B continued, “Werner was misshapen by both design
“So you’re suggesting Krell’s the new Hitler; he wants to rule the world?”
“No, Krell’s not Hitler, we don’t think he wants to
“Go ahead,” I said. “Enlighten me as to how this involves me and my friend.”
“Krell’s primary munitions customer for the past few years has been Soon Ta Kee, premier of Taiwan, who has literally built his army with Krell’s products. Tacky—as we fondly call him—was apprised of Krell’s bomb design, became convinced Krell could actually deliver, and invested considerable assets to support its development.
“Tacky’s political conflicts have dramatically increased of late, to say the least. China wants control of Taiwan back, and because of China’s new PCL system . . . do you know what that is? The Passive Coherent Location system,” B said. “It’s an impenetrable air defense system. It cannot be jammed, unlike radar, and no missiles can be launched at its beams to destroy its transmitters, because there aren’t any beams or transmitters. This takes away the United States’ military advantage over China. The F-117 and even the futuristic stealth F-22 fighter are no longer invisible to them. Bravo, China.
“You see,” he continued, “Tacky feels that, with this sudden disadvantage, he can no longer rely on the United States to intervene militarily in a crisis. Tacky has his back against the wall and he’s miffed. So much so that he has dramatically increased the pressure on Krell to ready the weapon. Krell—believing he was millimeters away from success—settled on an actual date on which he would provide Kee with the bombs. Chap made a promise which he cannot possibly keep.”
I was sick of this pretentious prick and his outrageous story—if even a shred of it was true. “That’s a terrible shame,” I said. “I repeat my question.”
“Ah, but why can’t Krell do it?” B said to the room. “Why can’t he possibly come through?” He paused for effect. “I’ll tell you why. Because he’s completely stymied by the final ingredient—a material in which to house the bombs that would be capable of withstanding the extraordinary heat of high-speed atmospheric friction.” B sat back in his chair, smacked his lips.
Suddenly I was transfixed. My captor knew it, winked at me. “Your eyes just said, ‘Aha, the Dagger.’ Excellent. Listen to me now. There can be no doubt that Werner’s father told him wondrous bedtime stories about the Medici Dagger, as your own father did you. The indestructible alloy, stronger that any other, lighter than air. When Werner attained great wealth, he sought the Dagger as the ultimate trophy, not only his, but his dead papa’s as well—the Excalibur for the Knights of Krell’s Round Table. Here’s where the plot thickens. Intelligence informs us that Kee has vowed to destroy Krell should he not keep his word, and Kee has not one Nolo Tecci, but an army of them—each one caked with zeal—glad to carry out his wishes.”
“So what?”
“You casually say ‘so what’ but your words belie your interest. Here’s what,” B said, rubbing his palms together. “Werner Krell placed himself in a situation where if he doesn’t deliver his bombs he will be assassinated. And he cannot possibly deliver functional bombs. So what happens in his precarious mind? He leaps off the quivering lip of logic into total lunacy and begins to believe that Papa Krell’s bedtime stories were not fable, but irrefutable fact. And then presto! Out of a dusty old architectural anthology pops a page of Leonardo’s notes—possibly containing the Circles of Truth. Krell was foiled twenty years earlier when the first page of notes went down with the courier. Now he has a second chance and believes not only that the Dagger is out there, but that its alloy will provide hisbomb with the necessary indestructible housing that will save his miserable skin.”
B clapped his hands together. “If that’s not drama,” he said, “well then I just don’t know what is. Raise a glass for Werner bloody Krell and every last one of us for whom the bookseller’s bell tolled.”
I felt a bitter chill. “But no one really knows if the Dagger even exists,” I said. “Or if the alloy has the qualities Leonardo claimed it had. Maybe the man just discovered aluminum before Reynolds.”
“Perhaps,” B conceded. “But if it is as Leonardo stated and Werner Krell is able to obtain it, analyze its components, and duplicate it, he’ll complete his weapon system and the world will be at his mercy—and of course, that of Soon Ta Kee.”
“You think I give a shit about Soon Ta Kee? Or bombs free-falling on this or any other world in the stinking solar system?”
“Apparently not.”
“You’re damn right.”
“How about individual liberty?”
“That’s what I’m interested in,” I said. “Individual liberty. Mine.”
“You do have a rather myopic view considering your genealogy. Your father was a bit more a man of the people.”
“What do you know of my father?” I bristled.
“Oh, that he was the curator of one of the world’s greatest museums, while you take risks for money. Let me rephrase that. I can certainly appreciate taking risks for money, so I appeal to you on another level. You wouldn’t want your films to say ‘Made in Taiwan,’ would you? No need to reply, but tell me this: Have I not woven a spellbinder? Your baby blues tell me nothing, but inside I believe you’re having a little chat.” He sat back in his chair, drummed his fingernails on the gold-painted arms.
I wasn’t chatting; I was screaming like the signs in Las Vegas. The slot machine in my mind spun helter- skelter, finally stopping on the three familiar words it landed on so very often:
I stood and stretched. “So . . .” I said, feigning unconcern, “you’re quite a perceptive person.”
“Oh, I do enjoy praise.”
