"Actually, I'm not so sure it's so lunatic," Flynn said reluctantly. "That base they've got at the entrance is a lot bigger now than the one Caine described. They're putting forth some serious effort to get into the mountain."
"If all that's left in there are booby traps, why not let them?" Reger asked.
"Because we don't know that's all that's left," Skyler told him. "Regardless, it's not a decision Jensen should be making on his own."
"And he definitely shouldn't be going in there and pulling the plug personally," O'Hara added. "If we decide to wreck the base, there have to be ways of doing it by remote control."
"Perhaps that's what he intends," Kanai suggested.
"I don't think so," Skyler said with a sigh. "He's been ... well, never mind."
"He's gotten it into his head that he owes the universe a huge debt," Hawking said. "He's spent the last two years looking for a way to pay it off."
Across the room, Anne Silcox stirred. "Then you'd better go and try to stop him, hadn't you?" she said quietly.
"What about your people?" Skyler asked.
"What about them?" she retorted, an edge of bitterness in her voice. "You said yourself the whole convoy will be one gigantic trap."
"True, but even the best traps don't always work," O'Hara pointed out. "And frankly, with the Ryqril taking a personal hand, I'm not expecting this to be one of the best."
"Besides, Jensen's not planning his move until tomorrow night," Hawking said. "We can head up there tomorrow."
"That's cutting things a little close," Flynn warned.
"No way around it," Skyler said firmly, his tone making it clear that he'd made his decision. "As Hawking said, we've got till tomorrow to get to Jensen. Anne's people are being moved tonight. Ergo, we continue the operation as planned."
"If for no other reason than to keep them thinking we still trust Poirot?" Reger asked.
"That's another reason, yes," Skyler agreed. "What's happening with the small explosives you said you could get?"
"Draper has them ready," Reger said. "He's got the tankers you wanted, too."
"Excellent," Skyler said. "Anne, you'll rendezvous with Draper and move the explosives to Site Three.
The wind's still predicted to be coming from the north this evening?"
"That's what they say," O'Hara confirmed.
"Site Three it is, then," Skyler said. "And be sure to transport the explosives in small quantities—
Security might make more sensor runs over the city and I don't want a collection big enough for them to zero in on. Flynn, give her a hand—she can fill you in on the plan along the way."
"Won't we need Flynn to help with the truck hijacking?" Hawking asked.
"That's been scrubbed," Skyler said. "Turns out Reger has access to enough jellied fuel for what we need."
"Ah," Hawking said. "Then it sounds like we're ready."
"Pretty much," Skyler said. "Let's tie up the last details and get to our positions."
"And hope that Security doesn't have any trump cards of their own to play," Reger warned.
"Oh, I'm sure they will," Skyler assured him with a smile. "That's what makes this so much fun."
Reger's only response was a snort.
Between the hundred-meter climb, the disorienting sonic, and Foxleigh's bad leg, the first part of the trip into Aegis Mountain was sheer torture. Fortunately, after that it got somewhat easier.
Until, that is, they reached the final part, the narrow tunnel Torch had carved through a hundred and fifty meters of solid rock to bypass the lethal traps of the first-stage air filter system. Foxleigh kept running his knees into small outcroppings of rock as he walked, sending ripples of pain through him and draining what little strength was left in his leg. Jensen, for his part, had to duck his head through much of it, a posture that wasn't doing his injured ribs any good. "At least we don't have to worry about an attack from the rear," Foxleigh muttered when as they reached the midway point. "No Ryq over the age of five would ever fit through here."
"Torch probably designed that way on purpose," Jensen said. "Of course, that just means they'd have to stand at the far end and shoot us from there."
Foxleigh looked back along the mostly straight tunnel behind them. "Oh," he said, and kept going.
The far end of the tunnel opened up into a fifty-meter-long storage room. Foxleigh hobbled inside, panting in the stale air and gazing at the dusty crates waiting patiently to be opened by people who were long dead. All of them except him.
After thirty years, he was finally back inside Aegis Mountain.
"Sorry about the mess," Jensen said. He was breathing a little heavily himself. "Maid's day off."
"I figured," Foxleigh puffed back. "What now?"
"We'll look around a little," Jensen said, wincing as he tried to rub his side through the thincast, an exercise Foxleigh knew from personal experience to be a complete waste of time. "Then we'll rest a while, maybe get something to eat."
"We could have done that at my cabin," Foxleigh pointed out. "What exactly are we here for?"
Jensen sent a gaze around the dusty chamber. "For thirty years the Ryqril have been the ones dealing out death and destruction," he said, his voice suddenly as dark and cold as Aegis itself. "It's about time we showed them that we can do that, too."
"And how much death and destruction exactly are we talking about?"
"Enough." For a moment Jensen just stood there, his eyes unfocused as if gazing across a long line of ghosts from the past. Foxleigh watched him, his heart thudding unpleasantly. For the first time, he realized, he was seeing past Jensen's layer of control and civilization to what lay beneath it. The man was ready to kill.
He was more than ready to die.
And as that realization sank in, Foxleigh became acutely aware of the pistol pressed against his side beneath his shirt. If he had to use it ...
Abruptly, Jensen shook his head, a quick doglike water-shedding movement. "Sorry," he said, his voice back to normal. "Memories."
"I have a few of those myself," Foxleigh said. "So when does this all death and destruction happen?"
"Tomorrow night," Jensen told him. "But we can start the prep work right away."
"Or at least after that rest and meal you mentioned?"
"Sure," Jensen said. "Come on, I'll take you to the medical area. The lighting's better, and there are lockers of emergency rations we can raid." He smiled, his veneer of civilization back in place. "It's a lot cleaner too."
"That's certainly the important thing," Foxleigh said, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn't feel.
"Lead the way."
Shaw's blackcollars had apparently begun arriving early that morning. By the time Lathe took Judas down to their underground staging area there were a good fifty of them present, busily uncrating and organizing various pieces of equipment.
"Looks like we're getting serious," Judas commented as they passed a pair of gray-haired men uncrating a group of flat, one-by-two-meter rectangular body shields. The staging area itself, he now recognized, was another part of the city's former subway system. "I hope this doesn't mean Shaw's taken over the planning again."
"Don't worry, he hasn't," Shaw's voice came from behind them.
Judas turned, his face warming. The tactor was striding toward them, one of the body shields hanging from his left forearm. "Sorry," he apologized. "I meant—"
"Here—try it on," Shaw interrupted, sliding his arm out of the shield's straps and offering it to Judas.