Stone Junction

that would be after the job. He still wouldn’t tell Annalee her role in the heist. When she argued that she’d like to be prepared, he promised he’d tell her in plenty of time.

For Christmas Shamus gave Daniel a beautifully framed copy of the Periodic Table of the Elements from which he’d carefully excised what he called ‘the transuranium abominations.’ He gave Annalee a lovely gold chain necklace, each delicate link intricately connected to the next in a different way. As she examined it again later in her bedroom mirror, she was taken with the terrifying understanding that she was all he had left of reality. She felt a wild impulse to rip the necklace off and tear it apart, but instead she flung herself on the bed and wept. She wished it would happen, be over, end – even though she still didn’t see a good ending. But her and Daniel’s present to Shamus at least kept the faith of a happy conclusion. When he opened their package, he found seventeen separate identities to choose from. He laughed at the Harvard diploma certifying his doctorate in chemistry. It was the only time he laughed all day.

January was worse. He talked obsessively about plutonium, citing its connection in myth with the underworld, that in fact it took its name from Pluto, god of the dead, and that its namesake planet was absent from the ancient astrological charts – because, he speculated, it was meant to remain unknown, forbidden knowledge, the perilous edge. Nor did it escape his notice that the American political system, despite its democratic facade, was clearly a plutocracy, a government by wealth, whether rich individuals or corporate monopolies. The signs, he repeated incessantly, made it overwhelmingly plain that human consciousness was hurtling toward a plutonic apocalypse, a reign of shadow. The only hope of stopping it was a leap of wisdom, and wisdom took time. He would kidnap death and ransom it for time.

Annalee was wondering how much more she could stand when she knocked on his apartment door the night of February 3. She’d decided that if he mentioned plutonium or Greek mythology or any other associative notion she would turn around and leave. Instead she found a bottle of Mumm’s on ice, glasses ready on the candlelit table, and a happy, relaxed Shamus. ‘It’s set for the evening of the fifteenth,’ he greeted her. ‘The Livermore Lab. I want you to place a diversionary device – a small bomb – in an alley in the industrial area. It runs between two warehouses and no one should be around – there’s not even a watchman. When you’ve placed it, I want you to call me from a pay phone. I’ll give you the number and the exact locations that morning. Until then, let’s not talk about it, think about it, worry about it. Just you and me in the here and now, every night till then.’

‘Pour the champagne,’ Annalee said.

Annalee didn’t get home until noon the next day. She knew by the way Daniel looked at her that he knew something was up. She consulted each of her mixed emotions as she worked in the darkroom, debating whether she should tell him or not, and reached no decision. After dinner he said, without preamble, ‘You weren’t supposed to tell me about the plutonium theft to start with. Since you did, you might as well tell me the rest.’

So she did and was immediately sorry.

‘I want to go with you,’ he said. ‘I want to help.’

‘No. Absolutely, finally, unalterably no. No you can’t go, and no discussion. You’re not riding around with a bomb in a car.’

‘You are. And you told me Shamus said it’s safe.’

‘I’m not going to risk you. No. End of discussion.’

‘I won’t risk you, either. Suppose somebody happens along and sees you between the time you leave the car and go in the alley and come back? You need someone in the car, a lookout, to warn you if a cop or somebody shows up – that’s the point of greatest vulnerability. Besides, I’m great cover – if you get stopped, who’d suspect a bomb with a kid in the car?’

‘Exactly. Not a mother on this planet would be that stupid. Including me.’

‘Algerian mothers took their kids along when they planted bombs.’

‘Oh yeah, how do you know that?’

‘I read books.’

‘No. No. Forget it.’

‘I want to ask Shamus.’

‘Goddammit, Daniel, you can’t ask Shamus: You’re not supposed to know, remember?’

‘But I do.’

‘What does that mean?’ Annalee said, ice in her tone. ‘That you’d betray me out of childish spite?’

‘No. It means I’m implicated, but that I can’t share in the responsibility. That’s a betrayal, too. Mom, we share a lot between us – not everything, but a lot. I’m willing to share the risk of delivering the bomb because I share the risk of knowing about it. You have to quit feeling responsible for me. I’m almost fourteen. I need to be responsible for myself.’

‘I don’t like it,’ Annalee shook her head. ‘It doesn’t feel right.’

‘Besides, you need a lookout and moral support. And cover. And I need to do it. Let me go.’

Annalee put her head down on the table. When she lifted it, she said with weary resignation, ‘All right. You can go. Not because you’re my son – that defies my maternal instincts – but because you’re you.’

The next night with Shamus she told him that she was sure Daniel knew something was going on.

‘Shit!’ Shamus exploded, jumping from the bed and pacing the room naked.

Stung by his vehemence, Annalee said nothing.

‘Okay,’ Shamus said, more in control, ‘what does he know, or think he knows? And how?’

‘How? Jesus, Shamus, he’s a piece of my heart! He can feel it from me, that’s how. And that’s probably what he knows – nothing specific, just something in the air, a tension, an edge.’

‘Has he said anything specific?’