The girl and her mother had been among the casualties.

I shuddered with the memory and forced her face from my mind... and cursed once more the unfeeling idiot who'd taken his inspiration from that and similar incidents to hang the name Banshee on us.

A motion off to the side by one of the RF generator cabinets caught my eye; Griff, doing a walkthrough of the equipment. He saw me as I started toward him and changed course to meet me. "So... how did it go up there with the others?" he murmured.

"Not exactly your TV-style homecoming," I retorted softly. There was no reason for anyone to whisper while a Jump was in progress, but people invariably did so anyway. "I wish you'd told me Rennie was going to be here. And maybe prepared me a little for the sour apples from everyone else."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Adam; really I am. If it'd been up to me, you wouldn't be here at all—that despite the fact you're still the best Jumper we ever had. But Schaeffer insisted we bring both you and Rennie back."

"Did you point out to him that three Jumpers are perfectly adequate to handle the half-dozen or so Jumps it'll take to figure out what happened?"

"I tried, but he wouldn't budge." Griff scratched his ear thoughtfully. "What makes it even stranger is that he seemed to know an awful lot about us—must've actually been keeping up with the reports we've filed into the bureaucratic black hole back in Washington."

"Very flattering. Doesn't explain why he's out here being underfoot instead of directing things from the White House, though."

"No, it doesn't," Griff agreed. "Maybe he thinks he can help. Or else needs to at least feel like he's helping."

"If he wants to help, he'd do better to be in Washington helping brief Vice President McCallum on his new office."

Griff shrugged fractionally. "From what I've read, Shaeffer and Jeffers go back a long way together, since Jeffers's first stint as mayor in Phoenix. There are other people available to brief McCallum; I get the feeling Shaeffer's more out for vengeance."

I shivered. "In other words, we'd better get him the cause of the crash in double-quick time, or else?"

"We can hope he's more sensible than that. But there's a strong tendency in people to look for scapegoats when things go wrong."

I thought back to the other Jumpers upstairs. "Yeah. Well... we'll just have to see to it that we do our job fast and get out from in front of the gunsights."

My last word was punctuated by the snap of circuit breakers shunting the end-point power surge to ground. Across the room, Morgan's body threw itself suddenly against the couch's restraints. A moment later his eyes opened a crack and he burped loudly.

We were at his side by the time the operators had the straps off. "What'd you get?" Griff asked, helping him up into a sitting position.

"It was the right inboard engine, aw right," Morgan nodded tiredly, massaging the sides of his neck. "Smoke trail out o' it just 'fore it caught fire and blew to shreds."

"Did you get inside the wing and see where the fire started?" Griff asked.

"Sorry—didn't have time. I was too busy backtrackin' the line o' smoke." His eyes met mine and I braced myself for a repeat of the confrontation upstairs. But he merely nodded in greeting and shifted his attention back to Griff. "I've seen a lot o' engine-fire plumes, Griff—this'un didn't look right at all."

Griff swore under his breath. "Shaeffer thought it might be something like this. Okay; come on upstairs and we'll take a look at the blueprints."

Morgan nodded and swung his feet over the side of the couch. "Dr. Mansfield," one of the operators called, "you want us to get ready to cycle again right away?"

"Yes," Griff answered, taking Morgan's arm. "Hale will be down immediately for prepping. We'll be Jumping again as soon as you and he are ready."

"Why the break-neck rush?" I asked Griff as he helped Morgan navigate away from the couch. "It's—what, after six already?"

"Shaeffer's in a hurry," Griff said tightly. "For now, that's all the reason any of us need. Give me a hand, here, will you?"

—

Morgan's report was strong evidence; but it took two more hours and a Jump by Hale before Shaeffer was willing to come to the official conclusion all of us had guessed at.

President Jeffers's plane had been sabotaged.

"Something in the engine or fuel line," Shaeffer growled, tapping his clenched fist on the blueprints of the VC-25A's right wing. "Something that could start a fire despite the flame retardants in the fuel."

"Implies a pretty drastic breach of security," Rennie murmured.

Shaeffer threw him a hard look but kept his temper in check. "I would think so, yes. Finding out just how the bomb was introduced should show where and how big that hole is. Dr. Mansfield, I want another Jump tonight. How soon before the equipment can be ready?"

"Half an hour at the least," Griff told him, glancing at his watch. "But I'd like to point out that it's already coming up on eight o'clock and the Jumpers will need both a good night's sleep and some wind-down time before that."

"They'll get all the rest they need," Shaeffer said shortly. "Allow me to point out that you've still got three Jumpers you haven't even used yet."

I looked over at Kristen, saw her mouth twist sourly. Being treated like merchandise or pack animals had always been especially annoying to her. She caught me watching her, looked quickly away.

"Well... I suppose we could go ahead," Griff said slowly, looking around the table at the rest of us. "Late-night Jumps can be rougher than usual, though—biological rhythms and all, you understand—"

"We're up against a time crunch here, Doctor," Shaeffer snapped. "How many times am I going to have to repeat that?"

"Yes, but we've got three da—"

"I'm not talking about the damn three-day limit—" Shaeffer broke off abruptly, and for a second a strange look flicked across his face. "We're dealing with the media here, Doctor," he continued in a more controlled tone. "The American people want some answers, and I intend to get those answers for them. So. Who's next?"

Griff grimaced and turned to Kristin; moving my head, I managed to catch his eye. "I can take it, Griff," I said. "Evening Jumps never bothered me much." It wasn't quite true, but it was close enough.

Griffs lip twitched, but he nodded. "Yes... all right, fine. If that's all, then, Mr. Shaeffer...?"

Shaeffer nodded, and the group began to break up. I got out fast and headed toward the elevator; but even so, Morgan managed to catch up with me before I reached it. "Left my jacket downstairs after my Jump," he commented. "Mind if I tag along down with you?"

"No, of course not," I said as he fell into step beside me. "How bad is it?"

"The crash?" He shrugged, a nervous twitch of shoulders beneath his shirt. "Not too bad, leastwise not as long as you're up in the air. Not goin' be much fun at ground level."

"They never are."

"No."

We'd reached the elevator before he spoke again. "So... how you been doin'? We ain't heard much from you since you left."

"Judging by my reception earlier, it's just as well," I told him, hearing an unaccustomed trace of bitterness in my voice.

He nodded heavily. "I talked to Kristin after my Jump. You know, she was kinda hurt the way you just upped and left."

"I didn't just 'up and leave'—"

"You know what I mean. Woulda helped, you know, if you'd told us why you were quittin'."

I looked at him sharply. Had he figured it out? "I had my reasons," I said.

"I reckon you did. But Kristin and Hale don't take a lot on faith. S'pose it's a little late to worry 'bout now. So what do you think of this mess?"

"What's there to think about it?" I replied grimly. The elevator arrived and we got in. "Like you say, it's a mess."