Fade Out (59 page)

Connors looked around. Volkert was behind him. Larsen and the other two cadets dropped out of the cab and stood looking at Crusoe. They'd been on base camp detail all week, so it was news to them too.

‘You mean…?' Korvin sounded like Admiral Garrison.

‘That's right,' said Connors.

‘Jesus Christ…'

Connors turned to Volkert. ‘You cottoned on to it pretty fast.'

Volkert grinned. ‘Found the hole, didn't I? Had strangers knockin' on m'door tellin' me to keep m'mouth shut. All you guys from Washington in three-hundred-dollar suits. OI' Harv here gits himself a brand new aeroplane when for years he's bin holdin' 'em together with gum. Shit – we ain't all as dumb as you city folks think we are.'

Connors heard a shout and saw Wedderkind hurrying
across the plateau followed by several members of the research group. He grabbed Connors' hand.

‘Thank God…'

‘My last trip, Arnold. From now on I'm travelling by train.' Connors pointed to Korvin. ‘This is the man who got us down in one piece.'

‘Hell, it was nothing,' said Korvin.

Wedderkind nodded towards Crusoe. ‘Isn't he beautiful?'

‘Arnold, he frightens the hell out of me. Christ – he must be over fifty feet high.'

‘Fifty-two and a half feet. That was at twelve o'clock. Neame's been measuring him twice a day. The graph shows the growth rate is slowing down.'

‘Good. We're going to slow it even further. Five o'clock, Tuesday afternoon, Allbright's boys are going to drop a bomb on it.'

Wedderkind looked at him for a moment, then gave a quiet shrug. ‘I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. What about all the people living around here?'

‘The Army's evacuating everybody within a radius of twenty miles. At least they were until the cutoff zone expanded.'

‘Did you find out how far it had spread?'

‘Yes, the zone stops halfway between Cohagen and Jordan, so that means there's no power between here and Miles City.'

‘Yes, that's exactly what Brecetti predicted.'

‘You mean you knew this was going to happen?'

‘Not definitely. It was just another of our gloom-and-doom theories. I've been trying to get hold of you since I got back here on Thursday.' Wedderkind explained Brecetti's hunch that the cutoff zone might go on expanding. ‘The next time it will be nearly seven hundred miles across. It will take out half the state.'

‘Oh – tremendous…' Connors fought back a rising wave of panic. If he had listened to the President, he could be sitting safely in his office doing all this by phone. But if Brecetti was right, where
was
the safest place to be? He tuned back in to Wedderkind. ‘How long was it between the first jump on Wednesday and this morning's?'

‘Ninety hours.'

‘So what does that give us, ninety hours before it jumps again?'

‘That depends on the kind of mathematical progression the time interval is based upon. The period between the jumps could get shorter.'

‘Or longer. For Christ's sake, Arnold, if the area he's blacking out is getting bigger, he must need
more
time to generate the power, not
less
!'

‘Yes, that's a reasonable assumption – but it doesn't necessarily follow. The next jump will tell us if we're working against the clock.'

‘When that happens, we'll be in an even bigger mess than we are now. Let's assume we've got ninety hours, it still gives us plenty of leeway.'

‘That's true. But there was another reason why I wanted to contact you,' said Wedderkind. ‘The magnetic field research Al Wetherby started with York up in Baltimore seems to indicate there could be another landing site, in Russia.'

‘There is,' said Connors. ‘But don't worry about it. We've got that all buttoned up. The site is in Kazakhstan, the craft's code name is Commissar. It came out of the ground. It hasn't got a hatch. It's growing, and the Russian Air Force is going to take it out at the same time as we hit Crusoe.' He smiled. ‘You look surprised.'

‘I am.'

‘Arnold, you aren't the only one who's been sitting on
information. There've been a lot of guys beavering away behind the woodwork. Come and meet the General.'

Wedderkind decided to let Connors enjoy his brief moment of triumph. Now that there was definite confirmation of the Russian site, there would be plenty of time to tell him about the four others…

When Golubev and Grigorienko had seen all there was to see, Connors decided to dispatch them back to Glasgow AFB with Dan Chaliapin, the White House interpreter. Lovell, Page, and Gilligan, one of the engineers, were detailed to go with them, taking all the videotapes of Crusoe and Friday.

While they were getting ready to leave, Wedderkind got together with Brecetti, Wetherby, and Collis in his trailer.

‘This is a sad moment. You all know the situation. Washington has decided to blow the whistle on the project. It may work but it may not. In which case it'll be time to head for the hills –'Wedderkind held up his hand to halt Collis. ‘I know you don't agree, Ray, but we all planned for this emergency a long time ago. We've kept the group together, a lot of us are on the project. A week from now you may all be cursing me but the fresh air isn't going to do our families any harm.'

‘Okay, Arnold. Do you want me to handle the East Coast group?'

‘Yes. Al will work out of Chicago. There's an Air Force plane flying back to Washington. It'll drop you off on the way.' Wedderkind turned to Brecetti. ‘I've arranged with Bob for an Air Force plane to fly you to California to, ah – collect some seismic data…'

‘Got it. What are you and the others going to do?'

‘We'll go when they evacuate the Ridge. Don't worry about us,
you'll
be the ones in danger. If the cutoff zone
spreads there'll be nothing moving, so get your groups out of the cities as fast as you can. We'll join you just as soon as possible.'

‘But how will we keep in touch?' asked Collis.

Wedderkind put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don't worry, Ray. If you think hard enough, that problem will solve itself.'

Connors was in the command hut talking to Greg when Volkert put his head around the door.

‘Mind if I make a suggestion?'

‘No, go ahead.'

‘It's about that truck to Glasgow. Be a good idea to send two in case you have a breakdown.'

‘Yes, good idea.'

‘Another thing – best if we was to head back up the Van Norman cutoff on to the Fort Peck highway. There's some people up at Cohagen who might not take too kindly at us drivin' through without stoppin'. What with the evacuation story an' all this trouble, things could get a mite touchy if they found we had a couple of real live Rooshians aboard.'

‘I'm glad you thought of that. I take it you plan to go with them?'

‘Might as well,' said Volkert. ‘Could we stop off at Broken Mill and pick up the few folks that're there? Some of 'em's practically kin.'

‘Sure. But don't put them in the same truck as the General.'

‘Thanks, I appreciate that.'

Connors shrugged. ‘You got me out of a hole. Could you ask Larsen to come in here?'

Volkert left. Connors picked up the small blue sheets of paper that lay beside Greg's portable typewriter.

‘How's it going?'

‘Nearly finished,' said Greg. ‘You must have more of the President's notepaper than he has.'

‘Always comes in handy. And in this case it's legal. He gave me letters of authority, remember?'

‘I'm surprised he didn't ask for them back.'

‘So am I,' said Connors. ‘That's either a good sign – '

‘Or he forgot.'

‘Just keep punching those keys.' Connors began to sign the letters.

Greg finished number twelve, passed it to Connors, and packed away his typewriter. ‘What do you want me to tell the President?'

‘Everything. Make sure Fraser, Clayson, and General Wills know what's happening too. Tell them I've made contact with Colonel Reese in Miles City and have loaned him nine of the diesels to round up the remaining evacuees and stranded Army units, and that we only have three to move out all the people on the project. Explain that without headlights we're slowed down to almost walking pace after dark but that we'll still do our best to get everybody clear by noon tomorrow. And don't forget to explain what Brecetti said about the cutoff zone.'

‘No. That's the real killer.'

‘And get hold of that guy York. If I know Arnold, he's probably sitting on more bad news.'

‘Anything else?' asked Greg.

‘Yes… if I were you, I'd catch a bad case of flu and take off for a few days.'

‘Where to?'

‘Anywhere, just so long as it's out of town,' said Connors.'

‘You don't really think the cutoff zone'll spread that far, do you?'

‘No, but if it does, the last place you want to be stuck is in the middle of Washington.'

‘What about the President?'

‘Good question. Get him to go to Camp David. In which case, forget the flu and go with him. You can have my seat in the bunker.'

‘Bob – is it really this serious – or are you putting me on?'

‘I wish I was, Greg. I wish Phil Brecetti would turn out to be the greatest joker of all time. I wish I could wake up and find this was a bad dream.'

‘What about the girls in the office – and all my
friends
?'

‘Nobody has more than one of those,' said Connors. ‘Two at the outside. Look, contact whoever you want but be careful what you say. After all, next Friday we may be back to the dull routine and wondering what all the fuss was about.'

‘I wish I could have that in writing.'

‘Whatever you do, for God's sake don't start a panic. If that happens, all hell'll break loose, the roads will jam up, and nobody'll get out.'

Larsen knocked and came in. ‘The diesels are loaded and ready to go, sir.'

‘Good.' Connors folded up two of the blue sheets of paper and handed them to Larsen. ‘Keep one of these and give the other to the senior cadet in charge of the other diesel. Those two vehicles are now moving on the authority of the President of the United States. Nobody – repeat,
nobody
– commandeers them. Understood?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Right. I want a six-man squad to ride with each vehicle, all armed with M-16s. If you get into a tight situation use your head first. If that doesn't work, open fire.'

‘Yes, sir.' Larsen picked up Greg's baggage and went out.

Connors went out to the diesels and said good-bye to
the two Russians. ‘I'll join you in time to see the fireworks. Look after them, Dan.'

‘Of course. See you tomorrow.' Chaliapin climbed aboard.

Connors gripped Greg's hand. ‘Good luck.'

‘You know, in all these last-minute instructions, there's one name you haven't mentioned,' said Greg. ‘Charly.'

‘That's right.'

‘Well, don't you want me to say anything to her?'

Connors put a hand on the back of Greg's shoulder. ‘You're right. The question is, what…?' He chewed his lip for a moment then snapped his fingers. ‘Her parents have a big motor yacht moored on the Potomac. It's not in the Kashoggi class but it still costs more to run that you and I earn in a year. Call her up, tell her to drop whatever she's doing and head down river with her folks.'

‘Where to?'

‘Out to sea. Bermuda. Florida – well, maybe not Florida. But you know what I mean. Anywhere so long as it's…' He waved dismissively. ‘Forget it. They'll never make it. If anything's going to happen, it might as well be in the luxury of their own home.'

Greg gave him a narrow-eyed look then climbed aboard.

‘Take care of yourself, huh?'

‘You too,' said Greg.

Connors watched the two diesels drive away. Cadets were loading the third in preparation for the final evacuation of the Ridge. The plan was for everybody to spend the last night down at the base camp and then move out when the rest of the fire zone was finally cleared.

Connors went over to the driver and gave him a letter of authority. ‘Make sure this stays with the truck. And keep that motor running for as long as possible. We've got to conserve those starting cartridges.'

Throughout the rest of the morning and afternoon of Sunday, the Air Force engineers worked feverishly to replace the instruments beside the optical bombsight in Firebreak One and Two, and to perfect a simple intercom system for the pilot and bombardier. Only one aircraft would be used in the attack but the other would be crewed, fuelled and bombed-up, ready to go in case the first had to abort due to mechanical failure.

While the modifications proceeded at Kirtland, airmen from Holloman AFB, on the eastern edge of the White Sands Range, replaced the seventy-foot aiming circle with a new target one hundred feet square. Around it, they set up a mile-long cruciform pattern of flares, with a run-in and run-out line to enable the pilot to track accurately. They added black smoke pots and retired in the gathering dusk, ready to ignite the flares electrically at dawn the next day.

Wedderkind found Connors standing looking at Crusoe. ‘You still haven't told me how Larsen found you.'

‘Nothing to it, Arnold.' Connors started to walk slowly across the plateau. Wedderkind fell into step behind him. ‘After Korvin put us down, we stuck a note on the windshield and walked a couple of miles to the nearest ranch. They gave us a lift in a covered wagon.'

‘You're joking.'

‘No, it's true. None of their pickups were working. This was a real, genuine, honest-to-goodness horse-drawn covered wagon. Normally it only comes out once a year for the Bucking Horse Sale Parade down at Miles City. General Golubev was knocked out by it. It turned out he
was crazy about Westerns. Greg climbed up one of the buttes and saw the traffic still moving along the east-west highway. Volkert guided Larsen along those dirt roads by the Little Dry and overtook us as we were heading north for Van Norman.' Connors smiled. ‘It was funny in a way. I left Washington in a five-hundred-mile-an-hour jet, only to end up behind four hoises with my legs hanging down over the tailgate of a wagon. It gave me time to think – mainly about how uncomfortable it was.'