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TWELVE
HOLLAND TUNNEL
There are hard wars and easy wars. It’s easy to conquer a country whose people hate their own government more than they hate the invaders. It’s hard to fight a war when your army knows that back home, their families are rooting for the other side.
It made sense to dodge the mechs wherever possible. But the sound of shooting and explosions drew Reuben. It was a part of who he was. It’s not that he felt no fear of danger—quite the contrary. When he knew of danger, he had to approach it in order to weigh it, to see how much of a threat there was. And it was more than that—he had to eliminate it if he could. He knew what he could do, when it came to combat. He knew that few other people could do it. With Cole beside him, they might be able to do what any number of men with police training could not do.
And there were the bodies. Riddled with bullets, they lay half in, half out of squad cars, all wearing uniforms. Most of them New York’s finest, but one was simply a doorman to an apartment building, lying out in the street because, apparently, he had not obeyed an order to stop.
“Not one civilian,” said Cole.
“Except the doorman.”
“In uniform. Nobody in civilian clothes.”
“It’s summer,” said Reuben. “We could do this in our underwear.”
“They’re trying not to kill civilians,” said Cole. “Same rules of engagement as we use. They really are Americans.”
“Using weapons that aren’t in the American arsenal. In anybody’s arsenal,” said Reuben.
“You think these were developed by Iran? North Korea?”
No need to answer. They both knew that Iran and North Korea might have nukes, but that they were copied from existing devices. These things required original work. “Russia?” asked Reuben. “China?”
“Possible, but not practical. What could they hope to accomplish?”
“But who could afford to develop this?” asked Reuben. “How many of them are there? Are other cities getting hit right now? And again, how do you occupy New York City? How do you defend this island against the Marines when the counterstrike comes?”
“Best we can hope to find out right now,” said Cole, “is just what these things are and how they work.”
“Bring one down,” said Reuben, agreeing with him.
“Open it up and drag out the guy.”
“Or the computer chips.”
“Or the trained squirrels,” said Cole.
“That means we’ve got to go toward the noise,” said Reuben.
“Weren’t we already?” asked Cole.
They rounded a corner and found, not a mech, but three squad cars and about two dozen cops along with a couple of plainclothes guys who were clearly in charge. One of them spotted Reuben and Cole and at first signed for them to get off the street. Then, as Reuben and Cole began to jog toward them, the police officer realized that they were U.S. Army, not civilians.
“Thank God!” the cop shouted. “The Army’s here.”
“Sorry,” said Reuben. “It’s just us two. Major Malich. Captain Coleman.”
“Sergeant Willis,” said the plainclothes guy, introducing himself.
“We need to get one of these mechs down to ground level so we can open it up and see how it works,” said Reuben. “Unless you already know.”
“Our bullets don’t even bounce off,” said Willis. “It’s like they eat them and spit them back at us.”
“They can’t have an infinite supply of ammunition in there,” said Cole.
“We’re planning to run squad cars at them and try to trip them up,” said Willis.
