"Why not hold off on the project until we find out what she knows?"

"I'll wait, but I want to get all the pieces in place so that we can hit the ground running." Margrave turned to Doyle, who had been quietly absorbing the discussion. "What do you think about all this?"

"Hell, I'm just a dumb air jockey from Southie. I go with the flow."

Margrave winked at Barrett. "Spider and I will be busy for a while."

"I got you. I'll grab another beer and go for a walk."

After Doyle left, the two other men huddled over a computer. When they were satisfied their plan had gone as far as it could, they agreed to meet again. Doyle was puttering around the dock when the meeting broke up.

"I appreciate you changing your mind about leaving the project," Margrave said to Barrett. "We've been friends a long time."

"This goes beyond friendship," Barrett said.

They shook hands, and minutes later the plane was skimming across the bay for takeoff. Margrave watched until it became a speck in the sky, then he went back into the lighthouse. He stared out the second-floor window for a moment with a smile on his strange face. Barrett was a genius, but he was unbelievably naive when it came to politics.

Despite his assurances, Margrave had no intention of delaying the project. If ever a time existed when the end justified the means, it was now.

12

Incredible!" Barrett said with a shake of his head.

He sat in the seaplane's passenger seat, his nose buried in the portfolio Margrave had given him.

Doyle looked over. "Good stuff Tris gave you?"

"Good! This material is fantastic!"

Barrett raised his head from the papers he had been engrossed in and glanced out the window. He had paid little attention to the world outside the cockpit and expected to see the same rocky coastline they had followed on the flight to the lighthouse island. There was no sign of the Gulf of Maine. Instead, thick pine forest spread out in every direction.

"Hey, Mickey, did you have one beer too many back there?" Barrett said. "Where's the water? This isn't the way we came in. We're lost."

Doyle grinned as if he'd been caught playing a practical joke. "This is the scenic route. I wanted to show you where I go deer hunting. It will only add a few minutes to the trip. Sounds like there's good stuff in the homework Tris gave you."

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing material," Barrett said. "Tris is right. The subject is arcane, and the author generalizes a lot. And there's a difference between naturally occurring phenomena and the kind of thing we're trying to stir up. But she writes with firsthand knowledge about this so-called antidote. She sounds as if she had talked to Kovacs personally. "

"Good man. Guess that means you're sticking with the project."

"Naw." Barrett shook his head. "There's nothing here that will make me change my mind. Even if we talked to this woman, there's no telling how much she actually knows or how much is simply theoretical. This craziness can't go forward. The, only way to head off a disaster is to go public."

"What do you mean?"

"I've got a friend on the science desk at the Seattle Times. I'm calling him as soon as we land, and I'm going to lay out the whole story."

"Hey, Spider, you can't tell people the skinny on this deal," Doyle said with a vigorous shake of his head. "You sure you want to go public? You could get in one hell of a big mess."

"I'll have to take that chance."

"This will wreck Tris as well as the project. He's your partner."

"I've given it a lot of thought. It will be better for him in the long run."

"I dunno about that."

"I do. He may end up thanking me for scuttling this crazy scheme."

"Why not wait? He said he would hold off until someone talked to Kovacs's granddaughter."

"I've worked with Tris a long time. He only said that to calm me down," Barrett said with a smile. "The world has got to know what we've been hatching, and, unfortunately, I'm the one to spill the beans."

"Ah hell."

"What's wrong, Mickey? You said I was the one being gloomy."

"How long have we known each other, Spider?"

"Since our MIT days. You were working the cafeteria. How could you forget?"

"I haven't. You were the only one of those smart-assed college kids who didn't treat me like scum. You were my friend."

"You paid me back, big-time. You knew the best bars to find girls in Cambridge."

"I still do," Doyle said with a grin.

"You've done okay for yourself, Mickey. Not everyone can be a pilot."

"I'm small potatoes compared to the Man."

"Tris? I guess he is larger than life. I've always been a tinkerer. I'm like the architect who builds one house. He's like the developer who sells thousands of those houses. His vision was what made us both fortunes."

"You believe all this anarchy stuff he talks about?"

"Some of it. Things are way off balance in the world, and I'd like to shake up the Elites, but I was more interested in the scientific challenge. Now that's turned to crap, and I have to set things straight."

"And I'm telling you, like a friend, that's not a good idea."

"I appreciate that friendship, but I have to say I'm sorry."

Doyle paused a moment before answering, then said, "I'm sorry too," with sadness in his voice.

With the matter apparently settled, Barrett went back to the portfolio, occasionally glancing out the cockpit window. They were flying over dense forest when Doyle cocked his ear. "Whoops! What's that?"

Barrett looked up from his reading. "I don't hear anything except the engine."

"Something's not right," Doyle said with a frown on his face. The plane dipped several feet. "Damn, we're losing power. Hold on. I'm gonna have to set her down."

"Set her down?" Barrett said with alarm. He craned his neck, looking at the thick woods below. "Where?"

"I used to know the countryside pretty well, but it's been a while since I hunted up in these parts. I think there's a lake not far from here."

The plane lost more altitude.

"I see something," Barrett said, pointing at a flash of reflected sunlight.

Doyle gave Barrett the thumbs-up sign and steered toward the patch of blue water. The aircraft descended rapidly at an oblique angle that looked as if it would end in the tall pines. At the last second, Doyle pulled the plane up, skimming the treetops before making a pancake landing on the lake.

The plane coasted on its momentum toward shore and scraped up onto a narrow beach. Doyle was laughing. "That was a hell of a ride. You okay?"

"My ass is up around my ears, but other than that I'm fine."

"Getting in was easy," Doyle said, glancing at the surrounding woods. "Getting out will be the hard part."

Barrett pointed at the radio. "Shouldn't we be calling for help?"

"In a minute. I want to check for damage." He climbed out onto the pontoon and stepped onto the beach. He stooped a couple of times to look under the fuselage. "Hey, Spider, take a look at this."

Barrett got out of the plane. "What's up?"

"Here, under the fuselage. It's amazing."