Besieged by the soothing image, the CURE director was overcome by exhaustion before he even realized it. Within minutes, Harold Smith was sound asleep.
Chapter 25
"Khaddafi wouldn't treat me like this."
Bryce Babcock jutted his chin defiantly. His jowls flapped back against his neck like empty saddlebags. "That is true. He would have cut out your tongue by this time," Nossur Aruch replied blandly. He was inspecting the exterior of the neutrino bomb.
Babcock and Dr. Ree Hop Doe had been brought to the PIO leader's Lebanon satellite office. As a sign of disdain, their captors hadn't even bothered to bind their hands. A pair of PIO soldiers stood sentry by the door.
The interior secretary stood to one side, helpless, as the PIO leader tapped at the stainless-steel shell of the bomb. A hollow sound greeted Nossur's finger.
"Hussein," Babcock challenged. "What about him? I'll bet he would have known what to do with me."
"Yes. He would have shot you."
"Khatami, then. Iran would have helped me."
"An American cabinet member? They would have tortured you on videotape and mailed it to your State Department."
"Mujahideen."
"Bullets are at a premium in Afghanistan. They would probably have simply slit your throat. And you are going far afield with them, are you not?"
"The Middle East is the best place to set off the neutrino bomb," Babcock said, pouting. "A bunch of warring countries bunched closely together. I would have set it off in the United States, but the damage would have been too localized. The whole country wouldn't have been within range. I needed someplace that would feel the effects. Someplace that would be attention-getting."
From his half crouch, Aruch looked up.
"Oh, it will draw attention," he assured Babcock. The interior secretary glanced angrily at Dr. Doe as if this turn of events were all his fault.
"Don't rook at me," Doe whispered. "I onry in it fora cash."
Babcock turned away in disgust.
His eyes-now those of a prisoner-dragged across the unconscious form of the former President. Soldiers had dumped him on the floor behind Aruch's desk.
The old man's chest rose and fell rhythmically. The fact that he was still breathing made Bryce Babcock sick. He was to blame for all this. Him and his homespun warmongering. Of course, there hadn't actually been any wars, technically, for the eight years he'd been in office. But he had been responsible for building the bomb Doe had stolen. When it came right down to it, none of this was Bryce Babcock's fault. It was the former President who had delivered Babcock into the deceitful, violent hands of the PIO. Angry, he tore his baggy eyes away from the hated old man.
The dirty windows through which the desert sunlight spilled were built of a heavy Plexiglas. Even so, they seemed to have suffered damage fitting to a war zone. Chips and holes from bullets and ricochets riddled the thick panes.
Babcock noted that the walls opposite the windows were speckled with holes, as well. Some were so deep he could see straight through to the next room.
As he was peering through one of the larger holes, a sudden squeal of tires from the street out front caught his attention. Inside, Nossur Aruch and his men reacted instinctively to the sound. Eyes angry, they flung themselves to the floor, plastering hands over heads.
When Babcock glanced at Doe, the confused scientist was joining them. With perplexed reluctance, Babcock started to get down, too. He had just knelt to one knee when the first hail of bullets exploded through the wall.
Babcock and Doe collapsed to their bellies.
The attack was fast and furious. In a single, terrifying instant, a swarm of bullets ripped the office air. Screaming lead pocked walls and desk. Concrete dust and paperwork rained down upon them.
On the floor, a terrified Bryce Babcock felt a small puddle of warmth pool at his crotch.
When the shooting stopped as abruptly as it had started, Babcock didn't even notice. The furious shriek of gunfire still echoed in his ears.
Outside, more tires squealed, then faded in the distance.
Nossur Aruch scampered to his feet.
"Lousy teenagers!" he yelled. Bounding across the floor, he stuck his head out the window. "Why are you not in school!" he shouted after the rapidly speeding car.
He had to duck back inside to avoid another spray of automatic-weapons fire.
Muttering Arab curses, he stepped over the prone secretary of the interior and returned to the neutrino bomb.
Climbing unsteadily to his knees, Babcock blinked dust from his eyes. "What was that?" he panted. Concrete powder formed a clumpy paste near his damp zipper.
"That?" the terrorist said dismissively, as if nothing had happened. "My poor building suffers for the peace I have made with Israel. Or perhaps it is the Internet or music lyrics that causes them to act out. With kids, who knows?"
Expression dull, Babcock looked at the front wall. Many more holes now marred its surfaces. One of the windows had nearly been blown from its casing. It seemed ready to topple into the room.
He turned woodenly back to Aruch.
"May I go now?" Babcock asked numbly.
"Quiet," the terrorist snapped. He looked to the Los Alamos scientist. "You. Explain to me how this device works. Is it nuclear?"
Ree Hop Doe glanced quickly at Bryce Babcock. Gulping audibly, he turned back to Nossur Aruch. "You pay, we talk," he said, licking his lips. "Money order or cash. No personar check, prease." Very nearby, he heard the click of a bolt.
Out of the corner of his eye, Doe saw the hollow end of a rifle barrel aimed at his temple. Far down at the other end of the weapon was Fatang's eager young face.
The hope that he'd be able to hire even halfway decent legal representation for his espionage trial evaporated for the treasonous Dr. Ree Hop Doe.
"Yes, it nucrear," he admitted, shoulders slumping.
"This one said that it could blow up a city," Aruch said, nodding to Babcock. "Could it destroy Tel Aviv?"
Doe shook his head. "Inner brast zone onry extend about two mires," the scientist answered.
Aruch's stubbly face grew fierce. "Bah! Not good enough," he snapped. "What of the fallout?"
"That be much greater," Doe replied. "Test moder not clear, but incrusive range of two hundred mire possibre. Maybe more. From here could go far as Turkey and Saudi Arabia. Definitery Iraq and Syria."
"It would kill people that far away?" Aruch asked.
"No, no, no," Doe insisted. "For human to die, they need be in brast zone. But moder show bomb could break down the quadruple bond between adjacent atoms in transition metal compound far away as Pakistan." Sweating, he smiled hopefully.
Doe had obviously lost Nossur Aruch somewhere during his explanation. The PIO leader turned to Babcock.