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breathing and the occasional murmured word. The towering rampart walls seemed subtly
charged with menace. Something eerie and uncanny existed here.
They had scaled perhaps half of the staircase's length, cautiously approaching a
projecting granite slab they would have to squirm around, when Jak tapped J.B.'s
shoulder.
The youth was peering intently at the canyon's opposite wall. "Hear something," he
whispered.
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"Like what?" J.B. whispered back.
A splitting crack shattered the silence, and a bullet sang past J.B.'s ear, bouncing off the
cliff face behind him.
"Like that," Jak said calmly.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ryan could only judge the direction of the small elevator by the rising and falling
sensation in the pit of his stomach.
First it descended, then smoothly switched to travel along a horizontal plane. Doug
maintained a smug smile throughout, as if he expected Ryan to be impressed to the point
of awe. The one-eyed man kept his face impassive, once sighing with impatience.
"Don't try anything, Cawdor," Doug warned. He touched his mastoid bone behind his
right ear, then a spot on the base of his throat. "I'm wired for sound. Got a communic
implanted in me. Mess with me and I'll h an armed squad waiting to blow your head off."
"Why did you let something like that be sewn up inside of you?"
Doug frowned, as if he had never contemplated the question before. "So I can be
contacted when the Commander needs me. Why else?"
"Yeah, right," Ryan muttered. "Why else."
The doors slid open on yet another stretch of alloy-paneled corridor. The Commander
was there to meet them. He greeted Ryan with a bleak smile that didn't indicate
friendliness. He looked at the man's gray eyes and thought again of ice. There was no
malice in them, but nothing else either. The Commander had gone beyond emotions;
either they were frozen out of him, or he had never had them. There was no human
warmth about him, probably not even in his blood.
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In the brighter light of the corridor, Ryan saw faint pink lines on the smooth-skinned face
that looked like old surgical scars.
"Continue the search for Mr. Cawdor's companion," the Commander ordered. "She
somehow escaped the city. Your identification badge was found attached to a firearm. A
check on the model, make and serial number showed it was one traded to Helskel over a
year ago. So far, the woman has misled the search teams. They're very annoyed about it,
so go and take charge of the operation."
Doug hesitated. "Sir, I shouldn't leave you alone with this renegade."
The Commander draped a paternal arm around Ryan's shoulders. The arm felt like a
beam of steel. "Nonsense. We're going to have a talk, that's all, and your presence will
inhibit our discussions. Be off with you now."
Doug scowled at Ryan, then turned toward the elevator. The Commander led Ryan down
the corridor.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
"The Commander."
"Short for commander in chief. A euphemism for President."
Ryan managed to keep his surprise from showing on his face. "President of what?"
Gesturing to the corridor, the man said, "This. The United States. You went through
Washington and visited me in the Oval Office, didn't you?"
Ryan knew a bit about predark history, and this man didn't resemble pictures he had seen
of the presidents whose terms preceded the nukecaust.
The arm tightened around Ryan's shoulders, and his shoulder wound screamed in pain.
"Didn't you?"
"Yeah," Ryan said quickly. "When were you elected?"
The arm relaxed. "I wasn't elected. It was an office I assumed after the chain of command
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had been broken. This complex became the seat of government. It wasn't easy, making
this place the nerve center of the country. But careful design, meticulous attention to
detail and good, sound American craftsmanship paid off."
Nodding in agreement, Ryan asked, "How large is the complex?"
"The tunnels run all through the mountain, leading down beneath it. We have fifteen
levels aboveground. I have lived here for " the Commander frowned slightly, as though
he were dredging his memory. " for many years. I still find it inspiring."
"An installation this size must require a lot of care, a lot of maintenance to keep it in
operating condition."
"Oh, quite. The problems are many, and we devote a great deal of time to repair and
improvement. But the topic is far too technical to go into now."
"Why did you retreat here in the first place?"
"I did not 'retreat,' young man. My reasons aren't open for discussion at present."
The Commander turned toward a doorway, still leading Ryan. The door slid aside at their
approach. The room was very large, alloy-plated and was obviously a laboratory. It was
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