6
THERE HAD BEEN a dramatic change in the crowd of police officers and professionals assembled behind the barricades. The scene of focused activity, the purposeful coming and going of uniformed people, dissolved. The first sign was a wave of silence that seemed to ripple outward. Even Fordyce fell silent, and Gideon realized someone was talking to him through his earpiece.
Fordyce pressed his finger against the earpiece and went still paler as he listened. “No,” he said, vehemently. “No way. I didn’t get anywhere near the guy. You can’t do this.”
The crowd had become motionless as well. Even those who’d fled the house had paused, watching and listening, as if collectively stunned. And then, abruptly, the crowd moved again—a rebound motion away from the house. The retreat was not exactly a rout, but rather a controlled recoil.
Simultaneously the air filled with fresh sirens. Soon choppers appeared overhead. A group of white, unmarked panel trucks began to arrive outside the barricades, escorted by additional squad cars; their rear doors opened up and alien-garbed figures began pouring out, hazmat suits emblazoned with biohazard and radiation symbols. Some were carrying riot control gear: batons, tear gas guns, and stun guns. Then, to Gideon’s consternation, they began setting up barriers in front of the moving crowd, blocking the retreat. They shouted for people to stop moving, to stay where they were. The effect was dramatic—as people saw they might be prevented from fleeing, panic really began to take hold.
“What the hell’s going on?” Gideon asked.
“Mandatory screening,” replied Fordyce.
More barriers went up. Gideon watched as a cop started arguing and tried to push past a barrier—only to be forced back by several men in white. Meanwhile, the new arrivals were directing everyone into an area being hastily set up, a kind of holding pen with chain link around it, where more figures in white were scanning people with handheld Geiger counters. Most were being released, but a few were being directed into the backs of the vans.
A loudspeaker kicked in: “All personnel remain in place until directed otherwise. Obey instructions. Stay behind the barriers.”
“Who are those guys?” Gideon asked.
Fordyce looked both disgusted and frightened. “NEST.”
“NEST?”
“Nuclear Emergency Support Team. They’re from the DOE—they respond to nuclear or radiological terrorist attacks.”
“You think terrorism might be involved?”
“That guy Chalker designed nuclear weapons.”
“Even so, that’s quite a stretch.”
“Really?” Fordyce said, slowly turning his blue eyes toward Gideon. “Back there, you mentioned something about Chalker finding religion.” He paused. “May I ask…which religion?”
“Um, Islam.”