Eichmann had apparently reached his limit and ran for the door. Smith barely managed to get hold of him before he could dart into the hallway. This was getting out of hand fast.

“Tell us what you did in Division D,” Randi said, grinding the gun into the prone man’s head.

He remained silent, staring her directly in her eyes. It wasn’t courage, Smith knew. It was just that the threat she posed wasn’t as great as the one posed by his own government. She could kill him. Maybe even torture him. But she couldn’t get to his family.

Randi pulled the hammer back on the gun and Smith was about to intercede when Eichmann spoke.

“Wait!”

They both looked at him as he backed slowly toward the wall.

“Do you know something?” Randi said. “Because I’d talk fast if I were you.”

“I don’t know anything. But I suspect.”

“What?” Smith said.

“The research related to autonomic brain functions—something that’s beyond my expertise. Lower functions like balance and respiration.”

Randi actually laughed. “So they’re downright proud of sticking monkey brains into kids’ skulls but they’re too ashamed to admit that they were looking into breathing? You’d better do better than that, Doc—”

A deep thud sounded and the entire building shook around them. Smith ran to the door, yanking it open and looking into a hallway billowing with dust. The second impact was closer and completely unmistakable. A bomb.

“Randi! Come on! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

He grabbed Eichmann and they ran back the way they’d come with the old man stumbling along behind. When Smith looked back, he saw that Randi was in the hall but with a much less cooperative prisoner. Nang used his momentum and superior weight to break free, turning and running deeper into the complex while she lined her sights up on his receding back.

The next blast almost knocked the fleeing scientist off his feet and part of the ceiling caved in, ruining her aim but undoubtedly crushing her target. She seemed to think justice had been done and began running toward Smith.

The dust was getting thick enough to choke on when she grabbed Eichmann’s other am and they began rushing toward the exit. The workmen they’d passed on the way in were all down, lying amid the rubble—some dead, others trying to get up. The frequency of the blasts increased and Smith nearly pitched onto his face when the floor dropped six inches beneath them.

The doors they’d entered through weren’t far ahead, but he wasn’t sure bursting out into the open was a good idea. The explosions didn’t seem to be from demolition charges. They were coming from outside.

“Do you have any ideas?” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the noise.

“Get the hell out of here?” Randi came back.

“How?”

“The jeep.”