Sigma One (47 page)

Burt's response was fire and ice. Anger burned in him at Andre's callousness for interrupting. Yet he knew the Soviet was right. It was too dangerous to spend any more time at the campus than was absolutely necessary to get his notes to ensure they wouldn't fall into anyone's hands. His passion cooled by logic, he disengaged himself from Debbie and stared back into her flushed face.

"A minute," he whispered. "We'll only be gone a minute. I promise," he said as he moved away.

Reluctantly Debbie let him go and he stepped out into the crisp midday air. Once outside, he squinted from the glare and looked toward his dorm. The high overcast and the flat light which resulted gave everything a dull silvery sheen which washed out the brilliant red of the bougainvillea planters next to the building's brick sides giving them a pinkish hue which matched Debbie's face and made him have second thoughts about leaving.

Momentarily, Andre followed but not before casting a reassuring glance to Debbie as a token of an unspoken apology.

"We will hurry," he said as he pushed the door shut.

Debbie sucked at her lower lip but didn't speak as she watched him turn away.

The instant Burt and Andre appeared in front of them, Wycoat and Stearns simultaneously holstered their weapons. Stearns, in the passenger's seat nearest the curb, started for the door handle, but before he could reach it, Wycoat stopped him.

"Not now!" Wycoat cautioned as he reached over and held him from leaving. "Remember, we can't take the risk of them or anyone else seeing us. We've got to wait till they're inside. Then we'll make our move. You're to take them in the dorm after they get what they came for. I'll get the girl and drive around back with her where              meet you."

Stearns settled back in his seat and watched Burt and Andre as they sprinted toward the building.

When the door closed behind the pair, Wycoat turned to his partner and spoke. "After they've been inside for a couple of minutes you'll go. I'll radio to Walker that we've made contact. The girl's parent's house is only a few minutes away and you'll have plenty of backup if you need it. But remember, no shooting! Not here! Got it?"

Stearns pursed his lips, sat there for a moment and finally nodded to show he understood. All the while he thought to himself, "yeah, asshole! I got it--but you've got an attitude problem! And after this thing's over,

I'm gonna straighten your attitude out!"

Wycoat looked at his watch and when two minutes had passed barked,

"Go! Come on! Now!"

Stearns took a deep breath but made no motion toward the door, this, just to get Wycoat's goat. Then he yanked the door handle and got out slamming the door so hard behind him it caused the glove compartment to fly open.

"Sorry," he said sarcastically through the window before he turned and left.

Wycoat ignored him and instead, picked up the radio to call Walker.

He didn't know it, but when Stearns got out of the car, Burt was already in his room standing at the window facing the street. Burt watched for a moment that seemed to stretch into an hour as Stearns made his way across the lawn. With each step the agent took toward him, Burt's heart began to accelerate.

Burt had suspected that it might be dangerous to come back to his dorm. Yet he had been able to push those thought out of his head throughout most of the trip from Vegas--this, because of the relative ease of their escape. It had given him the confidence he needed to overcome his fears about making the trip back convincing him he could do it easily.

There was only one time he almost changed his mind, that, when he was with Daniel and Debbie in his brother's hospital room. Then, while he talked with his poor crippled brother seated in his wheelchair and watched with guarded pity as Daniel struggled to lift his head to smile at him, he realized had it not been for Daniel he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now. It was at that moment, too, that the irony of what he had accomplished with his experiment sank in. He realized then as he watched the pain in his brother's contorted face, that his successful experiment which he had done to bring hope to the thousands like his brother would, instead, be turned into a means of mass destruction if his secret were allowed to be known by the likes of Huxley. He also knew at that time, that people like Huxley, would stop at nothing to lay claim to his secret-something he couldn't and wouldn't let happen, in spite of the consequence to him.

He had to struggle not to think about that while he talked with Daniel and described what he had done and why he had done it. He was unsure if Daniel understood him, but it really didn't matter. He needed to tell him just the same to cleanse his soul and give meaning to what he was about to do, if nothing else. It was then, while he and Daniel were alone, that the fear he might die if he went back struck home. But he had made up his mind that no matter what the danger, he couldn't let Huxley turn his work into a travesty. Now with Stearns only steps away from his dorm, he realized what a fool he had been to come back and he was scared.

Burt continued to stare out the window unable to move. It wasn't until he saw the other agent with his gun drawn get out of the car and step toward the van and Debbie, that he acted.

He spun around.

"Andre," Burt snapped. "Grab that notebook over there and get the floppy disks."

Andre looked up, but didn't move. He didn't know the meaning of the word 'notebook'.

Rage struck Burt like lightning when he saw Andre hesitate.

"Get the god damned papers on the bed, Andre! On the bed! Get them now! The same agent that took me to Vegas is coming in. They're here and the other one outside has Debbie!"

Andre reacted and hastily grabbed the object Burt had pointed to Parlier. He picked up the notebook and then ran to the window. Below, he saw their van and standing next to it, Debbie and a man. The man was standing behind her, and although he was trying to hide it, Andre saw he had a gun.

Meanwhile, Burt was standing next to his desk stuffing the floppy disks containing the notes on his experiment into his pillowcase when the door burst off its hinges with a crackling roar.

"Freeze, you son of a bitch!" Stearns ordered as he appeared in the doorway.

Burt stood facing the entryway and on seeing Stearns gun in hand silhouetted against the hall light, he immediately dropped the pillow case. Its contents spilled out on the floor as he raised his hands.

In the split second it took for that to happen, Stearns moved forward and wrenched Burt's arm behind him. He had just gotten the gun up and pointed at Burt's head when Andre yelled something in Russian neither Burt nor Stearns understood. Andre then squeezed his eyes shut and focused his telekinetic energy on Stearns wrist and fingers.

Stearns was only able to draw half a breath before it happened.

Every bone from his wrist down to his fingers was instantly pulverized. The sound of a thousand loud cracks filled the air. It was as if someone had recorded the sound of crumbling a handful of shredded wheat, amplified it to rock concert levels and then played it back.

Then the agonizing sound stopped, and when it did, Steam's 357 magnum fell to the floor, no longer capable of being supported by the jellied mass which hung at his wrist like a limp water balloon.

Kamarov grimaced and closed his eyes a second time.

Instantly, Stearns' other hand was pulverized.

The same sickening sound filled the room.

Stearns then brought the bloody bulbous stubs to his face and shrieked in terror when the realization of what had happened hit home.

The pain didn't last long, though, for before he could complete his ululant warble of agony, like the Soviet agent Andre had killed before, Stearns' head was corkscrewed around cutting off his windpipe.

He fell to the floor like a sack of laundry as his legs buckled.

Seeing his assailant right in front of him like that stunned Burt momentarily, but he quickly recovered and reached down and stuffed the diskettes back into the pillowcase. He then picked up Stearns' gun and turned to Andre.

"Come on," he said. "The other guy's got Debbie and we've got to hurry!"

With that, Burt shouldered the pillowcase, took one last look back at his dorm room to be sure he had left nothing that could be used by Huxley's henchmen if they returned and then scrambled out the door, Andre close behind him.

The pair soon reached the door downstairs but stopped short when they saw Wycoat, still holding Debbie, staring at the front of the building.

Burt turned to Andre and knew by his pale face, that his friend's last telekinetic outburst had taken its toll. He also knew then he could no longer rely on Andre's powers to free Debbie as they had him just moments before.

"You don't look so good, Andre! You'll have to stay here," he said putting his hand on the door to leave. He had figured that if he could walk out alone and turn his head quickly away from this new agent that he wouldn't be recognized. He would then work his way around behind him and take him by surprise.

But before he could push the door open, Andre reached up and grabbed his hand. "You can't do it alone. He's got a gun. He could kill you....and Debbie, if you try something so foolish." He then added, "I can help."

"But you're too weak! I've got to do it." Burt persisted.

"I am weak, but I am not dead, comrade. We must go together--but not through here. He is watching and when he sees the other one is not with us, he may start shooting."

Burt pulled his hand away and stepped out of view from the window. "You're right. So what do we do?"

Andre turned his head and looked up and down both halls and, seeing no alternative route asked, "Is there another door?"

Burt thought for a moment and then remembered a fire door which led to the side of the dormitory. It would be out of sight of the van. It would be perfect! He had been so overwhelmed with their present predicament and with Debbie's safety , he had forgotten completely about it.

"Yes," he exclaimed as he started down the hall. "There is a way! "Follow me!"

The fire door was at the end of the corridor underneath the stairwell from which they had come just minutes before. When they arrived, they saw it was locked, but because the building was old, it only took Burt one swift kick to crack the striker plate and open it. Once outside, they made their way around the back through a service alley until they reached the corner nearest the van.

Burt crouched low and peered around the brick siding and saw the van fifty yards across a barren lawn. It was too far for him to try a shot with Stearns gun, and except for a small eucalyptus tree, there was nothing to obstruct Wycoat's view if he chose to try and run closer for a better position from which to fire.

They were no better off now than they were before, and they had just used up valuable time. Now with each second that passed while they did nothing, they knew Wycoat would be nearing the end of his patience while he waited for Stearns.

The situation appeared hopeless and Burt pulled back from the corner and stood up trying to decide what to do. He looked to Andre, but when he did, he felt a sharp pain in his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to make the pain go away. When he did this, he momentarily lost his balance, but he quickly regained it before Andre noticed anything was wrong.

"We'll never make it, Andre!" he said weakly, still feeling slightly queasy as he leaned against the wall for support.

Andre ignored him, and instead reached down and grabbed a rock from the base of a shrub. He then went to the corner and threw it as hard as he could at the street near their van, hoping that when it hit, the distraction would give him enough time to sprint toward the corner of the van before Wycoat noticed him coming.

Andre watched as the rock arched its way up and then down to the target. When it was just about to hit, he pushed Burt aside and began to run.