The Project 05 - The Tesla Secret

planet."
    Ogorov raised his eyebrows. "'You can't be serious."
    "There is no crystal on earth anything like it. The arrangement of the atoms is unique."
    "Can you make more of these?"
    "No. Not with our current technology. There will only be one weapon. We must protect it."
    "That is underway. What remains to be done for deployment?"
    "The pyramid is complete. I'm moving everything over there. Construction is almost finished on the Tesla machine. I'll need to test the power outputs and make adjustments. I'm adapting our existing missile guidance technology for the aiming device. Once everything is functioning properly and the crystal is mounted, we are ready."
    "How long?"
    "I think three months. Perhaps two."
    "Have it completed in two," Ogorov said. "I have a perfect test in mind."

CHAPTER FORTY- NINE

    Selena was in a rotten mood on her first day of rehab. Feeling had come back to her legs, an agony of pins and needles. She couldn't stand upright without help. She couldn't feel the floor. Her back hurt like hell. She felt like an old woman, a very old woman. It didn't help that she had to be pushed around in a wheelchair.
    At least she wouldn't be paralyzed. She would beat it. The doctors were cautiously optimistic. Would she get full use back? Probably, they said. Would her legs be as strong as they had been? Very likely, they said, but we don't know. We can't guarantee it. We'll know better after a few months. It all depends.
    Their opinions were about as useful as a first class stateroom on the Titanic.
    An orderly brought her into the rehab center and left. A woman in nurse's uniform came over to her. She had silky smooth skin the color of honey. She was attractive and young, cheerful and perky and strong. Selena hated her on the spot.
    "Hi, I'm Arlene. I'm going to be your rehab person today."
    "Can you just tell me what the specials are?"
    Arlene gave her a cool look.
    "Never mind," Selena said. "Bad joke."
    "Let me ask you something. You want to walk again?"
    "What do you mean? Of course I do."
    "Then lose the attitude. There's no miracle here. This is going to hurt. You have to get your mind around it. Okay?"
    "Yes. Sorry."
    "Good. Let's get started."
    For an hour Arlene pushed Selena through the exercises. Selena clenched her teeth and took it. At the end, she was exhausted, but sore was better than numb. Aches were better than nothing. Then Arlene wheeled her back to her room.
    When she got there, Nick was waiting. He'd brought flowers. Birds of paradise, something green, white baby's breath.
    He looked terrible, like he hadn't slept for a week.
    "Hey."
    "Hey yourself." She hated having him see her like this.
    Arlene helped her into bed. "See you tomorrow."
    "I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time," Selena said.
    "That's okay. I'm used to it. Everyone hates rehab. You did great." She arranged the flowers on the bedside table. "Just take it one day at a time."
    As she left she smiled at Nick.
    He said, "How are you?"
    "Good. I'm good." She paused. "No I'm not. But I will be. Good, I mean."
    She'd had time to think, lying in her bed. Time to consider how she'd gotten here. Time to replay the fight in the jungle over and over, the shock of the bullet hitting her, tearing through her body because she wasn't wearing a vest. She didn't want to blame him but she did. It didn't matter what she told herself.
    "Selena, I'm sorry."
    Suddenly she was angry. "Goddamn it, don't say you're sorry. Sorry doesn't help. You forgot the vests. I stood up. No one's to blame. But don't say you're sorry."
    He opened his mouth, closed it again.
    She looked at the flowers and took a deep breath. "It's all part of what we do. If you say you're sorry, you make it your fault. Don't say you're sorry. I knew what I was getting into. It's my life. You're not responsible for what happens in it."
    "I was in charge."
    "You weren't in charge of the men who shot at us. You're not in charge of me, in the field or anywhere else. So get off it. You're feeling sorry for yourself."
    He flushed. "That's not fair."
    "So? Who said life was fair?"
    "Maybe I should go."
    "Maybe you should."
    Nick looked at her. He laid the flowers on her bedside table. Then he turned and left.
    "Thanks for the flowers," she said to the empty room.
    Then she cried.

CHAPTER FIFTY

    The nights were turning crisp and cool. The election was a few weeks away. Nick had been to California and moved his mother to a private nursing home after her stroke. She hadn't recognized