Strangers

Who did this damn Colonel Falkirk think he was? The people who gave him his orders-who did they think they were? Not true Americans. Real momzers - that's what they were, all of them. She remembered the picture of Falkirk in the newspaper: She had known at once that he was a treyfnyak, a person not to be trusted, not an inch, never. And she knew something else, too: Whenever she began to pepper her thoughts or her speech with this much Yiddish, she must be in deep trouble or very much afraid.
        Less than four minutes after Jack set to work, Ginger was startled by a whoosh of compressed air behind her. She turned and saw the door had already slid into its recess. Dom stumbled back in surprise. Jack fell on his butt. When Ginger went to help him up, he showed her that the door had slid open so suddenly and with such force that he had not had time to withdraw the SLICKS probe from the mechanism; it had torn the probe right out of the computer.
        But the door was open, and no alarms were ringing. Beyond was a twelve-foot-long concrete tunnel, about eight or nine feet in diameter. It was lit by fluorescent bulbs. It angled to the left, where it ended at another steel door.
        "Stay here," Jack said, stepping into the tunnel to look around.
        Ginger stood at Dom's side, and though she knew part of the plan was to give themselves up as hostages, she also knew that, on instinct, she would bolt and run at the first sign of trouble. Dom apparently sensed her thoughts, for he put an arm around her as much to restrain her as to reassure her that she was not alone.
        After a minute or so, when still no alarm bells or sirens had split the night, Jack stepped back out into the storm and joined them where they stood six or eight feet from the door. "Two surveillance cameras on the ceiling of the tunnel-"
        "They saw you?" Dom asked.
        "I don't believe so, no. Because they didn't track my movements. I suspect you have to close the outer door before there's any hope of getting the inner door open, and as soon as you do close the outer door, the cameras are activated. I also noticed some gas jets concealed along the lighting fixtures. Way I see it - you close the outer door, and the cameras look you over, and if they don't like what they see, they can hit you with either a knockout gas or something deadly."
        Dom said, "We're ready to be captured, but not gassed like moles."
        "We aren't going to close the outer door unless we've already got the inner one open," Jack said.
        "But you told us that wasn't-"
        "There may be a way," Jack said, winking his cast eye.
        The first step was to pile their rucksacks out of the way and cover them with snow. Jack did not think they would have any further need of his high-tech devices and would only be slowed down by the weight. The second step, after they entered the tunnel, was for Dom to lift Ginger so, instructed by Jack, she could use a knife to saw through the wires on the surveillance cameras, putting them out of commission. Again, she expected an alarm to go off, but none did.
        Leaving the outer door open, Jack led them to the inner barrier. "This one has no keyboard to disengage the lock, so it doesn't matter that the SLICKS was damaged."
        "Should we be talking in here?" Ginger asked nervously.
        "Aren't there liable to be microphones?"
        "Yes, but I doubt anyone's monitoring until that outer door closes, because that's probably what engages the computer's attention and starts the clearance program for anyone trying to enter. And even if there's a guard beyond this door, he's not going to hear our voices through all this steel. Not even if we shout," Jack said, though he spoke barely above a whisper. He pointed to a panel of glass set in the tunnel wall to the right of the door. "That's the only way to unlock it. They were just starting to install locks like this in high-security installations when I left the service eight years ago. You put your palm against the glass, the security computer scans your prints, and if you're authorized to enter, the door opens."
        "And if you're not authorized to enter?" Dom asked in a whisper.
        "The gas jets."
        "So how can you open it?" Ginger asked.
        "I can't," Jack said.
        "But you said-"
        "I said there might be a way," Jack told her. "And there might." He looked at Dom and smiled. "You can probably