Impact

95

Fuller rose slowly from his chair, staring at the gun, his face a mask of confusion and shock. "What the hell--?"

"Easy now," Straw said. "Nobody's going to get hurt. Please raise your hands and stand up. No heroics."

The guard raised his hands.

"Abbey, take his weapon."

Abbey tried to control her hammering heart. This was even more frightening than being on the boat in the storm. She reached around the guard, unsnapped a keeper, and removed a revolver from a holster around his waist. Then she removed a nightstick from the belt and what seemed to be a can of Mace.

"What in hell do you think you're doing?" Fuller asked, his voice low.

"I'm really sorry, but it'll all be clear in a moment." Straw remained seated, his hand resting on the pistol. "Right now, you do what we say, nice and easy. It's for a good cause. Believe it or not, we're nice people."

The guard scowled, looking around at the three of them in turn. "Nice? You people are fucking nuts."

"Now please open the door and introduce us to Dr. Simic. From now on, Fuller, I won't be repeating myself, so listen carefully and hop to."

Abbey was taken aback. She had never seen her father like this: so calm, determined--and scary.

"Right." The guard turned, punched a code into a set of buttons on a panel, and opened the door. They stepped into a cinder block corridor that ended in a vast, hangar-like space under the dome. In the middle stood a giant parabolic dish on a rusty scaffolding of iron struts. The drumming of the rain and the buffeting of the wind filled the space with a muffled moaning noise that sounded eerie, like they were in the belly of some great beast.

A woman was sitting on a rolling chair before a bank of old-fashioned-looking consoles, dials, knobs, and oscilloscopes. She wasn't paying attention to them; instead, she was playing a computer game on an iMac sitting to one side.

"Jordan!" she said, rising in astonishment "What's this? Visitors?" Simic was a slender, surprisingly young woman with a cascade of brown hair, no makeup, and a pair of deep gray eyes. She wore tight black jeans and a striped cotton shirt, which somehow gave her the look of a college student.

"Uh, Sarah? He's got a gun," said Fuller.

"A what?"

Her father wagged the revolver. "A gun."

"What the hell?" Simic jumped back.

"Take it easy," said Straw. "You're Dr. Simic, the station manager?"

"Yes, yes I am," she stammered.

"You know how to operate this dish?"

"Yes."

"I apologize for the intrusion, but it can't be helped." He turned to Abbey. "Tell Dr. Simic what you would like her to do."