Behind the radio dishes, there’s a stretch of ground nobody ever sees, Halloway thought.

He lowered Gordon and started to drag him in that direction. But then he cursed himself for being stupid.

Use the damned truck.

The flatbed truck was always parked next to the dish that was tilted horizontally. The ignition key was always in the truck. Protected by three fences-one of which was constructed of razor wire, another of which was electrified-the truck was hardly in danger of being stolen.

He ran through the fierce sunlight toward the truck and felt his breathing become more difficult.

The array of observatory dishes loomed over him, the metal beams that supported them resembling legs. Brilliantly white, each dish was fifty feet tall. They stretched in a line a half mile long, and as Halloway hurried past them, they made him feel dwarfed.

Insignificant.

Threatened…

Sweat soaked his shirt by the time he reached the truck. He scram- bled up into the cab, and sure enough, the ignition key was there. He turned it, but the engine chugged with effort.

The battery’s almost dead!

He released the key and twisted it again. The engine labored more slowly.

Come on! Come on!

Abruptly the engine roared to life. With a muttered cry of victory, he put it in gear and steered the truck in a half circle. Leaving a cloud of exhaust smoke, he lumbered toward the concrete-block shed. He jumped out, lifted Gordon, and felt his heart pound from the effort of dumping the corpse onto the back of the truck.

Now I’ve got a system. The others shouldn’t be this hard. Need to rush. Need to finish before the music starts.

A further consideration made him frown.

Or before the colonel decides to make a surprise inspection.

Halloway checked his watch again and gaped. The time was now almost twenty to 6. Forty minutes had sped by when he’d have sworn that only twenty minutes had passed. He pressed the numbers on the security pad, opened the heavy metal door, and reached for the interior door.

Need to collect the M4s and all the ammunition I can find. Need to get grenades for the launchers. This place is designed to withstand a major assault. If the colonel shows up and tries to break in, he’ll wish to God he’d let me alone.

All I want is to listen to the music.

As he charged down the metal stairs, again gagging from the stench, he realized that he’d need to bury the bodies instead of just dumping them. Otherwise the vultures might swarm toward the corpses and draw attention. He needed to be extra certain that the colonel wouldn’t have any suspicion of what had happened here.

The backhoe, Earl remembered. They left it when they dug a trench to add new fencing. I’ll use it to dig the hole. Perfect. Everything’s going to work out.

48

“Sir? If you’re still on the line, you’re not coming through. The sys- tem must be failing again.”

“Bring Gordon to the phone, Sergeant!”

“Sir? Sir?”

The line went dead.

Scowling, Raleigh set down the telephone. During the call, Halloway’s voice had been so muffled that Raleigh had taken the risk of removing the shooter’s earplug from his right ear, then pressing the phone harder against it.

Now he reinserted the plug.

In the monitoring station beneath the abandoned airbase, he watched his team take their positions in front of the new equipment they’d installed. Banks of electronic instruments blinked and glowed- old components connected to new. On some of the computer screens, he saw the chaotic visual equivalent of the static to which some of the audio receivers were tuned.

Cameras hidden among the collapsed hangars aboveground relayed magnified images of the activity in the surrounding area. Where the observation platform stood, he saw a crane setting the final concrete barrier in place as a frustrated crowd increased in size and Highway Patrol officers watched for trouble.

Reminds me of parts of Iraq, where only the walls kept the Sunnis and the Shiites from killing each other, Raleigh thought.

On another television monitor, he saw the dog trainer and the German shepherd patrolling the fence nearest the viewing area lest any of the crowd try to get around the barricade by climbing onto the airbase property and attempting to see the lights from there. A few civilians did pass nearby, but the dog looked so fierce that no one seemed inclined to take that course of action.

Raleigh was reminded of the orders he’d given to Lockhart the previous night when the German shepherd and the trainer had come in from the thunderstorm. If the dog acts strangely in any way, no matter how slight… shoot it.

The thunderstorm.

Does Halloway honestly expect me to believe that an electrical storm could have knocked out communications at the observatory? This is the fucking NSA, not the phone company.

“Sir? Are you there, sir? I can’t hear you. The system must be failing again.”

Bullshit, Raleigh thought in disgust.

Apprehension grew in him. Maybe it’s starting there instead of here.

“Sergeant,” he said crisply.

“Yes, sir.” Lockhart’s voice was muffled by Raleigh’s earplugs.

“Come with me.”

They left the team in front of the monitoring equipment and stepped through a door into the subterranean chamber where the two Suburbans were parked. Although the time was late afternoon, the harsh overhead lights made the facility feel as if it were perpetually 3 A.M.

Raleigh glanced at the cameras that had been installed on an up- per wall of each side of the chamber. Similar cameras were positioned in the monitoring room and everywhere else in the facility. Everything that happened here was now being recorded.

This time there won’t be any unanswered questions, Raleigh thought. Lord knows there were plenty the last time.

“Sergeant, put an M4 in a rucksack, along with plenty of ammunition.”

“You’re expecting trouble, sir?”

“As I recall, you enjoy motorcycles.”

“I do, sir. I used to race them when I was a kid.”

“When you arrived, perhaps you noticed the Harley-Davidson in the far corner.”

“I did, sir.”

“It’s kept here for emergency transportation. In perfect working order, on a storage rack so its tires don’t rest on the concrete and disintegrate. You’ll need to make sure they’re properly inflated and check the battery. There’s a fuel can behind it. The crowd up there will notice if you drive one of the Suburbans out of here. But if you walk the Harley to the gate and don’t start it until you’re on the road, there’s a good chance you can leave without attracting attention.”

“Where do you want me to go, sir?”

Raleigh told him.

Lockhart frowned.

“It’s probably nothing,” Raleigh said. “But drive over to the observatory and find out for sure. Here’s the key to the gate. Use this two- way radio. When you get to the observatory, tell me everything you’re doing. Step by step.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“A Black Hawk’s scheduled to arrive soon with more equipment. If there’s trouble, the men aboard the chopper can be called upon to help.”

“Good to know, sir.” Lockhart saluted and headed past the Suburbans toward the motorcycle.

As Raleigh watched him, he made a mental note to select someone else on the team to shoot the German shepherd if the dog acted strangely in even the slightest way.

His attention was drawn to the stain on the wall he’d noticed earlier, the faint red of which looked like long-ago faded rust but wasn’t.