get by him. Once inside, though, I don't know how far we can go or what
we might be able to get a peek at before we're nailed."
Ginger said, "But how can you be so sure-"
"For eight years," Jack reminded her, "getting into and back out of
difficult places was my line of work. And it was the government that
originally trained me, so I know their routines and tricks." He winked
his misaligned eye. "I have some tricks of my own."
Jorja spoke up, obviously more than a little distressed: "But you've as
much as said you'll be caught in there."
"Oh, yes," Jack said.
"But then what's the point of going in?" Jorja asked.
He had it all planned out, and Ginger listened at first in utter
bafflement and then with growing admiration for his sense of strategy.
Jack laid out the details of his plan as if it were a foregone
conclusion that the other nine members of the group would agree to do
precisely what he told them, regardless of the risks involved. He
employed every trick of coercion and leadership that he knew, not
because he was unwilling to consider alternatives to his strategy or
modifications of it, but because there simply was no time to explore
other courses of action. His intellect and his instinct had the same
message for him: Time is running out. So he explained to the rest of
the Tranquility family that:
Within the next hour, everyone-except Dom, Ned, and Jack himself-would
pile in the Cherokee, leave overland from the rear of the motel, and
drive into Elko by a roundabout route, thereby slipping the waiting
tails. In Elko the group would split up. Ernie, Faye, and Ginger would
drive the Cherokee north to Twin Falls, Idaho, then to Pocatello. From
there they would arrange to fly to Boston, where they would stay with
Ginger's friends, the Hannabys. They should get to Boston late Thursday
or early Friday. Immediately upon their arrival, they would tell the
Hannabys every detail of what they had discovered. Then, within an hour
or two, Ginger would call together as many of her colleagues at Boston
Memorial as possible, and she and the Blocks would tell those physicians
what had been done to a lot of innocent people in Nevada two summers
ago. Meanwhile, George and Rita Hannaby would contact influential
friends and arrange meetings at which Ginger and the Blocks could spread
their tale. Only then would Ginger, Faye, and Ernie go to the press.
And only after they had gone to the press would they go to the police
with a statement contesting the heretofore accepted wisdom that Pablo
Jackson had been murdered by an ordinary burglar eight days ago.
"The trick," Jack said, "is to get your story into wide circulation
among some important people, so if you have an 'accident' before you've
convinced the press to take up your cause, there will be a whole lot of
powerful folks demanding to know who killed you and why. That's the
special value you have for us now, Ginger-your associations with a
spectrum of important people in one of the country's most influential
cities. If you can electrify those people with your story, you'll be
creating an imposing group of advocates. Just remember, when you get
back there, you're going to have to move fast, before the conspirators
discover you've gone home and decide to grab you or blow you away."
Outside, the wind suddenly rose, keening at the plywoodcovered windows.
Good. If the storm worsened, cutting visibility farther, they would
have a better chance of slipping away from the motel unobserved.
"After Ginger, Faye, and Ernie leave Elko in the Cherokee, heading up
toward Pocatello," Jack said, using a tone of voice that implied these
steps were not suggestions but immutable necessities, "you other
four-Brendan, Sandy, Jorja, and Marcie-will go to the local Jeep
dealership and buy another four-wheel-drive vehicle with cash that I'll
give you before you leave the Tranquility. Immediately after signing
the papers, you'll head out of Elko in a different direction from Ginger
and the Blocks-east toward Salt Lake City, Utah. The snow will slow you
down, of course, but you should be able to reach Salt Lake, get a flight
out as soon as the storm subsides, and be in Chicago by Thursday
afternoon or evening." He turned to the priest. "Brendan, when you
touch down at O'Hare, you'll contact your rector, this Father Wycazik
you've told us about. He must use his pull to arrange an immediate,
emergency meeting with whoever's head of the Chicago Archdiocese."
"Richard Cardinal O'Callahan," Brendan said. "But I don't know if even
Father Wycazik could arrange an immediate meeting with him."
"He has to," Jack said firmly. "Brendan, you've got to move fast, just
as Ginger will be moving fast in Boston. We've got to assume our
enemies will be quick about spotting you when you turn up in Chicago.
Anyway, at the meeting with Cardinal O'Callahan, you and Jorja and Sandy
will explain what's happened in Elko County-and Brendan, you'll give a
demonstration of your newly discovered telekinetic ability. Pull out all
the stops, okay? Do cardinals wear pants under their robes?"
Brendan blinked in surprise. "What? Of course, they wear pants."
"Then I want you to scare the pants off your Cardinal O'Callahan. Give
him a show that'll let him know he's part of the biggest story since
they found the stone rolled away from the mouth of that tomb two
thousand years ago. And I don't mean to be blasphemous, Brendan. I
really think it is the biggest story since."
"So do I," Brendan said. Though he had been glum all morning, he seemed
to take heart from Jack's tone of authority and quiet excitement.
Now, the wild wind was vibrating the sheets of plywood at the windows,
filling the restaurant with a low and ominous thrumming.
Ernie Block cocked his gray-bristled head, listening, and said, "With
winds like this already, so soon after the snow hits, it's going to be a
roof-raiser later on."
Jack didn't want the weather to deteriorate too rapidly, for if the
enemy was going to strike within the next few hours, as he anticipated,
they might accelerate their schedule to avoid the messy complications of
conducting the round-up in a full-scale blizzard.
"Okay, Brendan," Jack said, "convince Cardinal O'Callahan and get him to
arrange quick meetings with the mayor, city councilmen, social and
financial leaders. You might have as much as twenty-four hours to
spread your story before your life is in danger. The farther you spread
it, the less danger you're in. But in any case, you shouldn't risk
spending more than twelve hours putting together a network of powerful
advocates before you ask them to arrange a press conference. Just
picture it: the city's most prominent citizens forming a backdrop for
you, reporters wondering what the hell is about to happen-and then you
display your telekinetic ability by levitating a chair and sending it on
a nice slow trip around the room!"
Brendan grinned broadly. "That'll put an end to their coverup for sure.
No way they can continue it after that
."
"Let's hope so," Jack said. "Because while the rest of you are off on
your various missions, Dom and Ned and I will be inside Thunder Hill,
perhaps under military arrest, and our only chance of getting out in the
same condition we went in is if you blow this wide open."
Jorja said, "I don't like that part of it-the three of you going into
the mountain. Why's it necessary? I asked you that same question
fifteen minutes ago, and you still haven't answered me, Jack. If we can
slip out of here, back to Boston and Chicago, use Ginger's and Brendan's
connections to blast
this story wide open, then there's no need to go poking around in the
Depository. Once we've set the wheels of the press in motion, the Army
and whatever government agencies are involved will eventually have to
come clean. They'll have to tell us what happened that summer and what
they've been doing in Thunder Hill."
Jack took a deep breath, for this was the part at which they might
balk-especially Ned and Dom. "Sorry, Jorja. But that's naive. If we
all split and tell our stories, there'll be enormous pressure on the
military and government to reveal the truth, yes, but they'll delay.
They'll drag their feet and spread contradictory stories for weeks,
months. That'll give them time to devise a convincing lie to explain
everything, yet reveal nothing. Our only hope of exposing the truth is
to make them open up fast. And to speed things along, the rest of you
have to be able to tell the world that three of your friends-Dom, Ned,
and me-are being held against our will inside the mountain. Hostages.
The element of a hostage drama, with agencies of our own government in
the role of terrorists, will be the final ingredient that might make it
impossible for the Army to stonewall more than a day or two."
He could see that this revelation startled everyone. Ernie and Faye
regarded him with a mixture of shock and sadness, as if he were already
dead-or mind-wiped.
Fear had risen like a dark moon in Jorja's face. She said, "But you
can't. No, no. You simply can't sacrifice yourselves-"
"If the rest of you do your jobs properly," Jack said quickly, "we won't
be sacrificing ourselves. You'll pry us out of Thunder Hill with the
lever of public protest that you create. That's why it's so important
we all do exactly what we're supposed to."
"But," Jorja said, "what if, by some chance, you get inside the mountain
and manage to see something that explains what happened to us that July.
And what if you could snap a few pictures of it and get back out alive.
Surely, in that case, you'd try to escape. You're not saying that the
hostage drama has to be a part of it-are you?"
Jack said, "No, of course not."
He was lying. Though there was at least a small chance of getting deep
into the Depository, Jack knew there was little hope of getting all the
way back out again undetected. As for finding something in there that
would immediately explain what they had seen the summer before
last-there was no hope whatsoever. For one thing, they had no idea what
they were looking for. It was possible-even probable-that they would
pass right by the thing they were after without knowing what they had
seen. Furthermore, if dangerous experiments had been taking place in
Thunder Hill, and if one of those experiments had gotten out of hand
that July night, the answer to the mystery was likely to lie in paper or
microfilm files or in lab reports; even if they could gain access to the
labs, he and Dom and Ned would not have time to pore leisurely through
tons of paperwork looking for the few pertinent ounces that would shed
light upon their experience. He did not say any of this to Jorja or the
others. He could not permit the meeting to degenerate into debate about
potential risks and other options.
Outside, the wind howled.
Jorja said, "And if you absolutely insist on going in there, why
couldn't the rest of us stay as near to you as possible? I mean, the
seven of us could just go into Elko, to the offices of the Sentinel, and
Brendan could demonstrate his power to the local press. We could start
exposing the conspiracy here instead of in Chicago and Boston."
"No." Jack was moved but also frustrated by her concern for him. (The
hands on his wristwatch seemed to be spinning, for God's sake.) "The
national media wouldn't pay quick enough attention to a small-town
newspaper's report that it had turned up a man with psychic powers and a
major government conspiracy. It would be viewed as just another
jerkwater story in the same league as reports of abominable snowmen and
UFOS. Our enemies would find you and squash you-squash any local
reporters you spoke with-long before the national media would bother
sending anyone to check it out. You've got to go, Jorja. The way I've
outlined it-that's our best hope."
She slumped in her chair with a defeated look.
"Yeah, I guess I am," the writer said, as Jack had known he would.
Corvaisis was one of those stand-up types you could rely on, though he
probably didn't see himself that way. He smiled ironically and said,
"But, Jack, mind telling me why the honor fell on my shoulders?"
"Sure. Ernie's still not entirely over his nyctophobia, so it's hard
enough on him just to ride all night to Pocatello. He isn't up to
making a- night-assault on the Depository. Which leaves you and Ned.
And frankly, Dom, it won't hurt our case if one of the hostages in
Thunder Hill is a novelist, a celebrity of sorts. That adds one more
bit of the kind of sensationalism the press thrives on."
Ginger Weiss had been frowning as Jack outlined his plan. Now she spoke:
"You're a great strategist, Jack, but you're also chauvinistic. You're
only considering men for the expedition into Thunder Hill. I think the
three who go should be you, Dom, and me."
"But-"
"Hear me out," she said, getting up, moving around to the far end of the
table, drawing everyone's attention from Jack to her. Jack was aware of
how she focused her intellect, will, and beauty upon him, for her
techniques were similar to his own methods of compelling everyone to
accept his plans without argument. "Ned and Sandy could go to Chicago,
which would still give Brendan two adults to back up his story. Jorja
and Marcie could go with Faye and Ernie to the Hannabys in Boston, with
a note from me. George and Rita will take them seriously, get them an
audience. My note alone will assure they're welcome and listened to.
But their reception is doubly assured because in ten minutes Rita will
recognize herself in Faye, and they'll be like sisters, and Rita will go
to the mat for her. My presence is not essential there. I'm needed
more here. For one thing, the infiltration of the Depository will be a
dangerous undertaking. Either of you-Dom, Jack-might be hurt and need
emergency medical attention. We don't know for sure that Dom has the
same healing power as Brendan, and even if he has it, he might not be
; able to control it. So a doctor might come in handy, huh? Second, if
it'll help having a famous author-all right, Dom, moderately famous-as a
hostage, then we'll get even more press attention if a woman's held in
Thunder Hill. God damn it, you really need me, Jack!"
"You're right," he said, startling her by his quick agreement. But what
she said made sense, and there was no point wasting time debating it.
"Ned, you'll go with Sandy and Brendan to Chicago."
"I don't mind going to the Depository with you, if that's what you
think's best," Ned told him.
"I know," Jack said. "I did think it was best, but now I don't. Jorja,
you and Marcie will go to Boston with Ernie and Faye. Now, if we don't
get the hell out of here soon, the whole question of who goes where
won't matter anyway, because we'll be back in the hands of the people
who had us drugged senseless the summer before last."
Ned pulled the table away from the door. Ernie removed the panel of
plywood standing there, and beyond the glass the world was a whirling
white wall of wind and snow.
"Terrific," Jack said. "Good cover."
As they stepped out into the driving snow, they could see only as far as
the place where the green-brown, government Plymouth had been parked out
by the county road. It was gone. That made Jack uneasy. He preferred
the watchers out in the open-where he could also watch them.
The conference call did not progress as Colonel Leland Falkirk had
foreseen. He intended to seek agreement that the witnesses at the motel
must be rounded up at once and conveyed to the Thunder Hill Depository.
He expected that he and General Riddenhour would be able to convince the
others that the threat of a spreading infection was both real and acute,