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The screen was totally gray and it was hard to tell if the computer was on or off. There was no keyboard, simply ten holes about an inch in diameter, evenly spaced, directly below the screen-a smaller version of the wrist holes in the Speaker's room.

Levy simply sat and stared, not replying. Fran looked about. "What's that?" she asked, pointing at a corridor off to the left where a red light glowed.

Pencak shrugged. "I don't know."

As Fran moved toward the light, Levy extended both hands and slipped her fingers into the slots. The screen cleared of gray and symbols appeared. Levy's normally expressionless face softened as a large smile crossed it and her pupils narrowed into tiny balls intent upon the small screen.

Fran stepped into the corridor and paused for a second, letting her eyes adjust to the red light. She moved down and the light coming out of recesses in the ceiling started shifting in the color spectrum, going from red to blue. The farther she went, the lighter it grew until suddenly she realized she was bathed in light just as she would have been on a bright summer day back on Earth. The corridor turned right and she went around the comer. A glass-enclosed hexagonal platform stood there, the door wide open.

Fran started as a hand dropped heavily on her shoulder. She swung her head around and saw Pencak looking at her.

"What do you think that is?" Fran asked.

"Let's see," Pencak replied. She led the way over and stepped in the door. A small control console was in one comer. There were three buttons: one with an arrow pointing up, one down, and one with a horizontal line on it. Pencak and Fran looked up. Through the glass ceiling they could see a red-lit tunnel beckoning straight up.

Pencak hovered her good hand over the button with the up arrow. "Shall we?"

"Do you think we should?" Fran asked.

"We'll never know unless we try." Pencak pressed down on the button and the elevator smoothly lifted and accelerated. Fran's knees briefly buckled, then the speed settled out. Red panels flashed by, marking stops, but Pencak kept her hand pressed on the up button.

After thirty seconds the elevator gradually began to slow. The red panels flashed by more slowly, then suddenly the machine halted. On the outside of the glass there was now slate-gray metal on all sides, including the top.

"What do you think?" Fran asked Pencak.

The old woman was standing stock-still, peering ahead as if she could see through the metal. Her hand lifted off the up button and touched the horizontal one. With a hiss of hydraulics, the roof flipped over, revealing a dark and sullen gray sky above with several odd-looking streaks of dull red in it.

The metal panels on the side began unfolding with heavy thuds, indicating their protective thickness. As the world around began to appear, Fran gasped and staggered back, holding on to the console for support. She turned to Pencak, speechless.

The older woman's face crinkled in a weary smile. "Amazing, isn't it?"

Fran looked back out, her gaze riveted on the object blocking out the entire horizon to the one side. "You knew?"

Pencak's voice was barely audible. "I knew. And it was time for you to know."

Fran looked up at the scarred and shattered object that faced her. It had been battered and smashed by some powerful force, but it still maintained enough of the original form to leave no doubt in her mind that she was staring at Ayers Rock-or what remained of it.

Hundreds of feet below, Debra Levy sat staring at the computer screen, tears pouring unnoticed down her face. "No," she murmured to herself. "No, it can't be." She pulled her fingers out of the holes and pressed them to the side of her head as uncontrollable sobs racked her body.

THE SOURCE

Proletesk, Ukraine
23 DECEMBER 1995, 1100 LOCAL
23 DECEMBER 1995, 0800 ZULU

Hawkins looked through his binoculars at the small dacha one last time and then handed them to Tuskin. "You know this place?"

Tuskin spit into the snow. His coverall was now white, speckled with green dots and stripes, matching perfectly with the snow and low-lying pine trees. "Yes. I know it. It is one of many places the SVR-you knew them as the KGB, but now they have a new name-takes those who will never be seen again. The guards live in comfort, the prisoners in pain. The contrast is deliberate-calculated to help in the process of breaking the prisoner. They have had many years to perfect their techniques. Too many."

"What about security?" Hawkins asked.

Tuskin gave a smile that chilled. "Who would dare attack? You would be crazy to attack the SVR."

Hawkins stood. "Well, that I am."

Tuskin stood and slapped him on the back. "We should never have been enemies."

Hawkins pointed at the dacha. "How do you want to take it down?"

"The general will be in the cellar. The guards are probably drunk. The SVR are all scum who live off of others' misery." He looked at Hawkins, as if trying to gauge his reaction. "We kill all and take the general out. How does that sound for a plan, my friend?"

Hawkins hefted the plasma projector. "Sounds good to me. Let's do it."

They moved through the woods, down the slope to the small house perched on the edge of the ice-covered lake. They'd landed in the skimmer over two hours earlier on the other side of the large ridge they were now descending. As soon as they'd stepped out of the door, it had immediately sealed itself back up, but Hawkins had no doubt that it would open again when they came back.

The ride from Tunguska had been wild. It had reminded Hawkins of nap-of-the-earth (NOE) flying in a helicopter with an expert and somewhat crazy pilot at the controls. Right after they'd punched through the Wall, the autopilot had kicked in, taking them from Tunguska to the location Hawkins had indicated on the video screen. They'd skimmed along, the bottom of the craft barely inches above the trees, always staying in the lowest ground available. Their speed had been incredible for that low an altitude-Hawkins estimated they'd flown at almost five hundred miles an hour.

Hawkins shifted his focus to the present as he reached the edge of the wood line surrounding the house. There were forty feet of open space. Two black sedans with chains on the tires sat in front. There was no sign of a guard on the outside. His heart was pounding in his ears, his senses reaching out and picking up things that would have normally escaped unnoticed. Time was slowing as he slid into combat readiness. Tuskin pointed and twitched his head-gestures most would have not understood. Hawkins felt an affinity for his blood brother in killing. He understood perfectly. He moved across the open snow in smooth steps, his entire body tuned in to the building ahead, awaiting any reaction.

Tuskin moved in his peripheral vision, heading toward the back of the building. Hawkins reached the side of the dacha and took a quick glance around the corner. A porch stretched ahead, leading to the front door in the center. He looked over his shoulder and Tuskin's eyes were on him, waiting. Hawkins nodded and moved around the corner, stooping low so he wouldn't be seen through the first window he passed. As he straightened, the front door opened and a man stepped out, still speaking in Russian over his shoulder.

The plasma projector seared the man in half, and in less than half a second Hawkins was in the doorway, spraying down the room. Men died even before their conscious minds understood what was happening. Hawkins let up on the trigger only when the far wall blew apart from the ray. A stairwell beckoned to his right. The golden ray of another projector sliced across his left front, catching two SVR men coming out of the other room on the main floor. Tuskin stepped into the room, his eyes taking in the smoldering remains of the bodies.

Together the two hit the stairs going down. A voice-disturbed by the strange sound of the wall getting blown out-called out in Russian, asking Ivan what was happening. A sustained burst blew in the heavy steel door at the bottom of the stairs and Hawkins stepped inside. The torturer was so surprised, his first round was wide, splashing against the concrete above Hawkins's head. There was no second shot as Hawkins obliterated the man. He lowered the muzzle of the projector and looked at the only man left alive in the building.