Nicole’s head jerked around as though he’d yanked on it with a rope. “What?” she cried out in stunned surprise.

“They’ve got Eric’s out and now they’re operating on Dr. Cameron! Hit the PMT button! We’ve got to stop them!”

Stupefied, Nicole just stared. The Punishment Mode—Terminal button was on every console, bright red, in the far upper left corner. She had never used it, had even avoided looking at it because of what it did to her when she pictured what would result if she touched it.

“Terminate him!” the Major thundered. “Now!”

Nicole’s hand raised, hung for a moment over the keyboard, then she snatched it back as if it had been burned. “I can’t,” she whispered.

In a rage, the Major grabbed her chair and whirled her away from the terminal. He turned to Shirley, but she was white-faced and shook her head in shock.

“Travis! Which button is it?”

Travis too was rigid, staring at the Major’s hand hovering over the keyboard.

“Travis!” His voice was an explosion echoing inside the small room.

Travis jumped to the Major’s side. “Hit this blue release button first. Then the PMT button is here.”

Nicole bit her lip to stifle a cry as she saw the Major’s finger stab down twice and heard the electronic beep. The flashing light on the screen flared into a bright point twice its normal size, then slowly faded. Then the red letters began to unfold onto the screen. WRIST COMPUTER 446823, CLIFFORD CLARK CAMERON. PUNISHMENT MODE-TERMINAL VOLTAGE INITIATED. SUBJECT TERMINATED. UNABLE TO READ FURTHER MOVEMENT.

The Major turned back around, shot Nicole one quick, withering look, then turned to Shirley. “Send a message to Lieutenant Robertson via his wrist computer. Tell him that Eric is free and dangerous. We’re on our way.”

He leaped up and started for the door. “All right, Travis! Let’s go!”

CHAPTER 18

Nicole sighed and stood up, averting her glance from the oddshaped brown package on the coffee table. She made herself think of how good a hot shower and then cool sheets would feel, tempting as it was to collapse now on the couch and give in to a stupefying weariness. She had come into the living room to put the redwood sculpture down, and staying here with it would only keep the turmoil and shock churning. Tomorrow she would put it away somewhere or perhaps give it to someone. The eagle had broken free, but it had cost an honorable, decent man his life doing it.