Phantoms

assembling it with the shape-changer looking over her shoulder.
    She couldn’t just tell Tersch what she had in mind, for she was certain the ancient enemy was listening in. There was an odd, faint hissing on the line…
    Finally she spoke of her need for additional laboratory equipment. “Most of this stuff can be borrowed from university and industry labs right here in Northern California,” she told Tersch. “I just need you to use the army’s manpower, transportation, and authority to put together the package and get it to me as quickly as possible.”
    “What do you need?” Tersch asked. “Just tell me, and you’ll have it in five or six hours.”
    She recited a list of equipment in which she actually had no real interest, and then she finished by saying, “I will also need as much of the fourth generation of Dr. Chakrabarty’s little miracle as it’s feasible to send. And I’ll need two or three compressed-air dispersal units, too.”
    “Who’s Chakrabarty?” Tersch asked, puzzled.
    “You wouldn’t know him.”
    “What’s his little miracle? What do you mean?”
    “Just write down Chakrabarty, fourth generation.” She spelled the name for him.
    “I haven’t the vaguest idea what this is,” he said.
    Good, Sara thought with considerable relief. Perfect.
    If Tersch had known what Dr. Ananda Chakrabarty’s little miracle was, he might have blurted something before she could stop him. And the ancient enemy would have been forewarned.
    “It’s outside your area of specialization,” she said. “There’s no reason you should recognize the name or know the device.” She spoke hurriedly now, trying to move away from the subject as smoothly and as rapidly as possible. “I don’t have time to explain it, Dr. Tersch. Other people in the CBW program will definitely know what it is I need. Let’s get moving on this. Dr. Flyte very much wants to continue his studies of the creature, and he needs all the items on my list just as soon as he can get them. Five or six hours, you said?”
    “That should do it,” Tersch said. “How should we deliver?”
    Sara glanced at Bryce. He wouldn’t want to risk yet another of his men in order to have the cargo driven into town. To Captain Tersch, she said, “Can it be brought in by army helicopter?”
    “Will do.”
    “Better tell the pilot not to try landing. The shape-changer might think we were attempting to escape. It would almost certainly attack the crew and kill all of us the moment the chopper touched down. Just have them hover and lower the package on a cable.”
    “This could be quite a large bundle,” Tersch said.
    “I’m sure they can lower it,” she said.
    “Well… all right. I’ll get on it right away. And good luck to you.”
    “Thanks,” Sara said. “We’ll need it.”
    She hung up.
    “All of a sudden, five or six hours seems like a long time,” Jenny said.
    “An eternity,” Sara said.
    They were all clearly eager to hear about her scheme but knew it couldn’t be discussed. However, even in their silence, Sara detected a new note of optimism.
    Don’t get your hopes too high, she thought anxiously.
    There was a chance that her plan had no merit. In fact, the odds were stacked against them. And if the plan failed, the shape-changer would know what they had intended to do, and it would wipe them out in some especially brutal fashion.
    Outside, dawn had come.
    The fog had lost its pale glow. Now the mist was dazzling, white-white, shining with refractions of the morning sunlight.
     

Chapter 39
    The Apparition
     
    Fletcher Kale woke in time to see the first light of dawn.
    The forest was still mostly dark. Milky daylight speared down in shafts, through scattered holes in the green canopy that was formed by the densely interlaced branches of the mammoth trees. The sunshine was diffused by the fog, muted, revealing little.
    He had passed the night in the Jeep station wagon that belonged to Jake Johnson. Now he got out and stood beside the Jeep, listening to the woods, alert for the sounds of pursuit.
    Last night, a few minutes after eleven o’clock, headed for Jake Johnson’s secret retreat, Kale had driven up the Mount Larson Road, had swung the Jeep onto the unpaved fire lane that led up the wild north slopes of Snowtop—and had run smack into trouble. Within twenty feet, his headlights picked up signs posted on both sides of the roadway; large red letters on a white background read QUARANTINE. Going too fast, he