Megan, J.T. and Zoe blinked into the top chamber of the six-story red brick Lawrencedale microwave tower. The space was cramped, mostly taken up by arrays of antennas and what looked like a large satellite dish.
The refrigerator-sized stainless steel container wrapped in heavy yellow nylon straps took up much of the remaining room.
“That’s it,” whispered Zoe.
“How do you know?” J.T. asked.
“British Army, ordnance disposal unit, before I got kicked out,” Zoe said. “A little psychometry action will tell us more.” She touched the steel casing and drew her hand back in alarm.
“It’s going to go off right now!” Zoe shouted.
Megan seized the yellow straps and in the same instant was gone. Zoe and J.T. looked up to see a neat hole with hot glowing edges punched in the roof of the tower. They
