Crowne turned to Tremayne. “Professor? Do you endorse that?”
Tremayne said, “To be truthful, I am barely clinging on to the coattails of Doctor Jones’s analysis. But there is clearly a link between the Hades emplacements and our own detonation with the timings and locations of these tremors. It is only prudent to get Doctor Jones’s warning out.”
Crowne said, “Very well—”
Godwin drew his revolver. “Belay that, Major.”
“Commodore!”
Tremayne said, “What on Earth are you doing, Godwin?”
“Taking control. This is clearly a global crisis. If these ‘Magmoids’ exist at all, and I’m not ready to concede that yet, we ought to be thinking in terms of striking back.”
Jones said, “Striking back? By all that’s holy, man—”
Crowne said, “Commodore, I really think I should pass this up the command line—”
“To what end? This is the focus of the Magmoid attack. This is where the intelligence is gathered—here, in my hands. And nobody is better qualified to make the profound decisions that now face mankind. Crowne, obey my order. Step back from the console.”
Crowne took a deep breath. “Sir. With respect. No, sir. Commodore Godwin, I am the senior US officer on the base here. My commander-in-chief is President Eisenhower—not you. We work together, sir, we are allies. But in the final analysis I have to exercise my own judgement. And I won’t allow the base to be cut out of the chain of command. No, sir.”
And Godwin pulled the trigger. The noise of the revolver was shockingly loud in the enclosed space. Crowne fell back and lay still.
Clare cried, “Major!” She knelt down and felt for a pulse at Crowne’s neck. “Commodore Godwin—you killed him!”
Tremayne said, “For God’s sake, man! What about duty? What about the oaths you swore to serve Queen and country?”
“Oh, I serve a higher cause than that, Tremayne.”
All the operatives in the command centre—every one of them a soldier, Jones reminded himself—had turned, shocked, at the sound of the gunshot. But Godwin snarled, “Back to work, all of you.” They turned back to their consoles.
“Now to business,” Godwin said. “I am confident that the American troops within this base will continue to obey my commands. But I must decide what to do with you. For you’re either with me or against me, it’s as simple as that. You’ll be confined, Jones. Obviously. As for you, WPC Baines—”
“I won’t submit to your threats, Commodore.”
“I admire your spirit. Well, you’ll be confined too. And you, Professor Tremayne—I expect your cooperation. This is your baby, you know. The bombs of Project Hades are your design.”
“But I never wanted this killing.”
Jones said, “I might ask you what you expected when you devoted your life to weapons design, Professor.”
“But I have always believed in the power of reason. Oh, you can put your gun away as far as I’m concerned, Godwin. I’ll work with you. But I’ll be working to make you see sense!”
Godwin said, “Sergeant at arms, take these two away. And clear up this—umm, unfortunate incident. We have work to do. Come, Professor Tremayne.”
As Jones and Clare were led away, the room shuddered.
Clare muttered, “Here we go again.”
A blur of light washed over the crowded street, a noise like a shriek. People cowered, bewildered by such strangeness on this terrible night.
Buck said, “Woah. Anybody see that?”
Winston goggled. “Yes! Wow, that was fantastic, I’ve never seen a Grendel so close. It’s like an eye in the sky—it seems to watch you as it goes by. No wonder people thought they were living things.”
Phillips called, “Coming up to the bridge.”
Buck said, “And it’s still intact. Thank cripes for that—”
There was an explosion, somewhere ahead. People screamed.
“Holy smoke, that was bigger than ever. I can’t see the bridge. Is it down?”
Phillips said, “No. There, see, through the smoke? Hold on—”
The truck bounced and rattled onto the bridge. Another shriek rolled down from the sky.
Hope said, “What’s that up in the sky? Angels?”
Winston said, “Not angels, Mum. They’re called Grendels.”
“My word,” Phillips said, “they’re all along the length of the bridge.”
Thelma peered ahead, over his shoulder. The strange squashed-sphere shapes of the Grendels hovered over the bridge’s superstructure, like Christmas lights, illuminating the streams of refugees struggling to cross.
Buck said, “Can you smell sulphur?”
Hope grumbled, “Yeah. And I’m sweating fit to melt.”
Buck looked down, peering out of his window. “Gee, the water is glowing.”
Thelma peered down at a crimson, smoking river. “That’s not water, Sergeant. That’s lava. The valley of the Tyne is full of molten lava!”
4
0309.
Once again Jones and Clare found themselves in a cell. This time they were cuffed back to back and set on a bunk.
Jones said, “Charming ambience once again. Battleship grey must be in this year.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“No, I know. I’m sorry to have gotten you into this. An hour or two of this and our shoulders are going to ache like billy-o.”
“I wish I could have stopped Professor Tremayne working with Godwin. The Professor seemed—dazed.”
“Yes. Stunned by the implosion of his dreams. But it might be useful to have Tremayne out there with the Commodore rather than in here with us. He’s an ally, if a tentative one. After all Tremayne didn’t know about Godwin’s secret control room, you’ll remember.”
“So now what, Doctor Jones?”
“I would say the first priority is to get back to that secret room and find out what Godwin’s really up to.”
“And how are we going to do that? I can’t pick these locks. We were searched—our pockets emptied—”
“Perhaps we can improvise. Clare—if I scrunch around like this, can you get your hand into my jacket pocket?”
“It’s not easy lifting my hands behind my back.”
“I know. Just try. Now have a dig around.”
“They didn’t leave you much. Pack of cards. Match book. Reading glasses—”
“That’s it. A wire frame, you’ll see—it comes apart rather easily if you give it a tug.”
“It’s not an accident you have such a thing, is it, Doctor Jones?”
“Well, I have been in a few scrapes in the past. Now, if you can just use the pieces of the frame—”
“Done.” There was a double click, and the cuffs that joined their wrists opened. They fell away from each other with gasps of relief. Clare worked at the other cuff on her wrist. “Now what? It may be trickier getting through that door; it looked like a magnetic lock.”
“Ah. But I suspect we’re right next door to the computer room—if my sense of geography’s right. And those wall panels, with the bolts in the corner, look vulnerable to another souvenir they left me with.” He dug in his pocket and produced his threepenny bit. “Open sesame!”
Once out of the city, the refugee flow was foot traffic mixed up with cars, trucks, buses, ambulances—even tractors and bicycles. But the flow was always slow. Phillips, however, insisted they were better off sticking to the tarmac track rather than risk going off-road. Frustration and anxiety gnawed at Thelma.
Fifteen miles north of Newcastle the traffic ground to a crawl, not for the first time. People pressed around the truck; Thelma looked out over a sea of hunched shoulders and drawn faces.