“Eric, listen to me,” said Kline. He lowered his voice. “That’s not what we’re here for. We came here to learn. We need this information if we’re going to make a difference.”
“I can make a difference right now!”
Eric held up the explosive. The captive scientists whimpered. Kline glanced back at Banerjee. Time was running out.
“The mesas Los Alamos sits atop are laced with radioactive materials. This is where the US stores a third of its plutonium—right underneath our feet. Do you understand what that means—how many lives you’re talking about?”
“Lives? Don’t talk to me about lives! You’d murder your own mother to see the Union fall. Have they taken any less of ours?”
Kline’s jaw clenched. He paused. “Fine. You want blood? You can have it, but not until I get the information I need. We’re not fighting the same battle anymore.”
“Listen to you. So self-righteous. Go get your lousy data. Better hurry, though. Soon as they come through that door, I’m taking everybody with me.”
Kline darted back to Banerjee. Closed the door. “He’s taking hostages. He’s going to blow this place up if I don’t get the information I need.”
Banerjee stared at the door, and then nodded.
“Something’s not right.” Hector took his eyes off the small camera they had snaked through the theoretical building’s roof. Though obstructed, they had a limited view of the action in the main room. Banerjee was nowhere in sight. “This isn’t how the XLS runs their phase travel operations. This reeks of desperation.”
“Sam and Jessica are in position. Everything’s a go. Just give the word, boss,” said Jack.
“The SRT will be here any minute. We’re running out of time. The hostages are our top priority. Give the order. Let’s go.”
Jack signaled Jessica from the roof and engaged his communicator. “Green light! We’re a go!”
