"New people, same old shit," Hawkins replied. "Intertribal fighting is just as fierce as interracial."
"Who are you?" The words from Lona's swollen lips were barely audible. Her eyes were straining, trying to make sense of what she could see. "Where is Nabaktu?"
Tuskin was regarding her impassively, his hand already straying to the knife at his belt. "I don't think you'll need that," Hawkins said quietly. "I think she's already broken." He looked at her. "We need to know about the bomb."
"The bomb," Lona repeated numbly. "I told you about the bomb. I told you it was the only one. There are no more."
"There is one more," Hawkins said.
"No more," Lona repeated. "We only had the one."
"I know you only bought one. But the man you bought it from acquired two using your gold. We need to know who he is."
"I told you-he was a Russian."
"Tell us everything about him. Did you actually see him?"
Lona slowly nodded. "We met him once. In Angola. When we paid. He promised us the bomb later and he delivered. I did not want to trust him, but Nabaktu said we had no choice." She raised her head painfully, looking around the stark interior of the skimmer. "Where is Nabaktu? Where am I?"
"What did the Russian look like?" Tuskin asked, leaning over her.
"He scared me. His eyes were dead. I've seen those eyes before-the workers in the mines look like that after six months under the earth. But his were worse. He would as easily have killed us as talked to us. I don't know why he delivered the bomb-he had our gold. Nabaktu said it was because he was a professional. A man who kept his word."
"What did he look like?" Tuskin repeated, his hand caressing the handle of his knife.
Hawkins gave her a sip of water and she closed her eyes in concentration. "Tall. As tall as you. White haired. Thin. Very thin. His face was leathery-a man who spent much time in the outdoors." Her eyes opened as she suddenly remembered. "He had a large ring on his right hand. A black stone with some symbol etched into it."
Tuskin knelt down next to her, his eyes alert. "What kind of symbol?"
"It looked like a bird of some sort."
"A hawk with talons outstretched?" Tuskin asked. "Done in red on the black stone?" He held out his own hand and pointed. "Like this?"
The girl nodded. "That's it."
"Shit," Tuskin muttered, and then looked at Hawkins. "I know who it is." He held up the ring. "This ring is worn only by men who have been in Spetsnatz more than twenty years and served honorably. There is only one man who wears that ring and fits that description. And he is the one man who could have done what he did."
"Who?" Hawkins asked.
"Colonel Ivan Sergot. He was my Spetsnatz commander when we went into Kabul. An old friend and comrade."
"Why does your old friend and comrade want a nuclear bomb?" Hawkins asked.
Tuskin was nodding as he thought about it. "It all makes sense now. It's about his son."
"His son?" Hawkins asked, confused.
"His son was a helicopter pilot in the army. He died of radiation poisoning from flying missions over the power plant at Chernobyl, pouring concrete on the main reactor. They buried him right there. Just dumped a load of concrete on the bodies of the helicopter crews because they were too hot to put anywhere else."
"Jesus Christ," Hawkins muttered.
"Ivan went crazy for a while. He was removed from command and then retired a year ago. Last I heard he was living down near the Black Sea."
"You sure it's him?" Hawkins wanted to know.
Tuskin stood, ignoring the girl at his feet. "There's one way to find out." He moved to the front of the skimmer. "Let's land and get her out and then head north. If my guess is right, I think I know where he might have gone."
COOPERATION
The Russian admiral stared at the black Wall for a long time before turning back to Lamb. "It is the same as the photos my people sent of what they uncovered at Tunguska. The story your Major Hawkins told you is the same one our Colonel Tuskin told. He is reported to be a very reliable man."
Lamb's gut was still tied in knots. The K-25 helicopter bringing the ranking officer of the Russian fleet off the southern coast of Australia had landed a half hour earlier and he'd spent that time fully briefing a man whom he had worked hard the last several days trying to keep from knowing what was going on. It was an odd change for Lamb and he was having trouble adjusting to it.
The admiral turned to Lamb. "So what now? I have seen all this and can report to my superiors, but what does it all mean?"
Lamb shrugged. "I don't know. I think that is for your President and mine to decide between them." He looked the Russian in the eyes. "For me it means that we stop playing games-at least for now-and cooperate."
THE CRATER
Fran stepped out into darkness, staggering slightly as she felt dirt under her feet. As her eyes adjusted, she could see stars faintly glinting overhead, but all around she was surrounded by darkness. It was as if she was at the bottom of a large bowl, with the sky circling overhead. "Where are we?" she asked.
It was Don who answered her. "We're in Arizona. I've been here before. We're at the bottom of Meteor Crater. Of course, I don't know when we are," he added.
"The location is correct," Pencak confirmed. "The when is your present."
"Then you don't need fixed sites like Tunguska and Ayers Rock to travel in time?" Fran asked.
"No," Pencak answered. "And traveling is not the right word for it. We bend space and time from our master control room in the future. We can travel to any time and any place on the planet. Debra Levy was very correct in her assumptions about wormholes, but she underestimated the scale to which it could be developed-which is very interesting, considering that, in our history, she was one of the key members of the team that developed time travel."
"Then why the whole setup at Ayers Rock if it wasn't necessary?" Don asked.
"Ah, but it was very necessary," Pencak replied. She lifted up her cane and squinted at the handle in the dark. "We only have an hour. I will try to do my best to explain what is happening in that time. It is most likely that you two will be the only ones who will know what has really occurred-what is still occurring. And that is how it must be-you must safeguard that knowledge. Many people have dedicated their lives to making what is happening occur. And we will not know for another hour if we have even begun to succeed. If we have, I, and the others like me, we will cease to exist."
The massive mountain of concrete that had once been the Chernobyl nuclear power plant loomed on the horizon as Tuskin brought the skimmer to a landing next to a two-lane tar road covered with wisps of snow.
"You think he came here?" Hawkins asked as the craft settled with a slight bump.
"I'm sure he did," Tuskin answered. "The question is, is he still in the area?" Hawkins looked around as the door opened and they stepped out. "How hot is it out here?"
"We have a half hour with no ill effects. Longer than that"-Tuskin shrugged-"longer than that you might as well stay." He squinted into the wind blowing across the road and pointed. "There. That's the grave site. I had to do a recon of this area three years ago with Sergot. We flew in low and fast onboard helicopters, taking pictures for the scientists to look at. We all received a good dose of radiation then, but the government certainly didn't care. Sergot pointed out the grave to me. He is a very bitter man," he added unnecessarily. Hawkins understood bitterness quite well.