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Medaris.”
    Jack tore loose from his captor, ran for the door. He had to get help. He was quickly caught, thrown to the floor. His shoulder felt as if it had been dislocated. Jack groaned, kept struggling. “Get him out of here,” the man said harshly.
    Jack was jerked to his feet again. It felt as if a spear had been stuck in his shoulder and twisted. He couldn’t help but cry out, although it shamed him to show weakness in front of these men. He looked over his shoulder, saw men in black fatigues batter down the clean-room door, go inside. Other men followed, carrying sledgehammers and cutting torches. Despite the pain Jack struggled to stop them. He was savagely driven to his knees, then dragged across the concrete, through the halls, out the door, thrown down onto the asphalt in front of the RV, its headlights now dimmed.
    Nearly mad with impotent outrage, his head in a puddle of his own blood, Jack listened to the sound of smashing sledgehammers, glass breaking, the hiss of torches, more doors being battered down. The man in the yellow shirt stepped up, knelt down beside him. “Well, thank you, Mr. Medaris. It’s been real. By the way, you ought to be more careful with the combustibles in your plant. I’m afraid it’s caught on fire.”
    Jack struggled to raise his head, saw the flames licking out of the broken windows, an orange glow deep within. “Why?” he cried.
    â€œDon’t you know, Mr. Medaris?” the man said softly, his small dark eyes twinkling mischievously. “We did this for the benefit of all mankind.”
    Jack felt the heat of the flames against his skin. He turned away from it, trying not to think of the time when another fire had engulfed him and all that he loved. He involuntarily groaned, let his face down into his blood. He felt someone taking off the cuffs. He was roughly dragged to his feet. Blood still streamed down his neck. His shoulder felt as if it had been torn to shreds. His wrists were raw and bleeding. The men got back into the RV and drove away, left him standing alone. It turned away from Cedar Key, toward the main highway.
    The hangar was an inferno by the time the volunteer fire department arrived ten minutes later. Trooper Buck was with them. Soon afterward the engineers of MEC, Doc Perlman, and the company lawyer, Cecil Velocci, arrived as well. They found Jack sitting in the parking lot, quietly watching the futile efforts of the firemen. When they reached down to help him, he pushed their hands away, then finally stood up under his own power. He growled at anyone who approached not to touch him. He held his shoulder, gritted his teeth against the pain, ignored the steady drip of blood puddling at his feet. The others were certain he’d gone insane.
    The glow from the garish flames made the scar on his face and neck look as if it were on fire too. His eyes glittered as the flames reached solvents stored in a back room. The hangar burst apart, buckets of solvent flying into the sky, trailing long torrents of hot liquid fire. Jack said nothing, didn’t move at all when everyone else fell back from the resulting volcano. He was thinking.
    After the fire had died down, Jack turned to the throng. “Isaac, a word,” he said quietly.
    Perlman approached him, his eyes wide. “What happened?”
    â€œMen came to destroy
Prometheus.
They knew all about it.”
    â€œHow did they get in?”
    Jack grimaced. “The gate was open.”
    Perlman was quiet for a moment. He might have been looking at Jack’s dripping blood, scarlet in the glare of the burning hangar. “Jack, I’ll have to tell my investors the circumstances. They may come after you, want their money back.”
    â€œThey’ll get their dirt,” Jack growled.
    â€œHow?”
    Jack’s lip was split. He spat blood while the likely scenario played out across his mind. The company had insurance, but he could see the insurer