“And the laboratory staff? Where are they?”
“They’re all tucked away in their quarters.”
“Make sure they stay there. You have disabled the minisubs, as I ordered?”
Phelps dug out four flat, rectangular boxes tucked in his belt.
“These circuits control the subs’ power supplies,” he said.
Chang snatched the circuit boards from Phelps, dropped them on the metal floor, and ground them to pieces with his heel. He barked an order to his men, who had emerged from the shuttle carrying wooden boxes in their arms. They stacked the boxes near the console and then returned to the cargo hold for more.
Printed on the boxes in big bold red letters was
HANDLE WITH CARE EXPLOSIVES
Phelps rapped the top of a box with his knuckles.
“What’s going on with the firecrackers, Chang?” he asked.
“It’s fairly obvious,” Chang said. “You’re going to use your expertise with explosives to blow up the lab. It has fulfilled its function.”
Phelps poked at the smashed electrical circuits with the toe of his boot.
“One problem,” he said. “How are the scientists going to get off the lab with the minisubs disabled?”
“The scientists have fulfilled their function. They’ll stay with the lab.”
Phelps stepped in front of Chang and faced off.
“You hired me to hijack the lab,” Phelps said. “Killing a bunch of innocent people wasn’t in my job description.”
“Then you won’t prepare the explosives?” Chang asked.
Phelps wagged his head.
“That’s right,” he said. “You can count me out of this deal.”
Chang stretched his liverish lips in a death’s-head grin.
“Very well then, Mr. Phelps. You’re fired.”
Chang’s hand reached down to his holster and, in a lightning move, drew his pistol and shot Phelps point-blank in the chest. The impact at such close range threw Phelps backward, and he crashed to the floor. Chang gazed at Phelps’s twitching body with the expression of a craftsman who considered his job well done. He ordered one of his men to prepare the explosives, and then he charged off. Dr. Wu followed a few paces behind.
Chang burst into the mess hall, and his jade-green gaze fell on Joe Zavala and Lois Mitchell, who were tied to their chairs and sat back-to-back under the watchful eye of the same hard-faced guards who had come down with Phelps. Chang leaned close to Zavala.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“You’ve got a short memory,” Zavala said. “We met on the Beebe. You left with your tail between your legs while Kurt Austin and I entertained your friends.”
“Of course,” Chang said. “You’re the NUMA engineer. My men deserved their fate. We won’t be so careless next time. How did you find us?”
“One of our planes flew over the atoll and saw something suspicious.”
“You’re lying!” Chang grabbed the front of Zavala’s shirt. “I don’t like being taken for a fool. If that were the case, planes and ships would be swarming around the atoll. My observers report that all is peaceful.”
“Maybe it’s what you don?
??t see that you should worry about,” Zavala said.