“Is he all right?” she said, her eyes still closed. “Did you tell him not to worry?”
For a moment, still distracted, he didn’t know what she meant.
“Daniel,” he said finally. “Yes.”
“He’s coming?”
He looked at her, hesitating. “Of course,” he lied. “I have to go pick him up. There’s no other transport.”
“Oh, so far?” she said, looking at him now. “You shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’ll take Mills. Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over. “I thought you were asleep. You should be.”
“I was thinking about something. Hannah. You know she had no family?”
“No, I didn’t know,” he said, wondering where she was going.
“What will happen to the ranch? We could buy it. Do you have any money? I have some. Would it bother you? That it was hers?”
“Not if you get rid of the corn paintings.”
The nurse came into the room. “You really will have to go now. She needs to sleep.”
“Okay. You hear?” he said to Emma. “You’re going to sleep whether you like it or not.”
“It’s an idea, don’t you think? It’s beautiful land.”
“Beautiful,” he said.
She looked up, catching his tone. “You don’t like it?”
“Emma, what would I do on a ranch?”
“You could ride.”
“Me? We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
She smiled at him. “Have you ever proposed to anyone before?”
“No.”
“No. I thought so. You don’t know the form. You’re supposed to agree with everything. ‘Whatever you say, darling.’ You see? Like that. ‘I’ll do whatever you want.’ ”
He took her hand, stroking it with his. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
It was pitch dark all the way to Trinity, the night sky obscured by black clouds. After Albuquerque it rained off and on, brief shows of lightning followed by bursts of rain that puddled the road.
“They’ll call it off if this keeps up,” Mills said, leaning forward to see through the windshield. “The rain’ll spread the radioactive particles. A good wind could blow stuff all the way to Amarillo. They won’t risk that.” Connolly looked at him, surprised at the technical lesson. Mills shrugged. “You hear things.”
Connolly had dozed for hours, his chest aching dully, but as they neared the site he became alert, jumpy with the tension of the thunderstorms.
“What happened to the gun?” Mills asked, pretending to be casual.
“It’s in the wreck. The police’ll recover it. I don’t know in what shape.”
“You use it?”
“No. I didn’t get the chance.”
“So the Mex killed Karl?”
Connolly nodded. “I still don’t know with what. Maybe with his hands,” he said, feeling his sore neck.
“Why?” Mills said quietly.
Connolly thought for a minute. “Jealousy, near as I can make out. Karl was meeting the girlfriend. The guy went into a rage when he caught them.”
“That why she ran?”
“She was hysterical. She didn’t know what she was doing. Maybe she thought we’d nail her for starting the whole thing.”
“Kind of a love triangle.”
“I guess.”
“And the business with the pants-that was just to make us look in the opposite direction, huh?”
“It did, too.”
“How about the turquoise?”
Connolly hesitated. “That’s still a mystery. Maybe she was generous to her friends. Older woman. I don’t know. She took that one with her.”
Mills was quiet for a while. He turned off the main highway onto the road to the site. “You used to be a better rewrite man than that,” he said finally.
“I can’t help it. That’s the way it happened.”
“What about all those security files I pulled? They know about that.”
“The files? That was—” Connolly paused, smiling to himself. “That was just a red herring.”
Mills started to respond, then stopped, seeing the roadblock ahead. MPs in jeeps and trucks were stretched across the road for what looked to be miles on either side, a human security fence. “Christ,” he said, pulling up. A flashlight shone into the car.
“Sorry. You’ll have to turn back. This road is closed.”
“Jimmy,” Mills said, recognizing the guard, “it’s me, Mills. We have to get to base camp.”
“Not tonight you don’t. Not even a snake gets through here tonight.”
“Jimmy.”
“You see this ass? It’s not in a sling yet.”
“You have a radio?” Connolly asked suddenly.
The soldier looked at him suspiciously, then nodded.
“Radio ahead. Tell Oppenheimer that Connolly’s got a message for him.” The soldier hesitated, peering at him. “Do it.”
He went over to his jeep, and they could see him operating the bulky field phone, then nodding. “Okay,” he said, leaning into Mills’s window, looking only at him. “Who the hell is he, anyway?”
Mills grinned at him, putting the car in gear. “Better watch that ass.” He pulled the car around the jeep and headed into the flat waste of desert. “You sure you know what you’re doing? Using his name like that?” he said to Connolly.
“We’re through, aren’t we?”
“I mean, this is probably the most important night of his life. He might be a little high-strung.”
“We’re through,” Connolly said again.
In the distance they could see the camp lights and, beyond, a single tower in the middle of the desert, held in the beams of giant searchlights. The base camp at Trinity had grown. Barracks and tents had sprouted around the original buildings, and the air hummed with the sounds of makeshift generators and voices pouring out of the mess. Cars and jeeps were scattered at angles to the buildings. The rain had stopped, but small puddles from the last storm still caught the reflected light. Connolly heard what sounded like the croaking of frogs.
It was nearly four in the morning, but the mess was in full swing, dishing out powdered eggs and coffee, flat squares of French toast. Soldiers sat at tables, playing cards and reading with the studied waiting of people in a bus terminal. This time there were civilians too, men in suits and ties and wire-rimmed glasses, dressed to watch history. Connolly recognized Bush and Conant mingled with the scientists from the Hill. The gang’s all here, he thought.
When Oppenheimer saw him, he detached himself from the crowd and walked over. In a room of nervous people, he seemed to be vibrating with tension, his cigarette hand moving to his mouth in tiny jerks. Connolly had seen him jittery before; now he seemed close to breakdown.
“What the devil is it?” he said quickly.
“I’m sorry. I had to use your name to get in. I need to see you.” He glanced around the crowded room. “Alone.”
“Now? You want to see me now?”
A hand on his shoulder interrupted him. Groves, looking even heavier than usual, a bulging mass of khaki, turned him half around, stopping him. Connolly was struck again by their odd disparity. “Meteorology says it’s clearing. Another hour.” Then, seeing Connolly, “What are you doing here?”
“After five-thirty there’s too much light,” Oppenheimer said. “The cameras—”
“They said an hour,” Groves said, calming him. “Something wrong?” he said to Connolly.
“Yes, what is it?” Oppenheimer said impatiently.
