Cap brought the plane down in placid water off the shore of the northern island. The Seamaster gently approached the ocean as he reduced power to idle, lowered the flaps, and bled off airspeed until the smooth hull lightly skimmed the surface. Quickly the aircraft slowed, descending into the warm waters. The graceful wingtips touched simultaneously and the airplane coasted swiftly to a standstill. Only the rise and fall of the sea gave any motion to the jet now.

Rock immediately opened the side cargo door and wrangled a large black bundle out into the water. On contact, it inflated with a loud thwump, turning into an arrowhead-shaped boat.

Cap went through the water-landing shutdown routine for the Seamaster, then climbed to the cargo area, leaving Weir in charge of the airplane. He opened cabinets and secreted a few items in the hidden recesses of his vest and added a largish cylinder to his left cargo pocket. Strapping on his autopistol and several waterproof ammo pouches, he nodded to Rock, Sun Ra, and Tex. Rock and Sun Ra toted similar arms, though they wore khaki jumpsuits similar to Cap’s black one. Rock’s broad chest bore a crisscrossed pair of nylon-web straps, bandoliers securing a dozen handball-sized spheres. The hexagonal and pentagonal shapes on their surfaces made them look like miniature soccer balls. The traditional pin-and-spoon grenade fuses, however, made their function perfectly clear.

Tex removed his spurs in preparation for jumping into the inflatable raft. He tightened the straps on the camouflaged backpack he wore. It contained his medical kit, along with electronic equipment Cap had requested him to bring. Instead of a jumpsuit, he wore beige jeans and cavalry shirt made of the same bullet-resistant cloth as the rest of their wardrobe.

Sun Ra patted a walnut-hued hand on his own piece of equipment-a portable missile launcher designed by Rock to deliver a one-pound warhead packed with the most powerful chemical explosive he could devise. Only a nuclear warhead could provide more punch per pound.

The four jumped into the boat. Tex attached the jet motor and fired it up.

“What about me?” Jonathan shouted.

“Guard the plane,” Cap answered over the roar of the engine. “Leila will show you how the rail gun works.”

The reply failed to satisfy Madsen, who feared that he would miss not only all of the action, but also his chance to avenge his grandfather’s death.

The boat sped across the channel between the two islands with impressive speed. The water slapped and whapped beneath the membrane of high tensile strength aramid fabric and rubber that served as the flexible hull. The twin air cells that formed the sides of the boat merged at the prow. Captain Anger knelt there, binoculars to his eyes, gazing at the approaching southern island. What he saw caused his tanned brow to furrow into a frown.

The island no longer consisted of vegetation and rock. Argent columns rose hundreds of feet about the water, roughly conforming to the former topography of the island. Sunlight reflected off the strange objects with a maddening, actinic brightness.

Wind whipped through Cap’s dark red hair and beard, making it ripple as if it were aflame. He took a deep breath, smelling the salt sea air. There was no place he preferred to be than on a ship of any size, even a ten-foot long souped-up rowboat such as this. The sun shimmered on the ocean, breaking into a million images of itself, each one lasting only an instant before being replaced by another. Off to starboard, a marlin broke water and splashed back beneath the blue.

“Skipper?” Sun Ra’s voice shouted above the roar of the jet engine. “You’re not going to have us go ashore on that stuff, are you? I personally don’t want to turn into a puddle of goo.”

Cap shrugged, handing his binoculars to Sun Ra and pointing. “It doesn’t seem to be affecting the natives.”

Sun Ra gazed through the binoculars. Parallel to the metallic shore, a line of twenty Mexicans in tattered clothing carried crates and bundles. They walked in a dazed, robotic manner toward a dark cavern gaping amid the shining island like a hole punched by a giant’s fist. Turning his gaze to the left, Sun Ra observed a landing strip constructed of one seamless piece of dark material. On the runway sat a small single-engine airplane and a pair of heavily armed military helicopters. He directed his captain’s attention toward the airstrip.

Cap nodded. “That’s the Cessna Dandridge flew out of Palo Alto. Judging from the length of the runway, he may have larger aircraft. Keep an eye peeled for jet fighters.”

Cap took over the engine from Rock and navigated toward a smooth part of the mirror-like shoreline, down the coast a few hundred yards from the cave. He led the others in jumping into the waves and touched the metallic surface beneath the churning foam. Instead of slipping, his soles gripped the slope with the squeak of rubber on metal. Pulling the boat ashore above the high water line marked by seaweed and detritus, he motioned to the rest of the team to debark.

Sun Ra stepped out next and bent down for a closer look at the peculiar land on which he stood.

“Look at that weird pattern!” he said in a puzzled tone.

The rest of the crew gazed at their feet. The surface consisted of countless combinations of ridges, each of which formed a four-sided polygon that was shaped like either a fat diamond or a skinny diamond. They connected less like individual bricks and more like molded isogrids. Inside each of these quadrangles lay smaller versions of the same two shapes. Looking up at the artificial mountains rising before them, it was plain that the pattern repeated itself on a larger scale.

“What sort of design is this?” Rock wondered aloud.

“Penrose tiles,” Cap said, pulling videocam headsets from Tex’s pack. “A mathematician’s toy. If they were colored, you’d be able to tell that they make patterns that repeat but never in any regular manner. Dandridge has obviously programmed his microbots to turn this island into a temple for him. Using fractal construction, too. Every Penrose shape is composed of smaller Penrose shapes, probably right down to the molecular level. This island is a gigantic quasi-crystal.” He slipped a headset on and handed the others to his crew. “Flash will be fascinated to see this-he’s always wanted the lab floor to have Penrose tiles.”

Cap switched on the headset and slipped in his earcomm. “Flash?”

The headset broadcast a signal to the nearest communication satellite overhead, downlinking hundreds of miles away to the Anger Institute.

“Here, Cap,” the voice in his ear replied.

“We’re on the island. Start recording.”

“Roger. Say-is that a Penrose tile pattern on the ground?”

•

Cap headed toward the cavern, the others walking alongside him. Outwardly, they acted like boaters picnicking on a vacation island. Tex and Sun Ra joked about the heat of the sunlight that reflected dazzlingly from every square inch of their surroundings. Rock whistled a merry Slavic folk song. Only Cap walked quietly, listening to the sounds carried by the warm ocean breeze. He to scan the upper reaches of the island with digital binoculars that sent stereoscopic images back to AI.

“He obviously set this place up for privacy,” Cap subvocalized to Flash, though The others also heard him over their earcomms. “No need for guards. Or maybe-”

He stopped in his tracks to stare at the entrance to the cave.

“Bozhe moi!” Rock cried out.

All along the entrance to the cavern stood an eerie phalanx of silver statues. Most of them looked like Mexican peasant men and women, though a pair of them wore the uniforms of Mexican federales. Nearby stood two men and a woman in lab coats. Several of the nearly lifelike statues appeared to be sneaking toward the cavern, though some faced in the opposite direction as if running away, their faces contorted with terror. The sculptures possessed incredibly fine detail, down to the weave of the fabric and pore patterns on the skin. Cap did not allow anyone to get close enough to see such detail, though.