officers situated themselves between their charges and the rest of luncheoning humanity. “Our German friends have been very forthcoming. The project, they say, has been quashed, completely and for all time. We've had our technical people over everything, and they confirmed everything our German colleagues told us.”
“When was this?”
“Several months ago. Ever eat here, Jack?” Charleston asked, as the waiter appeared.
“Not this one, a few of the other ferry boats.” Basil ordered a pint of bitter. Jack decided on a lager. They watched the waiter withdraw. “The KGB op is more recent.”
“Interesting. Could be the same thing, you know, could be that they had the same interests we had and were just a little slower to move.”
“On nukes?” Ryan shook his head. “Our Russian friends are pretty smart, Bas, and they pay much closer attention to nuclear issues than we do. It's one of the things I admire about them.”
“Yes, they did learn their lesson from China, didn't they?” Charleston set his menu down and waved for the waiter to bring the drinks. “You think this is a serious matter, then?”
“Sure do.”
“Your judgment is generally rather good, Jack. Thank you,” Basil told the waiter. Both men made their orders. “You think we should poke about?”
“I think that might be a good idea.”
“Very well. What else can you tell me?”
“I'm afraid that's it, Bas.”
“Your source must be very good indeed.” Sir Basil sipped at his beer. “I think you have reservations.”
“I do, but… hell, Basil, when do we not have reservations?”
“Any contrary data?”
“None, just that we've been totally unable to confirm. Our source is good enough that we may not be able to confirm elsewhere. That's why I came over. Your guy must be pretty good, too, judging by what you've sent us. Whoever he is, he might be the best chance to back our guy up.”
“And if we can't confirm?”
“Then probably we'll go with it anyway.” Ryan didn't like that.
“And your reservations?”
“Probably don't matter. Two reasons. Number one, I'm not sure myself whether to sign off on this or not. Number two, not everyone cares what I think.”
“And that's why you've not received credit for your work on the treaty?”
Ryan grinned rather tiredly, having not had much sleep in the preceding thirty-six hours. “I refuse to be surprised by that, and I won't ask how you pulled that one out of the hat.”
“But?”
“But I wish somebody would leak it to the press or something!” Ryan allowed himself a laugh.
“I'm afraid we don't do that here. I've only leaked it to one person.”
“PM?”
“His Royal Highness. You're having dinner with him tonight, correct? I reckoned he might like to know.”
Jack thought about that. The Prince of Wales wouldn't let it go any farther. Ryan could never have told him… but… “Thanks, pal.”
“We all crave recognition in one way or another. You and I are both denied it as a matter of course. Not really fair, but there you are. In this case I broke one of my own rules, and if you ask why, I'll tell you: what you did was bloody marvelous, Jack. If there were justice in the world, Her Majesty would enter you in the Order of Merit.”
“You can't tell her, Basil. She just might do it all on her own.”
“She might indeed, and that would let out the little secret, mightn't it?” Dinner arrived, and they had to wait again.
“It wasn't just me. You know that, Charlie Alden did a lot of good work. So did Talbot, Bunker, Scott Adler, a bunch of others.”
“Your modesty is as comprehensive as ever, Dr. Ryan.”
“Does that mean 'stupid,' Bas?” Ryan got a smile instead of an answer. The Brits were good at that.
Fromm would never have believed it. They'd made five stainless-steel blanks to duplicate the size and configuration of the plutonium. Ghosn had made all the necessary explosive blocks. They'd tested the explosives on all five blanks, and in every case the explosives had done their job. This was one very talented young man. Of course he'd had exact plans to follow, and Fromm had generated them with the help of a fine computer, but even so, getting something so difficult right the first time was hardly the norm in engineering.
The plutonium was now through the first part of the machining process. It actually looked rather good, like a high-quality steel forging machined to be part of an automotive engine. That was a good beginning. The robot arm of the milling machine removed the plutonium from its spindle and set it in an enclosed box. The box was, of course, filled with argon gas. The arm sealed it and moved it to a door, then Fromm removed it from the machine enclosure and walked over to the air-bearing lathe. The process was reverse-duplicated. He slid the box into the enclosure. Vacuum pumps were activated and while the air was sucked out the top of the enclosure, argon gas was added at the bottom. When the internal atmosphere was totally inert, the robot arm of this tool opened the box, and extracted the plutonium. The next programmed set of movements set it precisely on a new spindle. The degree of precision was hugely important. Under Fromm's supervision, the spindle was activated, building its speed up slowly to fifteen thousand RPM.
“It would appear that — no!” Fromm swore. He'd thought he'd gotten it perfect. The spindle slowed back down, and a tiny adjustment was made. Fromm took his time checking the balance, then powered it up again. This time it was perfect. He took the RPMs all the way to twenty-five thousand and there was no jitter at all.
“You men did the first machining very nicely,” Fromm said over his shoulder.
“How much mass did we lose?” Ghosn asked.
“Eighteen-point-five-two-seven grams.” Fromm switched the spindle off and stood. “I can scarcely praise our workers enough. I suggest that we wait until tomorrow to begin final polishing. It is foolish to rush about. We're all tired, and I think dinner is called for.”
“As you say, Herr Fromm.”
“Manfred,” the German said, surprising the younger man. “Ibrahim, we must talk.”
“Outside?” Ghosn led the German out the door. Night was falling.
“We mustn't kill these men. They are too valuable. What if this opportunity presents itself again?”
“But you agreed…”
“I never expected things would go this well. The schedule I worked up assumed that you and I — no, I shall be honest, that I would have to supervise everything. You, Ibrahim, have astounded me with your skill. What we have done here is to have assembled a superb team. We must keep this team together!”
And where else will we get ten kilos of plutonium? Ghosn wanted to ask.
“Manfred, I think you are correct. I will discuss this with the Commander. You must remember—”
“Security. Ich weiss es schon. We can take no chances at this stage. I merely entreat you, as a matter of justice — of professional recognition, ja? — that consideration must be given. Do you understand?”
“Quite well, Manfred, I agree with you.” The German was acquiring humanity, Ghosn thought. A pity it came so late. In any case, I also agree with your desire for a decent dinner before we begin the final phase. Tonight there is fresh lamb, and we've obtained some German beer. Bitberger, I hope you like it.'
“A good regional lager. A pity, Ibrahim, that your religion denies it to you.”
“On this night,” Ghosn said, “I hope Allah will forgive me for indulging.” Just as well, Ibrahim thought, to earn the infidel's confidence.
“Jack, it would appear that you are working too hard.”
“It's the commute, sir. Two or three hours a day in a car.”
“Find a place closer?” His Royal Highness suggested gently.
“Give up Peregrine Cliff?” Ryan shook his head. “Then what about Cathy and Johns Hopkins? Then there's the kids, taking them out of school. No, that's no solution.”
“You doubtless recall that the first time we met, you commented rather forcefully on my physical and psychological condition. I rather doubt that I looked as dreadful as you do now.” The Prince had received more than one bit of information from Sir Basil Charleston, Jack noted, as a result of which there was no alcohol being served
