"No . . ."

"Yes! The only way to prevent the end of the world is by trusting him. And if you can't trust him, Frank, then trust me. This is the only way, Frank. The only way."

The gun wavered just the slightest fraction of a centime- ter.

"Don't listen to him!" Kelly screamed. "Shoot him! Shoot!"

Colt let his arm drop. He turned to Kelly. "You shoot him, hero. You get the job done."

Keily blinked a half-dozen times. "Me?"

"Chickenshit," Colt said. "It's all right for the black boy to do your dirty work, but you haven't got the guts to do it for yourself,"

Waterman, still sprawled on the floor, said, "You've gone crazy. All three of you—you're nuts!"

"Nobody's going to shoot anyone," Kinsman said. He yanked at the wires and pulled them away from the explo- sives. Then he stood up as Colt bolstered his gun.

In the distance Kinsman could hear the clatter of men running. Faint voices. Lights flashing around the silent ma- chines, casting eerie nickering shadows along their looming bulk.

Waterman broke into sobs. "You're gonna let them nuke the United States. You're gonna let them kill my girls, you stupid sonofabitch."

"No," Kinsman said firmly. "We're going to stop them from destroying themselves. If there's enough of this factory left to keep us alive."

"You hope," said Colt.

"It's the only hope we have," Kinsman answered. 430

"You'd better be right," Waterman said, his voice trem- bling. "You'd just better be right. If they kill my girls, I'll kill you. I swear it on my wife's grave. With my bare hands I'll kill you, Kinsman."

Silently Kinsman replied. Get in line, Ernie. There are plenty of others ahead of you.

His office was jammed with people.

It surprised Kinsman. He was bone-weary, soaked with fear, sweat, and exhaustion as he trudged the final length of corridor to his office door. He felt totally alone, wrapped in apprehension. What's happening at Lunagrad? Why hasn't Pete called?

Then he slid the office door open and saw more than a dozen people packed into the small room. All the display screens were blaring. Diane sat behind his desk, the phone's handset clamped to one ear and her hand pressed against the other so she could hear over the noise of the crowd. Nearly every light on the phone keyboard was lit. Hugh Harriman was working the other phone, at the couch, yelling and waving his arms.

Kinsman went straight to the desk. Diane looked up at him. Simultaneously they asked, "Are you all right? How bad's the damage to the factory?"

The ghost of a smile flitted across Diane's face. She brushed a hand across her forehead. "You don't look so good."

"I could use a drink. What's the word on the damage? How bad is it? I didn't stay to see it all."

"Hugh's getting reports from the maintenance team."

Chris Perry pushed his way to Kinsman's side. "We've done it, sir! Everything's secure. The whole base is ours. The only real resistance was at the water factory, and they're all rounded up."

"Fine. What about the damage reports?"