He drove along the straight expressway, where Fank had driven him six months ago in a luxurious limousine and had passed an endless column of armored vehicles. Fank had driven at a furious speed to deliver him to Strannik. Now he understood why Strannik wanted him. “He knew then that I was immune to radiation, that I was very naive, that he could manipulate me as he pleased. Yes, Strannik knew all right. Damn him! He’s the devil himself; the most terrifying man in the country, perhaps on the entire planet. ‘He knows everything,’ the prosecutor said. No, not everything. You’ve gained the upper hand, Mac. You’ve won around from the devil. Now you must kill him before it’s too late, before he manages to recover his senses. Maybe they’ve killed him already—right at the gates of his own den. No, I don’t believe they got him; he’s too much for them. Even with twenty-four relatives and a couple of machine guns, Voldyr couldn’t get him. Massaraksh! Too bad I didn’t have time to contact the General. He’s serving time in the penal colony. I wanted him to be prepared to start an insurrection among the political prisoners and send them here by troop train. But whatever happens there, I must knock off Strannik. Yes, I must knock him off and hold out for several hours until the army and the Legion are overwhelmed by radiation deprivation. None of them know about radiation deprivation—not even Strannik. How could he?”
The expressway was strewn with cars parked at every conceivable angle; some had toppled over the shoulder into the drainage ditch. Drivers and passengers were overwhelmed by the depression strike: some sat grieving on running boards; others were drooped over their seats or sprawled along the shoulders. It slowed Maxim down, forcing him to skirt vehicles and bodies, to brake, to detour. He failed to notice a bright yellow car speeding toward him from the city. It, too, skirted and detoured but rarely slowed down.
The two vehicles met on a relatively deserted section of the expressway and almost collided as they sped past each other. Maxim caught sight of a bare skull, round green eyes, and enormous protruding ears, and his heart sank. Everything was fouled up again. “Strannik! Massaraksh! The whole country is knocked out by the depression field, every degen is out cold, and this bastard, this devil, has managed to escape it. Which means that he’s invented a protective device. And I don’t have a gun on me.” Maxim glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the long yellow car turn around. “Well, I’ll have to manage without one. My conscience won’t bother me in the least when I finish off that guy.” Maxim pushed the accelerator to the floor. “Step on it, let’s go. Come on, baby.” The flat, yellow hood moved closer and closer until a pair of steely green eyes were visible behind the wheel.” Come on, Mac!”
Shielding Vepr with one hand, Maxim braced himself and slammed on the brakes. Amid the squealing and screeching of brakes, the grinding and crunching of metal, the yellow hood smashed into his trunk, collapsed like an accordion, and stood on end. Glass scattered everywhere. Kicking out the door, Maxim tumbled out. Pain wracked his body, tearing through his heel, broken knee, and skinned arm, but it was quickly forgotten at the sight of Strannik standing before him. Strannik! Impossible! Butt here he was. Diabolical Strannik, cool and menacing, his arm raised to strike a blow.
Maxim rushed at him, swinging at him with every ounce of his remaining strength. Missed! A terrific blow at the back of his head sent him reeling. Regaining his balance, he saw Strannik looming before him again: the bare skull, the steely green eyes, and the arm raised to strike again. His face a frozen mask, Strannik stared over Maxim’s head. Maxim lunged at him again, and this time he hit his mark. The dark, lanky figure folded up and sank to the pavement slowly. Maxim caught his breath and turned around.
The Center, a cube, was clearly visible. But then it flattened before his eyes, flowing downward and collapsing inward. Above it rose shimmering hot air, steam, and smoke; and something blindingly white, whose heat was felt even at this distance, showed through the long vertical girders and window frames. OK, everything was going according to plan. Maxim turned to Strannik triumphantly. The devil lay on his side, eyes closed, clasping his stomach with his long arms. Maxim approached him cautiously. Vepr stuck his head out of the twisted car. Wriggling and squirming, he tried to force his way out. Maxim halted next to Strannik and leaned over, debating how and where he should deliver the final blow. As he raised his arm over the sprawled figure, Strannik opened his eyes slightly and gasped hoarsely in Lingcos: “Idiot!” Maxim felt himself go limp.
“You goddamn idiot! You snotnose!” continued Strannik.
Out of the gray emptiness came Vepr’s voice, loud and clear: “Step aside, Mac, I have a gun.”
Maxim caught Vepr’s hand.
Strannik sat up with difficulty, still clasping his stomach. “Damn it,” he whispered painfully. “Don’t just stand there. Find a car. Get a move on!”
Maxim looked around vacantly. The expressway had sprung to life again. The Center had vanished: it was now a puddle of molten metal, steam, and stench. The towers were not functioning, the puppets had ceased to be puppets. Stunned figures tramped around near their cars, trying to figure out what had happened to them, how and why they had come here, and what to do next.
“Who are you?” asked Vepr.
“None of your business,” said Strannik in Lingcos. He was in obvious pain.
“I don’t understand,” said Vepr, raising his gun.
“Kammerer,” called Strannik, “get your terrorist to shut up. And go find a car.”
“A car?” said Maxim vacantly and helplessly.
“Massaraksh,” groaned Strannik, still pressing his hand against his stomach. He managed to rise to his feet, then walked unsteadily to Maxim’s car, and crawled inside. “Sit down!” he said from the driver’s seat. He glanced over his shoulder at the flame-tinged column of smoke. “What the hell did you plant there?”
“A thermal bomb.”
“In the basement or lobby?”
“In the basement.”
Strannik groaned, rested briefly with his head thrown back, and then started the engine. The car shook and rattled.
“For God’s sake, get in!” he yelled.
“Who is he?” asked Vepr. “A Khonti?”