"Isaac, wake up." She shook him, trying to be as quiet as possible.
Outside a new storm was building, but the large barracks room in Level
Three of the Bates Motel was dark and deserted, with the staff all now
mobilized for the upcoming launch. 'Thank God I found you."
His eyelids fluttered, and then he slowly raised up and gazed at her,
his look still somewhere between sleep and waking. He seemed to be in a
drug-induced, or shock-induced, torpor. "What? . . . Cally, is that
you?"
"Isaac, there's been a disaster. I don't know where Bill is, but the
gantry's been destroyed. He blew it up. Jesus, when I told him to be
careful and--"
"Cally." He finally managed to focus on her presence. Then he looked
around. "What's going on? Where--?"
"Everybody's down at Launch," she interjected impatiently. 'These hoods
have taken over the Cyclops and they've started a countdown. I want to
get you out of here, and then try to radio someone. Now."
"What . . . what are you talking about?" He was still staring at her
groggily. "Radio who?"
"The people who set up the original security system. They--
"ARM?"
"They're coming in. To get rid of these hoodlums."
"Well, good luck. But the man who saved me, what was his name? He
mentioned something about it. Then he disappeared. I don't--"
"That's who blew up the gantry. His name is Vance." She quickly
recounted the story. "I told him not to blow it up, but he didn't
listen. All he accomplished was to make things worse." She was so
outraged she could barely speak. The idiot! The fuck-up!
Mannheim's mind seemed to be clearing. "A countdown. But why would
Georges--?"
"He isn't involved, at least I don't think so. He's been replaced by
one of their people. They've taken over Big Benny, somebody who knows
how to run SORT."