Eagle Strike

worry on my mind.”
    Alex‟s leg had gone to sleep as he crouched, watching the scene from the stairs. Slowly he straightened it out. He wished he understood more of what they were saying. He knew that a flash drive was a type of storage device used in computer technology. But who or what was Milstar? And what was Eagle Strike?
    “What‟s the problem?” Roper asked casually.
    “I‟m afraid you are, Mr Roper.” The green eyes in Cray‟s round, babyish face were suddenly hard. “You are not as reliable as I had hoped. When you came to Paris, you were followed.”

    “That‟s not true.”
    “An English journalist found out about your gambling habit. He and a photographer followed you to la Tour d‟Argent.” Cray held up a hand to stop Roper interrupting. “I have dealt with them both. But you have disappointed me, Mr Roper. I wonder if I can still trust you.”
    “Now you listen to me, Damian.” Roper spoke angrily. “We had a deal. I worked here with your technical boys. I gave them the information they needed to load the flash drive, and that‟s my part of it over. How you‟re going to get to the VIP lounge and how you‟ll actually activate the system … that‟s your business. But you owe me two million dollars, and this journalist—
    whoever he was—doesn‟t make any difference at all.”
    “Blood money,” Cray said.
    “What?”
    “That‟s what they call money paid to traitors.”
    “I‟m no traitor!” Roper growled. “I needed the money, that‟s all. I haven‟t betrayed my country.
    So quit talking like this, pay me what you owe me and let me walk out of here.”
    “Of course I‟m going to pay you what I owe you.” Cray smiled. “You‟ll have to forgive me, Charlie. I was just thinking aloud.” He gestured, his hand falling limply back. The American glanced round and Alex saw that there was an alcove to one side of the room. It was shaped like a giant bottle, with a curved wall behind and a curving glass door in front. Inside was a table, and on the table a leather attaché case. “Your money is in there,” Cray said. “Thank you.”
    Neither Yassen Gregorovich nor the man with the spectacles had spoken throughout all this, but they watched intently as the American approached the alcove. There must have been some sort of sensor built into the door because it slid open automatically. Roper went up to the table and opened the case. Alex heard the two locks click up.
    Then Roper turned round. “I hope this isn‟t your idea of a joke,” he said. “This is empty.”
    Cray smiled at him from the sofa. “Don‟t worry,” he said. “I‟ll fill it.” He reached out and pressed a button on the coffee table in front of him. There was a hiss and the door of the alcove slid shut.
    “Hey!” Roper shouted.
    Cray pressed the button a second time.
    For an instant nothing happened. Alex realized he was no longer breathing. His heart was beating at twice its normal rate. Then something bright and silver dropped down from somewhere high up inside the closed-off room, landing inside the case. Roper reached in and held up a small coin.
    It was a quarter—a twenty-five cent piece.
    “Cray! What are you playing at?” he demanded.
    More coins began to fall into the case. Alex couldn‟t see exactly what was happening but he guessed that the room really was like a bottle, totally sealed apart from a hole somewhere above.
    The coins were falling through the hole, the trickle rapidly turning into a cascade. In seconds the attaché case was full, and still the coins came, tumbling onto the pile, spreading out over the table and onto the floor.
    Perhaps Charlie Roper had an inkling of what was about to happen. He forced his way through the shower of coins and pounded on the glass door. “Stop this!” he shouted. “Let me out of here!”

    “But I haven‟t paid you all your money, Mr. Roper,” Cray replied. “I thought you said I owed you two million dollars.”
    Suddenly the cascade became a torrent. Thousands and thousands of coins poured into the room.
    Roper cried out, bending an arm over his head, trying to protect himself. Alex quickly worked out the mathematics. Two million dollars, twenty-five cents at a time. The payment was being made in just about the smallest of small change. How many coins would there be? Already they filled all the available floor space, rising up to the American‟s knees. The torrent intensified.
    Now the rush of coins was solid and Roper‟s