Henry pushed the door open with his foot and went in, ducking to the left.
McCallum, no gun in hand, scooted quickly in to the right.
The smell of rot caught McCallum in the face, choking him. Not the smell of a decomposed body. McCallum had smelled that a lot of times, more than he wanted to remember. This smell was an earthy, rotting smell that seemed to clog every inch of the air, choking off the oxygen.
"God!" Henry said, stopping and putting his hand over his nose. "What a smell."
McCallum stepped up beside Henry, doing everything he could to hold his stomach in place and stared at the scene in front of him.
Albert Hancer sat on the bed. Or at least something that looked like Albert Hancer. Hancer's body seemed to have started to slough off, as if his skin was dripping off his bones a layer at a time. Red blood dripped slowly from a dozen places on the guy, and his clothes were stained a rust red. McCallum swore that the guy looked as if he was melting.
But what startled McCallum the most was the fact that Albert Hancer was still breathing, and that his eyes were open, staring at a large suitcase on a cart sitting in the middle of the room.
McCallum tugged on Henry's shirt and pointed to the suitcase. "Let's not touch that."
"Understood," Henry said. He turned to those coming in the door. "Stay away from the suitcase!"
"Oh, shit!" Neda Foster's voice said behind McCallum. Then she yelled back through the door, "Cornell!"
"Someone call an ambulance," Henry shouted.
"No!" Neda Foster said. "Please. Not yet. I'll explain, but first let Dr. Cornell look at him. And I totally agree. No one should touch that suitcase." She turned to the man in charge of Underground Investigations, who had remained just outside the door. "Call for help. Seal off this building. No one is to come up here. Understood?"
McCallum saw him nod and head off down the hall as Cornell slowly entered the room, his face white. McCallum could tell the doctor wasn't used to this sort of thing. McCallum had seen a lot of death and smelled a lot of human rot, but nothing like this before. Someone new would never be able to get near the source of that smell.
But somehow Cornell managed to keep his lunch down and moved very slowly over near the unmoving Albert Hancer.
McCallum watched him for a short moment, then turned to Neda Foster. "Maybe now it's time for some answers. What's in that suitcase?"
Ms. Foster swallowed, not taking her eyes off the suitcase. "Mr. McCallum," she said. "I don't really know. And that's the truth. I wish to God I did."
McCallum could actually see fear in Neda Foster's blue eyes. Without turning away from McCallum, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. "This is Neda Foster. I need to talk to the vice president."
McCallum's stomach twisted and he stared at her for a moment, then turned and looked first at the awful mess of Albert Hancer, then at the suitcase. What in the hell was he in the middle of?
"Mr. Vice President," Neda Foster said. "We found him. And there's a suitcase with him."
"No!" Cornell half shouted. Then he said, "Shit! Shit! Shit!" really fast.
"Hold on, sir."
Everyone turned to Cornell as he rose from his knees beside Albert Hancer and wiped his hands on his pants. "Shit," Cornell said again. "It's not possible."
"What's not possible, Cornell?" Neda Foster asked.
"That's not possible," Cornell said, pointing at the sick old man sitting on the bed, not moving. "It's just not possible."
"Cornell!" Neda Foster half-shouted. "Damn it! Would you explain what you mean?"
Cornell glanced at his boss and then back at the man sitting on the bed. "That's not human. I don't know what it is, exactly, but it's not human. It just looks human."
"Are you sure?" Neda Foster asked, taking in the wild words of Cornell as if she heard things like that every day.
McCallum, on the other hand, was having his troubles with what the doctor was saying. The guy was clearly a quack, plain and simple. And what the sick old guy on the bed needed was a fast trip to the hospital. And McCallum was thinking of hauling him there himself. But the suitcase stopped him. For some reason that suitcase scared McCallum, and he didn't know exactly why.
Cornell took a deep breath of the foul-smelling air and straightened his shoulders. "One of my degrees is medical, Neda. You know that. Of course I'm sure. That—thing— is not human and never was."
Neda Foster stared at the "thing" on the bed, then put the phone back to her ear. "Mr. Vice President, it's worse than we thought."
McCallum looked at Henry and Henry looked at him. Then both of them turned to look at the person on the bed that a doctor was saying really wasn't a person. For the first time in all their years working together, neither one of them had anything to say.
Not even anything funny.
Chapter Nineteen
The most commonplace incident takes on a new appearance if the attendant circumstances are unusual.
—-MARY ROBERTS RINEHART
FROM THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE
2:30 P.M. JUNE 24.
LOCATION UNKNOWN
For the first time, the aliens didn't bother to knock out the occupants of the prison as they opened the door.
At the moment the door opened Tina was sitting on the ground, leaning against a rock, trying to let the ground and the rock help her stay cool. She had hidden both her remaining bottles of water in a small hole between her naked body and the rock.
For the last few hours she had been playing a game with herself to slow down her desire to drink. She promised herself she could take a small taste of water every time she counted to five thousand. And if she missed count she had to start over. That way she would make her water last as long as possible and it kept her mind busy. But the heat of the afternoon already had the cave baking its occupants, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could go on, even with the water.
The heat was just too much.
The door made a high, screeching sound and then opened. At first Tina thought she was having hallucinations from the heat, then slowly realized it was real.
She had never once heard that door.
She turned, hoping beyond hope that someone had finally come to rescue them. A white light shone in and seemed to freeze everyone in place. Tina couldn't move, but she could still remember that same light from the night she was abducted. That seemed a lifetime ago.
It was a lifetime ago. The coolness of the mountain nights with Jerry. She could barely remember them, now.
This white light didn't make her body tingle as much as she remembered the first time.
There was a thump on the ground near the door. Then the white light vanished and the metal door ground shut, the final bang echoing like a signal of doom through the cave.
After the light vanished, Tina could move again. She took one bottle out from under her and sipped. Then she put it back and watched as someone near the door stood and went to check what the aliens had brought.
After a moment Tina heard a moan and someone sat up. They hadn't brought supplies. Only another prisoner, who would soon die with the rest of them, either from the heat or the aliens' experiments.
She took a shallow breath, curled against the faint coolness of the stone, and began her slow count, doing her best to ignore the heat.
Chapter Twenty
Who makes.the rules in this less than perfect world?
——B. M. GILL
FROM VICTIMS
2:35 P.M. JUNE 24.
PORTLAND, OREGON
It took only twelve minutes before the regional director of the FBI showed up in the hot, smelly room of Albert Hancer. Or what was posing as Albert Hancer.
But it was a long, hot, and smelly twelve minutes for McCallum. The entire time he kept debating if he and Henry should just take the old guy to the hospital. And each time, the sight of the old guy staring at the suitcase stopped McCallum from taking action.
During the waiting McCallum and Henry had move
d back near the door and listened as Dr. Cornell talked with Neda Foster about the "thing-on-the-bed," as the doctor called it. He said that, the best he could tell, it was some sort of copy, like the latex masks actors used to change their looks.
But McCallum didn't buy that theory. And neither did Henry. This was an entire moving mask that seemed to breathe and never blinked as it stared at the suitcase in the middle of the room. Not hardly.
And, Cornell had said, the mask-thing-on-the-bed was falling apart, mostly due to the intense heat in the room. Albert Hancer's copy, in other words, was simply melting. Both Henry and McCallum had laughed when he proclaimed that.
McCallum believed in an old investigator's way of looking at the world: Occam's Razor principle, that the most logical and simple solution usually was the correct one. McCallum figured that Hancer had some sort of sickness that was causing his skin to have that melting look. And, as Henry said, "I hope that's not contagious." If it was, it was too late the moment they busted into the room.
The FBI director entered the heat and smell without even so much as a wrinkled nose, walked up to the thing-on-the-bed and gave it a once over. Then he walked around the suitcase, studying it. McCallum had to hand the guy one thing. He was cool. Very cool.
He motioned for McCallum and Henry to join him with Neda Foster and Dr. Cornell.
"I'm not sure that I buy the theory that the guy there isn't human," Director Earhart said.
"He's not," Dr. Cornell said.
Earhart went on, ignoring the doctor. "But he's clearly in strange shape. And the copy idea is the theory I've been ordered by the vice president to proceed under. At least until we know more about what's going on."
McCallum could tell he wasn't happy about his "orders" and most likely didn't know much more about what was going on here than McCallum or Henry did. McCallum wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.
"We're to take 'that' to your lab in Bellingham," Earhart said. "If he is human, he'll get medical attention there. And keep this quiet. Is that possible, Detective?"
Henry shrugged. "For the vice president I can keep it under wraps until you tell me otherwise."
McCallum looked at the director. "I'm afraid you might have another problem. The only family that man—" McCallum pointed at the bed. "—has is the mayor of this city. She hired me to find him. And since I did, I need to tell her something. I think the guy needs a hospital now and I won't even try to make this copy theory fly with the mayor. No chance."
"Shit," Neda Foster said.
"You still haven't found him," Cornell said. "That is just a copy of the original man. Nothing more."
"It still looks human to me, Doctor," McCallum said. "That guy might be really sick, but he's still a breathing human sitting there as far as I'm concerned."
"But he's not," Cornell said.
"Either way," McCallum said, turning back to Earhart, "the mayor is going to have to be told something and she knows you folks had the massive manhunt on down here today for her stepuncle. She wants to know why."
Earhart glanced at Neda, then back to McCallum. "The vice president and I can talk to the mayor."
McCallum smiled. "All right by me." Wait until Claudia sat through that meeting. Just the thought made McCallum smile.
"For now," Earhart said, "let's get whatever or whoever that is out of here. There's an ambulance waiting outside."
"I don't think it's going to be that simple," Neda said. She pointed to the suitcase. "There may be a connection between the suitcase and the thing-on-the-bed."
Earhart nodded. "John!"
There was movement in the hall and two men in suits carrying cases entered the room. Both of them were stopped short by the smell and both their faces went white at the sight of Albert Hancer on the bed.
"Check that suitcase," Earhart said. "Any outside links, especially with the guy on the bed."
Everyone in the room watched as they expertly set up the two equipment cases on either side of Albert Hancer's suitcase and went to work. Only the faint sounds of cars on the street broke the silence in the room as they worked. After a few minutes the one closest to them said, "Shit!"
"Favorite term with this group," Henry whispered to McCallum.
"Yeah," McCallum whispered back. "Seems that way."
"What is it?" Earhart asked, stepping forward.
The guy looked up. "Sir, there's no link from that to anything outside. At least at the moment. But sir, that's a bomb."
"Shit," Henry said.
McCallum agreed totally.
"What kind of bomb?" Earhart asked. "Can you tell?"
The other man looked up, fear in his eyes.
That was a look McCallum had always hoped he would never see on the face of a bomb squad man.
"Sir, it appears to be some sort of remote-controlled hydrogen bomb."
"Hydrogen bomb!" Henry said. "You're kidding?"
"You are certain?" Earhart said. "Is it armed? Does it have any motion sensors on it?"
"It's armed, sir," the man with fear in his eyes said.
The other studied his instruments. "No motion detectors, sir. Some sort of remote control hooked to it though."
"They're not kidding," McCallum said softly to Henry. Over the years McCallum had been around his share of bombs, but never one that could level the entire city of Portland. Just the thought of it numbed him.
"I was afraid of that," Neda Foster said, softly.
It took a moment for McCallum to fully understand that the hot, foul-smelling little hotel room he was in was at ground zero of a hydrogen bomb.
And a moment longer still to realize that Neda Foster had feared this might happen.
Chapter Twenty-One
You can't help stepping on everyone else's toes when you're all dancing around the golden calf.
—-JAN EKSTROM
FROM DEADLY REUNION
2:50 P.M. JUNE 24.
PORTLAND, OREGON
Claudia hadn't gotten much work done all afternoon. After McCallum's phone call earlier, about all the men searching for Albert Hancer, she and the mayor had spent two hours making phone calls and trying to figure out who in Albert's past would do such a thing. They came up with a big fat zero. There just wasn't anyone. So after a late lunch they both tried to go back to work, but very little was coming from it.
Then Claudia had gotten a call from the Portland International Airport manager saying the vice president had landed. Since it was not scheduled, the manager figured the mayor would want to know.
He was right, of course. But Alan Wallace's presence in the city made getting work done even harder. Claudia and Janet spent another half hour trying to figure out just why he was in town. Again, no luck.
Then, slightly before three an aide for the vice president called and said he was heading for the mayor's office and asked if it would be possible for a meeting. Claudia said yes without even asking Janet. She knew what Janet would say without a doubt.
Ten minutes later the handsome Alan Wallace, vice president of the entire country, walked into Janet's office and introduced himself. Claudia had never met the man before, and her first thought was that he was even more striking in person than on television.
With him was a stern-looking man by the name of Robert Earhart, the regional director of the FBI.
After the introductions were finished and both men were seated, Claudia stood behind and to the right of Janet's desk.
"Thanks for seeing us on short notice," Alan Wallace started off. Then the smile dropped from his face. "We have a very, very serious situation that has developed in your beautiful city."
Janet had been leaning back in her chair slightly, doing her best to look calm. But with the vice president's words she sat straight up. "What situation?"
"I understand," Earhart said, "that your stepuncle, one Albert Hancer, is missing from a nursing home."
Claudia could feel the shock make her face go slack, and she quickly recovered. The vice presiden
t of the United States was asking about Janet's stepuncle. What for?
Janet only nodded, obviously as stunned by the question as Claudia felt.
"Well," he said, "either your stepuncle, or more likely a copy of your stepuncle, was found in a hotel room this afternoon with an armed hydrogen bomb."
Janet came out of her chair like a shot. "What?"
Claudia's mind took a fraction of a second longer to actually hear what the vice president had said. Then she was standing beside Janet, both of them towering over the two seated men.
Earhart held up his hands and Claudia stepped back. Janet managed to sit down again. "Everything is being done that can be done at the moment," Earhart said. "The FBI is working on getting the bomb out of the city. We will inform you as soon as that has occurred. But in the meantime, for obvious reasons, this news cannot go any farther than this office."
Janet nodded. "Do you know who's behind this? It couldn't have been Albert."
"We have some theories," Alan Wallace said. "But we know your stepuncle had nothing to do with it. He will be taken out of the city for tests. You will be kept informed of his progress."
Janet nodded. Claudia could tell she was shocked. And with good reason. "Sir, how was the bomb found?"
Earhart looked at Claudia, then back at Janet and smiled. "The investigator you hired to find Albert found it. Lucky for all of us that he did."
"McCallum," Claudia said. It would figure he'd be in the middle of all this. He always seemed to be.
The vice president stood, and with him both Janet and Earhart. "I wish there was more we could say at the moment," he said. "My office will keep you completely informed as to the developments."
Janet nodded and Claudia found herself nodding also, almost like a zombie.
"I assume," Earhart said, "that we have your silence on this problem until we tell you otherwise. And your help if needed."
Janet stuck out her hand to the vice president, then Earhart. "Of course."
"Good," Wallace said. "Thanks for your time."
With that he and Earhart turned and left, closing the door behind them.
Claudia went around and slumped down into the chair facing Janet's desk. The same one the vice president had just sat in. For the first time she realized she was actually sweating.
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