Dark Zone

112

Rubens paced back and forth in the Art Room. The French response team had just gone into the service tunnel that ran down the middle of the Chunnel. It would take several minutes before they reached the area Lia had called from.

In the meantime, all he could do was wait. This was the worst thing in life, wasn’t it? Simply standing — or rather pacing — doing nothing.

It was how he felt with the General, really. Unable to help.

Perhaps Rebecca felt that way as well. Maybe she fought simply because doing something was better than nothing.

The front half of the train was now safely in England. The power in the lines that fed the train through the pantograph at the top of the train had just been cut, in case this was being used to power the bomb somehow — though it was probably a futile gesture.

But you had to do something, didn’t you?

“Jesus!” said Telach.

Rubens turned and saw a puff of smoke blowing from the feed of the British side of the Chunnel entrance.

“Oh, God,” said Telach.

Rubens walked to her and squeezed her elbow. “Steady now,” he said. “Just steady.”

“Earthquake data,” said Chafetz. “Incomplete. Incomplete. P waves are — hold it…”

Rubens waited. Seismologists generally divided the shock from an earthquake — or an underground explosion — into two types of waves, P waves and S waves. More familiarly, the blast could be measured on the Richter scale commonly used for earthquakes. In theory, a sixty-kiloton explosion would register into the sixes on the Richter scale, though the exact force would depend on the circumstances. (Actual nuclear devices that yielded sixty kilotons often registered considerably less on the Richter scale — though the force of their impact was hardly negligible.)

Rubens crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting.

“What’s going on?” asked Hadash from Air Force One.

“Mr. President, there’s been an explosion in the Chunnel,” Rubens said.

Marcke came on the line. “They detonated the nuke?”

“We’re still looking for data, sir.”

“Three — we don’t have numbers here,” said Chafetz.

Rubens turned at her. One of the analysts in the back section stood up and yelled, “Less than three-point-two. Less! Not a nuke.”

A huge explosion nonetheless.

But not a nuke.

Someone started to clap. Several other people started to say something else.

“Please,” said Rubens, raising his arms. “We have much more to do. And two people in the Chunnel.”

The room went silent.

“Mr. President,” said Rubens. “It appears their explosion failed to detonate the warhead, if they had it.”

“Thank God,” said Marcke.

“Yes, sir.”