"Two of them!"

Houston grabbed the counter to control his trembling. There weren't two dots there were three! The north now, moving inward!

And the east!

"Those sirens! I can't stand them any more!" Simone put her hands to her ears.

"The switch," Pete said.

Henri flicked it. The sirens stopped. But the silence was worse than the noise.

The air was like a vacuum. Numbness swept through Houston. And the four dots, having reached an equal distance from the lodge, now stopped.

The band of light kept circling on the screen. The dots stayed motionless, in perfect symmetry.

"What's happening?" Simone asked.

"If we had some windows, we could find out."

"Just be glad we don't have windows," Henri blurted. "Then we'd all be targets.

Thank G.o.d for the metal walls."

"But aren't there television cameras?"

"Yes. But that screen. The static. Something's interfering with the image."

"I don't hear the machine guns," Pete said.

"Those men knew exactly where to stop. They haven't tripped the force field yet."

"They won't," Pete said.

"What makes you sure?"

"Because they've managed to outguess you this far. They're prepared. They knew what they'd be facing."

"That's impossible."

"You keep repeating that. It's not impossible. It's happened."

"Look!" Simone pointed toward the monitor.

The southern dot inched forward.

"What about the mines?"

"He must be on the driveway."

"Oh, that's swell. That's f.u.c.king great."

"But any second now."

"And what if they shut off the power?"

"Can't. The generator's underneath us."

"What the h.e.l.l is that guy doing?"

Houston quickly learned. The southern dot stopped abruptly. The silence lengthened, and the door through which they'd entered blew apart.

Chapter 34.

It ruptured, tearing from its hinges toward the throw rugs on the floor. The stench of cordite, burning wood, and superheated metal soared up Houston's nostrils. He coughed and found he'd fallen to his knees. For one disorienting instant, he thought he was back in Roncevaux, in the explosion at the office building.

But this wasn't any bomb. "A rocket!" Henri shouted. Houston couldn't see him in the smoke. "They didn't care about the guns! They never planned to come that far!" Henri's voice was a shout. "They'll just stand far back and blow this lodge apart! They'll "

The second blast obscured all other sound. The western wall, where Houston earlier had poured the drinks, disintegrated, huge chunks of wood flying inward.

Simone began to scream. The eastern wall, where most of Henri's instruments were situated, blew apart. Houston fell back, hitting his skull hard on the floor, thrown down by flying rubble. It entangled him. He groped to climb above it, searching for Simone. Again the southern wall exploded.

"We can't stay here!" Henri shouted.

"We can't leave. They'll shoot us."

"There's a way." Henri's voice was so subdued, so controlled, that Houston stared at him, afraid that he'd gone crazy. "Help me!" Henri ordered, fumbling at the rubble.

Houston wiped his smoke-burned eyes. Confused, he watched Henri's frantic motions. In the smoke, Henri was like a demon, black clothes shrouded, black beard like a Satan's mask. Then Houston heard the stunning blast that walloped the bedroom. He heard something else, a whoosh of air. He felt heat. He turned and saw flames. The far side of the room was totally ablaze. The air was roaring like a hurricane, a fire storm.

"Help me!" Henri shouted.

Houston obeyed. He stumbled through the wreckage, legs pierced by the sharp-edged boards and shards of gla.s.s from broken monitors. A new explosion threw him forward. His ears were now so tortured he couldn't hear the crackle of the flames. But he could feel the swelling heat, much closer, more intense. The smoke obscured Simone. She coughed. Another blast. A flying piece of shrapnel sliced his shoulder.

Clear the rubble. Lift and throw. There had to be a trap door.

Henri pushed him backward, lunging toward the floor. The blow knocked Houston's wind out. As he fought to breathe, he inhaled smoke. His lungs revolted, and he retched.

But Henri had raised the trap door. Houston stared through swirling smoke at utter blackness. Instinct nagged him, warning. No, he told himself. He held back, repulsed by the obscene darkness.

Flames licked toward him, brilliant in the smoke. His clothes felt warm. His hair gave off an acrid odor.

"Hurry!" Henri told him.

Houston grabbed Simone. "Is there a ladder?" he shouted.

"Steps! A stairway!" Henri shouted back.

The next explosion settled any doubt. His arm around Simone, Houston eased down toward the darkness. Instantly he touched a step. Another as he moved his next foot lower. "It's all right!" he told Simone. "It's safe! Don't be afraid!"

Her hand was frenzied on his shoulder. Then he felt the hand relax as, groping down, she touched the steps. The flames were now so close above them that the darkness underneath was illuminated. Houston saw the earthen floor, the rough stone walls. He smelled a sour dampness, and he heard the rumbling of an engine.

Through the shadows, he squinted toward a corner where a bulky generator labored.

Henri charged down past them, flailing at his smoldering clothes. He rolled insanely in the dirt, and Houston leapt to reach him. He wrapped his shirt around his hand and swatted smoke on Henri's clothes. And at last the smoke was gone. Henri groaned, forehead drenched with sweat.

"Are you all right?"

Henri said nothing, his eyes scrunched shut in pain. The odor from his flesh was sickening. He inhaled deeply. "There's no time." He struggled to his feet. When Houston moved to help him, Henri shrugged him off. "We can't wait. We have to hurry."

Glancing upward, Houston saw the flames that filled the entrance to the cellar.

Air rushed past him toward the opening. The flames licked at the wooden steps.

"We're going to suffocate down here."

"No, follow me." Henri pulled Houston's arm. He hurried toward the darkest corner of the cellar and yanked at a metal door. The door creaked open. They rushed forward.

"It's a tunnel. An escape route. It leads underneath the hill, the fence. It takes us to the forest."

They ran. Houston b.u.mped against a moist dank wall. The stone sc.r.a.ped his shoulder. But he couldn't see where he was going. In a panic, he raced blindly on.

Simone lurched hard against him, reeling sideways. They entangled in the darkness, fell on earth so moist it was mud. They slid along their backs in muck. Pete's shoes were soaked, his pants cold and slimy. They struggled up.

Behind him, Houston heard two more explosions, m.u.f.fled by the distance. He felt shock waves.

He kept racing forward, sensing Henri and Simone beside him, hearing mud suck at his shoes, his panicked breath reverberating in the tunnel.

"They'll soon finish," Henri said, his voice strained. "They'll come up the driveway. They'll check through the wreckage. They'll see where we went."

Again, Pete's instinct nagged him, warning. There was something obvious, self-evident, but something he had overlooked. He couldn't isolate it, make it clear, but its insistence made him nervous. There was something wrong. Good Christ, what was it?

"Take it slowly," Henri ordered. He reached for them, fighting to restrain them.

"Wait a minute."

Houston did what he was told. He held Simone. "Why?" he asked Henri.

"Ahead there'll be another door. We've almost reached it."

Houston felt Henri inch forward. Eight more steps. "It's here. I found it."

"Get us out of here," Simone said.

"Just a few more seconds."

Houston heard Henri shove at a bolt. It bit against the metal. Henri gasped and shoved again. "I've almost done it. There!" And Henri slumped against the wall.

"We're safe now."

Houston's mind kept warning, Something's wrong. Beside him he felt Henri tug open the door. Pallid moonlight drifted through the gradually increasing crack.

The air was fresh and sweet.

"Thank G.o.d," Simone said.

Houston felt exhilarated by the moonlight filtered through a crisscrossed obstacle of branches. Silhouetted, Henri stepped ahead to move the branches. Now the moonlight glinted brightly at them. Houston had never seen anything so wonderful. Still clutching Simone, he followed Henri from the tunnel, feeling liberated. A few more steps, and they would be completely safe.

The trees loomed close before him.

Suddenly he found the warning thought, harsh and stark and urgent.

"Henri, wait. If they knew all about the lodge, about the current in the fence, about the mines and the machine guns, if they knew they needed rockets, then they'd know about "

The gunshot from the forest interrupted Houston's sentence. He heard the bullet plow through Henri, felt the spattered blood. Henri arced, gasping. He convulsed and fell on Houston.

"Peter!" Simone screamed.

Houston couldn't speak. In horror, he scrambled from beneath the body.

Mindlessly he grabbed the gun.

"Peter, talk to me!"

"He's dead."

"No!"

Houston pulled her down. Another bullet hit the door behind him, whining off the metal.

Houston saw the flash from out there in the trees. He heard the shot. Another shot. He saw a different muzzle flash. The two were separated, twenty yards away from one another.

Evidently they had counted on his running back inside the tunnel, on his hiding in there, while the other gunmen came down through the tunnel. They weren't shooting at clear targets. They were forcing Houston backward.

We can't go back, and sure as h.e.l.l we can't stay here, he thought.

His rage welled up insanely. Panic changed to madness, desperation.

He saw another muzzle flash. He fired in return. He stood, leaping forward.

"Peter!"

But he didn't listen. He charged ahead, aiming where he'd seen the muzzle flash.