Louis got to his feet carefully.

"Find some rope and tie him up."

"Where the hell am I going to find rope, for chrissakes?"

"You got six men tied up in the bathroom. Untie one of them."

"But..."

"Do it, damn it. Now!" Cohen froze at the knock on the door. Before he could open it, Mack Bolan pushed through, trailing a cloud of whirling snow. "It's cold out there," he said.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Cohen said. "Give me a hand here. Mr. Glinkov wants to see me."

"Good." Mack Bolan smiled grimly. "I want to see him, too."

24

The main control room was strangely silent.

Andrey Glinkov sat quietly in a chair in front of the control board. The captured engineer sat beside him. Both men were watching the array of dials and gauges. Two guards were the only others present. One of them stood behind the two seated men.

The other lounged on the floor just outside the entrance to the room. Every few minutes he'd stand and peer through the thick glass to check on the huddled hostages.

"Shouldn't the temperature be rising more quickly?" Glinkov asked.

The engineer nodded. "There's another way to do it. You can vent the hot water out into the tunnels under the plant. It'll drain off more quickly."

"Why don't we do that then?" Glinkov asked. His voice was controlled, almost polite.

"Because the runoff will flow into the Hudson River. That's where the tunnels lead."

"So? Surely you know by now I am not just playing some elaborate game here."

"Yes. I know."

"Well, then? How do we do that?"

The engineer said nothing. He stared at his hands, watching his fingers twist as if controlled by someone else.

"Mr. Robbins, I don't have all night. I am certain that you are not the only one who knows the answer. Am I right?"

Robbins nodded. "You're right," he mumbled.

"And you haven't forgotten what happened to Mr. Anderson, have you?"

"No, you bastard. I haven't forgotten that."

"Well, then. What happened to Mr. Anderson induced you to cooperate. I imagine that one of your more knowledgeable colleagues can be similarly induced. Don't you agree?"

Robbins was in a bind, and he knew it. The man seated beside him wouldn't hesitate to kill him. He probably planned to kill them all, anyway.

On the other hand, if he could stay alive, he just might be able to throw a monkey wrench or two into the works.

The thought of millions of gallons of radioactive water spilling into the Hudson was appalling. The radioactive level of that water, even when diluted by the Hudson, would kill everything it came in contact with. The effects would last for decades. He had no choice. But maybe he could fool his captor. It was worth a try.

"All right," Robbins said. "The control valve for the sluiceways is over here." He indicated a large red button switch on the main control board.

"And what happens when I push it?"

"The hot water drains in the tunnels. It clears out the containment tower."

"Very good. Do you want to push the button? Or shall I?"

"You do it. I told you where it is, but I'll be damned if I'll push it."

"As you wish. Which dial do I watch to determine the progress?"

"Up there, high on the board. That red bulb. When the valve is open, the bulb blinks."

Glinkov depressed the red button with a flourish. He turned a radiant, sardonic smile on Robbins. Gesturing to the guard behind him, he said, "I don't believe we need any more from Mr. Robbins at the moment. I'll call him when it's time to pull the control rods. You can permit him to rejoin his colleagues."

The guard stepped forward, taking Robbins by the arm. The engineer stood reluctantly. If he appeared too eager, Glinkov might suspect something. The guard tugged his arm, and he moved toward the secondary control room. The sentry rose and opened the door. Robbins was shoved roughly inside by his escort. The door slammed shut behind him.

He stumbled over the feet of another hostage and fell to the floor. The other hostages looked at him questioningly. He shook his head to clear it and crawled to a sitting position. So far, so good. He hadn't told Glinkov about the evacuation pump or the second valve. Without using the pump, the water would take hours to drain. And unless the second valve was opened, the water would simply fill the tunnels, slowly draining out of the reactor vessel under the influence of gravity. It couldn't reach the Hudson. It seemed like a small thing, but it was all he could hope for. It was their only chance to reverse the madness.

"What's going on out there?" someone whispered.

"They're draining the reactor vessel," Robbins answered. He continued to face front. He tried not to move his lips as he spoke.

"Why? What are they trying to do?"

"I don't know. And I don't want to guess. The more important question is what are they going to do with us?"

"They'll let us go, won't they?"

Another hostage joined the discussion. "I mean, once they get what they came for, there'll be no reason to keep us here."

"Don't count on it. As near as I can figure, they want this to look like an accident. They can't very well leave us around to say it wasn't, can they? I figure they plan to kill us all and leave this place so hot nobody will get in to learn the truth for years."

"Are you crazy?"

"I'm not, no. But I'm not so sure about him."

"Who the hell is he? Where did he come from?"

"I can only guess. But I'll tell you one thing. The next time that door opens, if I get the chance, I'm going to try to get a gun. If we can do that, we can hold them off in here."

"For how long?"

"How long do we have without it?" Robbins asked.

The others said nothing.

Glinkov watched the temperature gauge for the Unit 1 reactor. It was slowly rising, the needle quivering in place and jumping upward from time to time. In the distance an alarm bell rang continually. It had started as soon as the ventilation valve had opened. The red bulb high up on the control board blinked hypnotically.

Glinkov stared at it. Things were proceeding smoothly. More smoothly than he had hoped. In a little more than an hour, he would be on the helicopter Achison was bringing in. The others had served him well but, of course, they would remain behind.

Permanently. There was still one thing needed for an unqualified success, however. Mack Bolan had to be eliminated. Where was he? As long as the Peres woman remained alive, he was certain to make an attempt to free her. He should have been here already.

Well, there was still time. For Malcolm Parsons, however, time had run out. He was excess baggage at this point. Glinkov waved to the guard behind him.

"I have something I would like you to take care of."

"Sir?"

"Mr. Parsons is no longer essential to our plans here. Dispose of him, won't you?"

"Yes, sir," the guard said without questioning his leader's order. "Where is he?"

"He's on Level 4. In an office at the end of the corridor. One of the men down there can show you to him."

The guard hefted his Kalashnikov and grinned.

"I'll be right back." He crossed the wide floor to the control room exit and walked quickly toward the elevator bank. It was going to be a pleasure. Parsons was an egotistical windbag.

The elevator came slowly, opened with a sigh and closed behind him. When it reached the bowels of the plant, it opened on a dim corridor. The guard moved swiftly, his step almost jaunty. As he neared the end of the long passage, he saw two team members standing guard, one outside of each door.

"Where's Parsons?"

The guard gestured with his head. "In here."

He pushed through the door. Parsons was seated behind a desk, writing busily. He didn't look up when the man entered. The newcomer crossed the office floor and plopped down in a chair alongside the desk. "You writing another one of your bullshit speeches?"