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Train got on his car phone and called the office. He asked if there were any messages. He then called the JAG front office and asked for Captain Mccarty. The flying container was fifty feet away, silently speeding toward them. The gap between the container and the pavement was only a couple of feet, and if the unseen technician remotely operating the cable crane realized what they were doing he could drop the box on them with the force of a hydraulic car crusher. Mercer held his breath and dove for the ground, pulling Lauren after him. The air became fouled with the smell of stale rust. The box barely swayed at the first impact. Then it occurred to him that this might be about Lynn. It rang four times before being picked up, and, to his surprise, it was Janet Carter. Almost in slow motion, he put the handset back on the hook and backed out of the booth. He walked back to the van, got in, and started it up. Hamburger forgotten, he drove out of the parking lot, turned left when he came to Route 1, and headed south, away from the Beltway.
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Hanging from it was a small copper object fastened to the leather by a tiny wire cage. The pendant was a misshapen bullet. Mercer looked at the woman, confusion written on his face. He entered at the top of the T, between the two gun turrets. He set the timer for one minute before moving toward the far end of the fort. This one Klaus set on a fifteen-second delay. At first they stared at him, bleary-eyed and confused. Comprehension slowly dawned as they took in his uniform. The bullets passed through him and pinged off the wall. He was not a person at ease with the notion of giving up. And within a day, he knew that Lincoln Chancel was coming, presumably to scout out writers for his new publishing house. When the invitation to Shorelands came, my father arranged for my mother and me to stay there. That entire month, we lived better than we would have at home.
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