“Well, yeah, I knew that, Pops. But what I didn’t count on was how quick they got over it. See, the proton discharge happens in a burst, it’s over quick, but these guys get over it quick, too, looks like.”
Fastbinder said nothing.
“Give me a break. Pops. I’m still experimenting with this.”
“There is no time for experimenting. How long will it take to construct a proton drive capable of sustained output?”
Jack looked sheepish and irritated.
“You have everything you need to make more of zees proton output devices,” Fastbinder said.
“Yeah.”
“So? How long?”
“I don’t know how to do it.” Jack slumped in his folding chair.
Fastbinder stood straighter. “This has never stopped you before. Learn what you don’t know. Make it happen.”
“But that’s just it. I know enough about it to be pretty sure I can’t create a continual burn like that. A low-yield continuous output, yes. A momentary burst of high output, yes. A device with continuous high output—not doable, far as I know.”
“You’ll do it. You must. It is zee only weapon we have found to use against zees men of strange powers.” Jack Fast glared at the floor, then glared at the black screen. He played with the keyboard absently, bringing up the recorded video of the pair in the parking lot. Their faces were a blur, as if the focus had failed on them. Jack Fast knew they did this somehow, sensing they were being watched and creating the disturbance that fouled the image capture. He looked back even farther, pulling up the images from the cameras that were deployed inside the Fastbinders’ old workshop. Jack rigged them to stay silent, using less electricity than a watch, until he gave the signal. Then the electricity surged, explosive charges opened the roof under the cameras, and they descended on telescoping mounts into the interior. He had figured that maybe, just maybe, when the proton charges went off and there was a lot of confusion, he’d be able to get a good mug shot.
He was right. After his software digitally combined details from several frames of video, he got the pictures he wanted.
They looked just the way Senator Whiteslaw had described them. One man with dark hair, an inscrutable expression and eyes that looked dead. The other man was an old Asian, and the image made every wrinkle in his parchment skin visible. He looked frail, this ancient man. Both of them were stricken with the force of—whatever it was, this assault that the proton discharge created against them.
“Herbie’s gonna be happy anyway,” Jack said.
“How can he use them? His life is in danger—as is ours. They will come for us, Jack. They may even come down here.”
“This is our turf now, Pops,” Jack said. “They’re not welcome.”
“You think we can find a way to defeat them, here, under zee earth?”
Jack Fast glared at the faces on the screen. “They’re only human. I’ll find a way.”
“Give it a rest, dear,” the First Lady said, rolling over to escape the TV glare.
“Did you see this? Some Democrat marketing sleazeball has trotted out my DUI again.”
‘That’s old news, dear.”
“It’s twenty years old! And I wasn’t convicted! But the media’s still making hay out of it! Why can’t they leave it alone already?”
“It’s an election year, dear.”
“Then why don’t they talk about the election, for heaven’s sakes,” he muttered.
The First Lady was just starting to breathe deeply when the President swore loudly. He had landed on a late-night talk-show monologue. The gap-toothed host wondered if the President was DUI when he’d dreamed up the WMDs.
“You son of a Hoosier! You think that’s funny?”
“Go to sleep, dear,” the First Lady grumbled.
The phone buzzed and the President grabbed it.
“Mr. President, you’re not going to believe this,” said his chief of staff. “Whiteslaw is here.”
The President put on his best game face when Senator Herbert Whiteslaw was ushered into the office after an extensive security check.
“Herbert, my God, it’s good to see you. When I didn’t hear from you—well, I feared the worst.”
Herbert Whiteslaw shook the Man’s hand and said curtly, “Mr. President, I must speak with you alone.” Whiteslaw nodded at the Secret Service foursome and the chief of staff.
“My chief of staff is fully briefed on your activities, Senator,” the President assured him.
Whiteslaw’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. President, I’m here to discuss a new matter. I am sure you’ll want it to stay between you and me.”
The chief of staff wore a hangdog look when ordered to leave the office. The agents promised they would be waiting right outside the door should the President need anything.
“I guess the game is up,” Whiteslaw said as the door shut. “All the games.”
“That’s right, Whiteslaw,” the President said. “You’ll face charges of treason. We’ve got a hundred men putting the indictment together.”
“Not worried about it, and that’s not the game we’re talking about. I’m here to discuss assassins.”
“Have you hired some to erase the pool of witnesses?”
