Cliff’s chuckle was distinctly evident, even over the speaker. “He wanted to see Nicole’s face when she heard. He’s the one I told you about. He was, until this afternoon, the head of computer services at Central Control.”

“I don’t believe you,” Nicole cried.

“She says she can’t believe that,” Eric dutifully repeated.

“You think Nicole is shook—you should’ve heard the Major on the news broadcast tonight. He was absolutely livid.”

Nicole sat back down slowly, dazed by what she had heard.

“So we have four men?” Eric asked.

“Five counting you, and each one is good to very good with a rifle.”

“But can they use them? Or have they been so conditioned to implantation that they’ll freeze up in a crisis?”

“I don’t think so. Chet and I have talked about that with them. They may have to make a conscious effort to overcome their conditioning, but they all feel very strongly that what we’re doing is right. We think they’ll be fine. We’ll have a few surprises of our own for Travis on Saturday if he decides not to play it straight.”

“You made contact with him all right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think we can trust them to hold to the bargain?”

“Not for a minute. I expect the Major will come early to lay a trap, but we’re camped up above the dam now, and the exchange is not for two more days. We’ll see whatever he does and be ready for him.”

Nicole turned, suddenly tired beyond measure, the two more days before she would be free stretching out before her. But as she got up, she froze in position. Eric had built himself a lean-to shelter a few feet away from hers, and sticking out from beneath his sleeping bag, glinting dully in the faint light of the moon, was the barrel of his deer rifle. He had carried it in the scabbard on the saddle all day long, and she had eyed it longingly several times, hoping he would step away from it for just a moment or two. Now it lay there, invitingly.

She glanced up quickly at Eric, but his back was to her again, the bandage on his neck glowing like a target in the moonlight. With her heart pounding wildly, she began inching slowly toward the weapon, silently praying that Eric would not turn around and that Cricket would stay put. With a leap she covered the last few feet, yanked the rifle out, and spun around, levering a shell into the chamber.

“Eric!” Her voice cracked like a bullwhip.

He jerked around and stared for a moment, his eyes widening. Then he slowly stood up, his arms lifting into the air, bringing the microphone up with them.

“Get away from the radio, Eric.”