by Ken Follett
Soon Elspeth fell into a deep sleep, but Luke lay awake, thinking about his life.
He had always wanted a family. For him, happiness was a big, noisy house full of children and friends and pets. Yet here he was, thirty-three and single, and the years seemed to go by faster and faster. Since the war, his career had been his priority, he told himself. He had gone back to college, making up for the lost years. But that was not the real reason he was unmarried. The truth was that only two women had ever touched his heart--Billie and Elspeth. Billie had deceived him, but Elspeth was here beside him. He looked at her voluptuous body in the faint glow of the lights of Dupont Circle outside. Could there be anything better than spending every night like this, with a girl who was smart, brave as a lion, wonderful with children, and--on top of all that--stunningly beautiful?
At daybreak he got up and made coffee. He brought it into the bedroom on a tray and found Elspeth sitting up in bed, looking sleepily delectable. She smiled happily at him.
"I have something to ask you," he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "Will you marry me?"
Her smile disappeared and she looked troubled. "Oh, my God," she said. "Can I think about it?"
7 A.M.
The exhaust gases pass through the nozzle of the rocket like a cup of hot coffee being poured down the throat of a snowman.
Anthony drove up to the Jefferson Memorial with Larry sitting in the front seat between him and Pete. It was still dark, and the area was deserted. He turned the car around and parked so that its headlights would shine at any other car that came along.
The monument was a double circle of pillars with a domed roof. It stood on a high platform approached by steps at the rear. "The statue is nineteen feet high and weighs ten thousand pounds," he told Larry. "It's made of bronze."
"Where is it?"
"You can't see it from here, but it's inside those pillars."
"We should have come in the daytime," Larry whined.
Anthony had taken Larry out before. They had gone to the White House and the zoo and the Smithsonian. They would get hot dogs for lunch and eat ice cream in the afternoon, and Anthony would buy Larry a toy before taking him home again. They always had a good time. Anthony was fond of his godson. But today Larry knew something was wrong. It was too early and he wanted his mother and he probably sensed the tension in the car.
Anthony opened the door. "Stay here a second, Larry, while I talk to Pete," he said. The two men got out. Their breath misted in the cold air.
Anthony said to Pete, "I'll wait here. You take the kid and show him the monument. Stay on this side so that she'll see him when she arrives."
"Right." Pete's voice was cold and abrupt.
"I hate this," Anthony said. In truth, he was past caring. Larry was unhappy, and Billie was frantic with fear, but they would get over it, and he was not going to allow sentiment to get in his way. "We're not going to harm the kid, or his mother," he said, trying to reassure Pete. "But she'll tell us where Luke has gone."
"Then we give back the kid."
"No."
"We don't?" Pete's expression was concealed by the darkness, but his voice betrayed dismay. "Why not?"
"In case we need more information from her later."
Pete was troubled, but he would acquiesce, at least for now, Anthony thought. He opened the car door. "Come on, Larry. Uncle Pete's going to show you the statue."
Larry got out. With careful politeness he said, "After we've seen it, I think I'd like to go home."
Anthony's breath caught in his throat. Larry's bravery was almost too much. After a moment, Anthony replied in a calm voice, "We'll check with Mommy. Now go ahead."
The child took Pete's hand and they walked around the monument toward the steps at the back. A minute later they appeared in front of the pillars, lit by the car's headlights.
Anthony checked his watch. Sixteen hours from now, the rocket would have taken off, and it would all be over, one way or another. Sixteen hours was a lot, plenty of time for Luke to do unlimited damage. Anthony had to catch him, fast.
Billie should be here by now. He suffered a pang of doubt. Surely she would come. She was too frightened and panicky to call the cops, or pull any kind of stunt, he felt certain.
He was right. A few moments later, another car arrived. Anthony could not see the color, but it was a Ford Thunderbird. It parked twenty yards from Anthony's Cadillac and a small, slight figure jumped out, leaving the engine running.
"Hello, Billie," said Anthony.
She looked from him to the monument and saw Pete and Larry up on the raised platform, looking into the circle. She stood frozen, staring.
Anthony walked toward her. "Don't try anything dramatic--it would upset Larry."
"Don't talk to me about upsetting him, you son of a bitch." Her voice cracked with strain. She was near to tears.
"I had to do this."
"Nobody has to do something like this."
Her hostility was hardly surprising, but all the same her contempt stung him. He said, "Do you know the quote from Thomas Jefferson that appears inside this monument, in letters two feet high? It says: 'I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.' That's why I'm doing it."
"The hell with your motives. You've lost sight of whatever ideals you once had. Nothing good can survive this kind of treachery."
It was a waste of time arguing with her. "Where's Luke?" he said abruptly.
There was a long pause. At last she said, "Luke caught a plane to Huntsville."
Anthony breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction. He had what he needed.
He was also surprised at the answer. "Why Huntsville?"
"It's where the Army designs the rockets."
"I know that. But why would he go there today? Florida is where it's all happening."
"I don't know why."
Anthony tried to read her face, but it was too dark. "I think you're holding something back."
"I don't care what you think. I'm going to take my son and leave."
"No, you're not," Anthony said. "We're keeping him for a while."
Billie's voice was a cry of anguish. "Why? I've told you where Luke went!"
"There may be other ways you can help us."
"It's not fair!"
"You'll live." He turned away.
That was his mistake.
>>><<<
Billie had been half-expecting this.
As he stepped toward his car, she rushed him. With her right shoulder, she hit him in the small of the back. She weighed only 120 pounds, and he had to be fifty pounds heavier, but she had surprise and rage on her side. He stumbled and fell forward, coming down on his hands and knees. He grunted with surprise and pain.
Billie took the Colt from her coat pocket.
As Anthony tried to get up, she charged him again, this time from the side. He crashed to the ground, rolling. As he came faceup, she dropped to one knee beside his head and shoved the barrel of the gun forcefully into his mouth. She felt a tooth break.
He froze.
Deliberately, she moved the safety catch up to the firing position. She looked into his eyes and saw fear. He had not expected the gun. A trickle of blood appeared on his chin.
Billie looked up. Larry and the man with him were still gazing at the monument, unaware of the fracas. She returned her attention to Anthony. "I'm going to take the gun out of your mouth," she said, panting. "If you move, I'll kill you. If you're still alive, you're going to call to your colleague and tell him what I say." She took the gun out of Anthony's mouth and pointed it at his left eye. "Now," she said. "Call him."
Anthony hesitated.
She touched the barrel of the pistol to his eyelid.
"Pete!" he shouted.
Pete looked around. There was a pause. Pete said in a puzzled tone: "Where are you?" Anthony and Billie were outside the range of the headlights.
Billie said, "Tell him t
o stay where he is."
Anthony said nothing. Billie pressed the gun into his eye. Anthony shouted, "Stay where you are!"
Pete put his hand to his forehead, peering into the dark, looking for the source of the voice. "What's happening?" he called. "I can't see you."
Billie shouted, "Larry, this is Mom. Get in the T-bird!"
Pete grabbed Larry's arm.
"The man won't let me!" Larry screamed.
"Stay calm!" Billie yelled. "Uncle Anthony's going to tell the man to let you go." She pressed the gun barrel harder into Anthony's eye.
"All right!" Anthony cried. She eased the pressure. He shouted, "Let the kid go!"
Pete said, "Are you sure?"
"Do what I say, for Christ's sake--she's got a gun on me!"
"Okay!" Pete released Larry's arm.
Larry headed toward the back of the monument, then reappeared, seconds later, at ground level. He ran toward Billie. "Not this way," she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. "Get in the car, quickly."
Larry ran to the Thunderbird and jumped in, slamming the door.
With a quick lashing movement, Billie hit Anthony on both sides of his face with the gun, as hard as she could. He cried out in pain, but before he could move she pushed the gun into his mouth again. He lay still, groaning. She said, "Remember that if you're ever tempted to kidnap a child again."
She stood up, withdrawing the gun from his mouth. "Stay still," she commanded. She backed toward her car, keeping the gun on him. She glanced up at the monument. Pete had not moved.
She got into her car.
Larry said, "Have you got a gun?"
She stuffed the Colt inside her jacket. "Are you okay?" she asked him.
He started to cry.
She shoved the gearshift into first and tore away.
8 A.M.
The smaller rockets, which power the second, third, and last stages, use a solid fuel known as T17-E2, a polysulfide with ammonium perchlorate as oxidizer. Each rocket generates about 1,600 pounds of thrust in space.
Bern poured warm milk over Larry's cornflakes while Billie beat up an egg for French toast. They were giving their child comfort food, but Billie felt the adults needed comfort too. Larry was eating heartily and listening to the radio at the same time.
"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch Anthony," Bern muttered, speaking quietly so that Larry would not hear. "I swear to God, I'll fucking kill him."
Billie's rage had evaporated. Pistol-whipping Anthony had gotten rid of it all. Now she was worried and frightened--partly for Larry, who had had a nasty fright, and partly for Luke. "I'm afraid Anthony may try to kill Luke," she said.
Bern dropped a knob of butter into a hot frying pan, then dipped a slice of white bread into the egg mixture Billie had made. "Luke won't kill easy."
"But he thinks he's escaped--he doesn't know I've told Anthony where he is." While Bern fried the egg-soaked bread, Billie walked up and down the kitchen, biting her lip. "Anthony is probably on his way to Huntsville now. Luke's on a slow plane. Anthony could get a MATS flight and be there first. I have to find a way to warn Luke."
"Leave a message at the airport?"
"It's not reliable enough. I think I have to go there myself. There was a Viscount that left at nine, wasn't there? Where's that airline guide?"
"Right on the table."
Billie picked it up. Flight 271 left Washington at exactly nine. Unlike Luke's flight, this one stopped only twice, landing at Huntsville four minutes before noon. Luke's flight did not land until 2:23. She could be waiting for him at the airport. "I can do it," she said.
"Then you should."
Billie hesitated, looking at Larry, torn by conflicting urges.
Bern read her mind. "He'll be okay."
"I know, but I don't want to leave him, today of all days."
"I'll take care of him."
"Would you keep him out of school?"
"Yes, I think that'd be a good idea, at least for today."
Larry said, "I've finished my cornflakes."
Bern said, "Then you must be just about ready for some French toast." He slid a slice onto a plate. "Want some maple syrup with that?"
"Yeah."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, please."
Bern poured syrup from a bottle.
Billie sat opposite her son and said, "I want you to skip school today."
"But I'll miss swimming!" he protested.
"Maybe Daddy will take you swimming."
"But I'm not sick!"
"I know, honey, but you had kind of a tiring morning, and you need to rest." Larry's protests reassured Billie. He seemed to be recovering fast. All the same, she would not be comfortable letting him go to school, not until this whole business was over.
But she could leave him with his father. Bern was a trained agent and could protect his kid from just about anything. She made a decision. She would go to Huntsville. "Have a fun day with Daddy and maybe you'll go to school tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay."
"Mommie has to go now." She did not want to make a drama of saying goodbye, for that would only scare the child. "I'll see you later," she said casually.
As she went out, she heard Bern say: "I bet you couldn't eat another slice of that French toast."
"I could too!" Larry replied.
Billie closed the door.
PART FIVE
10.45 A.M.
The missile will take off vertically, then be tilted into a trajectory 40 degrees inclined to the horizon. The first stage is guided, during powered flight, by aerodynamic tail surfaces and by movable carbon vanes in the engine exhaust jet.
Luke fell asleep as soon as he had fastened his seat belt, and he was unaware of the takeoff from Newport News. He slept heavily while the plane was in the air but woke up every time it bumped down at yet another airstrip on its stop-go flight west across Virginia and North Carolina. Each time his eyes opened he felt a rush of anxiety and checked his watch to see how many hours and minutes were left until the launch. He would fidget in his seat while the little aircraft taxied across the apron. A few people would leave, one or two more would get on, and the plane would take off again. It was like riding the bus.
The plane refueled at Winston-Salem, and the passengers got off for a few minutes. Luke called Redstone Arsenal from the terminal and got his secretary, Marigold Clark, on the phone.
"Dr. Lucas!" she said. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, but I only have a minute or two. Is the launch still scheduled for tonight?"
"Yes, ten-thirty."
"I'm on my way to Huntsville--my plane lands at two-twenty-three. I'm trying to figure out why I went there on Monday."
"You still don't have your memory back?"
"No. Now, you don't know why I made that trip."
"Like I said, you didn't tell me."
"What did I do there?"
"Well, now, let me see. I met you at the airport in an Army car and brought you here to the base. You went into the Computation Lab, then drove yourself down to the south end."
"What's there, at the south end?"
"The static test pads. I imagine you went into the Engineering Building--you sometimes work there--but I don't know for sure, because I wasn't with you."
"And then?"
"You asked me to drive you to your home." Luke heard a prim note enter her voice. "I waited in the car while you stepped inside for a minute or two. Then I took you to the airport."
"That's it?"
"That's all I know."
Luke grunted with frustration. He had felt sure Marigold would come up with some clue.
Desperately, he cast about for another line of questioning. "How did I look?"
"Okay, but your mind was someplace else. Preoccupied, that's the word I'm searching for. I figured you were worried about something. Happens all the time with you scientists. I don't let it trouble me."
"Wearing my usual clothes?"
"One of them
nice tweed jackets."
"Carrying anything?"
"Just your little suitcase. Oh, and a file."
Luke stopped breathing for a moment. "A file?" he said. He swallowed.
A stewardess interrupted him. "Time to board the aircraft, please, Dr. Lucas."
He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and said, "Just one minute." Then he said to Marigold, "Was it any special kind of file?"
"A standard Army file folder, thin cardboard, buff-colored, large enough to hold business letters."
"Any idea what was in it?"
"Just papers, it looked like."
Luke tried to breathe normally. "How many sheets of paper? One, ten, a hundred?"
"Maybe fifteen or twenty, I guess."
"Did you happen to see what was on the sheets?"
"No, sir, you didn't take them out."
"And did I still have this file when you took me to the airport?"
There was a silence at the other end.
The stewardess returned. "Dr. Lucas, if you won't board the plane, we'll have to go without you."
"I'm coming, I'm coming." He began to repeat his question to Marigold. "Did I still have the file--"
"I heard you," she interrupted. "I'm trying to remember."
He bit his lip. "Take your time."
"Whether you had it at the house, I can't tell."
"But at the airport?"
"You know, I don't believe you had it then. I'm picturing you walking away from me into the terminal, and I see you have your bag in one hand, and in the other . . . nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, now I am. You must have left that file here somewhere, either at the base or at home."
Luke's mind was racing. The file was the reason for his trip to Huntsville, he felt sure. It contained the secret he had found out, the one that Anthony was so desperate for him to forget. Maybe it was a Xerox copy of the original, and he had stashed it somewhere for safekeeping. That was why he had asked Marigold not to tell anyone of his visit. It seemed ultracautious, but no doubt he had learned such habits in the war.
Now, if he could find the file, he could discover the secret.
The stewardess had abandoned him, and he saw her running across the tarmac. The plane's propellers were already turning.
"I think that file could be very important," he told Marigold. "Could you look around and see if it's there?"