Binary - Michael Crichton [48]
'Go!' Nordmann shouted.
Graves kicked away from the wall, swinging out into space, and came back with his legs stiffly extended. The glass smashed under his feet, and he was swung smoothly, almost easily, into the apartment.
He dropped to the floor, coughed, and got to his feet. Immediately the acrid piercing sting of the gas invaded his nostrils and brought tears to his eyes. He felt light-headed. The antidote isn't working, he thought, and fell to his knees. He was gasping for breath. He looked up at the equipment, the tanks above him.
He was very dizzy. He injected more antidote. And then suddenly he was all right. His mouth was dry and he was still light-headed, but he was all right. He got to his feet and moved towards the tanks. At every moment he expected to hear the ominous hiss and sizzle of the releasing gas, but it never came. He stood in the centre of the room, with the wires and cords all across the floor at his feet and the white gas drifting gently out the broken window.
He disengaged the first valve mechanism, unhooking the solenoid trip wire. Then the other mechanism. And then he sighed.
It was done.
The mechanism could not release the gas; the tanks were isolated. He relaxed, blinked his aching eyes, swallowed dryly, and checked his watch. 4:49. It hadn't even been close.
'Graves!'
That was Nordmann, shouting to him from the floor above. Graves went to the window and looked up.
'You all right?'
Graves tried to talk, but a hoarse, dry croak came out. He nodded and waved instead.
'Can't talk?'
Graves shook his head.
'That's the effect of the antidote,' Nordmann said. 'You'll be okay. We want to come down. Can you open that door for us?'
Graves nodded.
'Okay. We'll come down.'
Graves opened all the other windows in the apartment, then went back to the centre of the room and crouched over the three metal boxes. One was a timer; one was a battery; the third, when he turned it over, was a hollow shell, empty inside. He stared at it and shook his head. Another diversion - but it didn't matter now.
He went to the door and looked closely at the vibration sensors. They were just rubber suction cups from a toy bow-and-arrow set, with some wires attached. Totally phoney. He sighed.
Nordmann called from the other side of the door. 'Graves? You there?'
Graves let him in. He had a glimpse of two San Diego cops sprawled on the floor in the hallway as Nordmann came into the room. 'Gas is dissipated now, but those poor bastards got it full. How do you feel?'
Graves nodded, smiled: 'Dry mouth?' Graves nodded. 'You'll be all right. Just don't inject any more of that stuff. You uncouple the tanks?' Graves pointed.
'Well,' Nordmann said. 'That's it, then.' He looked around the room. 'Quite an elaborate setup.'
With a pluck! Graves pulled one of the rubber suction 'vibration sensors' off the wall and showed it to Nordmann.
'I'll be damned,' Nordmann said. 'Phoney as a fourdollar bill. But he really kept us guessing.'
Phelps came into the room. 'What's going on here?'
'The tanks have been uncoupled,' Nordmann said. 'There's no danger any more.'
'Good work,' Phelps said. He said it to Nordmann. Graves was angry about that, but he made no gesture. There was no sense in giving Phelps the satisfaction.
Phelps left. Somebody brought Graves a glass of water. Graves sipped it and wandered around the room, looking at the equipment, touching it idly. .
'Well, anyway,' Nordmann said. 'Congratulations.' Graves shrugged. 'You're not accepting congratulations?' Graves finished the water, tried his voice. 'I'm not sure they're in order yet.' 'Why? Surely it's clear -'
'The double whammy,' Graves said. 'Wright is a master of it.'
'That may be,' Nordmann said, 'but -'
'Then where's the second punch?' Graves said. He continued to wander around the room. When he came to the scintillation counter, he clicked it on. The machine chattered loudly