Strike Zone

The coffee hissed at her from the bench at the side of the room. She hit Enter and went back for a cup, expecting the screens to be blinking their hellos when she returned. But they were still blank.

Kneeling at her station, she keyed her passwords one letter and number at a time. The system allowed only three tries, so she had to get it right.

She did.

But there was still nothing.

The computers were operating—there was a cursor on the fifteen-inch network screen, and the two Page 31

larger CRTs had their indicator lights on.

The bungled attempts at signing on locked her out as a user, but not as system administrator. She went to the network bench, where the operating system—which she had helped tweak—was controlled. The monitor flashed to life, reported that the system was in perfect shape—and then refused her password.

“You get up early,” said Ray Rubeo, coming into the lab.

“Something’s wrong with the system,” said Je

“Hardly. Miss Spanish Inquisition has temporarily locked us out of the system.”

“What?”

Rubeo went to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. He drank the whole cup, black and steaming, in two gulps, then poured himself another one.

“We’re under suspicion of being spies,” said Rubeo.

“No, that’s not true,” said Da

“Da

“I did it,” said Rubeo. “We’re all out.”

“We’re just following standard procedure,” said Freah. “Just until we can go through some more interviews.”

“I thought this was an informal inquiry,” said Je

Da

“When is this lockout going to end?” asked Je

“When you pass a lie detector test,” said Cortend.

“What?”

“Are you refusing?” said Cortend.

Je

“You don’t have to take the test if you don’t want, Jen,” said Da

“Oh, please,” said Rubeo. “If we don’t take the test, we won’t be restored to the system. And you’ll consider pulling our clearance permanently.”

“Not necessarily,” said Da

Cortend said nothing. Je

lips.

Where was Dog in all this?

No wonder he hadn’t run with her this morning. Da

What, did he think she was a traitor too?

How could he?

She clamped her mouth shut, stifling a string of curses. But her anger had to come out somehow—she batted her coffee cup to the floor, sending the hot liquid streaming onto the industrial carpeting.

“Jen, where are you going?” asked Da

“I’m going to go get some breakfast. Then I’ll take your fucking lie detector test. What a bunch of bullshit.”

Taj

0800

STONER COULD FEELhis eyes drooping as he stepped off the elevator and headed for the commander’s suite. He’d pulled an all-nighter, working out a plan with Zen to provoke whoever was flying the ghost clone into appearing again. The Air Force officer clearly didn’t like him, but Stoner admired him even so. Zen had lost the use of his legs in a flying accident; rather than dropping out he’d fought his way back into the Air Force and actually onto the front lines.

Stoner would have liked to think that he’d have done the same thing—but he was smart enough to realize he would more likely have succumbed to the inherent bitterness of the situation. While Zen did seem to approach the world with a chip on his shoulder, he didn’t let the chip keep him from getting things done.

That alone made him worth watching.

Chief Master Sergeant Terrence “Ax” Gibbs popped up from a desk near the side of the room as Stoner entered.

“Stoner, right?” asked the chief.

“Yes, sir.”

“Jackie, go get Mr. Stoner some coffee. He likes it on the weak side. Grab some sticky buns too. The ci

Stoner had never met him, much less told him what he liked to eat or drink, but somehow the chief had nailed it.

“Thanks, Chief Gibbs,” he said.

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“We take care of people here. Zen’s inside already, along with the colonel. You call me Ax,” added the chief. “You need something around here, you get ahold of me. You got that?”

Ax reached back to his desk and hit an intercom buzzer, then stepped up to the door.

“We all know what you did to save Captain Stockard,” said Ax. “We appreciate it.”

“She saved me as much as I saved her,” said Stoner.

The chief smiled and pointed at him, then opened the door.

DOG NODDED ASthe CIA officer entered his office, listening to Zen as he continued laying out the game plan—two Megafortresses, one to act as agent provocateur and the other hanging back to gather information. When the clone showed itself, Flighthawks from the second EB-52 would come forward.

Operating at the far end of their range, they would gather information on the clone without its being able to detect them.

“We could even turn them loose,” said Zen. “We could program them to home in on their own, gather whatever information they can get, then return.”

“No—too risky,” said Dog. “I don’t want to chance losing one. But otherwise, this makes sense.”

“We need a remote base,” said Stoner. “I’d recommend the FOA in the Philippines we used last month.”

“It’s a good distance from the area you two have mapped out,” said Dog.

“We’re not quite sure where exactly the clone is flying from,” said Stoner. “If it’s China, this is far. But if it’s Thailand, say, or even off a ship—”

“The Philippines also limits our exposure,” said Zen. “We’ve been there already. And in terms of the operating radius, it’s the same.”

“Still a stretch,” said Dog.

“Better than locating in a country that has the clone,” said Stoner.

“As unlikely as that may be,” said Zen.

“Start working on a detailed deployment plan,” said Dog, ignoring the bite in Zen’s voice. “I’ll talk to Jed and get the wheels in motion. It may take a while to get approval.”

“This may not work,” said Stoner.

“Don’t be a pessimist,” said Zen. He wheeled himself backward and spun toward the door at the right side of Dog’s office, which had been widened so his wheelchair could easily fit through.

“I’m just being realistic,” said Stoner, standing.

He went to open the door for Zen, but the major had already gotten it himself.

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“Play nice, boys,” said Dog as they disappeared.

Dreamland Visiting VIP Office Two

1350

“NAME.”

“Mi

The technician handling the lie detector suppressed a grin.

“Name,” repeated Colonel Cortend.

“Je

“Age?”

“What’s yours?”

“Age?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Um—” said the technician, raising his finger.

“I’ll be twenty-five next month.”

“The needle was okay, but I saw the, I mean I knew the answer was wrong,” said the technician.

Cortend folded her arms. “Continue.”

“This needn’t be an adversary procedure,” said Da

“Thank you for your advice, Captain. Miss Gleason—”

“Ms. Gleason.”

“Miss Gleason, how long have you been at Dreamland?”

“You could at least call her by her proper name,” hissed Rubeo. “She’s a doctor. Her Ph.D. was a brilliant piece of work. Classified need-to-know, I might add.”