He shook his head and his eyes grew wide as he recalled the moment the explosives were set off: “But I’ll tell you, Muck, when that first charge went off-whew, I nearly peed my pants. The second blast, when BERP set off the explosives, was even worse. The third blast-well, I thought I was going to die, plain and simple. That deck rolled up under me like a big carpeted steel bubble. When they say thrown around like a rag doll, boy, I know what they mean by that now!”

“But you weren’t scared? You sat in that fuselage with a hundred and fifty pounds of TNT under you, enough to bring down a large building, and you weren’t afraid?”

“I know it sounds like BS, Muck-but no, I wasn’t afraid,” Jon said. “I pressed that button with no problem whatsoever. And you know what?”

“You’d do it again,” Patrick interjected. “You’d do it a hundred times again. You’d sit right on a case of TNT to prove that your technology worked. You felt so strongly about yourself and what you had made that you were ready to risk your neck to prove it.”

“Right on. You understand. That’s a relief-man, I was beginning to think I was crazy. If you would have told me how stupid I was for doing what I did, I’d be hurt.”

“Jon, you were stupid,” Patrick said. “But sometimes we know we have to do something dangerous like that to prove a point. It only seems stupid to others.”

Masters nodded, glad to hear those words from Patrick. But there was obviously something more. “What is it, Muck?” he asked. “Why are you asking? Why are we talking about this?”

Patrick hesitated, then shook his head. “Just some stupid ideas I have of my own,” he said. “It’s nuts.”

“Nuts? You? Hardly. You’re the most level-headed, intelligent, calculating, no-nonsense, pragmatic guy I’ve ever known. What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing. Forget about it.”

Jon decided to drop it. “When I spoke with Hal Briggs and Chris Wohl when they came by after the demo,” he said, “they said ISA is very interested in some of the BERP applications you’ve been drawing up-the Ultimate Soldier ideas. They want to see a demonstration as soon as possible. I’ve spoken to the board, and they approved a development-funding package. You’ve got your green light.”

“Great!” Patrick exclaimed. “It’ll probably mean BERP goes black, Jon. I know we had other ideas for BERP, much more altruistic ones…”

“Hal convinced me there’s plenty of time to deploy BERP in the civil markets,” Jon said. “But the money he’s talking about was too difficult to ignore.”

“But BERP going black will create a security nightmare since we’ve already demoed the process for the airlines and the FAA,” Patrick pointed out.

“Hal promised help there too,” Jon responded. “His team has got to lay low because of what they did getting the EB-52 Megafortress out of Guam-beating up on those Navy security guys apparently ruffled a lot of feathers. Hal figured having Madcap Magician provide security for us while we put together an Ultimate Soldier prototype will work out well for everyone concerned-we get top-quality security, and they hang out in an out-of-the-way place until the heat blows over.”

“Great,” Patrick said, finding himself enthusiastic for the first time in several days. “I can get started right away, while I help Wendy with the baby and watch over Paul as he recuperates. I might need a little more personal time, but I don’t think I’ll need paternity leave…”

“Take all the time you need, Patrick. Hell, after all that’s happened lately, I’d approve a year’s leave if you asked for it.”

“I don’t need that much-only some leeway if I think Wendy, Paul, or Bradley needs me,” Patrick said. “But thank you. It means a lot. We might consider moving the program office to McClellan Air Force Base or to our facility at Mather…”

“Way ahead of you, Patrick,” Masters said. “I’ve already got that approved. We take over the old alert facility at Mather this week. The Ultimate Soldier program office will be set up there, with full security.” Then he hesitated. He could see that Patrick’s mind was elsewhere again, some kind of scenario or plan being developed, analyzed, changed, and tested in his head at warp speed. “You’re going to start something, aren’t you, Patrick? You’re going to go out looking for some ass to kick.”

Patrick looked at Jon with his cold steel-blue eyes and said, “I want to destroy those bastards who killed those cops and hurt Paul, Jon. I don’t want to arrest them or defeat them or punish them. I want to annihilate them. I know we have the weapons and the technology to crush them, and I want to do it. Tomorrow. Right now.”

Jon felt as if Patrick had been screaming at him, although his voice had been no more than a deep, dangerous-sounding whisper. “Jeez, Muck, this doesn’t sound like you. Usually you’re the one who wants to hold back, look at the situation, formulate a strategy, you know, all that ‘Plan the flight then fly the plan’ shit you always say.”

“Not this time,” Patrick said. “I want to find the men who did this to my brother, to my police force, to my city-to my damned home-and I want to crush them like insects. I’m going to use every bit of technology and firepower I can gather to do it. I’m going to do it whether or not I cooperate with the police or the city or the FBI or whoever else is involved.”

Jon looked at his friend, stunned. He had never seen Patrick so angry, so determined, so… bloodthirsty. He had seen him after crises that had ended in tragedy, yet he had never come unglued. Now, he seemed possessed.

“What do you want me to do?” Masters asked. “What do you want from me?”

“Everything,” Patrick said. “Access to everything. All your reconnaissance and surveillance gear. All your computers, your networks, your communications systems, your aircraft, your satellites. All of your weapons, your sensors, your prototypes, your manufacturing facilities. Most of all, access to you. These bastards who attacked in the city were soldiers, not ordinary robbers. I’m going to need every bit of modern weapons technology I can get to bring them down.”

Jon swallowed hard. “You can’t have it,” he told Patrick, shaking his head.

Patrick nodded, hurt in his eyes but steely determination on his face. “I understand, Jon-”

“Let me finish, Muck,” Masters interjected. “You can’t have any of it unless I can help you.”

“What?”

“I want to help you,” Masters repeated. “I always feel left out when the fighting starts, by Washington or the Pentagon or whoever’s in charge. I don’t want to be left out this time. If we fight, we fight together. You tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you-but I want to be there with you when the shooting starts. A piece of the action. That’s all I want.”

Patrick hesitated. What he had in mind was outrageous enough for him to question whether he could take it on, much less involve Jon Masters in it. Jon had no idea how dangerous it could be-hell, Patrick had no idea how dangerous it could be.

But the call to battle was still sounding in his ears; he could still hear the twin bagpipes at a triple cop funeral. Patrick had no idea what was calling Jon Masters or what danger awaited them both, but nothing was going to stop him now.

“Agreed,” Patrick said, holding out his hand. “We work together. I’m not even going to tell you how dangerous this will be. But whatever happens, we do it together.”

Instead of shaking hands, Jon embraced his new brother. “Very, very cool. When do we start?”

“We start immediately,” Patrick said. “It’s time we collect some intel on the enemy.”

Special Investigations Division Headquarters,

Bercut Drive, Sacramento, California

Friday, 26 December 1997, 1832 FT

The sign on the outside of the cluster of one-story warehouselike buildings said City of Sacramento Public Works, Department of Highways, but Patrick knew that there were other offices located there. At six-thirty that evening, there was only one other car in the parking area outside the building, and it was farther down on the north side. The occupied space had a sign that read Reserved-No Parking.