The Furnace was now surrounded by three concentric wire fences, the innermost electrified. Troops patrolled the perimeter in Jeeps and helicopters. Beyond the barricades, hundreds of the curious sat idle in their cars, Jeeps, and trucks, binoculars trained on the black mound five miles or more distant. Still more hikers circled the forbidden area, none finding a way to get any closer.

A makeshift pressroom—little more than an unhealed shack—stood at the main gate to the Furnace. Here, nine preselected reporters waited in abject boredom for news releases.

Except for the ubiquitous helicopters, the site itself was quiet. In the steady late morning sun, the cinder cone loomed black and purple, lava boulders and flows still in place, nothing changed, all silent and eternal.

As the blades and turbines on Arthur's helicopter ride from Las Vegas slowed, Arthur climbed down from a hatch and approached Lieutenant Colonel Rogers across the salty sand and gravel landing strip. Rogers greeted him with a handshake and Arthur handed him a folder.

"What's this?" Rogers asked as they walked alone toward the electronics trailer.

"These are orders telling you and your men to stay out of the bogey and do nothing to disturb the site," Arthur said. "I received them in Las Vegas. They're from the office of the President."

"I already have orders to that effect," Rogers said. "Why send more?"

"The President wants to make sure you understand," Arthur said.

"Yes, sir. Tell him—"

"We aren't communicating regularly," Arthur said. He glanced around the area and put his hand on Rogers's shoulder. "We're going to have senators and congressmen all over this place in a few days. Senate subcommittees are inevitable. Congressional oversight committees. Anything you can imagine."

"I heard that senator from Louisiana, what's his name —Mac something."

"MacHenry."

"Yeah," the colonel said, shaking his head. "On the radio. Calling for impeachment."

"That's the President's problem," Arthur said coldly. "MacHenry's not alone." They stopped twenty yards from the trailer. A path had been cleared between the landing strip and the complex of Army equipment. Bored soldiers had bordered the path with uniformly sized, whitewashed lava boulders. "I have something important to ask you. In private. This seems to be as good a place as any."

"Yes, sir."

"Is there any way to destroy the bogey?" Arthur asked. Rogers stiffened. "That option hasn't been mentioned, sir."

"Could you do it?"

The colonel's face was a battleground of conflicting emotions. "My team can do damn near anything, sir, but it would take specific orders to even discuss such an option."

"This is off the record," Arthur said.

"Even off the record, sir."

Arthur nodded and looked away. "I'm only going to be here for a few hours," he said. "You have your orders— but frankly, I don't have any specific orders. And I believe my authority supersedes yours here, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir, except where you might contradict direct orders from the President."