The new millennium had already come to Moscow, Tehran, Tel Aviv, Berlin, and Vienna. All the other cities of Europe were preparing for it. News headlines proclaimed WAR THREAT EASES in forty different languages. Happy, expectant crowds streamed through London. In New York the clubs and restaurants that normally closed at sundown were filling. The streets were crushed with people. Pickpockets and prostitutes had more business than they could possibly handle.
In Florida at 5:30 P.M., Eastern Standard Time, the Rangers began boarding the shuttle. The entire Kennedy Space Center had been cleared of prying eyes. The news people were locked in the same plush prison as the refugees.
In Washington, the burly, red-eyed man shifted painfully in his chair as he watched the troop boarding on closed-circuit television.
"They take off at six?" he asked for the hundredth time.
"Barring delays," answered an Air Force colonel. "They should have Alpha secured by shortly after midnight, accord- ing to the schedule. Kinsman and his group will arrive no sooner than one A.M."
The man nodded.
"May I ask, sir," the Colonel added, "why we're allow- ing Kinsman to depart at all? Why not keep him here, under our thumb?"
"A dead martyr is a worse enemy than a live traitor." "Oh. I see. Uh, Colonel Colt should be in New York by now, incidentally."
The man came as close as he could to smiling. "Yes, I know."
Colt was there when Kinsman returned to his room. Harriman held the door open as Kinsman wheeled in, with Landau right behind him. Colt was standing by the windows, looking out at the night and the unaccustomed brilliance of the city's lights.
As he rolled his chair across the room and yanked off his oxygen mask, Kinsman said, "Frank! This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you here? I thought you were at
Vandenberg."
Shrugging, Colt replied, "Couldn't let you get this close without hopping over to wish you a Happy New Year." Harriman muttered, "Good old sentimental Frank." "Yeah," Colt said, glancing at him. "Sentimental. That's me, all right."
"I'm glad to see you," Kinsman said. "Bird colonel, eh?" Colt said nothing. Kinsman gestured him to a chair and wheeled up close to the windows. "Can't see the Moon. Too overcast."
Landau began to set up his instruments on the desktop.
"I thought you'd be busy with the final countdown at Kennedy," Kinsman said to Colt.
"It's going along fine. They don't need me breathing down their necks. If there's any problem they can reach me here."
Kinsman grinned at him. 'That doesn't sound like the old perch-on-the-bastard's-ass Frank Colt that I used to know and love."
Colt turned slightly away from him. "I'm a big-ass bird colonel now. Got to show some dignity. Besides, Fd rather be up here with you."
"How come our first shipload of immigrants is being launched from Florida?" Harriman wanted to know. "Why not right here, from the commercial port?"
