In the meantime, Forgacs’ tanks had overrun Boston, searching for the American Chamber.
The lights began to wink out, and Hoshawk knew that Boston was being destroyed.
Orange lights, indicating bombers, were heading for Chicago, and Hoshawk knew that if Jeffrey’s guess on Marseilles was bad, he had not much longer to live.
He looked at the Map. The atom-bombs were at Marseilles. A glow showed around the twenty-mile circle that he had covered with jelly, and Hoshawk knew the atom-bombs had landed.
He knew that on the other continent, the most tremendous explosion in man’s history was taking place. And when it was over there would be a mile-deep crater where Marseilles had been, and anything, no matter how deep it was buried, would be destroyed by concussion.
Jeffrey still played the keys, but his eyes were on the orange lights approaching Chicago.
They reached Chicago, perhaps directly over their heads, but Hoshawk felt no bombs. A moment later the planes were still going westward.
Jeffrey called the Starter. “Does Forgacs concede?” he asked.
There was a moment’s delay, then, “Forgacs does not answer.”
The President let out an undignified whoop. He tore off the straps that held him in the chair, threw his helmet across the Chamber. “We won!”
The Hemispheric diplomats were gathering excitedly in the corridor. Jeffrey unsealed the Chamber.