"Probably a good thing," she said. "We thought you took a hit. The shooter must have thought the same thing."
Nick came over to them, crouched low. "There was only one shooter," he said. "He said something odd before he died."
"What?" Selena asked.
"He said, kill him. He meant Westlake. Then he said I'd be rewarded. At least I think that's what he meant. "
"That is odd," Selena said.
Nick turned to Ronnie. "How are you, amigo?"
"Just a bad headache. I'm all right."
"What now?" Selena asked. "After that, Westlake knows we're here."
"That's for sure," Nick said. "Maybe we can reason with him."
"He's a psycho, Nick. How are you going to reason with him?" Ronnie rubbed his forehead.
"We won't know unless we try. If we go through that door, he'll launch."
"You expect him to open the door and invite us in?"
"Let's find out."
Nick stood up. It was a safe bet. The bath room window was frosted glass and closed. He couldn't be seen from the cabin.
"General Westlake," Nick called. "Let's talk."
There was no answer.
"Appeal to his vanity," Selena said. "Make him feel important."
Nick thought for a moment.
"Sir, this is a historic moment," he called. "The fate of the world is in your hands. Generations to come will want to know what you were thinking tonight."
Ronnie pointed his finger at his throat and pantomimed gagging.
They heard the sound of a door opening. "Is that you, Carter?" Westlake's voice came from the darkened cabin. "How did you find me?"
"It wasn't easy, sir. You covered your trail well."
Ronnie rolled his eyes.
"I know you want to stop me, Carter. But you can't. You want to talk, come out where I can see you, in front of the cabin. Leave your weapon. The satellite is overhead. I have a dead man's switch in my hand that keys the transmitter. If you shoot me, the missiles will launch. There's nothing you can do about it."
Nick kept his voice low. "Ronnie, are you all right?"
"Yeah."
"Selena, there has to be a back door. You and Ronnie go in. Be quiet. Disable that transmitter. I'll keep him busy."
"What about that switch?" Selena said.
"I'll figure something out. Try not to let him know you're there."
"I'm waiting, Carter." Westlake's voice had an odd lilt to it, as if he were amused about something. His voice sounded a little slurred.
"Yes, sir," Nick called. "I'm putting down my weapon. I'm coming out."
"Nick, he could shoot you," Selena said.
"His ego won't let him, at least not right away. Go."
They got up and faded into the dark. Nick stood up, raised his hands and walked out in front of the cabin. Westlake stood on the porch, pointing a Colt .45 at Nick with his right hand. His left hand was clenched around a silver cylinder. His thumb was pressed down on the top.
Dead man's switch.
"That was clever of you, Carter, escaping back in Denver."
"Thank you, sir." Careful. Don't overdo it.
"I know what you're doing. Flattery isn't going to make me change my mind."
"I wouldn't dream of it, General."
"Was that you that shot at me?"
"No, sir. It was someone waiting in the trees."
"You eliminated him?"
"Yes, sir."
"My former colleagues are unhappy with me," Westlake said. "They probably sent him. Too bad they won't have any time to reflect on their mistake."
I don't like the sound of that, Nick thought. He moved closer. The muzzle of the .45 was pointed straight at him. Nick had never noticed how large a Model 1911 looked from the wrong end.
"That's far enough, Carter." Nick stopped moving and kept his hands where Westlake could see them.
"Why are you doing this, General? If you launch those missiles, millions of people will die. You'll be vilified as a mass murderer."
Where are Selena and Ronnie? Nick thought.
Now that he was closer, Nick could see that Westlake was unstable. The shrink would have a word for it, Nick thought. Whatever it is, it's not good.
Westlake was unshaven. He had the hand with the switch pressed against his chest, as if he needed to hold it steady. His cheek twitched. The hand with the gun trembled. It was almost imperceptible. It wasn't enough to spoil his aim. His eyes had a strange gleam, an unnatural wetness.
A voice in his mind said He's going to do it.
Up until that moment, he'd held out the hope that Westlake could be made to change his mind. Looking at him, Nick knew it wasn't going to happen. Westlake already had the look of a walking dead man, someone who had nothing left to lose.
Keep him talking, the voice in his head said. "Why did you start all this?" Nick said.
"You really have to ask? The world thinks we're a laughing stock. Congress is a collection of self-serving fools who can't see past the next election and the money they need to keep their job. We've gotten weak. America needs a strong leader, someone who backs up policy with action, someone who won't tolerate dissent."
"It's a democracy, General. Dissent is part of how we got to be a nation."
"We're not a democracy, Carter. We never were. We're a republic, like Rome once was. In more ways than one. Like Rome, the system has become corrupted, dysfunctional. It must be transformed. Prometheus is the instrument of transformation."
He's completely nuts, Nick thought.
Behind Westlake, Nick saw Selena. She moved with a graceful slowness, like a cat pacing toward a mouse, one step at a time. If she could clamp down on the switch before he knew she was there, maybe they could stop this. Maybe Ronnie could shut down the transmitter before Westlake released the switch.
Maybe.
Ronnie stood in the doorway of the back bedroom. He saw the computer and transmitter on a table next to the back wall. The radio was about the size of a desk top printer. It was painted olive drab. The face bristled with black knobs and white calibrating marks. There was a rectangular window in the center with a digital readout. The readout glowed in the darkened room with black numbers dialed to Armageddon against an orange background. A black cable ran from the back of the radio and up through the ceiling.
Must be the antenna, he thought.
All he had to do was turn it off. Or disconnect the antenna. Ronnie went into the room. He couldn't see how to shut the radio down. There were a lot of switches and no time to figure it out. He looked for a plug. The unit was hardwired into the wall.
A black coaxial cable for the antenna ended at a screw-on connection on the back of the transmitter. Something had been gnawing on the cable. Bare copper and torn white insulation showed through the black sheathing. Mice have been at this, Ronnie thought. He reached down and tried to unscrew the antenna connection. It was tight. He felt it begin to turn.
Out front, Nick saw Selena move. Westlake sensed her step. He smiled at Nick.
"Don't do it!" Nick shouted.
Westlake took his thumb off the switch.
Ronnie pulled the cable away as the knurled fitting of the antenna came free. A bright arc of electricity jumped from the transmitter to the cable and crackled around the spots where the insulation was eaten through. It felt like grabbing a hot poker. Blue, electric light danced over the transmitter and around Ronnie's hand as he grasped the cable. His muscles spasmed and he went down on the floor. Flame started where the antenna cable was fastened to the wall.
Unaware of what was happening in the cabin, Westlake laughed. It had the sound of insanity in it. "Too late, Carter."
Selena brought the edge of her palm down hard down on Westlake's collar bone. He dropped the switch. The big .45 went off. The slug slammed Nick in his armor and knocked him down. Selena hit Westlake in the neck with a vicious swipe of her elbow. He crumpled to the porch. She kicked him in the head, kicked the Colt off the porch and ran to Nick, gasping on his back.