard. And the time factor is very important. Bats usually stop flying twelve to twenty-four hours before giving birth.”

“We’re going to move this along as fast as possible,” Weeks assured her. “What I think is that you and Detective Gentry should get some food and rest. We’ve got a cafeteria downstairs and rooms you can use. When we need you, we’ll come and get you.” He smiled. “I’ll also scare up a pair of jumpsuits. Looks like you two’ve been living in those clothes for quite a while.”

Joyce and Gentry both smiled, after which Marius Pace led them to the small, busy cafeteria. After picking up a few sandwiches and sodas, they were taken to the “crash pads” on the tenth floor-small, quiet, prison-size cubicles each with a cot, a shower, and a toilet.

Gentry made sure that Joyce was comfortable before heading to his own cubicle next door. After showering, eating, and pulling on the baggy blue jumpsuit Weeks had sent to the room, Gentry felt three things. One was pain from all the cuts and gashes the bats had inflicted. They were superficial enough that they could be washed out and seemed to disappear. But each of those little cussers stung. He also felt totally exhausted. Now that he’d stopped running, all his muscles wanted to do was nothing. They didn’t want to lift, adjust, or move in any way. They let him know that by complaining each time he shifted his shoulders, his arms, his legs, and even his fingers.

As he lay there, he forced himself to enjoy the respite, the sense of accomplishment-of survival-and he imagined he could hear Nancy’s heartbeat from the other side of the wall.

Thirty-Seven

Gentry woke at three-thirtyA.M. He wasn’t accustomed to the quiet, and it finally got to him. He left his room, warmed with the expectation of seeing Joyce’s door shut. When he saw that it was open, he tracked her down to the conference room.There were blueprints spread on the table; Joyce, Marius, and a team of OEM tacticians were collected around them and talking animatedly.

Marius spotted Gentry and motioned him in. Joyce looked up and smiled.

“I think we’ve got something, Robert,” she said enthusiastically and went back to work.

There was a coffee maker in the corner of the room, and as Gentry poured himself a cup he glanced at Nancy. She looked great in the jumpsuit, but he was more concerned that she looked exhausted.

He went and stood next to her.

“Marius, do you want to-”

“No,” Pace said. “You explain it. I’m going to check in with Gordy.” He went to the phone.

Joyce leaned on the table with one arm. With another, she pointed to diagrams of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and Upper New York Bay.

“Okay,” she said. “Here’s the deal. About two blocks from the entrance to the subway station is the Manhattan entrance to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. We’re going to use the video game to bring the bat into the tunnel-about here.”She pointed to a spot where it intersected Governors Island just over a half mile from the tip of Manhattan, a mile east of Liberty Island and Ellis Island. “The Brooklyn side of the tunnel is being sealed off with sandbags. Once the bat goes inside, plastic sheets will be rolled down from the portal on the Manhattan side and secured with sandbags on the bottom. If the bat tries to get out, the plastic will slow her down long enough for marksmen to take her out.”

“Assuming the little vespers don’t attack them,” Gentry said.

“The officers will be inside armored cars,” she said.

“A pair of Emergency Rescue Vehicles,” Pace added as he hung up the phone. “M75 armored personnel carriers.”

Gentry nodded. The police kept the tanklike ERVs in case it became necessary to extricate casualties under fire.

“And since the big bat will be stuck in one place behind the plastic,” Joyce said, “the marksmen should be able to sight her and get their shots off without the other vespers interfering. Once the big bat dies, the little bats will quiet down. Now, if the bat doesn’t try to escape, we’ll be waiting for her with ethyl chloride. It’ll be pumped through the fans in the tunnel. The drums containing the compound are already inside the vent house on Governors Island.”

Gentry knew the building. It was a five-story-tall hexagonal fortress on the 160-acre island.

“If we can hit her quick,” Joyce said, “her metabolism will drop and she’ll be dead in minutes.”

Gentry asked, “Where will you be while all this is going on?”

She jabbed a finger at the map of Governors Island. “Here. Monitoring that end on security cameras.”

He nodded again. This time he wasn’t going to blow his chance. “Mind if I come along?”

“No,” she smiled again. “I was kind of hoping you would.”

Pace triumphantly closed his cellular phone. “Gordy has given this his final thumbs-up. He’s calling the mayor’s office now, and we should have our go-ahead within fifteen minutes.” He looked at Joyce. “Then it’s all up to your little video game heroine.”