The Doomsday Box Read Free Page A

potential in that rift if we can solve the safety problems.”
    â€œNot to mention political potential,” Sir Roland said, a little sourly. Opal knew her father very well, and it sounded to her as if there might be some differences of opinion with Mr. Carradine on this mission.
    Carradine said easily, “Certainly if America can control the rift properly, it would virtually assure the security of the free world. It could become a conduit for cheap energy, for one thing. In the past, we used it mainly as a transporter—sending agents to various time periods. But if we modify the machinery, some scientists believe, it may be possible to pump heat direct from one of the prehistoric supervolcanoes. In any case, as Sir Roland says, our new president is interested in reviving the project. We started drilling down about a month ago. Now we’re within striking distance of the chamber.”
    Opal said politely, “I’m sorry, Mr. Carradine, I still don’t understand why you want to send a Shadow Project team to Montauk.”
    Carradine looked at her directly. “The alarm we installed went off two days ago.”

Chapter 3
Danny, Mid-Atlantic at 36,000 Feet
    I t was the first time Danny had been on a transatlantic aircraft, and he didn’t like it. The plane was a 747 and half empty because of a terrorist scare, so it should have been comfortable, but it wasn’t. Danny wasn’t a particularly tall boy—in fact his Nan had once remarked how short his legs were—but there still wasn’t enough room in his seat. He might have lost himself in the in-flight movie, except he’d seen it before, and it had been lousy first time round. The stale taste of recycled air gave him a headache.
    But he could put up with discomfort—he hadn’t exactly led a cushy life. What was getting to him was nerves. He didn’t like the way the engine noise would suddenly vary as if there was something wrong. He didn’t like the turbulence that sometimes got so bad it felt as if the plane would shake apart. He didn’t like the way the redheaded flight attendant kept running up the center aisle with a worried look on her face. He didn’t like the feeling there was a thin skin of aluminum underneath his seat, then nothing for 36,000 feet. Most of all, he didn’t like the way the wing was moving.
    Danny and the others had been booked onto a flight to New York. Each reservation was made separately as a routine security precaution, with seating spaced out so that they didn’t appear to be traveling as a team. (Michael was lounging in first class now, having drawn the lucky straw.) Shortly after they boarded, Danny had helped himself to an empty window seat, after deciding he would be less nervous if he was able to look outside. Now he was looking out at the wing and feeling more nervous than ever.
    Somebody slid into the empty seat beside him. “Doesn’t it look amazing?” a voice asked. “Like a cotton-wool floor. I feel as if I could climb out there and dance across it like a fairy.”
    Danny glanced away from the threatening wing to find Fuchsia had joined him (against all orders!) and was staring past him through the window at the fluffy cloud layer fifty feet below. She was wearing an orange top with a floral miniskirt over thick, lime-green woolen tights. “Does that wing look all right to you?” he asked.
    Fuchsia leaned across him and stared at the wing. “It’s not on fire,” she said seriously.
    â€œNo, but it’s moving up and down—see?”
    â€œSo it is! Just a little.” Fuchsia smiled at him.
    â€œYou don’t think it might snap off?”
    â€œThe wing? Oh, it can’t,” Fuchsia said brightly. “They don’t attach two wings to a plane with glue or rivets or whatever. It’s just one big wing that goes all the way through.”
    Danny looked at her, then looked back out. “It