turned, heart racing. "Yes?" he said, trying to sound like a busy person impatient to get on with his work.
"I need to log you out on the computer. May I see your identification?"
"Of course." Steve handed over his passport.
The guard checked his picture, then keyed his name into the computer. "Thank you, sir," he said, handing back the passport.
Steve walked away along the corridor. One more checkpoint and he was out.
Behind him he heard the voice of Caroline Gambol. "Mr. Logan! One moment, please!"
He glanced back over his shoulder. She was running along the corridor behind him, red-faced and puffing.
"Oh, shit," he said.
He darted around a corner and found a staircase. He ran down the steps to the next floor. He had the names that could clear him of the rape charge; he was not going to let anyone stop him getting out of here with the information, not even the U.S. Army.
To leave the building he needed to get to ring E, the outermost. He hurried along a spoke corridor, passing ring C. A golf cart loaded with cleaning materials went by in the opposite direction. When he was halfway to ring D he heard Lieutenant Gambol's voice again. "Mr. Logan!" She was still following him. She shouted down the long, wide corridor. "The general wishes to speak with you!" A man in an air force uniform glanced curiously through an office door. Fortunately there were relatively few people around on a Saturday evening. Steve found a staircase and went up. That ought to slow the pudgy lieutenant.
On the next floor he hurried along the corridor to ring D, followed the ring around two corners, then went down again. There was no further sign of Lieutenant Gambol. He had shaken her off, he thought with relief.
He was pretty sure he was on the exit level. He went clockwise around ring D to the next corridor. It looked familiar: this was the way he had come in. He followed the corridor outward and came to the security checkpoint where he had entered. He was almost free.
Then he saw Lieutenant Gambol.
She was standing at the checkpoint with the guard, flushed and breathless.
Steve cursed. He had not shaken her off after all. She had simply got to the exit ahead of him. He decided to brazen it out.
He walked up to the guard and took off his visitor's badge.
"You can keep that on," Lieutenant Gambol said. "The general would like to speak with you."
Steve put the badge down on the counter. Masking his fear with a show of confidence, he said: "I'm afraid I don't have time. Good-bye, Lieutenant, and thank you for your cooperation."
"I must insist," she said.
Steve pretended to be impatient. "You're not in a position to insist," he said. "I'm a civilian; you can't command me. I've done nothing wrong, so you can't arrest me. I'm not carrying any military property, as you can see." He hoped the floppy disk in his back pocket was not visible. "It would be illegal of you to attempt to detain me."
She spoke to the guard, a man of about thirty who was three or four inches shorter than Steve. "Don't let him leave," she said.
Steve smiled at the guard. "If you touch me, soldier, it will be assault. I'll be justified in punching you out, and believe me, I'll do it."
Lieutenant Gambol looked around for reinforcements, but the only people in sight were two cleaners and an electrician working on a light fixture.
Steve walked toward the entrance.
Lieutenant Gambol cried: "Stop him!"
Behind him he heard the guard shout: "Stop, or I'll shoot!"
Steve turned. The guard had drawn a pistol and was pointing it at him.
The cleaners and the electrician froze, watching.
The guard's hands were shaking as he pointed the gun at Steve.
Steve felt his muscles seize up as he stared down the barrel. With an effort he shook off his paralysis. A Pentagon guard would not fire at an unarmed civilian, he was sure. "You won't shoot me," he said. "It would be murder."
He turned and walked to the door.
It was the longest walk of his life. The distance was only three or four yards, but it felt as if it took years. The skin on his back seemed to burn with anticipation.
As he put his hand on the door, a shot rang out.
Someone screamed.
The thought flashed through Steve's mind He fired over my head, but he did not look back. He flew through the door and ran down the long flight of