“Yep, we got a pattern emerging here,” Decker said.

Abrams nodded. “Albadi says he’s got further proof and an explanation about what’s happening now…and what’s about to happen.”

The general turned slowly. “And exactly what is about to happen?”

Abrams smiled flatly. “The end of the world, of course.” He then spoke softly. “Seems that to fully understand the prophecy, it needs to be read in its original language. Also there’re some vital components that need to be obtained; he can’t get to them, but he thinks we can.”

“This might be the break we’re looking for.” Decker looked back at the screen. “You’re my science officer, Joshua; get a team together, whatever you need, whatever it takes, make it happen. We are about one more sinkhole away from a damned national, no international panic.”

*

Matt Kearns walked quickly down Cambridge Street, turned at Fifth, and then again into Thorndike. His apartment was a top floor of a weatherboard building – it had seen better days, but the street was leafy, he could walk to work, and it was well within his budget. Once he knew for sure he had a position at Harvard, he could decide then whether he would kick it up a level.

Besides, he thought, since his relationship with Megan had gone down the tubes he didn’t need to feather a nest for someone else’s tastes anymore. Spartan was good, in fact: just a TV, bed and refrigerator was fine as far as was he was concerned.

He opened the downstairs door, waved to Mrs Styles who always seemed to be lurking just inside, and climbed the dozen stairs up to his apartment. Inside he looked around. Spartan is good, but lonely, he thought glumly, missing Megan. Matt suddenly remembered the waitress from a few days back, and her smile. We’ll have to do something about that – best cure for heartache, he thought, cheering himself.

He dropped his satchel, went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, twisting the top off, and then sinking into a battered brown leather armchair. He sipped, enjoying the coolness of the leather against his back after the warm afternoon walk. He had nothing on so could relax and decide later whether to go out for a few drinks or order in and then coach-potato it for the evening.

He drifted back to the job in Iowa, and how the cave had collapsed, killing the soldier. They’d nearly all been killed – they’d got lucky. But he knew sooner or later his own luck would run out. He shivered despite the warmth – the sound of the old geologist somehow trapped in the dirt wall still haunted him. He’d experienced some weird things in his time, and this ranked right up there.

Captain Tania Kovitz had invited him to a debrief with her superiors, but he had declined. The money had been good, but he was glad it had been a short job. He gulped a mouthful of beer, groaning as his phone trilled. He pulled it from his pocket, and glanced down – the caller’s number was unknown. His finger hovered over the cancel button for a second or two, but then, bored, he lifted it to his ear.