the street, and now my cell phone's gone dead, too!"
Yiu thought about that for a moment. The rules were quite clear. No unauthorized visitors after business hours. On the other hand, none of his bosses ever had to know that he had decided to play the Good Samaritan for this frantic young woman. Call it my good deed for the week, he decided. Besides, she was pretty cute, and he had always had an unrequited passion for redheads.
He took the building key card out of his shirt pocket and swiped it through the lock. It buzzed once and clicked open. He pulled the heavy
glass door back with a welcoming smile. "Here you go, ma'am. The phone's just - "
The mace blast caught Yiu right in the eyes and open mouth. He doubled over, blinded, gagging, and helpless. Before he could even try to fumble for his weapon, the door slammed wide open - hurling him backward onto the slick tiled floor. Several people burst through the open door and into the lobby. Strong arms grabbed him, pinioned his arms behind his back, and then secured his wrists using his own handcuffs. Someone else yanked a cloth hood over his head.
A woman bent down to whisper in his ear. "Remember this! Lazarus lives!"
By the time Yiu's relief arrived to set him free, the intruders were long gone. But the Telos nanotech lab was a total wreck - full of smashed glassware, burned out electron-scanning microscopes, punctured steel tanks, and spilled chemicals. The Lazarus Movement slogans spray-painted across the walls, doors, and windows left little doubt about the loyalties of those responsible.
Zurich, Switzerland
As the weak autumn sun climbed toward the zenith, thousands of protesters already clogged the steep tree-lined hill overlooking Zurich's Old Town and the River Limmat. They blockaded every street around the twin campuses of the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology and the University of Zurich. Scarlet and green Lazarus Movement flags waved above the crowds, along with signs demanding a ban on all Swiss-based nanotech-nology research projects.
Squads of riot police holding truncheons and clear Plexiglas shields waited at parade rest some blocks away from the mass of protesters. Armored cars with water cannons and tear gas grenade launchers were parked nearby. But the police did not appear to be in any real hurry to move in and clear the streets.
Dr. Karl Friederich Kaspar, the head of one of the labs now under peaceful siege, stood just behind the police barricades, close to the upper station of the Zurich Polybahn, the funicular railway built more than a century before to serve both the university and the Institute. He checked his watch again and ground his teeth together in frustration. Fuming, he sought out the highest-ranking police official he could find. "Look, why all the delay? Without a permit, this demonstration is illegal. Why don't you put your troops in and break it up?"
The police officer shrugged. "I follow my orders, Herr Professor Direk-tor Kaspar. At the moment, I have no such orders."
Kaspar hissed in disgust. "This is absurd! I have staff waiting to go to work. We have many very valuable and expensive experiments to conduct."
"That is a pity," said the policeman carefully.
"A pity!" Kaspar growled. "It's more than a pity; it's a disgrace." He eyed the other man angrily. "I might almost think you have sympathy for these ignorant dunderheads."
The police officer turned to face him, meeting Kaspar's furious gaze without flinching. "I am not a member of the Lazarus Movement, if that is what you are suggesting," he said quietly. "But I saw what happened in America. I do not wish such a catastrophe to occur here in Zurich."
The lab director turned bright red. "Such a thing is impossible! Utterly impossible! Our work is completely different from anything the Americans and Japanese were doing at the Teller Institute! There is no comparison!"
That is excellent news," the policeman said, with the faint hint of a sardonic smile. He made a show of offering Kaspar a bullhorn. "Perhaps if you assured the protesters of this truth, they might see the error of their ways and disperse?"
Kaspar could only stare back at him, dismayed to find so much ignorance and insolence in a fellow public servant.
Chapter Fifteen
Albuquerque International Airport, New Mexico
With the sun rising red behind it, the huge An-124 Condor thundered low over the airport's inner beacon line and dropped heavily onto Runway Eight. Its four large pylon-mounted turbofans howled as the pilot reversed thrust. Decelerating, the Condor bounced