saw Ann jump up suddenly,
white-faced and race to the window, and he heard the small scream in her
throat. And then the rumbling grew louder, stronger, and the house
trembled. He heard the whine of jet planes scream over the house as he
joined her at the window, heard the screaming whines mingled with the
rumbling thunder. And far away, on the horizon, the red glare was
glowing, rising, burning up to a roaring conflagration in the black
night sky--

"Washington!" Her voice was small, infinitely frightened.

"Yes. That's Washington."

"Then it really _has_ started." She turned to him with eyes wide with
horror, and snuggled up to his chest like a frightened child. "Oh,
Tom--"

"It's here. What we've been waiting for. What your father started could
never be stopped any other way than this--"

The roar was louder now, rising to a whining scream as another squad of
dark ships roared overhead, moving East and South, jets whistling in the
night. "This is what your father wanted."

She was crying, great sobs shaking her shoulders. "You're wrong, you're
wrong--oh, Tom, you must be wrong--"

His voice was low, almost inaudible in the thundering roar of the
bombardment. "Ann, I've got to go ahead. I've got to go tonight. To
Nevada, to the Dartmouth plant there. I know I'm right, but I have to
go, to check something--to make sure of something." He paused, looking
down at her. "I'll be back, Ann. But I'm afraid of what I'll find out
there. I need you behind me. Especially with what I have to do, I need
you. You've got to decide. Are you for me? Or against me?"

She shook her head sadly, and sank into a chair, gently removing his
hands from her waist. "I loved my father, Tom," she said in a beaten
voice. "I can't help what he's done--I loved him. I--I can't be with
you, Tom."

* * * * *

Far below him he could see the cars jamming the roads leaving
Washington. He could almost hear the noise, the screeching of brakes,
the fistfights, the shouts, the blatting of horns. He moved south over
open country, hoping to avoid the places where the 'copter might be
spotted and stopped for questioning. He knew that Hart would have an
alarm out for him by now, and he didn't dare risk being stopped until he
reached his destination, the place where the last piece to the puzzle
could be found, the answer to the question that was burning through his
mind. Shells were made of steel and chemicals. The tools