To start this serial suspense novel from the beginning, go here.
The Explosion
The missile pounded the back of the building they were in. Cardinal had seen it coming, and drawing on his Ivy League graduate work in Explosive Gas Science, he leapt in the air at the moment of impact, raising the folding table in front of him.
The blast kicked him back and through the window. He landed, miraculously, on the soft grass in front of the compound.
Miraculous my ass, he thought. I knew where that blast was coming from and angled the table perfectly so the shock wave would carry me through that window.
As he sat on the ground he watched the whole facility go up in a furious fireball. He held the palms of his hands toward the fire to warm them up. He had caught a bit of a chill from the air conditioner.
That done, he circled the building to reconnoiter. A guard lay dead in the grass, a triangle of shrapnel wedged in his chest. Cardinal gave him his version of last rites and took his service pistol. And luckily, he had a grenade on him.
Thank God, Cardinal thought, as he cradled the grenade. Now I am whole again. And a proud beneficiary of the second amendment.
Then he noticed the piece of metal that had killed the guy. It was a shard from the hull of the missile. Though it was badly scorched, he could make out the markings on it.
PROPERTY OF FEMA.
“Michael Chertoff!” Cardinal shouted. “That bastard is back!”