A lapsed Buddhist, he considered their furious glares and wondered what crime he had committed in a past life. This was a karmic backlash of bin Laden proportions. What a pair of fuckin’ raptors, he thought. They were working him into a corner and blindsiding him, all razor teeth and slashing claws. He’d nearly wet himself watching Jurassic Park as a little kid, and he had the same feeling of free-floating horror now, eighteen years later, facing this pair of shrews.

“Ladies . . . ,” he said, offering them his open palms.

“Jesus, Nat!” cried Duffy. “Now it’s not just patronizing bullshit, it’s patronizing sexist bullshit!”

“Uh . . . I’m sorry ladi . . . uh . . .”

“Look, Edgar,” said Natoli, a petite brunette with axes in her impossibly deep brown eyes. “You got caught with your pants down. You lied to us, which means you lied to the American people. But now you can make it up to them.”

“Yeah, just let us out of here to do our job,” Duffy finished for her.

“No,” he said firmly. “Under no circumstances. It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh, come on, Edgar!” Natoli protested. “Why not? This is the fucking story of the century. You can’t Roswell it. It’s just too big. You got ten thousand witnesses, two dozen or more of them journalists. You probably got your satellite links being hacked by CNN right now.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Natoli, but CNN won’t be hacking any of our communications for a very long time. I can assure you of that.”

Both women snorted in amusement.

“You think so?” asked Natoli, who worked for the Atlanta-based broadcaster.

The Egg smiled kindly, which put both reporters on alert. “Oh, no. Your sources seem to have misled you. You see, the Enterprise is exactly where it’s supposed to be. They’re not the one’s who’ve gone missing.”

He let the implications of that hang in the air.

“Holy shit,” Duffy said after a brief pause.

“Yep,” nodded The Egg sympathetically. “So you see. You could interview those guys we brought over; lock them down for an exclusive if you want. But who you gonna call? I don’t think they’ve even invented the television here yet.”

“Oh,” said Rosanna Natoli. Then, “Oh shit.”

She slumped into a chair. Her eyes seemed to lose focus.

Duffy rummaged around in a pocket and came up with a small bottle of pills. She dry swallowed one and handed the rest to her friend. Thieu wondered what the medication was. It might explain why they were still conscious.

Whatever. At least I shut ’em up, he thought.

And for a few seconds at least, Lieutenant Edgar Thieu got to enjoy the feeling of being in control.