"What did Hawkins say?" Lamb asked.
"He said we were going home. He said that all we had to do was go through the Wall, and even as he said it, the far end of the room turned back into the black Wall."
"Is that all he said?" Lamb asked impatiently.
"No, sir, it's not. He also said that we was to tell you that the Russians aren't behind this. He showed me and the LT his weapon and it sure isn't anything we could have made. He fired with it and took out half the wall. Scared the shit out of some of the boys. Then he asked the LT to shoot him with his pistol. The LT didn't want to do it so the major, he just grabbed the LT's pistol and turned it against his chest and pulled the trigger and nothing happened-I mean the pistol fired but the major, he just stood there.
"Then he looked at me and told me to shoot him in the chest and I did. I put a three-round burst into him, sir, and it didn't even faze him. I've never seen body armor like that. He said that should help convince you that what he told you was true." Johnson took a breath. "And then he said one last thing, sir. He said that he and someone named Colonel Tuskin were going after the other bomb. And he said they had some help from the others-the people who built this chamber and the Wall. He said the weapon and his suit were part of that help. I didn't know what all that meant, but the major said to make sure I told you that."
"How come Hawkins didn't come back himself?" Lamb asked. "He could have showed me this equipment to prove his point."
"He said you'd ask that," Johnson replied, speaking in the rote monotone subordinates often use when delivering bad news to their bosses. "He said that there were two reasons he wasn't gonna come through. First was, there wasn't enough time. He said they had to get the bomb real soon. The second was that he said he didn't trust you enough to bring that gun and that suit back here and put them in your hands."
Lamb closed his eyes briefly and tried to bring his emotions under control. It was time for clear thinking. "All right, Sergeant. After I go up, take your men to the surface and see that your lieutenant gets some treatment. He looks like he's in shock."
"Yes, sir."
Lamb clambered back into the basket and gave the signal for Tomkins to start the motor. As he rode to the surface he considered what he was to tell the President. Things had changed and Lamb knew he had to do a quick reevaluation of the whole situation.
By the time he got to his office and raised the President on the radio, Lamb had made his decision.
"What is it, Steve? My secretary said this was priority one." The President looked haggard and worn.
"The marines came back through, sir."
"You pull me out of a cabinet meeting to tell me that? What-"
"Excuse me, sir, but there's more." As succinctly as possible Lamb outlined what they had gleaned from the imagery at Tunguska and the message that Hawkins had sent with the team.
"What does it all mean?" the President asked when he was done.
"I think that whatever came out of the Tunguska Wall had Hawkins in it, sir. I think that Hawkins is on the trail of the last bomb."
"But you said that Hawkins told the marines one of the Russians was with him. This Colonel Tuskin."
"Yes, sir." Lamb looked at the computer printout his intelligence analyst had just slid across his desk. "Tuskin is a Spetsnatz officer. One of their best. I think he may well be with Hawkins."
"Then it is a Russian setup," the President said, confusion plain on his face.
"No, sir, I don't believe so. I don't think the Russians would have shot at whatever it is that came through their Wall just ten minutes ago if they were behind this and knew what was going on. And why would they have isolated the marines and then sent them back? I think they're as confused as we are, if not more. As a matter of fact, sir, I think they are confused enough to launch an assault-or at least a reconnaissance in force-on our position here. I believe the Russians think we're behind everything that's happening."
The President stared at the camera for a long time, his face tired, the eyes the only sign of life. Finally he sighed. "All right. So you're saying they're going to up the stakes because they think we're screwing with them?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what should I do?"
Lamb paused and rubbed the indentation on his cheek, then spoke. "Call Pamarov, sir. Offer to let them send inspectors here to look at the Rock and the chamber inside. Tell him everything we know."
The President blinked. "That's quite a change, Steve. A couple of hours ago you were sure that the Russians were behind this. I can see where you've uncovered new information leading you to change that position, but let me ask you one thing. What if the Russians are behind this?"
"I've thought hard about this, sir. If they are, I don't think we have anything to lose by opening up to them. If they're behind it they know everything that's happened and is happening. But if they're not-and I think the evidence strongly points that way-then we lose a lot by not going to them and laying our cards on the table. My intelligence indicates they're getting ready to launch a Spetsnatz mission off their carrier task force. We can handle it and stop it, but it'll be bloody as hell. And who knows what that will escalate into? The Australians certainly won't be happy. They may even insist we shut down here."
"What about the Orion team that was at Tunguska?" the President asked. "You admit it, sir. I think that will really make Pamarov believe you." Lamb leaned forward, sweat pouring off his forehead. He threw aside the cloak of formality and addressed his old friend. "Hell, Pete, they already know those guys were ours. They just can't prove it. And we know some things about them, too, that we've never gone public with. You've seen Volkers's printouts. This world's getting ready to go down the tubes. This may be a last chance to do something right for once."
The President rested his eyes on Lamb for a long time as he slumped back in his chair, deep in thought. Then slowly he straightened and Lamb saw a look come into his friend's eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. "All right, Steve. You're right. We've got nothing to lose. And maybe we can do something right for once. I'll call Pamarov. You be prepared there to talk to whoever's in charge of their fleet and arrange for an inspection team."
The screen went dead and Lamb sat back in his chair, his stomach churning. He wasn't sure if he'd just damned his country or saved it or if anything he did mattered.
THE COMPLEX
Fran, Debra, and Pencak wandered along the corridor, poking their heads in as the doors swished open, revealing the rooms beyond. Most contained machinery, on a smaller scale than that above, the purpose of which was unknown-although a few reminded Fran of repair facilities, perhaps for the skimmers. Some rooms were totally empty; others contained rows of waist-high platforms that might have been beds. One appeared to be a dining area.
The total absence of any life was very disturbing. The entire facility appeared to have been built with the idea of supporting a large number of personnel-personnel that from the artifacts they could see, were approximately human sized-yet they met nothing and no one.
Pencak stepped up to another door and it slid open. She looked inside and then back over her shoulder, her one eye gleaming. "This looks interesting."
Fran peered in. It was a large room, the true extent of which she could not see, due to dividers coming up from the floor. Directly in front of them was a bank of what appeared to be computer terminals with benches in front. Levy pushed past and ran up to one of the machines and sat down before it.
"Do you think it works?" Fran asked as she walked up.