Twenty-FourMachuzak’s wrist and handset when off simultaneously, as well as the laboratory’s emergency warning system. An instant later, Abbuhl was on the air, paging him.
“Mac, sir, you’d better get down to the neutral-beam area. Fast.”
Machuzak clicked off, not entirely understanding what had hit him; he grabbed T. J. by the arm and ran.
“It’s happened, hasn’t it?” she managed.
“I don’t know, but when Fred Abbuhl sounds like that, it isn’t good.”
They sprinted at full speed out of the courtyard, across the asphalt and to the pentagon. With a yank, they picked up Slava, who stood rubbernecking in the crowd already gathering by the test cell entrance, and shoved their way inside.
“Where’s Abbuhl?” Machuzak shouted.
He got no coherent response. “Downstairs,” someone finally answered
