The guard from upstairs ran over, yelling to let him be. Massina was pulled to his feet. He rubbed his ears and the side of his face. His senses were returning, but he felt as if he were underwater.
The guard took hold of the rope Chelsea was suspended from. Tugging, he swung her toward the rail, where one of the SWAT team grabbed her. He quickly cut her loose.
“Chelsea?” asked Massina. “Do you know what they did to the controls? Are they sabotaged?”
She blinked, then shook her head — but was she answering him or saying she didn’t know?
There were footsteps in the hall. Two of the SWAT team members moved into a blocking position.
“It’s us!” yelled Boone. Beams of light danced near the doorway. “The power’s been turned off upstairs.”
“Let them through,” said Massina.
Boone and a half-dozen guardsmen came into the control room. Johansen followed.
“We need to shut the plant down,” said Massina. “But I’m sure the controls have been sabotaged.”
“A crew from the Department of Energy is on their way.”
“Good,” said Massina, taking out his phone. “In the meantime, I have another plan.”
By the time the Department of Energy specialists arrived, Massina had already started dismantling the plant’s nuclear rods. Or rather, Peter had. Working with data provided by Telakus back at Smart Metal, Massina had sent the bot into the containment pool with instructions on how to remove and stockpile the rods. It was a good thing — a close inspection of the control panel revealed two charges that would have blown up the entire room had a controlled shutdown been attempted. And the control program itself had been sabotaged, making it impossible to shut down the plant from the panel.
“Your bot is doing a great job,” said the lead DOE expert. A Virginia native, the nuclear scientist’s faint accent carried through his containment helmet and suit. “We’ll be done inside the hour.”
“Mmmm,” said Massina, staring over the rail.
“Dr. Massina, you really should go upstairs with the others,” said the DOE expert. “The radiation is well beyond normal.”
“Two chest X-rays an hour,” said Massina.
“A little more than that, actually. To be precise—”
“That’s all right. I was joking.”
Upstairs in the guardroom, Massina found Johansen talking on his secure sat phone. Boone was frowning nearby. Chelsea, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a metal chair. A paramedic was taking her blood pressure. She looked tired, but more angry than hurt.
“Are you all right?” Massina asked her.
“Yeah.” She was hoarse.
“You should get combat pay,” suggested Massina.
“Talk to my boss.”
“I will.”
“You put Peter back to work?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You trust him?”
“Enough. He rescued me.”
“What?”
“They were running diagnostics. He knew I was in trouble, and he came to help. Our learning program — he’s learning better than we thought.”
“You know why he froze?”
“I think he’s trying to figure out who he is.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Johansen had finished his call and walked over. “How did Ghadab get out?” he asked.
“He didn’t,” said Massina. “I pushed him in.”
Johansen shook his head, then pointed to the nearby security console. “He’s not in the pool.”
“Sure he is.”
“Screen 12.”
The TV screen was the second from last in the bottom row; it showed the video feed from a camera at the bottom of the containment pool. The image was a little blurry, but clear enough for Massina to see Peter pulling the last fuel rod from the reactor.
There was no body in the water anywhere, just the bot and the rods.
“I don’t understand,” said Massina. “I hit him hard enough to kill him.”
“Maybe not,” said Johansen.
“Where did he go? How did he get out?”
Johansen’s pursed lips made it clear he didn’t know.
Done Deal
111
Johnny leaped off the helicopter and ran into the hospital, barely slowing when the security people tried to flag him down. He waved his wallet at them, not even bothering to open it and show his ID. He made the elevator just as the doors were closing.
The two nurses in the car exchanged a glance.
“I’m sorry, I know I smell a bit,” he said apologetically. “It’s been a long day.”
“Amen to that,” said one.
Johnny found Chelsea sitting up in bed. Massina, Johansen, and Sister Rose Marie, the hospital administrator, were by her bedside, talking about the Red Sox game due to start in a few hours — Boston being Boston, no one was shutting down Fenway.
Especially when the Yankees were in town.
“You’re OK?” said Johnny. “You’re OK.”
“Of course I’m OK,” insisted Chelsea.
Then she burst into tears. Johnny folded her against his chest.
“We should give them some privacy, maybe,” said Massina, leading the others out of the room.
“You let him think she was dead?” asked Sister Rose. She had known Massina all his life and was, in many ways, one of his closest friends, despite the difference in their ages and outlook. “That was very cruel.”
“No, I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure about the reactor, not until I was inside.”
“I thought you were dead wrong,” admitted Johansen. “The reactor is so small.”
“Ghadab’s attacks were always more psychological. He wanted to make it seem that anything could happen anywhere. And, frankly, a lot of people would have died had the core actually melted down. Everyone in the building, for starters.”
“Most were his people,” said Johansen. Daesh had managed to infiltrate the student cadre at the plant over a year before; once he targeted it, Ghadab replaced all of the control-room people and the guards with his own recruits. They’d been there for days, proceeding slowly so as not to attract attention. If Massina hadn’t figured out the plot, it was very possible they would still be there, blocking the doors as the reactor finally went critical.
“The question now is, where is he?” said Massina. “He got out of the building.”
“I doubt that,” said Johansen. “We’ve only done a preliminary search. We’ll get him. He won’t get away.”
I could have, should have, killed him, thought Massina.
He’d wanted to. He’d have felt no remorse.
Yet, he wouldn’t have felt joy either, and maybe not even satisfaction. He knew that now, from what he had felt in the room when he thought Ghadab was dead.
Revenge wasn’t enough. He’d thought he had it, but it hadn’t made him feel any better.
Wiping Ghadab and Daesh off the face of the earth — it had to be done, but it wouldn’t necessarily bring joy. It might not even bring closure.
What would?
“I really should be getting back over to the command center,” said Johansen, glancing at his watch. “We’ll set up a full debrief for tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”
“OK,” answered Massina.
“The Director will want to formalize a relationship going forward. There are… legal things to work on.”
“I’m sure we can do that. I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“Were we only supposed to be a scapegoat if things went wrong, or did you really want our help?”
“I always wanted your help.”