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yet."
    ***
    Soloman revealed no surprise but he was, indeed, surprised as the conference room doors opened and she entered. Dark brown hair fell over slender shoulders as Dr. Martha Milton set a large black briefcase on the table and opened it with a curt smile.
    "Good evening, gen tlemen." She nodded to them.
    Her face was angular and smooth. Her neck was also lean and strong and she moved like an athlete. She obviously kept herself in shape. Though she appeared to be no more than thirty, Soloman suspected she was slightly older, maybe thirty-five.
    "I'm sorry I'm late," she continued. "Shall we begin?"
    Ben blinked. "Of course," he said abruptly. "Yes, of course we should. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"
    "Thank you. Black."
    Ben retrieved a cup and Soloman politely removed his glasses. His eyes, the pale blue of the sea surrounding a Mediterranean island, narrowed at the room's bright fluorescent light.
    Dr. Milton smiled fain tly, glancing at the small round lenses laid on the table. Her own eyes were jade-green and clear. "I'm pleased to meet you, Colonel," she said with respect. "But please feel free to wear your glasses, if you wish. I won't consider it impolite. You're obviously sensitive to light."
    "A little," Soloman conceded. "How good is your night vision?" "I'm at a Minus 4."
    "That's as good as a cat," she said without expression. "But Cain's better. In fact, he's a lot better. His diopter reading is almost off the scale – Minus 60 or better." The sudden change in conversation startled Ben and he sloshed the coffee, scalding his hand. He didn't seem to notice. He came back quickly to the table.
    She had gone into it so smoothly, Soloman thought. If I don't get geared up fast, she's going to leave me in the dust. He tried not to reveal that he was already intimidated.
    "Just what exac tly are we dealing with, Doctor?" he asked.
    She handed each of them black files stamped TOP SECRET/BIO-LOGICAL WARFARE. "Take a look at these, gentlemen, and you'll begin to understand that we are in a mortal situation. It is far more serious than anyone has told you."
    General Hawken grunted at that, let it go.
    Studying the file, it only took Soloman a moment to understand the medical jargon. Concentrating, he studied Cain's chart to determine what they had done to the man. He singled out factors that seemed particularly disturbing: anterior spinal cord amplifiers, orthopedic transplants, bio-polymer subcutaneous coating for titanium-reinforced bones, interior titanium implants and immunity-acceptance levels with a breakdown of projected HyMar viral layers on secondary stratum corneum—
    HyMar viral layers?
    His attention was suddenly captured by a grisly color photograph of Cain on an operating table. Large metal plates of a strange curving design were carefully positioned on an instrument tray.
    A team of surgeons bent over him. His chest and arms were laid open to the core as they apparen tly removed bones. Another surgeon worked on one of his knees, implanting what appeared to be a small titanium plate over the patella, or kneecap.
    "That's a photo of the surgery where we implanted armor plating in Cain's chest," she said. "We also replaced his humerus, radius and ulna, and secondary skeletal appendages with cobalt-chromium-alloy bones. J Something like the artificial titanium sockets used for contemporary joint replacements but light-years ahead in design. They have a projected use expectancy of more than a hundred years instead of ten. Plus, we placed curving niobium-titanium shields between his pectoralis major and all the internal organs, armoring him between the clavicle and the eighth rib."
    "Sounds complicated," Soloman said, studying her eyes.
    "That's nothing," she replied evenly. "Cain has recumbent anabolic steroid reserve cells, internal carpal and forearm titanium bosses and organic modifiers that hyper -concentrate viral-induced muscle fibers. He could punch a hole through a steel door. And, to top it off,