Rakkim raised himself up and stared at the gray graphite canister resting along the shoreline, “72/106” stenciled on the side. He was looking at both the past and the future, and it gave him no pleasure. None at all.

Chapter 41

Rakkim hit the front door with his shoulder and carried Moseby inside.

The Colonel and Leo followed him in, the Colonel hefting the graphite cylinder. A dozen guards took up positions outside the Colonel’s house, squinting in the midafternoon sun.

Rakkim gently laid Moseby onto the sofa. Worked the dry suit off him, Moseby shivering uncontrollably, eyes fluttering and unresponsive, his lips blue. Water dripped off his short hair, beaded along his chest-diving that far underground had increased the pressure exponentially, far beyond the limits of the suit, allowing the frigid waters of the lake to seep in.

The Colonel put the canister on the floor, Leo elbowing him aside to get at it. The canister was smaller than Rakkim thought it would be, maybe four feet long, and twice the diameter of Moseby’s oxygen tank. Sixty, seventy pounds tops.

Rakkim rubbed Moseby’s bare arms, his legs, the skin cold and rubbery-he cursed the man for his stubbornness and bravado. There was a deep tear along the back of the suit where he had brushed up against something sharp. Moseby had to have known the suit was compromised, yet he had stayed down in the icy depths, feeling the numbness spread until he could barely breathe. It must have been the Colonel’s decision to split his troops that had forced Moseby to continue-he had realized the danger they were in and gone after the canister without waiting for Rakkim.

“Go on about your business,” said Baby, bustling in with fresh thermal blankets, ignoring Moseby’s nakedness. “Shoo, Rikki.” She slipped heat socks onto Moseby’s feet, patted his bare thigh before covering him with a thermal blanket. “I’ve got water boiling for tea,” she said to Moseby, as though he could hear. “You’re going to be just fine, John.”

Moseby jerked, teeth chattering.

“I’ve seen Baby just about raise the dead, boys,” said the Colonel.

There was nothing Rakkim could do for Moseby. He turned away, watched as Leo studied the canister, wincing as the kid tapped it with his knuckle.

“That thing’s safe to have here, isn’t it?” The Colonel rested his hands on his hips. “Got to say it looks kind of disappointing after all the trouble we went through to find it.”

“It’s not the package, it’s the toy inside that counts.” Leo pressed his fingertips against a small panel at the end of the cylinder, eyes closed, intent as a safecracker.

“What’s he up to now?” said the Colonel.

“No idea.” Rakkim lied. Leo said he could directly access computers using the natural conductivity of his skin, plus those genetic maximizers…an epidural interface, he had called it, which sounded like something Sarah had gotten when Michael was born. He smiled at the memory. The first time he held Michael, he’d started crying. Sarah had laughed, exhausted, said if he felt that way, they could always trade Michael in for a baby more to his liking.

The Colonel walked over to the sofa, watched as Baby slid heat packs under Moseby’s covers.

Baby looked up at him. Her hair curled around her face, her expression as angry as it was tender. “I hope whatever you boys got there is worth practically killing this poor man.” She placed her slim white hand on Moseby’s forehead.

The Colonel touched the communicator on his earlobe. “Son of a bitch.” He started pacing. “Tell the men to get ready because we’re sure as shit going to get hit tonight. Any updates from the scouts?” He checked his ivory-handled pistols, slid them back into their holsters. “Send out another team and then set the perimeter for maximum sensitivity, thermal as well as motion detection. I don’t care if we get false readings, I’d rather be wrong than surprised.” He turned off the earpiece with another touch.

“I’m armed and dangerous, sweetie, so you go do what you have to,” said Baby, still smoothing Moseby’s hair. The top two buttons of her blouse had come undone and Rakkim could see a tiny birthmark between her breasts. She looked up and caught him staring. It didn’t seem to bother her.

“You should go to the bunker, Baby,” said the Colonel.

“What kind of Christian would I be if I did that? God hates a coward. You scoot now.”

“What’s happening?” Rakkim asked the Colonel.

“I hoped Alpha Company might get back before morning, but the bridge over the Hatchie was dynamited a few hours ago. Next crossing is forty miles of bad road in the wrong direction, so no reinforcements until tomorrow. Looks like we’re on our own.” The Colonel’s expression turned wistful. “Wish that Moseby had found that canister a few days sooner. Lord knows what’s inside that thing-I’ve heard stories about black-ice projects on impenetrable force fields and sound waves that throw men into a panic. Be nice to have something like that right about now.” He straightened his shoulders. “Guess we’ll have to kick ass the old-fashioned way.”

“Old-fashioned works just fine for me,” Baby said softly.

The Colonel kissed her. He glanced at Leo bent over the canister and shook his head. The door closed after him.

Through the window, Rakkim saw the Colonel give orders to the guards outside. He got down beside Leo. “Can I help?”

“Yeah, try not making me laugh with dumb questions,” said Leo, eyes half closed. “It’s distracting.”

Rakkim stayed on the floor, watching Baby hold Moseby’s hand. He touched his own ear link. The Colonel’s officers used a dedicated frequency, but their links had lousy security filters compared to the Swiss link he had.

“…this is Tiger Six, I want your men dug in along the west ridge,” said the Colonel, “and tell the miners to soldier up. We’re going to need every one of them.”

“Affirmative.”

“Scout team D missed their check-in…”

Rakkim drifted along on the com links, heard nervousness among the buzzing voices. Nothing worse for a soldier than being hunkered down, waiting to be attacked. No idea where the assault would be launched, or how many of the enemy there were. The young ones pretended to be tough, cursing and watching their comrades out of the corner of their eye, looking for a reflection of their own fear. Old warriors dozed before a coming battle, or took a last, comfortable crap.

“There we go,” said Leo, grinning, eyes wide. His fingers danced over the buttons on the end of the canister, and there was a hissing sound as if pressure was being released. He unscrewed the top as easy as if it were a pop bottle.

Rakkim leaned in closer.

Leo reached into the cylinder, pulled out a clear, insulated pack filled with computer cores. He set them carefully down, reached farther in. Finally tipped the cylinder so that a long, rectangular box slid onto the floor with a thunk. Dinged the wood floor, it was so heavy. The box was sealed with lead and stenciled with various official Defense Department seals and the same number marked on the outside of the canister: 72/106. Leo looked at the box and went back to the computer cores.

“That’s it?” said Baby.

Leo opened the insulated pack, gently pulled out the first computer core. He placed his fingers on the download inputs and closed his eyes. He breathed heavily now, laboring at something. His eyes darted back and forth under his closed lids.

“Leo?” said Rakkim.

Leo sat frozen, head twisted at an odd angle, barely breathing now.

“Something wrong with him?” said Baby. “Looks like he’s thrown a fit.”

“He’s just…thinking,” said Rakkim.

“How long is he going to sit there thinking?” said Baby.

Rakkim shook his head.

“I can’t tell if he’s smart or slow,” said Baby. “Seems to me if the Russians want to pay billions of dollars for that weapon thing, they could have hired somebody who does more than sit there and drool.”