The Sum of all Fears Part 54

His inability to perform, his tiredness, the drinking, the distractions? Was it possible that the reason he didn't ... someone else was exciting him?

It wasn't possible. Not Jack. Not her Jack.

But why else ... ? She was still attractive-everyone thought so. She was still a good wife-there was no doubt of that. Jack wasn't ill. She would have caught any gross symptoms; she was a doctor, and a good one, and she knew she would not have missed anything important. She went out of her way to be nice to Jack, to talk to him, to let him know that she loved him, and...

Perhaps it wasn't likely, likely, but was it but was it possible? possible?

Yes.

No. Cathy set the paper down and sipped at her coffee. Not possible. Not her Jack.

It was the last hour of the last leg in the manufacturing process. Ghosn and Fromm watched the lathe with what looked like detachment, but was in both cases barely controlled excitement. The Freon liquid being sprayed on the rotating metal prevented their seeing the product whose final manufacture was under way. That didn't help, even though both knew that seeing would not have helped in the least. The part of the plutonium ma.s.s being machined was hidden from their sight by other metal, and even if that that had been otherwise, they both knew that their eyes were too coa.r.s.e an instrument to detect imperfections. Both watched the machine readout of the computer systems. Tolerances indicated by the machine were well within the twelve angstroms specified by Herr Doktor Fromm. They had to believe the computer, didn't they? had been otherwise, they both knew that their eyes were too coa.r.s.e an instrument to detect imperfections. Both watched the machine readout of the computer systems. Tolerances indicated by the machine were well within the twelve angstroms specified by Herr Doktor Fromm. They had to believe the computer, didn't they?

"Just a few more centimeters," Ghosn said as Bock and Qati joined them.

"You've never explained the Secondary part of the unit," the Commander said. He'd taken to calling the bomb "the unit."

Fromm turned, not really grateful for the distraction, though he knew he should be. "What do you wish to know?"

"I understand how the Primary works, but not the Secondary," Qati said simply and reasonably.

"Very well. The theoretical side of this is quite straightforward once you understand the principle. That was the difficult part, you see, discovering the principle. It was thought at first that making the Secondary work was simply a matter of temperature-that is what distinguishes the center of a star, ja? ja? Actually it is not, the first theoreticians overlooked the matter of pressure. That is rather strange in retrospect, but pioneering work is often that way. The key to making the Secondary work is managing the energy in such a way as to convert energy into pressure at the same time you use its vast heat, and also to change its direction by ninety degrees. That is no small task when you are talking about redirecting seventy kilotons of energy," Fromm said smugly. "However, the belief that to make the Secondary function is a matter of great theoretical difficulty, that is a fiction. The real insight Ulam and Teller had was a simple one, as most great insights are. Pressure is temperature. What they discovered-the secret-is that there is no secret. Once you understand the principles involved, what remains is just a question of engineering. Making the bomb work is computationally, not technically, demanding. The difficult part is to make the weapon portable. That is pure engineering," Fromm said again. Actually it is not, the first theoreticians overlooked the matter of pressure. That is rather strange in retrospect, but pioneering work is often that way. The key to making the Secondary work is managing the energy in such a way as to convert energy into pressure at the same time you use its vast heat, and also to change its direction by ninety degrees. That is no small task when you are talking about redirecting seventy kilotons of energy," Fromm said smugly. "However, the belief that to make the Secondary function is a matter of great theoretical difficulty, that is a fiction. The real insight Ulam and Teller had was a simple one, as most great insights are. Pressure is temperature. What they discovered-the secret-is that there is no secret. Once you understand the principles involved, what remains is just a question of engineering. Making the bomb work is computationally, not technically, demanding. The difficult part is to make the weapon portable. That is pure engineering," Fromm said again.

"Soda straws?" Bock asked, knowing that his countryman wanted to be asked about that. He was a smug b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"I cannot know for sure, but I believe this to be my personal innovation. The material is perfect. It is light, it is hollow, and it is easily twisted into the proper configuration." Fromm walked over to the a.s.sembly table and returned with one. "The base material is polyethylene, and as you see, we have coated the outside with copper and the inside with rhodium. The length of the 'straw' is sixty centimeters, and the inside diameter is just under three millimeters. Many thousands of them surround the Secondary, in bundles twisted one hundred eighty degrees into a geometric shape called a helix. A helix is a useful shape. It can direct energy while retaining its ability to radiate heat in all directions."

Inside every engineer, Qati thought, was a frustrated teacher. "But what do they do?"

"Also ... the first emission off the Primary is ma.s.sive gamma radiation. Just behind that are the X-rays. In both cases we are talking about high-energy photons, quantum particles which carry energy but which have no ma.s.s-" the first emission off the Primary is ma.s.sive gamma radiation. Just behind that are the X-rays. In both cases we are talking about high-energy photons, quantum particles which carry energy but which have no ma.s.s-"

"Light waves," Bock said, remembering his Gymnasium Gymnasium physics. Fromm nodded. physics. Fromm nodded.

"Correct. Extremely energetic light waves of a different-higher-frequency. Now, we have this vast amount of energy radiating from the Primary. Some we can reflect or warp toward the Secondary by use of the channels we have built. Most is lost, of course, but the fact is that we will have so much energy at our fingertips that we need only a small fraction of it. The X-rays sweep down the straws. Much of their energy is absorbed by the metallic coatings, while the oblique surfaces reflect some further down, allowing further energy absorption. The polyethylene also absorbs a good deal of energy. And what do you suppose happens?"

"Absorb that much energy, and it must explode, of course," Bock said before Qati could.

"Very good, Herr Bock. When the straws explode-actually they convert into plasma, but having split straws, we will not split hairs, eh?-the plasma expands radially to their axes, thus converting the axial energy from the Primary into radial energy imploding on the Secondary."

The light bulb went on in Qati's head. "Brilliant-but you lose half of the energy, that part expanding outward."

"Yes and no. It still makes an energy barrier, and that is what we need. Next, the uranium fins around the body of the Secondary are also converted to plasma-from the same energy flux, but more slowly than the straws due to their ma.s.s. This plasma has far greater density, and is pressed inward. Within the actual Secondary casing, there is two centimeters of vacuum, since that s.p.a.ce will be evacuated. So we have a 'running start' for the plasma that is racing inward."

"So you use the energy from the Primary, redirected into a right-angle turn to perform the same function on the Secondary that is first done by chemical explosives?" Qati saw.

"Excellent, Commander!" Fromm replied, just patronizingly enough to be noticed. "We now have a relatively heavy ma.s.s of plasma pressing inward. The vacuum gap gives it room to accelerate before slamming into the Secondary. This compresses the Secondary. The secondary a.s.sembly is lithium-deuteride and lithium-hydride, both doped with tritium, surrounded by uranium 238. This a.s.sembly is crushed violently by the imploding plasma. It is also being bombarded by neutrons from the Primary, of course. The combination of heat, pressure, and neutron bombardment causes the lithium to fission into tritium. The tritium immediately begins the fusion process, generating vast quant.i.ties of high-energy neutrons along with the liberated energy. The neutrons attack the U-238, causing a fast-fission reaction, adding to the overall Secondary yield."

"The key, as Herr Fromm said," Ghosn explained, "is managing the energy."

"Straws," Bock noted.

"Yes, I said the same thing," Ghosn said. "It is truly brilliant. Like building a bridge from paper."

"And the yield from the Secondary?" Qati asked. He didn't really understand the physics, but he did understand the final number.

"The Primary will generate approximately seventy kilotons. The Secondary will generate roughly four hundred sixty-five kilotons. The numbers are approximate because of possible irregularities within the weapon, and also because we cannot test to measure actual effects."

"How confident are you in the performance of the weapon?"

"Totally," Fromm said.

"But without testing, you said ..."

"Commander, I knew from the beginning that a proper test program was not possible. That is the same problem we had in the DDR. For that reason the design is overengineered, in some cases by a factor of forty percent, in others by a factor of more than one hundred. You must understand that an American, British, French, or even Soviet weapon of the same yield would not be a fifth the size of our 'unit.' Such refinements of size and efficiency can come only from extensive testing. The physics of the device are entirely straightforward. Engineering refinements come only from practice. As Herr Ghosn said, building a bridge. The Roman bridges of antiquity were very inefficient structures. By modern standards they use far too much stone, and as a result far too much labor to build them, ja? ja? Over the years we have learned to build bridges more efficiently, using fewer materials and less labor to perform the same task. But do not forget that some Roman bridges still stand. They are still bridges, even if they are inefficient. This bomb design, though inefficient and wasteful of materials, is still a bomb, and it Over the years we have learned to build bridges more efficiently, using fewer materials and less labor to perform the same task. But do not forget that some Roman bridges still stand. They are still bridges, even if they are inefficient. This bomb design, though inefficient and wasteful of materials, is still a bomb, and it will will work as I say." work as I say."

Heads turned as the beeper on the lathe went off. An indicator light blinked green. The task was finished. Fromm walked over, telling the technicians to flush the Freon out of the system. Five minutes later the object of so much loving care was visible. The manipulator arm brought it into view. It was finished.

"Excellent," Fromm said. "We will carefully examine the plutonium, and then we will commence a.s.sembly. Meine Herren, Meine Herren, the difficult part is behind us." He thought that called for a beer, and made another mental note that he hadn't gotten the palladium yet. Details, details. But that's what engineering was. the difficult part is behind us." He thought that called for a beer, and made another mental note that he hadn't gotten the palladium yet. Details, details. But that's what engineering was.

"What gives, Dan?" Ryan asked over his secure phone. He had missed the morning paper at home only to find the offending article waiting on his desk as part of The Bird. The Bird.

"It sure as h.e.l.l didn't come from here, Jack. It must be in your house."

"Well, I just tore our security director a brand-new a.s.shole. He says he doesn't have anything going. What the h.e.l.l does a 'very senior' official mean?"

"It means that this Holtzman guy got carried away with his adjectives. Look, Jack, I've already gone too far. I'm not supposed to discuss ongoing investigations, remember?"

"I'm not concerned about that. Somebody just leaked material that comes from a closely held source. If the world made any sense, we'd bring Holtzman in for questioning!" Ryan snarled into the phone.

"You want to rein in a little, boy?"

The DDCI looked up from the phone and commanded himself to take a deep breath. It wasn't Holtzman's fault, was it? "Okay, I just simmered down."

"Whatever investigation is under way, it isn't the Bureau running it."

"No s.h.i.t?"

"You have my word on it," Murray said.

"That's fair enough, Dan." Ryan calmed down further. If it wasn't the FBI and it wasn't his own in-house security arm, then that part of the story was probably fiction.

"Who could have leaked it?"

Jack barked out a laugh. "Could have? Ten or fifteen people on the Hill. Maybe five in the White House, twenty-maybe forty here."

"So the other part could just be camouflage, or somebody who wants a score settled." Murray did not make it a question. He figured at least a third of all press leaks were aimed at settling grudges in one way or another. "The source is sensitive?"

"This phone isn't all that secure, remember?"

"Gotcha. Look, I can approach Holtzman quietly and informally. He's a good guy, responsible, a pro. We can talk to him off the record and let him know that he may be endangering people and methods."

"I have to go to Marcus for that."

"And I have to talk to Bill, but Bill will play ball."

"Okay, I'll talk to my Director. I'll be back." Ryan hung up and walked again to the Director's office.

"I've seen it," Director Cabot said. "The Bureau doesn't know about this investigation, and neither do our people. From that we can surmise that the scandal part of the story is pure bull, but somebody's been leaking the take from SPINNAKER, and that sort of thing gets agents killed."

"What do you suggest?" the DCI asked.

"Dan Murray and I approach Holtzman informally and let him know that he's stepping on sensitive toes. We ask him to back off."

"Ask?"

"Ask. You don't give orders to reporters. Not unless you sign their paychecks, anyway," Jack corrected himself. "I've never actually done this, but Dan has. It was his idea."

"I have to go upstairs on this," Cabot said.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, Marcus, we are are upstairs!" upstairs!"

"Dealing with the press-it has to be decided elsewhere."

"Super-get in your car and drive down and make sure you ask very nicely." Ryan turned and stormed out before Cabot had a chance to flush at the insult.

By the time he'd walked the few yards to his private office, Jack's hands were quivering. Can't he back me up on Can't he back me up on anything? Nothing was going right lately. Jack pounded once on his desk, and the pain brought things back under control. Clark's little operation, that seemed to be heading in the right direction. That was one thing, and one thing was better than nothing. anything? Nothing was going right lately. Jack pounded once on his desk, and the pain brought things back under control. Clark's little operation, that seemed to be heading in the right direction. That was one thing, and one thing was better than nothing.

Not much better. Jack looked at the photo of his wife and kids.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it," he swore to himself. He couldn't get that guy to back him up on anything, he'd become a lousy father to his kids, and sure as h.e.l.l he was no great shakes as a husband lately.

Liz Elliot read the front-page article with no small degree of satisfaction. Holtzman had delivered exactly what she had expected. Reporters were so easy to manipulate. It opened a whole new world for her, she had belatedly realized. With Marcus Cabot being so weak, and no one within the CIA bureaucracy to back him up, she would have effective control of that, as well. Wasn't that something?

Removing Ryan from his post was now more than a mere exercise in spite, as desirable as so simple a motive might have been. Ryan was the one who had said no to a few White House requests, who occasionally went directly to Congress on internal matters ... who prevented her from having closer contact with the Agency. With him out of the way, she could give orders-couched as "suggestions"-to Cabot, who would then carry them out with a total absence of resistance. Dennis Bunker would still have Defense and his dumb football team. Brent Talbot would have the State Department. Elizabeth Elliot would have control of the National Security apparatus-be-cause she also had the ear, and all the other important parts, of the President. Her phone beeped.

"Director Cabot is here."

"Send him in," Liz said. She stood and walked toward the door. "Good morning, Marcus."

"h.e.l.lo, Dr. Elliot."

"What brings you down?" she asked, waving him to a seat on the couch.

"This newspaper article."

"I saw it," the National Security Advisor said sympathetically.

"Whoever leaked this might have endangered a valuable source."

"I know. Somebody at your end? I mean, what is this about an in-house investigation?"

"It isn't us."

"Really?" Dr. Elliot leaned back and played with her blue silk cravat. "Who, then?"

"We don't know, Liz." Cabot looked even more uncomfortable than she had expected. Maybe, she thought playfully, he thought he was the target of the investigation ... ? There was an interesting idea. "We want to talk to Holtzman."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we and the FBI talk to him, informally of course, to let him know that he may be doing something irresponsible."

"Who came up with that, Marcus?"

"Ryan and Murray."

"Really?" She paused, as though considering the matter. "I don't think that's a good idea. You know how reporters are. If you have to stroke them, you have to stroke them properly ... hmm. I can handle that if you wish."

"This really is serious. SPINNAKER is very important to us." Cabot tended to repeat himself when he got excited.

"I know it. Ryan was pretty clear in his briefing, back when you were ill. You still haven't confirmed his reports?"

Cabot shook his head. "No. Jack went off to England to ask the Brits to nose around, but we don't expect anything for a while."

"What do you want me to tell Holtzman?"

"Tell him that he may be jeopardizing a highly important source. The man could die over this, and the political fallout might be very serious," Cabot concluded.

"Yes, it could have undesired effects on their political scene, couldn't it?"

"If SPINNAKER is right, then they're in for a huge political shakeup. Revealing that we know what we know could jeopardize him. Remember that-"

Elliot interrupted. "That Kadishev is our main fallback position. Yes. And if he gets 'burned,' then we might have no fallback position. You've made yourself very clear, Marcus. Thank you. I'll work on this myself."

"That should be quite satisfactory," Cabot said after a moment's pause.

"Fine. Anything else I need to know this morning?"