“Hammond,” Leahy said, using his command voice, “I am ordering you to stop. This isn’t a discussion. You are acting against your country’s interests. You are wounding America. Maybe mortally.”
Luke laughed. “You know what the problem with politicians is? They always think they can control things they can’t. The genie doesn’t go back in the bottle, no matter what the story says.”
“Goddammit, listen to me. You’ve made your point. Turn your men around. Please. I’m begging you.”
Silence was the only response. A cold wind rattled the branches of the trees, dumping snow in a fine filigree like ashes. His socks were wet, his shoes ruined.
“Luke?”
More silence.
“Hello?”
And it was only then that it occurred to Owen Leahy that he’d been hung up on.
CHAPTER 29
The streets were jammed, cars and trucks everywhere, most filled to bursting, suitcases strapped to the roof, people piled in the back. Cooper had driven fast and disrespectfully, blasting through parking lots, jumping sidewalks, ignoring traffic lights. It was the way he used to drive when his car had a transponder identifying him as a DAR agent. Today he got away with it because the SUV belonged to the Holdfast Wardens. There was an irony to that juxtaposition, but he didn’t have time or inclination to savor it.
The crowd grew worse as they neared Epstein’s compound of mirrored buildings. It made sense; the pitchforks and torches were at the gates. The residents of New Canaan would feel safest close to their leader.
“You sure you want to be part of this?” Cooper spared a glance sideways as he squealed up to the door. “I’m not sure what kind of welcome we’ll get.”
“Are you kidding?” Shannon looked incredulous. “I rescued those kids. I planned the operation on the academy, I led it, I blew the damn thing up. You think I’m going to let a bunch of rednecks burn them alive?”
“Roger that.”
The lobby to the central building was airy and flooded with late afternoon winter sunlight. One whole wall was given over to a massive tri-d, the projection field showing children three stories high and terrified. People stood in the lobby staring, pale lips biting shaking knuckles. Cooper ignored the receptionist, strode across the floor to the unmarked elevator. No doubt the guard standing by it was normally very good at his job, but at the moment his attention was absorbed by the footage. Shannon smiled and faded back.
Cooper said, “Hey.”
“What?” The guard straightened. “Yes, sir?”
“I need to see Erik Epstein right now.”
“I’m sorry, but he isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.”
“He’ll see me. Nick Cooper.”
“I know who you are, sir. But Mr. Epstein was explicit. No one in at all.”
“Son, I’m sorry. But we don’t have time for this.”
The guard was about to reply when Shannon slid the sidearm from his holster, planted it in his back, and cocked it.
They left the guard cuffed to the elevator rail and sprinted down the hall, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps. He could hear the rush of the ventilation system, the air cold against his sweating skin, and then they were pushing through the door to Epstein’s private world.
It was different than the other times Cooper had been here. It was bright, and instead of constellations of data hanging in all directions, there was just one simple vector animation, a stylized blob intersecting a series of three concentric rings. Without the dizzying backdrop, the room looked cheap, the mystery deflated. A movie theater with the house lights up.
Three men stood in the center, their heads snapping around at the sound of Cooper’s entrance. The first was tan and wild-haired, with that skin-stretched-over-skeleton look. Slouching beside him, Erik Epstein looked paler than usual, his eyes haunted, his plump neck sweaty. In his usual five-thousand-dollar suit, Jakob looked like the adult guardian to a couple of precocious nerds. “Cooper? What are you doing here?”
“John Smith is dead.”
“We know,” Jakob said. “We watched the operation via the Wardens’ bodycams. Good work. But if you’ll excuse us—”
Cooper gestured at the animation. “Is that the Vogler Ring?”
The three men exchanged looks.
“Cooper,” Jakob said, “we appreciate your help, but you aren’t needed at the moment. This is an internal matter.”
“Tell me that you’ve turned it off.”
“Turned it off?” the third man said like he’d been slapped. “Of course not.”
“Who are you?”
“Randall Vogler.”
“Vogler? You’re the genius who developed this system?”
“Well, of course my whole team gets credit, but—”
“Erik, what are you doing?”
Epstein’s eyes darted to his, then away. “Protecting us. The data—”
“Cooper,” Jakob said, “we understand your feelings, but this system is all that’s standing between the city of Tesla and a lynch mob.”
“A lynch mob that’s marching children in front of it,” Cooper said. “These aren’t game pieces. They’re kids, and you’re killing them.”
“Not all,” Vogler said. “This is a completely defensive system. I’m a pacifist, sir.”
“Tell that to their parents,” Shannon said.
Erik flinched. “We don’t have a choice.”
“You do. You’re making it, right now.”
“This is a civilian city,” Jakob said. “Just regular people, including thousands of children. This system is all that’s protecting them. The men coming for us are ex–special forces, paramilitary survivalists, and armed killers. None of us are twirling our mustache here. If we drop our defenses, those kids might live. But how many people here will die? How many children?”
“You. Vogler.” Cooper gestured at the animation. “There are three rings up there, and the militia is almost to the second. What does that mean?”
“The system is a directed-energy weapon, generating electromagnetic radiation in the 2.45 gigahertz range, but the effects are modulated by particulate disturbance, humidity, air currents. The first ring represents guaranteed safe distance. The second is the corollary to that, the line at which, no matter the range of conditions—presuming relative norms, of course—the effects will be felt.”
“What are the effects?” Shannon’s voice had a girlish lilt that caught Cooper’s attention. When he glanced over, she didn’t wink, but he could see that she thought about winking, with the tiny resulting muscular motion that entailed. God love her, she was playing them.
“The ring agitates electric dipoles like water and fat, and their motion generates heat.”
“Sort of like a microwave oven?”
“Yes, exactly.” Vogler beamed at her.
“So . . .” She paused theatrically. “It will burn them alive?”
“Well, the advantage of the system is that there is plenty of warning. It’s not like one moment targets are fine and the next they drop dead. The only way it would be fatal is if—”
Cooper said, “Somebody marched you into it with a rifle at your back.”
“In the absence of ideal options,” Erik said, “the only rational choice is the best of the worst.”
“Then why aren’t you watching?”
“What?”
“It’s easy to talk about the greater good,” Cooper said, “when you’re looking at a colored blob crossing a dotted line. But that’s not what’s happening.”
“I . . . I like people. You know I do, that children—”
“Stop playing the saint, Cooper.” Jakob’s tone was sharp. “How many people have you killed? How many have you killed today?”
“Today? Two. And I looked them both in the eyes.” His hands clenched and unclenched. “I’m not a saint, Jakob. Far from. But if you’re going to decide who lives and dies, have the stones to watch.”