Midnight

been installed only within the past year. Supposedly no one but approved agents at the home office and in the Bureau's field offices, accessing with their own special codes, were able to use FBI KEY.
    So much for high security.
    Still expecting trouble, Sam selected FBI KEY. The menu disappeared. The screen remained blank for a moment. Then, on the display, which proved to be a full-color monitor, the FBI shield appeared in blue and gold. The word KEY appeared below it.
    Next, a series of questions was flashed on the screen—WHAT IS YOUR BUREAU ID NUMBER? NAME? DATE OF BIRTH?
    DATE OF BUREAU INDUCTION? MOTHER'S MAIDEN NAME ?—and when he answered those, he was rewarded with access.
    "Bingo!" he said, daring to be optimistic.
    Tessa said, "What's happened?"
    "I'm in the Bureau's main system in D.C."
    "You're a hacker," Chrissie said.
    "I'm a fumbler. But I'm in."
    "Now what?" Tessa asked.
    "I'll ask for the current operator in a minute. But first I want to send greetings to every damned office in the country, make them all sit up and take notice."
    "Greetings?"
    From the extensive FBI KEY menu, Sam called up item G -- IMMEDIATE INTEROFFICE TRANSMISSION. He intended to send a message to every Bureau field office in the country, not just to San Francisco, which was the closest and the one from which he hoped to obtain help. There was one chance in a million that the night operator in San Francisco would overlook the message among reams of other transmissions, in spite of the ACTION ALERT heading he would tag on to it. If that happened, if someone was asleep at the wheel at this most inopportune of moments, they wouldn't be asleep for long, because every office in the country would be asking HQ for more details about the Moonlight Cove bulletin and requesting an explanation of why they had been fed an alert about a situation outside their regions.
    He did not understand half of what was happening in this town. He could not have explained, in the shorthand of a Bureau bulletin, even as much as he did understand. But he quickly crafted a summary which he believed was as accurate as it had to be—and which he hoped would get them off their duffs and running.
     
ACTION ALERT
MOONLIGHT COVE, CALIFORNIA
* SCORES DEAD. CONDITION DETERIORATING.
HUNDREDS MORE COULD DIE WITHIN HOURS.
* NEW WAVE MICROTECHNOLOGY ENGAGED IN
ILLICIT EXPERIMENTS ON HUMAN SUBJECTS,
WITHOUT THEIR KNOWLEDGE. CONSPIRACY OF
WIDEST SCOPE.
* THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE CONTAMINATED.
* REPEAT, ENTIRE POPULATION OF TOWN
CONTAMINATED.
* SITUATION EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.
* CONTAMINATED CITIZENS SUFFER LOSS OF
FACULTIES, EXHIBIT TENDENCY TO EXTREME
VIOLENCE.
* REPEAT. EXTREME VIOLENCE.
* REQUEST IMMEDIATE QUARANTINE BY ARMY
SPECIAL FORCES. ALSO REQUEST IMMEDIATE,
MASSIVE, ARMED BACKUP BY BUREAU PERSONNEL.
     
    He gave his position at the high school on Roshmore, so incoming support would have a place to start looking for him, though he was not certain that he, Tessa, and Chrissie could safely continue to take refuge there until reinforcements arrived. He signed off with his name and Bureau ID number.
    That message was not going to prepare them for the shock of what they would find in Moonlight Cove, but at least it would get them on the move and encourage them to come prepared for anything.
    He typed TRANSMIT, but then he had a thought and wiped the word from the screen. He typed REPEAT TRANSMISSION.
    The computer asked NUMBER OF REPEATS?
    He typed 99.
    The computer acknowledged the order.
    Then he typed TRANSMIT again and pressed the ENTER button.
    WHAT OFFICES?
    He typed ALL.
    The screen went blank. Then: TRANSMITTING.
    At the moment every KEY laser printer in every Bureau field office in the country was printing out the first of ninety-nine repeats of his message. Night staffers everywhere soon would be climbing the walls.
    He almost whooped with delight.
    But there was more to be done. They were not out of this mess yet.
    Sam quickly returned to the KEY menu and tapped selection A -- NIGHT OPERATOR. Five seconds later he was in touch with the agent manning the KEY post at the Bureau's central communications room in Washington. A number flashed on the screen—the operator's ID—followed by a name, ANNE DENTON. Taking immense satisfaction in using high technology to bring the downfall of Thomas Shaddack, New Wave, and the Moonhawk Project, Sam entered into a long-distance, unspoken, electronic conversation with Anne Denton, intending to spell out the horrors