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were articulated. “I don’t care what you say. It doesn’t matter anymore. Don’t you understand? The missiles are on their way!”
    â€œWhat in the hell are you talking about?” Idelweise shot back.
    â€œIt’s all on the radio. Listen!” Harold turned up the set’s volume.
    All work stopped as a sonorous announcer’s voice filled the ballroom. “The Pentagon has verified that countless missiles have been launched from areas throughout the Soviet Union. Early-warning satellites indicated that this occurred sixteen minutes ago.” The announcer’s hysteria was becoming obvious and beginning to affect everyone in the ballroom.
    â€œCivil Defense officials recommend that everyone stay away from windows and … It doesn’t matter what you do, it’s all over. This is the end.”
    The broadcast abruptly terminated.
    Sam Idelweise strode purposely across the room. “No way! No way, José, do I believe this shit.” His booted foot lashed out and smashed into the radio.
    The appliance’s owner looked dispassionately down at the ruined set and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”
    Sam shook the young painter by the shoulders. “Snap out of it, kid. That bastard Dalton is up to another of his …”
    Everyone in the room froze in a silent tableau as the blinding light outside the window cascaded through the room in one gigantic flash.
    â€œMother of God,” Sam said. “That was New York City.”
    â€œWe have New York City a hundred twenty miles away to the south and Boston the same distance to the north,” Lyon said. “And we’re only twenty miles from New London, where the Electric Boat Company, the sub base, and the Coast Guard Academy are located.”
    â€œI don’t think I need a geography lesson, Wentworth,” Bea said huskily.
    â€œWe’re history,” Sam said.
    â€œI love you, Lyon,” Bea said as she wound her arms around him.

4
    A bright light flashed again and then again.
    â€œPerfect. Absolutely perfect,” Dalton Turman said from the doorway. “It has exceeded my fondest dreams.” The flash on his Polaroid camera winked again.
    Sam Idelweise blinked. “What?”
    â€œAs I would have expected,” Dalton said. “The Wentworths are locked in a final embrace while Idelweise is standing there looking dumb. Harold, I do believe you have wet your pants.” The flash blinked again. “Now, there’s an interesting reaction.” He turned the camera toward a corner of the room. The girl’s brimmed painter hat had fallen to the floor and her long hair, released from its bondage, fell down her back. She was locked in the embrace of a young male painter. His hands tore at her blouse, while her fingers under his shirt clawed at his back as she pressed against him. “Smile for the birdy, Bambi, honey,” Dalton said as he snapped another picture and laughed. “Now you can go ahead and finish.”
    Sam reached into a large toolbox to pick up a hammer. “I’m going to kill the son of a bitch!” He started toward Dalton, who turned and ran from the room.
    â€œStop them, Lyon!” Bea said in alarm.
    When Lyon reached the outside of the building, Dalton was halfway down the path leading to the water. Sam was not far behind and seemed to be gaining. The construction foreman bellowed and waved the hammer over his head.
    Dalton reached the water steps ahead of Sam, and without breaking stride, ran into the bay and dove. He swam twenty strong strokes before turning to tred water.
    Sam stood waist-deep in the water with the hammer still raised. Lyon reached for the weapon. “Easy, Sam.” Idelweise snatched the hammer away with a glare.
    â€œI knew the bear couldn’t swim,” Dalton called. “Uhoh.” He quickly ducked underwater as the hammer arced through the air and landed where