52

It had been a long day. First the press conference, then other questions, individual interviews. The first one he tried with Ada at his side, but her obsession with the ghost of her mother made her come off as a nut. For the others, he tried to stick to the basics. Yes, there was an alien artifact that they had dubbed “the Marker.” Yes, it had been found at the heart of the Chicxulub crater under layers of rock, which suggested that it might well be older than human life. No, this was not a hoax. Yes, he was convinced that the military was trying to cover up the existence of the Marker. What the rest of the government did or did not know, he couldn’t say.

He did not bring up the hallucinations. He wanted to avoid the notion that the Marker was sentient, and in any case, he wasn’t sure the hallucinations really came from the Marker—maybe they were simply triggered by it. He didn’t talk about the strange creature on the beach or show them the sign of the tail of the devil, or tell them that the Yucatec Maya believed the devil’s tail was deep beneath the waves, just where the Marker had been found. Most media outlets, he quickly realized, saw him as an interesting curiosity, an extremist whom they could parade before their viewers and listeners. They were more interested in poking holes in his story. Couldn’t the vid be faked? How did they know that it was actually the size he said it was? Size could be simulated on a vid, and there were no human figures in the vid to compare it to. Hadn’t he gone to Chicxulub to work on a university research grant? Then how was it he had ended up working for the military, living on this alleged floating island? Didn’t that sound a little too much like something out of a sci-fi novel?

But there were a few people who asked more serious questions. And once he had answered, they looked at him in a different, more thoughtful way.

They arrived at the historic Watergate Hotel late, past midnight. There was another round of interviews the next day, requests still coming in over the phone. Also a meeting with a lawyer about possibly filing an injunction against the government. Public opinion seemed to be building; maybe it would be enough to apply the right amount of pressure on the places that needed it.

“It’s going to work,” Ada said as he opened the door. “Markoff won’t be able to keep the Marker for himself. Everybody will know about it now, everyone will have a chance to share in its message.”

Not knowing what to say, he didn’t answer. They opened the door. He flipped on the light and then stopped dead.

One of the walls had a large hole in it, plaster scattered all about the floor. Just behind it, sitting in a chair beside the bed, was Markoff.

“Hello, Altman,” he said.

Altman started to turn toward the door, but found a gun with a silencer on its end pointed at his eye, another pointed at Ada’s chest. Krax was holding one, a guard he didn’t recognize the other. There were two more guards deeper in the room. They came forward now.

“I don’t need to tell you that I’ll shoot your girlfriend first. No screaming,” said Krax. “Nothing but polite silence unless you are spoken to. Do you understand?”

Altman nodded.

“Move into the room,” he said. “Get on the bed.”

They moved in, were pushed onto the bed. Krax stepped back and sat in a chair that he’d set up across the threshold of the bathroom, keeping his gun trained at Altman.

“I take it you’ve seen the press conference,” said Altman.

“Shut up, Altman,” said Markoff. “Nobody likes a smart-ass.”

“It’s too late, Markoff,” hissed Ada. “Word is out.”

Markoff ignored her. “Let’s have a little talk, Altman,” he said. “Talking can’t hurt, can it?”

Altman didn’t say anything.

“I don’t suppose we could encourage you to drop everything,” Markoff said. “Hold another press conference, let them know that you were only joking, that there is no Marker, that there is no conspiracy, that you’ve been the victim of an incredible hoax.”

“No,” said Altman.

“If you do,” said Markoff, “we could come to some sort of arrangement. You’d be allowed to come back to research the Marker.” When Altman didn’t say anything, he added, “With total access.”

Total access? It was tempting. But no doubt Markoff was lying. And in any case, he was far enough along that there was no going back. The Marker had to be investigated openly.

“He doesn’t answer to you,” said Ada. “He answers only to the Marker.”

Markoff reached out, cuffed her hard. “Shut up,” he said.

“Don’t touch her,” said Altman.

“What’s your answer, Altman?” asked Markoff.

“I’m sorry,” said Altman. “No.”

“I’m sorry, too,” said Markoff. “That’s it, then. You’re going to have to come with us.”

“I don’t think so,” said Altman.

“We’re not asking you if you want to come or not. We’re giving you the choice between coming or dying.”

“Then kill me,” said Altman without hesitation.

Markoff looked at him coolly. “Call me superstitious, but I think that Marker has something in store for you. I don’t want to kill you yet.” Markoff nodded toward Ada, and Krax’s gun slowly swiveled until it was pointed at Ada’s head. “But I don’t have the same reservations about your girlfriend.”

Altman looked over at Ada. She didn’t look afraid, but it was that very fact that made him afraid. She was eager to die a martyr. “So the choice is either both of us go with you or just I go,” he said.

Markoff smiled. “Got it in one,” he said. “Krax here has a sedative for both of you.” He gestured to the others. “These fine boys will repair the hole we made, make everything as good as new. As far as anybody knows, you simply got cold feet and disappeared.”

“You’re a real bastard,” said Altman.

“Takes one to know one,” said Markoff. “Now be a good boy and take your medicine.”