Vance moved quickly up the hill, toward the toppled gantry. Already he had a view of the wide sloping window that was the center of Launch Control, and he could see figures there, though not clearly enough to know if Ramirez was one of them. Maybe they were SatCom staffers or . . .
No. There was Ramirez, talking on the phone. And standing beside him was the man Vance had come to love . . . Isaac Mannheim. The old professor looked haggard, a perfectionist man who had despaired. He clearly had lost touch with time and place. Then Ramirez handed him the phone and barked something at him. Dejectedly he took it and started speaking.
Damn. Any half-competent sniper could take out Ramirez here and now. He thought he was safe, and he had never been more exposed. But this was not a job for an amateur, not with Mannheim so close.
Okay, he thought, guess this is going to have to happen the hard way.
He extracted a flash grenade from the vest Willem had given him and got ready to pull the pin.
"Johan, he'll do it," Isaac Mannheim was saying into the handset that Ramirez had thrust into his face. 'They have two devices. One is on VX-1, ready for launch, and the other one is here. They say they've rigged a radio-controlled detonator on it. He's going to use it if you don't do whatever it is he wants."
"Let me talk to the son of a bitch again," Hansen said.