"Thought you might be getting lonesome." Vance had walked into Launch
Control, directly through the entrance next to where the fallen gantry
had been. Ramirez had met him, with his Beretta 9mm trained on him from
the instant he came in the doorway.
"Always the joker, Mr. Vance." Ramirez did not appear to think he was
very humorous. "I see you're roaming around again, like a cat."
"Nine lives, remember."
"Yes, I should have put an end to them earlier." He gestured Vance
forward with the automatic. They now were in Launch Control, the wide
windows looking out over the vehicles. "But then I wanted you to
myself."
"Here I am." He felt a chill. Was Ramirez just going to shoot him
before he had a chance to do anything?
The terrorist, however, seemed to have other things on his mind. "You
know, you've been missing out on a lot of the fun. There was something
of a ruckus in Command just now. As it happens, it was on that TV
there." He pointed to a monitor, its screen now filled with snow. "A
decidedly second-rate entertainment, but I watched awhile anyway."
"Sounds exciting. Want to tell me what happened?"
"The broadcast encountered technical difficulties before the end. For
all I know, the show may still be going on. But perhaps I should break
some news to you. That assault force, whoever they were, merely saved
me the trouble of tidying up myself."
"You were planning just to murder all your helpers anyway, right?" He
settled into a sculptured chair next to a console, as casually as he
could manage. "Neatness. Guess I should have thought of that."
"You should have thought of a lot of things, Mr. Vance."
"And how about you? Did the ransom money come through? I assume this
operation had a price tag attached."
He laughed. "Of course the money came through. All eight hundred
million. What do you take me for?"
"Respectable chunk of change. So why in hell are you going to still
launch an A-bomb?" Even Vance was impressed by his perfidy. "That's not
very sporting."
"I'm not a sporting person."
"That's hardly a news flash." He felt his outrage spilling over. "Mind
telling me the target?"
"Not at all. I'm going to incinerate the U.S. air and naval base at
Souda Bay. The Americans don't care anything about civilians, as they
have shown any number of times, but they are very attached to their
Sixth Fleet."
"Jesus, you're totally mad." It was worse than he had imagined. "You're
going to kill hundreds, thousands. How in hell can you do that?"
"Easily. As a matter of fact, it's as good as done. In a few minutes."
He checked his watch, then glanced up and examined Vance a moment. "It
looks like Jean-Paul did a fairly good job. I should have told him to
just finish it."
"He got close enough, believe me."
"Looking at you, I'd have to agree." He smiled, eyes behind his gray
shades. "All right, Mr. Vance, I assume you came back in here for a
reason. What is it?"
"The truth is, I'm dropping by to see if we couldn't talk over a deal."
"I don't really think so."
"You may be able to set off a bomb, but the way things stand, no way
are you going to get out of here in one piece." He was trying out the
speech he had been rehearsing. "In case you didn't realize it, the U.S.
Navy has the airspace around the island totally closed down. The skies
over the eastern Med are currently an F-14 parking lot. But if you'll
put a stop to all this insanity, release the hostages, then--"
"Don't try to bluff me, Mr. Vance." He gestured him forward. "Come,
take a look at my collateral."
He led the way across to a second row of workstations, these on the
side and closer to the window. "When I leave, which is imminent, I will
have company. A certain professor. I think you've met him."
And sure enough, there in the comer sat Isaac Mannheim, looking as
though the world had already ended. The old man appeared to be in a
dark space of his very own, his face pitifully sunk in his hands.
"It can't be stopped," he was mumbling, almost incoherently. "Damn
them. There should be a special rung in hell for them."
"Don't worry," Vance assured him. "There is." He turned back to
Ramirez. "It isn't going to work. The U.S. is not going to be bluffed."
He hoped it was true. Somehow, though, he didn't feel all that
confident. Ramirez was smart, very smart, and the U.S. had a history of
screwing these things up. Just outside the window VX-1 awaited, primed
and about to lift off. Unlike the space shuttle, it had no clouds of
white condensate spewing out; instead, it stood serene and austere, its
payload prepared to wreak havoc on thousands of unsuspecting U.S.
citizens. The loss of life would be staggering.
"He got Johan to call off the assault," Mannheim continued,
interrupting his thoughts. "It was because of me. He wanted to save me.
He did, but he only made things worse. He should have just let them
kill me and have done with it."
Vance examined him and stifled a sigh. Now he had Mannheim to worry
about. He didn't want Cally to start shooting up the place with him in
the room, so he couldn't go to the window and signal her the way he had
planned. What to do?
"Look," he said finally, turning to Ramirez, "if you need insurance,
why not just take me and let Mannheim go? You and I have some
unfinished business. He's not part of it."
"He will go, all right. With me on the helicopter. You, on the other
hand, are . . ." Ramirez glanced out the wide window and fell silent as
he studied the Sikorsky. The main rotor was starting to power up, and
something about that seemed not to sit well with him. Suddenly he
seemed galvanized. He glanced at his watch, then checked the safety on
his Beretta.
Vance watched this, wondering what to do. Was this the golden moment to
try and take him? There were only the Pakis outside to worry about. . .
.
But Ramirez was already moving, grabbing Mannheim by the arm. Abruptly
he stopped, turned, and took aim at Vance, somewhere precisely between
his eyes.
Vance blanched. Jesus! Go for the Walther and get it over with.
But before he could move, Ramirez laughed and slipped the hand holding
the Beretta into his pocket, then gave a nod of his head, beckoning.
"Mr. Vance, I think I would like to have you join us after all. You're
right. We still have a few matters to settle." He stepped aside and
motioned. "But the time has come to bid farewell to Andikythera."
Ramirez was still dragging Mannheim along as they passed through
Launch, pausing only to nod lightly toward the two Pakistanis, who
immediately snapped to attention and followed. Amidst all the
excitement of the pending launch, nobody seemed to notice. They passed
through the outer door and onto the tarmac as an ensemble, Ramirez
holding Mannheim by the arm and guiding him.