the sidewalks and the pavements and the roofs I could see—and not a soul alive anywhere. A stillness in the streets that’s worse than all the car horns and the engines roaring and the sirens and the screaming. All I heard was a chopper overhead. Somebody looking, I guess, for what they’ll never—”
Abruptly silent, Marty Marks came half to his feet and turned to listen, his lank frame tense. Poised for a moment as if for flight, he sank slowly back into the chair.
“Nothing, folks.” He pushed the glasses higher on his nose. “A nasty minute when I thought I had company. Anybody coming up here would likely bring something I’m in no hurry to get. Can you blame me?”
Swabbing his face, he flinched when he touched the scratch on his cheek.
“A funny feeling, folks. Ever since I was just a whimpering kid I wanted to be a TV anchorman. Somebody like Dan Rather or Tom Brokaw. A crazy dream, because I never had the looks or the voice or the wits for it. But tonight’s my night. As long as I last—” Shivering a little, he twisted to listen again. “For anybody just tuning in, I’ll try to sum it up— what I know, which ain’t all that much. Like I been saying, it all began early today, out at the EnGene Labs. Maybe forty blocks southwest of downtown. What is it?” Eyes wide and strange, he stared into the camera. “Who knows?
“Nobody never told us nothin’. First thing anybody outside knew, they were calling from the labs to report an accident. Some hazardous substance escaping. Never said what it was, but they wanted the cops to seal their premises off.
“Demanded a news blackout. Under orders, they claimed, from Washington. The cops did divert traffic away from the plant. One of our mobile units went out to get the story, but the cops wouldn’t let ‘em in. They did catch an EnGene scientist while he was held up, yelling at ‘em to let him inside, but he claimed not to know a thing.
“The cops kept him out till he called Washington. In a few minutes they had orders from the local FBI to let him in. His last mistake, I reckon. Never came back out. The G-men went to work on our news director. Claiming they had a red alert—if you know what that is.
“They made him agree to sit on the story, but the mobile crew kept taping what they could, digging for answers. Trying to run down the truth about EnGene and what it was to Washington. Prying for comment on crazy tales they picked up. Rumors EnGene had been doing illegal biological research that must have got out of control. Never got a word from anybody that admitted knowing anything.”
Marty Marks stopped to listen again.
“Okay, folks.” Gingerly avoiding the scratch, he mopped sweat off his grimy forehead and pushed the broken glasses back up his nose. “That’s all I know about how the thing began. Just past noon, the labs blew up. Could have been a gas explosion—our news people had smelled escaping gas.”
Explosion? Belcraft shivered in the hot room, wondering if that blast had killed his brother.
“—other buildings caught.” He heard Marty Marks again. “Cops let the first fire trucks inside the lines, but they hadn’t done much before something knocked them out. Something—you tell me what! Equipment still there, but standing still. Nobody fighting the fires. A lot of buildings still blazing now, all across the southwest side of town.
“Middle of the afternoon, bigger wheels got here from Washington. Our mobile unit caught ‘em at the airport, landing in a military transport. Claimed to come from an outfit we’d never heard of before. Bioscience Alert.
“A funny thing about Bioscience Alert. They claimed to be unofficial. Just a handful of scientists concerned about what they called the promises and the dangers of genetic engineering. But they all had special badges and emergency authority straight from the top. Giving orders to the FBI and the CIA and the state police and everybody else. Threatened to have our own
Abruptly silent, Marty Marks came half to his feet and turned to listen, his lank frame tense. Poised for a moment as if for flight, he sank slowly back into the chair.
“Nothing, folks.” He pushed the glasses higher on his nose. “A nasty minute when I thought I had company. Anybody coming up here would likely bring something I’m in no hurry to get. Can you blame me?”
Swabbing his face, he flinched when he touched the scratch on his cheek.
“A funny feeling, folks. Ever since I was just a whimpering kid I wanted to be a TV anchorman. Somebody like Dan Rather or Tom Brokaw. A crazy dream, because I never had the looks or the voice or the wits for it. But tonight’s my night. As long as I last—” Shivering a little, he twisted to listen again. “For anybody just tuning in, I’ll try to sum it up— what I know, which ain’t all that much. Like I been saying, it all began early today, out at the EnGene Labs. Maybe forty blocks southwest of downtown. What is it?” Eyes wide and strange, he stared into the camera. “Who knows?
“Nobody never told us nothin’. First thing anybody outside knew, they were calling from the labs to report an accident. Some hazardous substance escaping. Never said what it was, but they wanted the cops to seal their premises off.
“Demanded a news blackout. Under orders, they claimed, from Washington. The cops did divert traffic away from the plant. One of our mobile units went out to get the story, but the cops wouldn’t let ‘em in. They did catch an EnGene scientist while he was held up, yelling at ‘em to let him inside, but he claimed not to know a thing.
“The cops kept him out till he called Washington. In a few minutes they had orders from the local FBI to let him in. His last mistake, I reckon. Never came back out. The G-men went to work on our news director. Claiming they had a red alert—if you know what that is.
“They made him agree to sit on the story, but the mobile crew kept taping what they could, digging for answers. Trying to run down the truth about EnGene and what it was to Washington. Prying for comment on crazy tales they picked up. Rumors EnGene had been doing illegal biological research that must have got out of control. Never got a word from anybody that admitted knowing anything.”
Marty Marks stopped to listen again.
“Okay, folks.” Gingerly avoiding the scratch, he mopped sweat off his grimy forehead and pushed the broken glasses back up his nose. “That’s all I know about how the thing began. Just past noon, the labs blew up. Could have been a gas explosion—our news people had smelled escaping gas.”
Explosion? Belcraft shivered in the hot room, wondering if that blast had killed his brother.
“—other buildings caught.” He heard Marty Marks again. “Cops let the first fire trucks inside the lines, but they hadn’t done much before something knocked them out. Something—you tell me what! Equipment still there, but standing still. Nobody fighting the fires. A lot of buildings still blazing now, all across the southwest side of town.
“Middle of the afternoon, bigger wheels got here from Washington. Our mobile unit caught ‘em at the airport, landing in a military transport. Claimed to come from an outfit we’d never heard of before. Bioscience Alert.
“A funny thing about Bioscience Alert. They claimed to be unofficial. Just a handful of scientists concerned about what they called the promises and the dangers of genetic engineering. But they all had special badges and emergency authority straight from the top. Giving orders to the FBI and the CIA and the state police and everybody else. Threatened to have our own
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