Strangers

Faye regarded him with a mixture of shock and sadness, as if he were already dead - or mind-wiped.
        Fear had risen like a dark moon in Jorja's face. She said, "But you can't. No, no. You simply can't sacrifice yourselves-"
        "If the rest of you do your jobs properly," Jack said quickly, "we won't be sacrificing ourselves. You'll pry us out of Thunder Hill with the lever of public protest that you create. That's why it's so important we all do exactly what we're supposed to."
        "But," Jorja said, "what if, by some chance, you get inside the mountain and manage to see something that explains what happened to us that July. And what if you could snap a few pictures of it and get back out alive. Surely, in that case, you'd try to escape. You're not saying that the hostage drama has to be a part of it - are you?"
        Jack said, "No, of course not."
        He was lying. Though there was at least a small chance of getting deep into the Depository, Jack knew there was little hope of getting all the way back out again undetected. As for finding something in there that would immediately explain what they had seen the summer before last - there was no hope whatsoever. For one thing, they had no idea what they were looking for. It was possible - even probable - that they would pass right by the thing they were after without knowing what they had seen. Furthermore, if dangerous experiments had been taking place in Thunder Hill, and if one of those experiments had gotten out of hand that July night, the answer to the mystery was likely to lie in paper or microfilm files or in lab reports; even if they could gain access to the labs, he and Dom and Ned would not have time to pore leisurely through tons of paperwork looking for the few pertinent ounces that would shed light upon their experience. He did not say any of this to Jorja or the others. He could not permit the meeting to degenerate into debate about potential risks and other options.
        Outside, the wind howled.
        Jorja said, "And if you absolutely insist on going in there, why couldn't the rest of us stay as near to you as possible? I mean, the seven of us could just go into Elko, to the offices of the Sentinel, and Brendan could demonstrate his power to the local press. We could start exposing the conspiracy here instead of in Chicago and Boston."
        "No." Jack was moved but also frustrated by her concern for him. (The hands on his wristwatch seemed to be spinning, for God's sake.) "The national media wouldn't pay quick enough attention to a small-town newspaper's report that it had turned up a man with psychic powers and a major government conspiracy. It would be viewed as just another jerkwater story in the same league as reports of abominable snowmen and UFOS. Our enemies would find you and squash you - squash any local reporters you spoke with - long before the national media would bother sending anyone to check it out. You've got to go, Jorja. The way I've outlined it - that's our best hope."
        She slumped in her chair with a defeated look.
        "Dom," Jack said, "are you with me?"
        "Yeah, I guess I am," the writer said, as Jack had known he would. Corvaisis was one of those stand-up types you could rely on, though he probably didn't see himself that way. He smiled ironically and said, "But, Jack, mind telling me why the honor fell on my shoulders?"
        "Sure. Ernie's still not entirely over his nyctophobia, so it's hard enough on him just to ride all night to Pocatello. He isn't up to making a- night-assault on the Depository. Which leaves you and Ned. And frankly, Dom, it won't hurt our case if one of the hostages in Thunder Hill is a novelist, a celebrity of sorts. That adds one more bit of the kind of sensationalism the press thrives on."
        Ginger Weiss had been frowning as Jack outlined his plan. Now she spoke: "You're a great strategist, Jack, but you're also chauvinistic. You're only considering men for the expedition into Thunder Hill. I think the three who go should be you, Dom, and me."
        "But-"
        "Hear me out," she said, getting up, moving around to the far end of the table, drawing everyone's attention from Jack to her. Jack was aware of how she focused her intellect, will, and beauty upon him, for her techniques were similar to his own methods of compelling everyone to accept his plans without argument. "Ned and Sandy could go to Chicago, which would still give