Nighthawk (NUMA Files 14)

“Two by two,” Urco said, pointing out matching components with the words Cryogenic Containment Unit stenciled on top.

“You don’t understand,” she said.

“Don’t fool yourself more than you already have,” he replied. “We both understand exactly what we’re looking at. Mixed-state matter. The most powerful reactant known to exist, gathered for the first time in vast quantities.”

Emma turned toward him. “And I suggest you leave it alone.”

“I suggested the same thing a decade ago,” he shot back. “But it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?”

She stared at him looking confused. He hoped the little riddles were getting to her. He needed her to be off balance.

“Disconnect the first containment unit and hook it up to one of the fuel cells you’ve brought along,” he said. “That was the next step, wasn’t it? Search for the plane, but take the cargo and blow the rest to scrap metal.”

“We never intended to blow anything up, just to—”

“Come now,” he said. “You were never going to carry an eight-ton load over the mountains and all the way back to Cajamarca. The strain that would place on the helicopter would have been dangerously high, not to mention the strain on credibility when the Peruvian officials got wind of it. They’d want to know what it was, why it was here and why they hadn’t been informed in the first place.”

He turned and whistled to another group of his men. They went into the Air-Crane and came out carrying a suitcase-sized device; it was one of the fuel cells Joe and Paul had been given in Cajamarca.

Emma looked crestfallen. The exact look he was hoping for. “We would have come back for the rest of the craft,” she said.

“You may still get that chance,” he replied. “In the meantime, you will detach the first containment unit, hook it to that fuel cell and make certain it’s safe enough to be transported.”

“Transported where?”

“Stop asking questions,” he said. “You can easily guess where.”

She shook her head. “I won’t do that. It’s too dangerous. All of this is too dangerous.”

He could have chosen to threaten her friends at that moment, but he had no intention of wasting time. Most likely, they would all be willing to die rather than cooperate. How dreadfully boring, he thought. No, there was a much easier way.

He turned back to the cargo bay, looking for a piece of equipment with a shape he knew by heart. “Power converter,” he said. “Connects the battery pack to the containment unit. Steps up and intensifies the current in order to run the cryogenic pump. Each of the units has one of its own. Thankfully, they’re still operating.”

“Yes, but—”

Ignoring her, he pulled out a pistol, extended his arm and fired a single shot. The power converter connected to Containment Unit 1 was punctured instantly.

“No!” she shouted.

It was too late. The damage was done. Warning lights started to flash in the cargo bay and on the exterior panel.

“Release me,” she shouted.

He cut the tape from her wrists and she climbed over the low sill and into the cargo bay. She crouched beside Unit 1, scraping frost from the outer edge of the panel. Despite a layer of thick insulation, the surface temperature was still forty degrees below zero. The lights showed a complete power disconnect. They had sixty seconds to get the unit hooked up to the replacement pack.

“Bring me one of the fuel cells!” she called out.

“No,” he said. “Disconnect the unit and remove it. We’ll hook up the power cell out here.”

She looked at him, terror in her eyes. There was no arguing. She turned back to the unit and went right to work. He could see her running through a mental checklist. One he knew well.

Switch to internal power.

Remove the voltage regulator.

Disconnect power delivery cord.

Shut off cryogenic exchanger and wait five seconds for the fluid to cycle.