Dean Koontz - (1989)

by Midnight(Lit)

  until reinforcements arrived.

  He signed off with his name and Bureau ID number.

  This message was not going to prepare them for the shock of what they

  would find in Moonlight Cove, but at least it would get them on the move

  and encourage them to come prepared for anything.

  He typed TRANSMIT, but then he had a thought and wiped the word from the

  screen. He typed REPEAT transmission the computer asked NUMBER OF

  REHEATS?

  He typed 99.

  The computer acknowledged the order.

  Then he typed TRANSMIT again and pressed the ENTER key key.

  WHAT OFFICES?

  He typed ALL.

  The screen went blank. Then TRANSMITTING.

  At the moment every KEY laser printer in every Bureau field office in

  the country was printing out the first of ninety-nine copies of his

  message. Night staffers everywhere soon would be climbing the walls.

  He almost whooped with delight.

  there was more to be done. They were not out of this yet.

  Sam quickly returned to the KEY menu and tapped selection A-NIGHT

  OPERATOR. Five seconds later he was in touch with the agent manning the

  KEY post at the Bureau's central 'communications room in Washington. A

  number flashed on the screen-the operator's ID- followed by a name, ANNE

  DENTON, Taking immense satisfaction in using high technology to the

  downfall of Thomas Shaddack, New Wave, and the Moonhawk Project, Sam

  entered into a long-distance, unspoken 442, electronic conversation with

  Anne Denton, intending to spell out the horrors of Moonlight Cove in

  more detail.

  Though Loman no longer was interested in the activities Of the police

  department, he switched on the VDT in his car every few minutes or so to

  see if anything was happening. He expected Shaddack to be in touch with

  members of the department from time to time. If he was lucky enough to

  catch a VDT dialog between Shaddack and other cops, he might be able to

  pinpoint the bastard's location from something that was said.

  He didn't leave the computer on all the time because he was

  afraid of it. He didn't think it would jump at him and suck his brains

  or anything, but he did recognize that working with it too long might

  induce in him a temptation to become what Penniworth and Denny had

  become-in the same way that being around the regressives had given rise

  to a powerful urge to devolve.

  He had just pulled to the side of Holliwell Road, where his restless

  cruising had taken him, had switched on the machine was engaged in

  conversation, when the word ALERT appeared in large letters on the

  screen. He pulled his hand back from the keyboard as if something had

  nipped at him.

  The computer said, SUN REQUESTS DIALOGUE.

  Sun? The supercomputer at New Wave? Why would it accessing the police

  department's system?

  Before another officer at headquarters or in another car could query the

  machine, Loman took charge and typed DIALog APPROVED.

  REQUEST CLARIFICATION, Sun said.

  Loman typed YES, which could mean GO AHEAD.

  - 423 answering its questions from its own self-assessment program which

  allowed it to monitor its own workings as if it were an observer, Sun

  said, ARE telephone CALLS FROM unapproved NUMBERS IN moon COVE ANO ALL

  NUMBERS OUTSIDE restricted?

  Lomand was about to call up the dialogue channel to see if he could

  query Sun as to Booker's activities and where SUN'S RESERVED TELEPHONE

  LINES INJDED IN AFOREMENTIONED PROHIBITION? the NEW Wave computer

  asked, speaking of itself in third person. Loman typed UNCLEAR.

  trendy leading him through it step by step, Sun explained it hill its

  own dedicated phone lines, outside the main dialing area by which its

  users could call other computers all over the country and access them.

  He already knew this, so he typed YES.

  ARE SUN'S RESERVED telephone LINES INJOINED IN AFOREMENTIONED

  PROHIBITION? it god.

  If he'd had Denny's interest in Computers, he might have turn

  immediately to what was happening, but he was still confused So he typed

  -why?-meaning Why do YOU ASK?

  OUTSYSTEM MODEM NOW IN USE.

  BY WHOM?

  SAMUEL BOOKER.

  Loman would have laughed if he had been capable of glee.

  The agent had found a way out of Moonlight Cove, and now the shit was

  going to hit the fan at last.

  another name appeared on the upper left corner of the

  screen-Shaddack-indicating that New Wave's own mo was watching the

  dialogue on his VDT and was cutting in.

  Lomand was content to let his maker and Sun converse uninterrupted

  Shaddack asked for more details.

  Sun responded FBI KEY SYSTEM ACCESSED.

  Loman could imagine Shaddack's shock. The beast master's id appeared on

  the screen portions. Which meant he wanted a menu of options from Sun

  to deal with the situation.

  Sun presented him with five choices, the fifth of which was SHUT down,

  and Shaddack chose that one.

  A moment later Sun reported FBI KEY SYSTEM/1 LIN SHUT DOWN.

  Loman hoped that Booker had gotten enough of a message out to blow

  Shaddack and Moonhawk out of the water.

  On the screen, from Shaddack to Sun BOOKER'S terminal? DO YOU REQUIRE

  LOCATION?

  YES.

  MOONLIGHT COVE CENTRAL SCHOOL, COMPUTER LAB.

  Loman was three minutes away from Central . He wondered how close

  Shaddack was to the school. Harry heard the doorbell ring down in the

  house below him. His stomach twisted. He felt as if he were in a

  roller coaster, Just pulling away from the boarding ramp.

  He wondered how close Shaddack was to the school. It di The bell rang

  again.

  matter. Near or far, Shaddack would bust his ass to get --. A long

  silence followed. They knew he was crippled. They and prevent Booker

  from compromising the Moonhawk project-or to take vengeance if it had

  already been compromise At last Loman knew where he could find his

  maker.

  When Sam was only six exchanges into his dialogue with Ann Denton in

  Washington, the link was cut off. The screen will blank.

  He wanted to believe that he had been disconnected by line problems

  somewhere along the way. But he knew it wasn't the case.

  He got up from his chair so fast that he knocked it over.

  Chrissie jumped up in surprise, and Tessa said "What What's wrong?"

  "They know we're here," Sam said.

  "They're coming.

  They'd give him time to answer.

  Finally it rang again.

  He looked at his watch. Only 724. He took no comfort in the fact that

  they had not put him at the end of their schedule.

  The bell rang again. Then again. Then insistently.

  In the distance, muffled by the two intervening floors, Moose began

  barking. 15 Tessa grabbed Chrissie's hand. With Sam, they hurried out

  of the computer lab. The batteries in the flashlight must not have been

  fresh, for the beam was growing dimmer. She hoped it would last long

  enough for them to find their way out. Suddenly the school's

  layout-which had been uncomplicated when they had not been in a

&n
bsp; life-or-death rush to negotiate its byways seemed like a maze.

  They crossed a junction of four halls, entered another corridor, and

  went about twenty yards before Tessa realized they were going the wrong

  direction.

  "This isn't how we came Doesn't matter, " Sam said.

  " Any door out will do.

  They had to go another ten yards before the failing flashlight beam was

  able to reach all the way to the end of the hall, revealing that it was

  a dead end.

  "This way," Chrissie said, pulling loose of Tessa and turning back into

  the darkness from which they'd come, forcing them either to follow or

  abandon her.

  Shaddack figured they wouldn't have tried to break in on any side

  that faced a street, where they might b seen. the Indian agreed-so he

  drove around to the back provided too formidable a barrier metal doors

  that would have prevented entry. he drove and studied the windows,

  trying to spot a broken pane.

  The last rear door, the only one with glass in the top, in an angled

  extension of the building. He was driving toward for a moment, just

  before the service road swung to the left to go around that wing, and

  from a distance of only a few yarns with all the other panes reflecting

  the glare of his headlights, his attention was caught by the missing

  glass at the bottom righ "There," he told Runningdeer.

  "Yes, Little Chief."

  He parked near the door and grabbed the loaded 12-gauge semiautomatic

  pistol-grip shotgun from the seat behind him. The box of extra shells

  was on the passenger side. He opened it, grabbed four or five, stuffed

  them in a coat pocket grabbed four or five more, then got out of the van

  and headed toward the door with the broken window.

  The soft thuds reverberated through the house, even into the attic, and

  Harry thought he heard glass breaking far away.

  Moose barked furiously. He sounded like the most vicious attack dog

  ever bred, not a sweet black Lab. Maybe he would be willing to defend

  his home and master in spite of his naturally sweet temperament.

  Don't do it, boy, Harry thought. Don't try to be a hero. Just crawl

  away in a corner somewhere and let them pass, lick their hands if they

  offer them, and don't-the dog squealed and fell silent.

  No, Harry thought, and a pang of grief tore through him. He had lost

  not just a dog but his best friend.

  -Moose, too, had a sense of duty.

  Silence settled over the house. They would be searching the ground

  floor now.

  His grief and fear receded as his anger grew. Moose.

  Dammit, Poor harmless Moose. He could feel the flush of rage spread

  over his face. He wanted to kill them all.

  He picked up the .38 pistol in his one good hand and held it in his lap.

  They wouldn't find him for a while, but he felt better with the gun in

  his hand.

  In the service he had won competition medals for both rifle shooting and

  performance with a handgun. That had been a long time ago. He had not

  fired a gun, even in practice, for more than twenty years, since that

  faraway and beautiful Asian day where on a morning of exceptionally

  lovely blue skies, he been crippled for life. He kept the .38 and the

  .45 cleaned Oiled, mostly out of habit; a soldier's lessons and routines

  A clank. for life-and now he was glad of that.

  , A rumble-purr of machinery.

  The elevator.

  18 Halfway down the correct hallway, holding the dimming light in his

  left hand and the revolver in his other, having just caught up with

  Chrissie, Sam heard a siren approaching outside It was not on top of

  them, but it was too close. He couldn't tell if the patrol car was

  actually closing in on the back of the school toward which they were

  headed, or coming to the front entrance. Apparently Chrissie was

  uncertain too. She stopped running and said, "Where, Sam? Where?"

  From behind them Tessa said, "Sam, the doorway!"

  For an instant he didn't understand what she meant. Then he saw the

  door swinging open at the end of the hall, about thirty yards away, the

  same door by which they had entered. A figure stepped inside. The

  siren was still wailing, drawing nearer, there were more of them on the

  way, a whole platoon of them. The guy who'd come through the door was

  just the first. six feet five if he was an inch, but otherwise only a

  silhouette minimally backlighted by the security lamp outside and to the

  right of the door.

  Sam didn't have to determine if this man was an enemy, because they were

  all enemies of them-their name was legion-and he knew every last one the

  shot

  was wide. His marksmanship was lousy because of his injured wrist, which

  hurt like hell after their misadventures in the culvert. With the

  recoil, pain burst out of that joint and all the way back to his

  shoulder, then back again, Jesus, pain flowing around like acid inside

  him, from shoulder to fingertips.

  the strength went out of his hand. He almost dropped the gun As the

  roar of Sam's shot slammed back to him from the 'A Sam squeezed off a

  shot with his .38, not bothering to deW the - 429 the corridor, the guy

  at the far end opened fire with a weapon of his own, but he had heavy

  artillery. A shotgun. Fortunately he was not good with it. He was

  aiming too high, not aware that the kick would throw the muzzle up.

  Consequently the first shot went into the ceiling only ten yards ahead

  of him, tearing one of the unlit fluorescent fixtures and a bunch of

  acoustic tile. His reaction confirmed his lack of experience with guns;

  overcompensated for the kick, swinging the muzzle too far down as he

  pulled the trigger a second time, so the follow-up round struck the

  floor far short of the target.

  Sam did not remain an idle observer of the misdirected gun shot. he ran

  across the hall, seized Chrissie and pushed her to the left, the second

  and through a door into a dark room, even as buckshot gouged chunks out

  of the vinyl flooring. Tessa came behind them. She threw the door shut

  and leaned against it, as if she thought that she was Superwoman and

  that pellets penetrating the door would bounce harmlessly from her back.

  Sam shoved the woefully dim flashlight at her.

  "With my wound, I'm going to need both hands to manage the gun."

  Tessa swept the weak yellow beam around the chamber. They were in the

  band room- To the right of the door, a tiered platform-full of chairs

  and music stands-rose up to the back wall.

  to the left was a large open area, the band director's podium, a

  stand-wood and metal desk. And two doors. Both standing open, leading

  to adjoining rooms.

  Chrissie needed no urging to follow Tessa toward the nearer away from

  those doors, and Sam brought up the rear, moving backward, covering the

  hall door through which they had come.

  Outside, the siren had died. Now there would be more than one man with

  a shotgun.

  They had searched the first two floors. They were in the third floor

  bedroom.

  Harry could hear them talking. Their voices rose to him through the

  ce
iling, to his floor. But he couldn't quite make out what they were

  saying.

  He almost hoped they would spot the attic trap in the closet and would

  decide to come up. He wanted a chance to blow a couple of them away.

  For Moose. After twenty long years being a victim, he was sick to death

  of it; he wanted a chance to let them know that Harry Talbot was still a

  man to be recconed with-and that although Moose was only a dog, his

  nevertheless a life taken only with serious consequences.

  20 In the eddying fog, Loman saw the single patrol car outside

  Shaddack's van. He braked next to it just as Paul got out from behind

  the wheel. Amberlay was lean a and very bright, one of Loman's best

  young officers, but looked like a high-school boy now, too small to be a

  cop-, scared.

  When Loman got out of his car, Amberlay came to him, - 431 band, visibly

  shaking.

  "Only you and me? Where the hell's everybody else? This is a major

  alert."

  --Where's everybody else?" Loman asked.

  "Just listen, Paul.

  listen."

  .From every part of town, scores of wild voices were lifted in song,