The Day Before Midnight
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Paramilitary terrorists who have taken over a top-secret nuclear complex kidnap Maryland welder Jack Hummel and force him to cut through a half-ton titanium block that conceals the launch button.
horror. “There you go,” said Nick Mahoney with a phony smile. “Our strategic people think there’s another wrinkle. That it’s not enough for Comrade Pashin to twit your people into a first strike, but that he’s also got to do a little something to give your team a big advantage in the seven-minute envelope between launch and detonation. So that when our birds fly, they fly poorly, they are uncoordinated, they are clumsily handled. Hell, brother, they may not even fly at all. You ever hear of this
bolts, loading clips, smearing their faces. Someone was shouting. “Okay, now, goddammit, everybody out of here but the Delta Tunnel Assault Team. You guys in the second element, you form up over there on Captain McKenzie. The rest of you guys, Rangers especially, please back off and give us some fucking room to operate.” He could see the men rigging themselves with complicated harnesses and thought for just a minute they were parachutes. Parachutes? No, then he realized that it was rappeling
car, stuck in an ignition switch. At another little place in the room he saw this other key. Like these white guys were going to drive away. There were lights, labels, signs, speakers, radios, typewriters, a wall safe, a big clock on the wall. Damn, it was late! It was nearly midnight. He laughed. White people. And suddenly a white lady was there. It stunned him because he heard her voice in the bright room. He looked around, it sounded like she was just there, but no, no white lady. She was
installation, tried to sort out his phone memories, something he’d never looked at. But it was there! He remembered, it was there! “Down the hall,” he said. “About twenty feet. There’s another phone. It’s just a little ways.” Their unbelieving eyes looked at him. “You’re wide open to the Soviet guns there, Doc.” “The bird is going to fly, goddammit!” Peter said. “Man, they’ll cut you apart.” “I just need a minute on the damn phone.” “We’ll give you covering fire,” said the officer. “We’ll
Another light struck him, blasting his vision, filling his brain with exploding sparks. He heard muttering, the soft jingle of equipment. “What’s going on, guys? Like, is all this really—” A hand like a darting bat flew in front of his eye, landed at his chin, and with a strong yank pulled him back until he crashed against a strong body; the hand pulled his chin up, opening his throat to the attack. At almost precisely the same second, though Teagarden never saw it, the other hand drew the evil