He turned smartly and left the room, closing the door with a dull clang. Leaning against the door, he lit a cigarette. The killer marked time, glancing at his watch as smoke from his cigarette curled silently toward the overhead ventilation fans. When his deadline arrived, he ground the butt underfoot and reopened the door.

"You ready?" he asked.

Two men were standing beside the door; the others were still seated. They stepped forward.

"That's more like it. Come on." He gestured with the Kalashnikov, and the two men preceded him through the door. When it closed again, he said, "I hated to do that, you know. But it's like the old joke about a mule. First you have to get his attention." He led the men toward the office where Glinkov was waiting.

Waving them in, he closed the office door and leaned against it. He nodded to Glinkov, who smiled.

"Gentlemen," the Russian began, "I'm not an engineer, but I have some acquaintance with nuclear energy. I want you clearly to understand that, because we don't have much time. I have much to do and little patience. I want you to cooperate and to answer my questions clearly and quickly. Are you prepared to do that?"

Both men nodded reluctantly. Neither looked at the other.

"Very well then, shall we begin?" He rose and led them back into the control room. Sitting in one of the console chairs, he patted the other. "One of you sit here."

When the hostage was seated, Glinkov continued.

"What I want to do is quite simple really. You can direct me or you can instruct me. Either will suffice."

"What is it you want to do?" the seated man inquired.

"First, I want to override the automatic controls. I want this reactor on manual operation. Then, I want to drain the reactor coolant and make sure the flow of additional coolant is shut down. Finally, I want to withdraw the control rods from the reactor. That's all."

"But you can't do that. It, I mean the reactor will..."

"I know very well what will happen to the reactor. And that is precisely why I am here. Now, shall we get on with it?"

The man was shocked.

"So, how do we override?"

The sight of Steven's Kalashnikov was the man needed to encourage him to talk.

"Push the red button there, next to the computer keyboard."

"That's all?"

The man hesitated.

"I said, is that all?"

"Yes, that's all, but..."

Glinkov interrupted him. "Thank you. Now, which controls open the drainage valves?"

"The blue handles here. Push them up to open, pull them back to close." He looked nervously at his colleague.

"Very well. And which gauges monitor the coolant level and temperature?"

"Up there on the board. That bank in the yellow rectangle marked Number I tells you everything you need to know about the reactor's pressure vessel. The other gauges under Number I are all secondary functions."

"Thank you. So, if I do this," Glinkov asked, drawing the pair of blue handles toward him, "we will begin to drain off the coolant? Is that correct?"

The engineer nodded. Clearing his throat, he said, "Yes, that's correct." His voice was hoarse.

"I'm sorry you feel compelled to lie to me, Mr..." he glanced at the engineer's identification badge "...Anderson. Now, I told you I wanted cooperation. And you are refusing to cooperate." Glinkov stood. "Steven, Mr. Anderson is of no further use to us. Take him back to the others, would you please."

Steven prodded the man in the back with his rifle.

Anderson got to his feet. Steven poked him again with the rifle, more deliberately this time, and the man stumbled back toward the backup control room.

Glinkov read the second engineer's badge and gestured to the empty seat. "Sit down, Mr. Robbins. Would you like a cigarette?"

Robbins nodded, and Glinkov withdrew a pack of Marlboros from his jacket. Taking a cigarette for himself, he extended the pack to Robbins. When each of them had a cigarette, Glinkov replaced the pack and took out his lighter. Lighting his own first, he leaned forward to light Robbins's and said, "We can resume as soon as Steven returns." He smiled, exhaling a narrow plume of smoke.

Robbins steeled himself against what he knew was coming.

Still, at the burst of gunfire, he could feel a trickle of urine run down his leg. A moment later and Steven returned.

"All set?" he asked.

Glinkov nodded. "I think Mr. Robbins understands his responsibilities in this situation. The controls are color coordinated, are they not, Mr. Robbins?"

"Yes."

"A pity your friend Mr. Anderson thought I would overlook something so obvious. I can understand his reluctance to cooperate. But he shouldn't have taken me for a fool. You won't do that, will you, Mr. Robbins?" When Robbins shook his head, Glinkov smiled. "I should certainly hope not. I wouldn't want to have to do this all by myself. So, when I pull the yellow handles back, I begin to drain the coolant from Reactor 1. Correct? Good. Next, I want to shut off the flow of emergency coolant. No point in draining it away just to put more in now, is there?" Glinkov watched the temperature gauge as he followed the engineer's instructions. Soon, he knew, the needle would begin to climb. They were on their way.

21

"I don't have much time," Cohen said as the Jeep bounced along the trail that wound through the sparse trees. "We have to get the other two patrols and get me back to the plant."

"I'm not sure I understand what's going on here," Bolan said.

"I'll explain later." Cohen smiled. "Right now all I care about is getting my sister out of there."

"Your sister? You don't mean?.."

"Yeah. I do."

So that explained it. Sort of. Rachel and Cohen were sister and brother. The Jeep was angling toward the fence. Bolan was watching for another spot where the trees closed to within a few yards of it. The going was rough. Cohen was driving without lights. He was trying to keep the engine noise down as well.

To their left, they could see the eerie outline of the plant through the trees.

"That looks like a good spot up ahead." Bolan pointed to a group of conifers about a hundred yards in front of them. The gap was wider than the last one, but they'd have to chance it.

"No good." Cohen shook his head. "There's a surveillance camera close by. We took one out getting in here. If another one goes down, somebody might notice."

"Suppose I just cripple the sweep mechanism. They're not as likely to realize it isn't moving."

"I guess we can chance it," Cohen said. "We'll have to hurry, though. The next patrol will be here any minute. There's another Ingram in the back. That AK-47 makes too much noise. You might as well chuck it."

Bolan reached into the back seat for the SMG. Its sound suppressor was already in place. There were some ammo clips as well. He grabbed two and stuffed them into the pockets of his coat.

Cohen killed the engine, and the two men sprinted toward the fence. Cohen dropped to his belly and wormed his way forward. Bolan did the same.

"There. See it?" Cohen pointed to a small projection on the top of the fence. It was nearly fifty yards past the spot they had chosen for their attack. "Think you can get it?"

"Watch me," Bolan said grimly. "I'm not ready for a TV career." Bolan waited to catch the dull flash of the camera lens, which meant it was pointing directly at him. When it came, he counted to ten and then sprinted for the fence.

Positioning himself at the base of the wire under the sweep area of the small camera, he studied the mechanical mount. A small servomotor was housed in the base. The sweep rate was slow. The servo emitted the barest of hums.

The camera was high above him. Getting to it without being seen was going to be tough. The lens was slowly panning back and forth. A small coaxial cable ran out of the camera's body and down the post into the ground. But there was another, smaller wire. It didn't run into the camera at all. It fed directly into the servo mount. The motor was on a separate line. He could cut the line without taking out the camera. It would freeze, but it would still work.