car?
“Get in the driver’s seat.”
Winslow slid into the leather seat as the man got in the back, behind him.
“Hot out, isn’t it?” the man said, as if this were the most normal of occurrences for him. “You’d think there’d be Fireflies out,it’s so hot.” He laughed to himself, a private joke apparently. There was a slightly manic edge to his laughter.
“What did you say?” Winslow felt his fear lessen slightly at the odd comment.
“Fireflies,” the man repeated. “You have to wonder where they are. And relax your grip on your briefcase, Doctor, because if you swing that at me, it will only result in severe damage to that arm.”
Winslow tensed once more. “That’s an odd thing to say during a robbery—fireflies.”
“Who says I’m robbing you, Doctor Winslow? Maybe I want to sell you something?”
Winslow swallowed, feeling a wave of excitement greater than his fear sweep through his body. “So you have the fireflies?” he whispered, playing along on the sneaky spy stuff, figuring it was some code word.
“You don’t even know what a Firefly is, do you? But you do know what a Rift is, correct? You did get that e-mail from your former student. He didn’t know what Fireflies were either. None of you really know what you’re doing. What would you be willing to pay me if I said I have what you need? Does the name Craegan ring a bell?”
Winslow had to bite back the instant answer that formed on his tongue:
Anything
. He thought for a moment. “Fifty thousand.”
“Move the decimal place.”
Winslow wanted to turn and shout that was robbery, but he knew it actually wasn’t. Winslow glanced up at the rearview mirror. The man was sitting back, hat still keeping his face in the dark. Winslow reached for the light switch.
“Don’t.” The man laughed, the manic edge sharper. “The Fireflies got to me.”
“What are you talking—”
The man tossed something over into the passenger seat.
Winslow saw the hard drive with the ASU control number on the side. “I’ll need time to get the money,” Winslow said. “A week?”
“What are you going to do?” the man asked. “Take out a fourth mortgage on your house?”
Winslow started in surprise.
“I wouldn’t be here trying to make a deal if I didn’t do my homework,” the man said. “I know you don’t have the money. But there is someone who does have the money who actually lives rather close to you.” Burns tossed a slip of paper over the seat. “Tell him it’s an investment. He’s the sort of man who would be interested in that. But I wouldn’t cross him.”
Winslow picked up the paper. He read the name. “But—”
“Trust me on this,” Burns said. “He can loan you five hundred thousand. It’s nothing to him. Unless you don’t pay him back.”
Five hundred thousand was nothing to what he could reap if he made this work, Winslow thought. “All right. Five hundred thousand.”
“Smart man.” The man shifted in the seat.
Winslow resisted the urge to grab the hard drive and race back inside and start right away.
“Something you need to know,” the man said, “if you want to not get caught and stay alive. Unlike Mister Craegen.”
But Winslow’s mind was racing ahead, hearing the applause from the audience in Geneva. Forming the words to the speech that was now inevitable. “Yes?” he muttered, his mind on other things.
“You need to shield it so there are no emissions once it activates,” the man warned. “Especially muons.”
“Muons?”
“That’s how they can find you,” the man said.
“Who?”
“The Nightstalkers.”
“Uh-huh.” Winslow wondered how much the Nobel medal weighed. How it would feel on his chest.
The man held a hand between the seats. “Give it to me.”
As Winslow reluctantly handed the hard drive back he saw the scars on the back of the man’s hand. The drive disappeared and then the man extended a small slip of paper. “Once I see the five hundred thousand
“Get in the driver’s seat.”
Winslow slid into the leather seat as the man got in the back, behind him.
“Hot out, isn’t it?” the man said, as if this were the most normal of occurrences for him. “You’d think there’d be Fireflies out,it’s so hot.” He laughed to himself, a private joke apparently. There was a slightly manic edge to his laughter.
“What did you say?” Winslow felt his fear lessen slightly at the odd comment.
“Fireflies,” the man repeated. “You have to wonder where they are. And relax your grip on your briefcase, Doctor, because if you swing that at me, it will only result in severe damage to that arm.”
Winslow tensed once more. “That’s an odd thing to say during a robbery—fireflies.”
“Who says I’m robbing you, Doctor Winslow? Maybe I want to sell you something?”
Winslow swallowed, feeling a wave of excitement greater than his fear sweep through his body. “So you have the fireflies?” he whispered, playing along on the sneaky spy stuff, figuring it was some code word.
“You don’t even know what a Firefly is, do you? But you do know what a Rift is, correct? You did get that e-mail from your former student. He didn’t know what Fireflies were either. None of you really know what you’re doing. What would you be willing to pay me if I said I have what you need? Does the name Craegan ring a bell?”
Winslow had to bite back the instant answer that formed on his tongue:
Anything
. He thought for a moment. “Fifty thousand.”
“Move the decimal place.”
Winslow wanted to turn and shout that was robbery, but he knew it actually wasn’t. Winslow glanced up at the rearview mirror. The man was sitting back, hat still keeping his face in the dark. Winslow reached for the light switch.
“Don’t.” The man laughed, the manic edge sharper. “The Fireflies got to me.”
“What are you talking—”
The man tossed something over into the passenger seat.
Winslow saw the hard drive with the ASU control number on the side. “I’ll need time to get the money,” Winslow said. “A week?”
“What are you going to do?” the man asked. “Take out a fourth mortgage on your house?”
Winslow started in surprise.
“I wouldn’t be here trying to make a deal if I didn’t do my homework,” the man said. “I know you don’t have the money. But there is someone who does have the money who actually lives rather close to you.” Burns tossed a slip of paper over the seat. “Tell him it’s an investment. He’s the sort of man who would be interested in that. But I wouldn’t cross him.”
Winslow picked up the paper. He read the name. “But—”
“Trust me on this,” Burns said. “He can loan you five hundred thousand. It’s nothing to him. Unless you don’t pay him back.”
Five hundred thousand was nothing to what he could reap if he made this work, Winslow thought. “All right. Five hundred thousand.”
“Smart man.” The man shifted in the seat.
Winslow resisted the urge to grab the hard drive and race back inside and start right away.
“Something you need to know,” the man said, “if you want to not get caught and stay alive. Unlike Mister Craegen.”
But Winslow’s mind was racing ahead, hearing the applause from the audience in Geneva. Forming the words to the speech that was now inevitable. “Yes?” he muttered, his mind on other things.
“You need to shield it so there are no emissions once it activates,” the man warned. “Especially muons.”
“Muons?”
“That’s how they can find you,” the man said.
“Who?”
“The Nightstalkers.”
“Uh-huh.” Winslow wondered how much the Nobel medal weighed. How it would feel on his chest.
The man held a hand between the seats. “Give it to me.”
As Winslow reluctantly handed the hard drive back he saw the scars on the back of the man’s hand. The drive disappeared and then the man extended a small slip of paper. “Once I see the five hundred thousand
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