He typed, [email protected], and pressed ENTER again. A second line appeared beneath the first: ACCOUNT ADDRESS (RECIPIENT):

Pierce typed *all*@ashland.arpa.mil, and once more hit the ENTER key.

A final slug of text appeared: MESSAGE:

Pierce’s hands hovered over the keys for only a second or two, and then he began typing rapid-fire:

Request immediate armed response half a mile west of intersection of Truman and Cedar, old barn near schoolhouse. Live samples of weaponized bioagent Rigel are in play. All personnel must wear Level A respirators. Hostiles are five men in/around barn. Secure location as quickly as possible. I advise scrambling air support from ANG Willow Bluff in case hostiles leave their current location; they may do so at any point. Be advised they have a hostage, a young girl. Take all precautions to save her.

He pressed ENTER a final time, and the text on the screen vanished. The word SENT appeared up in the corner.

“That message will go to every active terminal in Ashland,” Pierce said. “Anyone on-duty, sitting at their desks, is getting it right now.”

Sam looked at his watch, just visible in the glow of the desk panel.

1:35. The original deadline was twenty-five minutes away. He imagined the people in the barn moving fast, rushing around, preparing to move out even sooner. He imagined their transport vehicle—a van, a big truck, whatever it turned out to be—racing down some dark two-lane right now, doing thirty over the speed limit, shaving off whatever time it could.

He imagined the active stations all over Ashland, too. Alarms blaring, soldiers running for weapons lockers, then maybe elevators and vehicles. Pierce had literally called in an army. The only question now was whether it would arrive in time.

“There’s a secure bunker downstairs,” Pierce said. “It’s not much bigger than a closet, but it’s safe. I’d like both of you to wait in there until this is over with.”

Dani shook her head. “I’d go crazy wondering what’s happening out there. I need to watch.”

She crossed the living room to the French doors, turned one of the lever knobs and pulled the door inward. She stepped through onto the deck and went to the rail.

“We’re safe enough here,” Sam said. “If trouble comes this way, we’ll have time to react.”

Pierce frowned, but said nothing more. Sam turned and followed Dani onto the deck. In the darkness, the boards creaked under his feet. The wind felt stronger than it had earlier; he could hear it moaning in the leaves above the yard.

Dani had her binoculars raised and aimed at the barn, far off to the southwest. Sam stared at it; the still-open doorway appeared as only a bright rectangle standing upright, nearly a mile away across the dark fields.