Temple

'Precisely,' Race said. 'The perfect opportunity for someone to send up a UHF signal while nobody was looking, a signal that would tell his friends that the presence of thyrium had been confirmed.'

'But who did it?' Gaby asked.

Race nodded out the window. 'I think we're about to find out.'

Earl Bittiker pulled another Calico pistol from his spare holster and tossed it to Troy Copeland.

'Heya, Troy,' he said.

'Nice of you to join us,' Copeland replied, cocking the massive pistol.

Lauren's face went ashen white. “Troy?' she said in disbelief.

Copeland smiled at hen It was a cruel, nasty smile. 'You should be careful about who you fuck, Lauren, cause they might just be fucking you over. Although I imagine it's not often that you're the one who gets fucked oven'

Lauren's face darkened.

Beside her, Marty blanched. 'Lauren?'

Copeland started to chuckle. 'Marty, Marty, Marty. Little fucking Marty who sold out DARPA so he could get himself some goddamn respect—you oughta be more careful about who you give your information to, my friend. But then, you didn't even know that your own wife was screwing another man.'

Race watched the scene outside, his entire body tense, still.

He could hear what Copeland was saying to Marry, humiliating him.

'She liked it, too,' Copeland said. 'In fact, I can't think of many things I liked better on this earth than hearing your wife scream as she orgasmed.'

Marty's face reddened, both in anger and humiliation.

'I'll kill you,' he growled.

'Not likely,' Copeland said, pulling the trigger on his Calico, sending a rapid-fire burst of bullets into Marty's abdomen.

Race almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the gun go off.

Marty's shirt was ripped open by the sudden three- round burst, his stomach raked into a ragged mass of red.

Race saw him fall to the ground hard.

'Marty…' he breathed.

Out on the main street, Copeland turned his gun on Lauren, while Bittiker turned his on Frank Nash.

'What did you call it, Frank?' Copeland said to Nash.

'The law of unintended consequences—terrorist groups get ting their hands on a Supernova. Face it, you only saw this weapon as a bluffing tool—a weapon that you possess, but which you will never have the courage to use. Maybe you should have thought about it another way: don't build it if you don't intend to use it.'

Copeland and Bittiker fired at the same time.

Nash and Lauren fell together, splashing into the mud.

Lauren was killed instantly, shot clean through the heart.

Nash, on the other hand, was hit in the stomach and he fell to the ground screaming with pain.

Then, with the idol in their possession, Bittiker and Copeland hurried back to one of the unmarked Black Hawks and leapt aboard.

No sooner were they on board than the two big black choppers rose quickly into the sky. Once they had cleared the treetops, they both tilted sharply forward and powered off, heading south, away from Vilcafor.

As soon as the Texan choppers were gone, Race threw open the rear hatch of the ATV and charged out onto the main street. He slid to his knees beside the fallen figure of Marty.

When he arrived at his brother's side, Marty was feebly trying to put his intestines back in his stomach. Blood gur gled from his mouth, and as Race looked down into his brother's eyes, he saw only fear and shock.

'Oh, Will… Will,' Marty said, his lip quivering. He grabbed Race's arm with one blood-smeared hand.

'Marty, why? Why did you do this?”

'Will…' he said. 'Ignition…'

Race held him in his arms. 'What? What are you trying to say?'

'I'm… so sorry.., ignition.., system.., please, stop… them.'

And then slowly Marty's eyes glazed over, settling into a frozen vacant stare. His bloodied body went limp in Race's arms.

It was then that Race heard the soft gurgling sound from somewhere behind him.

He turned and saw Frank Nash lying on his back a few yards away. Nash's mid-section was also torn to pieces. He was coughing up blood, gagging on it.

And then suddenly, beyond Nash, Race saw movement.

Saw the first curious native emerge slowly from the trees.

'Professor,' Doogie called softly from the ATV, 'I, ah, think it might be a good idea to step away from there.'

The other natives emerged from the forest. They still carried their primitive weapons—their clubs and sticks and axes—and they looked angry as hell.

Slowly, Race lowered Marty's body gently to the ground.

Then he stood and slowly—very slowly—walked back to the ATV.

The natives hardly even noticed him.

They only had eyes for one person—Nash—lying in the middle of the street, gurgling blood.