Lewis threw another withering look at Ward. If the son of a bitch had terminated immediately as the plan had directed, they wouldn't be in this mess. And if he had filed accurate reports on the Synbats, then things might never have gotten to this point.
"Yes, sir. That's what will most likely happen. But apparently they were further ahead here than we realized. There is a very slight possibility that the backpacks may work outside of the lab."
There was silence on the other end. The low hiss of static echoed lightly in the office.
The general's voice came back, the argumentative tone gone. "The backpacks barely worked before under lab conditions. What makes you think they'll work now, Ward?"
Ward cleared his throat. "I don't think they will."
Lewis cut back in to clarify. "It's Doctor Merrit who thinks they may, sir."
The general switched tactics, his voice reaching out to the other scientist in the room. "What about you, Doctor Merrit? What do you think is the chance of the backpacks working?"
Merrit was gratified to be called on. Obviously the general had lost some of his faith in Ward. "To be honest I couldn't say. But I think it's foolish to say that the odds are low. We designed them to work under these types of conditions, and we trained the Synbats to carry them and guard them. Even if it's a one percent chance that they'll work, we can't afford to take it. It would start something that could easily get out of control if we look at a geometric progression."
"Is this true, Ward?"
Ward was glaring at Merrit. "Well, sir, like Doctor Merrit said, it's only a very slight possibility. We made some improvements on the series seven pods and we were going to run an operational phase four test on them in about three weeks. I really think the chances of them working outside the lab are very, very low."
"How long do we have if they do work?"
Merrit handled that one. "They were designed to complete initiation in seventy-two hours. Considering that they started out frozen and not at ambient temperature, I'd say we have to add a couple of hours. We're looking at Thursday morning."
There was another long silence on the other end. Finally, General Trollers's voice came back. "All right. I need to know the odds. Ward, I want a number. What are the chances of the pods working?"
Ward ignored Merrit. "I'd say no more than five percent of success."
"What about you, Merrit?"
She didn't hesitate. "I'd say twenty-five to fifty percent of at least a few successful initiations."
"No way!" Ward was standing. "They weren't designed with — "
General Trollers's voice silenced him. "Thank you, Doctors. That will be all for now. Colonel, you keep looking. You've got twenty-four hours before I have to run this up the flagpole. If that happens you can kiss Biotech and your careers good-bye. I hope you can give me good news before then. Out here."
The radio went dead. Merrit looked accusingly at Lewis. "You didn't tell him about the videotape when they weren't drugged."
Lewis rubbed his forehead. "Listen, Doctor, I've got enough shit on my hands. I don't need to be giving the general some half-assed theory of yours." He pointed at Ward. "Your boss doesn't even buy into it. It really doesn't matter anyway because we're going to get these things either tonight or tomorrow, so we won't have to worry about the backpacks or the drugs wearing off or your theory."
Chapter 7
Hapscomb cracked his eyelids and watched as he lay on the ground pretending to be asleep. Mrs. Werner was getting out of the tent. In the dim starlight, his eyes followed her as she made her way toward the wood line. Hapscomb smiled to himself. A call of nature most likely, but he felt his own call of nature. He rolled off his sleeping pad and lightly stepped across the clearing toward the trees where the woman had disappeared.
She hadn't gone too far into the woods. Hapscomb gave her some time to finish her business and then stepped up as she was still buttoning her tight-fitting jeans.
Mrs. Werner looked up, startled at the noise. "What are you doing here?" she whispered.
Hapscomb let loose his winning smile, apparently unaware that it was wasted in the dark woods. "I just wanted to see if those looks you gave me all day were just a tease or whether you were willing to follow through."
The lack of an immediate negative response prompted Hapscomb to pull her over next to him. She looked up at him with large dark eyes as he reached out for her.
"I've got two heat sources. Two legs, two arms on each. Due west."
All right! Riley thought on hearing Seay's report. This was their second rotation back up the search area. "Guide us in, Doc. I'm going to put the goggles on to see what we have."
As Doc Seay directed the pilots in a banking left-hand turn, Riley carefully stowed the thermal sight in its tied-down case and pulled out a set of PVS-5 night vision goggles. He slipped the bulky goggles over his head and turned them on.
The ambient light was immediately computer enhanced and he saw as if it were daylight. The only drawbacks were that everything was represented in varying shades of green, and there was a certain lack of depth perception. As Riley slid over to the left side of the helicopter next to Seay, he wondered how the pilots could fly using the things; even though their PVS-6s were an upgraded model, it was still very difficult to operate with them on. Riley had a hard time walking while wearing them. On the other hand he supposed it beat flying without any sort of night vision device.
"Where's the target?" Captain Barret asked.
"See that clearing about four hundred meters to our left front on the hilltop?" Doc Seay directed.
"Roger that."
"It's off to the north of that clearing about ten meters inside the tree line. I'm also getting a heat source from the clearing. Real hot. Looks like a campfire."
"Damn," Riley cursed. "I see a tent in that clearing. If your heat source is our monkeys, they're close to that tent. I can't spot the other heat source you see in the thermals. The trees are too thick."
The pilot pointed the nose of the aircraft straight for the clearing. "I'm going to put us in the center of the clearing and let you guys off."
Riley grabbed his M16. The pilot flared the helicopter and Riley hopped out as soon as the skids touched the ground. He could see someone crawling out of the large dome tent, hunched against the blast of wind from the blades.
"U.S. Army. Stay in place, please." Riley ran past a confused man who was yelling, "What's going on?"
Riley ran into the tree line where Seay had indicated. Immediately he spotted a white shape to his left front. Riley drew down on the target, his finger easing over the trigger.
Whoa! Riley said to himself, forcing his arm to relax.
"What's the meaning of this?" the woman demanded, squinting into the dark as she struggled to button her blouse. The man was trying to buckle his belt.
The older man who had crawled out of the tent showed up, shining a huge flashlight. Riley shut off his goggles to prevent them from overloading. He slid them off his head, allowing them to dangle on their dummy cord around his neck.
"Marjorie, what were you doing?" the man demanded.
Riley watched as the woman squirmed under the glare of the flashlight. Whatever he had interrupted, it looked as though he wasn't the only one who was going to catch some shit. Riley decided to do some quick explaining and get the hell out. Doc Seay had run up and was taking in the spot-lit scene.
"I'm sorry, ma'am… sir," Riley said, indicating all three people. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a young girl of nine or ten standing next to the tent, staring at the still running helicopter in the middle of the clearing. "I'm Chief Riley from Fort Campbell. We're out here investigating reports of some rabid animals and we spotted your campsite through our thermal sights and landed to investigate. I apologize if we caused you any inconvenience. We'll be taking off now and won't bother you again."