Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第12部分

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The　van　rattled　by　without　slowing。　On　its　side；　the　inelegant　shapes　of　a　plumber’s　helper　and　a
Stilsen　wrench　crossed　in　unconscious　parody　of　the　U。S。S。R。’s　Hammer　and　Sickle。
Slowly；　Vanessa　let　out　her　breath　and　settled　back　into　the　seat。　She　allowed　herself　one　brief
glance　at　the　radium…bright　face　of　her　watch。
Five　thirty…five。
They　were　late。　No；　not　late。　No　time　had　been　set　for　the　rendezvous　except　after　dawn　and
before　eight　o’clock。　She　looked　up　from　her　watch。　Her　blue　eyes　were　intent　on　the　street；　her
right　hand　warming　the　metal　grip　of　her　silenced　pistol；　waiting　for　Refugio。
Oakland；　California
1　Hour　19　Minutes　After　Trinity
Ana　looked　at　her　watch　for　the　seventeenth　time　since　the　last　car　had　passed　her　hiding　place
inside　the　flower　truck　that　had　once　belonged　to　her　father　and　now　belonged　to　Refugio’s
cousin。　Five　forty…eight。　Barely　thirty　seconds　passed　before　she　again　peered　at　the　glowing；
blue…green　dial。　Daylight　was　coming　on；　but　even　more　slowly　than　time　was　passing。
Her　hand　moved　to　yank　aside　the　dark　curtain　separating　the　back　of　the　van　from　the　front；
but　she　restrained　herself。　Her　arm　dropped　to　her　side。　Radium　lines　leered　up　from　her　wrist。
The　second　hand　seemd　frozen　in　place。
With　a　small　sigh　halfway　between　fear　and　impatience；　Ana　wriggled　further　back　between　the
tall　wicker　baskets　that　held　thick　bouquets　of　flowers。　The　rank　odor　of　daisies　and　the
too…sweet　smell　of　dying　roses　choked　her。
She　beathcd　shallowly　through　her　mouth；　blaming　the　dense　smells　for　her　sweating　palms；
nausea　coiled　like　a　snake　in　her　stomach。
She　hated　being　back　in　America。　She　hated　the　stale　wet　waterfront　air。　She　hated　the　flower
van；　its　memories　and　its　tightness　and　the　darkness　where　roses　overwhelmed　her。’　Most　of　all
she　hated　herself　for　being　terrified　of　the　moment　when　Refugio　would　kill　Masarek　and　drag
the　blond　woman　into　the　truck。
How　would　Kestrel　question　the　English　spy？
Ana　decided　not　to　watch。　She　did　not　have　to　see　any　of　it。　Kestrel　had　told　her　only　to　bring
the　van　to　this　place　and　then　hide　in　the　back　until　Refugio　came。　The　van’s　open　engine
compartment　would　answer　any　questions　–　obviously　the　vehicle　had　broken　down　and　was
waiting　for　a　tow。
She　had　done　what　Kestrel　asked。　Now　she　must　wait；　and　she　was　very　bad　at　waiting。　“Just　like
an　American；”　Kestrel　would　say　if　he　could　see　her　impatience。　But　she　was　not　American。　She
was　Japanese；　and　therefore　patient。
Ana　leaned　against　the　cold　metal　side　of　the　van。　The　funeral　smell　of　roses　settled　over　her。
Trinity　Site
2　Hours　After　Trinity
Lattimer　signaled　Groves　urgently。　The　General；　who　had　been　congratulating　project
technicians　and　enjoying　his　triumph；　was　tempted　to　ignore　the　sign；　but　something　about
Lattimer’s　tense　posture　compelled　attention。　Groves　walked　over　to　him。
“Well；　what　is　it？”
“Admiral　Purnell’s　office；　sir；　in　San　Francisco；”　said　Lattimer；　indicating　the　phone　on　the　desk。
When　Groves　picked　up　the　receiver　and　began　to　speak；　Lattimer　interrupted。　“General；　if　I
were　you；　I　would　clear　the　whole　area。”
Groves　studied　the　security　man；　first　puzzled　and　then　alarmed。　Lattimer’s　anxiety　was
contagious。
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“Sir；”　said　Lattimer。　“There’s　a　problem　with　the　Bronx　shipment。　Please　let　me　clear　the
room。”
Groves　could　feel　the　tension　now；　a　tightness　beneath　his　rib　cage。　With　his　right　hand；　he
unconsciously　touched　the　left　side　of　his　chest；　probing　for　the　buried　knot　of　fear。
He　waited　while　Lattimer　herded　people　out　of　the　office。　As　soon　as　the　door　closed；　Groves
turned　to　the　phone。
“Groves　speaking。　What　the　hell　is　going　on？”
The　answer　was　fuzzed　by　the　patchwork　of　connections　between　San　Francisco　and　Trinity　Site；
but　Admiral　Purnell’s　words　were　clear。
“I　was　hoping　you　could　tell　me；　General。　You　remember　those　mysterious　packages　you　sent　to
me　for　immediate　delivery　elsewhere？”
“Yes；”　snapped　Groves。　The　tension　in　his　chest　increased；　making　it　hard　for　him　to　breathe。
“Someone　apparently　couldn’t　wait　for　Christmas。　One　of　the　packages　was　opened。”
“The　big　one？”　said　Groves；　thinking　how　easy　it　would　be　to　sabotage　the　bomb’s
fifteen…foot…long　casing　with　all　its　wiring；　timers　and　fuses。
“No。　The　small　package。　The　canister。”
“Jesus　God！”　Groves　swallowed；　trying　to　suppress　his　fear　and　fury。　“Anything　missing？”
“How　would　I　know？”　asked　the　Admiral　coolly。　“No　one　told　me　what　was　in　the　package　in
the　first　place。”
“What’s　left　of　the　package？”　Groves’　voice　was　thin　with　the　effort　of　staying　calm。
“The　can；　its　top　and　a　metal　cylinder　that　fitted　inside。”
“One　piece？　Just　one？”
“Yes。”
“What　color　is　the　piece？”
“What　color！”　exploded　the　Admiral。　“Dark…goddamn…gray！　General；　an　eighteen…year…old
ensign　was　murdered！　Now　by　God　you　are　going　to　tell　me　what　the　hell　is　going　on！”
Groves　did　not　answer。　He　could　not。　His　world　had　just　imploded　like　the　spherical　charge　of　a
plutonium　bomb。　His　plans；　his　country’s　plans；　a　world　given　back　to　gun　soldiers　who　would
spend　millions　of　lives　to　invade　islands　defended　by　fanatics。　And　Russia　–　Russia　hovering　like
a　vulture　at　a　feast。
“Oh　God；”　he　groaned；　seeing　the　morning’s　victory　shattered。　“Oh　my　God。”　He　tried　to
breathe　but　could　not。　His　chest　was　held　in　a　vise　of　pain；　his　mind　paralyzed　by　the　rapid　swing
from　victory　to　catastrophe。　“How　did　it　happen？”
“I　don’t　know；”　snapped　the　Admiral。　“The　theft　and　murder　occurred　between　0200　and　0630；
Pacific　War　Time。”
Groves　glanced　at　his　watch。　The　uranium　had　been　stolen　at　almost　the　same　moment　the
atomic　bomb　had　been　detonated。　He　wondered　whether　the　irony　was　accidental　or
purposeful。　The　thought　that　his　enemies　were　laughing　at　him　broke　his　paralysis。　He　began　to
think　again；　to　take　command。
“Let　me　talk　to　Finn。”
“His　plane　spent　most　of　the　night　ducking　thunderstorms；”　said　Purnell。　“I　sent　a　man　over　to
Alameda　Air　Station　to　pick　him　up。　He’ll　call　you　as　soon　as　he’s　on　the　ground。”
Groves　swore　viciously。
“Finn　takes　over　the　investigation　the　instant　he　gets　to　Hunters　Point；”　he　continued。　“You　will
give　him　every　possible　assistance。　You　will　treat　his　every　suggestion　as　coming　direct　from　the
President　–　which　it　does。”　Groves　paused；　staring　blindly　out　of　the　bunker；　seeing　an　atomic
cloud　spread　across　the　sky。　“Call　the　local　FBI　office。　We’re　going　to　need　every　agent　they
have。　Tell　them　what　you　know。　I’ll　call　Hoover　myself。”
“Hold　it；　General。　My　Shore　Patrol　and　Naval　Intelligence　boys　are　pretty　damn　good　and　–　“
“No。　You　will　do　nothing　but　what　I　told　you。”
There　was　a　long　silence。　Then　Purnell　said；　“The　FBI　will　insist　on　knowing　what’s　missing。”
Page　59
“They　can　insist　until　their　jaws　lock。　Whether　or　not　they　find　out　is　up　to　the　President。”
“I　see；”　said　Purnell。　He　cleared　his　throat。　“You’ll　put　all　those　orders　in　writing；　of　course。”
“Of　course。　But　not　even　the　Joint　Chiefs　of　Staff　have　the　security　clearance　to　read　them。”
There　was　another　long　silence。　Only　the　hiss　of　static　told　Groves　that　the　line　was　still　open。
“Is　there　anything　else；　General？”
“Put　the　package　back　together　and　sail　at　0800　as　ordered；”　said　Groves　brusquely。　“With　one
difference。　Finn　won’t　be　sailing　with　you。　He’ll　stay　behind　and　find　out　what　the　hell
happened。”
“You’re　sure　his　security　clearance　is　up　to　the　job？”
Groves　ignored　the　sarcastic　question。
“Thanks　for　the　help；　Admiral。　The　next　time　I　want　something　delivered；　I’ll　use　the　Army。”
General　Groves　broke　the　connection；　sat　down　in　a　desk　chair　and　immediately　began　to　dial
another　number。　After　the　third　try；　he　gave　up。　His　hands　were　shaking　too　much　to　continue。
Lattimer　took　the　phone　from　him。
“What　number；　sir？”
“Washington。　Hoover。　Federal　Bureau　of　Investigation。　Goddamn　everything　to　hell！”
Lattimer　wiped　the　sweat　off　his　lips　and　began　to　dial。
Juarez
2　Hours　7　Minutes　After　Trinity
Takagura　Omi　picked　up　the　receiver；　silencing　the　telephone’s　strident　ring。　At　the　moment；　the
patriarch　of　Mexico’s　Oriental　population　was　alone　in　his　office；　waiting　for　this　call。　Kestrel’s
voice　came　to　him　across　the　wire；　distorted　by　distance　and　emotion。　He　spoke　rapid　Japanese。
“Just　before　dawn；”　said　Kestrel；　“my　host　staged　an　incredible　event。　I　was　blinded　by　the　light；
deafened　by　the　sound　and　felt　heat　as　from　a　rising　sun。　I　was　at　least　ten　miles　away　from　the
event。　It　was　like　nothing　ever　before　seen　on　earth。”
Takagura　waited；　but　Kestrel　said　no　more。　With　a　sigh；　Takagura　spoke。　“Are　you　sure　Japan
has　seen　nothing　like　it？　Not　even　the　resemblance　between　baby　and　adult？”
“Japan　has　nothing　like　what　I　saw。　Please　advise　our　father　that　a　new　sun　rose　this　morning；
and　it　rose　on　a　new　world。　Old　ideas　of　honor　and　ignominy　must　be　examined　in　the　light　of
the　new　sun。　Do　you　understand　me？”
“Are　you　advising　our　father　to　bow　to　a　barbarian　dawn？”
“Even　samurai　can’t　fight　the　sun。”
Potsdam
2　Hours　13　Minutes　After　Trinity
（Cable　received　by　President　Truman。　Decoded。）
URANIUM　STOLEN　FROM　HUNTERS　POINT。　REPEAT。　URANIUM　STOLEN。　WILL
KEEP　YOU　ADVISED。　MAJ。　GEN。　LESLIE　GROVES
（Reply。　Decoded。）
FIND　THAT　URANIUM　BY　0530；　18　JULY；　OR　I　WILL　BE　FORCED　TO　MAKE　GO
DECISION　FOR　FINAL　STAGES　OF　OPERATION　DOWNFALL。　ONCE　I　HAVE
DONE　THAT；　THERE　IS　NO　TURNING　BACK。　REPEAT。　FIND　URANIUM　BY　0530；　18
JULY；　NEW　MEXICO　TIME；　OR　MANHATTAN　PROJECT　WILL　BE　NOTHING　BUT　A
FOOTNOTE　IN　THE　HISTORY　OF　WORLD　WAR　II。　PRESIDENT　HARRY　S　TRUMAN
（Reply。　Decoded。）
RESPECTFULLY　REMIND　MR。　PRESIDENT　THAT　BOMBING　IS　NOT　SCHEDULED
FOR　SEVERAL　WEEKS。　PLEASE　GIVE　US　MORE　TIME　TO　RECOVER　URANIUM。
MAJ。　GEN。　LESLIE　GROVES
Page　60
（Reply。　Decoded。）
ONLY　A　HORSE’S　ASS　WOULD　GO　TO　WAR　WITH　ONE　BOMB。　DO　WHATEVER
YOU　HAVE　TO。　BUT　RECOVER　URANIUM　BY　0530　OF　JULY　18。　IF　YOU　DON’T；
THE　SHOW　WILL　GO　ON　WITHOUT　YOU。
THAT　IS　FINAL。　REPEAT。　FINAL。　PRESIDENT　HARRY　S　TRUMAN
Washington；　D。C。
2　Hours　26　Minutes　After　Trinity
“Gencral　Groves　is　on　the　line　now；　sir；”
J。　Edgar　Hoover’s　manicured　hand　closed　over　the　phone。　Although　he　had　rushed　to　his　office
after　receiving　the　President’s　extraordinary　call；　Hoover　was　dressed　to　the　same　exacting
standard　he　required　of　his　agents。
“Good　morning；　General。”　Hoover’s　voice　was　moderate；　his　diction　as　precise　as　the　crease　in
his　pants。　“The　President　told　me　you　would　give　your　complete　cooperation　in　the　Bureau’s
investigation　of　the　incident　at　Hunters　Point。”
“You　must　have　had　a　fuzzy　connection；　Mr。　Hoover。”
“What？”
“The　FBI　is　cooperating　with　me；　not　the　other　way　around。”
Groves’　voice　was　gruff　and　uncompromising。　He　was　one　of　the　few　officials　in　Washington
who　did　not　owe　J。　Edgar　Hoover　the　time　of　day。
“The　President；”　said　Hoover　coldly；　“didn’t　tell　me　what　he　needed　the　FBI　to　investigate。　My
men　are　the　best　in　the　world；　General；　but　they　must　at　least　know　the　nature　of　the　crime　they
are　to　solve。”
“Theft　of　a　highly　secret　material。”
“Yes。　Well…？”
Groves　said　nothing。
“What；　precisely；　was　stolen？”
“Until　ten　minutes　ago；　there　were　four　men　in　the　United　States　who　had　the　security　clearance
to　answer　your　question。　I　just　gave　official　clearance　to　a　fifth。　His　name　is　Finn。　He’s　in　charge
of　the　Hunters　Point　investigation。　He’ll　tell　your　agents　what　he　thinks　they　need　to　know　in
order　to　help　him。”
“That’s　arrogant　nonsense！　I　can’t　send　my　agents　on　a　Top　Secret　snipe　hunt　when　I　don’t　even
know　–　“
“Can’t　or　won’t？”　cut　in　Groves。　“The　President　told　you　to　cooperate。　Who’s　running　this
country　–　you　or　Truman？”
“The　President；　of　course！”　snapped　Hoover。　“Not　you。”
“At　least　we　agree　on　who’s　President。　Now　you　just　hang　up　and　get　on　the　telephone　to
Potsdam　and　let　President　Truman　explain　what　bis　FBI　agents　can　or　can’t　do。”
Over　California
2　Hours　26　Minutes　After　Trinity
The　pitch　of　the　C…46’s　engines　changed　slightly；　waking　Finn。　He　stretched　stiffly　and　looked
out　the　window。　Beneath　the　plane’s　nose；　night　had　dissolved　into　luminous　gray。　He　tapped
the　copilot’s　shoulder。
“How　long？”
“About　twenty　minutes。”　He　looked　at　Finn’s　jeans　and　boots；　then　at　his　face。　“Uh；　should　I　be
calling　you；　‘sir’？”
“Don’t　bother。”　Finn　flexed　his　body；　trying　to　restore　circulation　to　stiff　muscles。　“How
soon？”
“Half　an　hour；　at　most。　I’m　already　picking　up　commercial　radio　from　San　Franc。　Uh；　I　want　to
Page　61
thank　you　for　not　throwing　up　all　over　the　place　back　there。　We　did　the　best　we　could；　but　it　was
a　sure…enough　bastard。”　He　motioned　toward　a　spare　set　of　earphones　hanging　from　a　clip。
“Catch　up　on　the　world。　The　news　is　just　coming　on。”
Finn　pulled　on　the　headphones。　The　reception　was　scratchy；　but　the　level　unaccented　voice　of
the　newscaster　came　through　clearly。
“…　Truman　arrived　yesterday　in　Potsdam　for　a　summit　meeting　that　most　analysts　agree　will　set
the　shape　of　the　postwar　world。　His　meetings　with　English　and　Soviet　leaders　begin　later　today。”
Finn　smiled　to　himself；　imagining　what　Truman　would　tell　Stalin　about　the　atomic　bomb。
“In　news　closer　to　home；　Congress　begins　debate　today　on　aid　for　veterans。　In　New　Mexico；　a
munitions　dump　exploded　with　a　flash　that　was　seen　fifty　miles　away　and　a　boom　that　was　heard
five　times　as　far。　No　one　was　hurt。”
Finn’s　pulse　raced　and　the　words　of　the　newscaster　faded　as　he　lifted　off　the　headset；　staring　at
the　earphones　without　seeing　them。　That　was　no　ammo　dump　that　had　exploded。　There　was　not
enough　ammunition　in　the　entire　state　of　New　Mexico　to　account　for　a　blast　that　could　be　heard
for　250　miles。　Manhattan　Project　had　given　birth　today；　spectacularly。　He　tried　to　calculate　the
explosive　power　involved；　but　gave　up；　accepting　Groves’　estimate　of　20；000　tons　of　TNT。
There　was　only　one　kind　of　target　big　enough　to　warrant　such　a　bomb　–　a　city。　Manhattan’s　child
was　raw；　awesome　power；　power　intended　to　terrify　an　enemy　into　submission。
He　hoped　it　would　do　just　that。　He　hoped　that　children　would　never　again　rain　down　into　the
sea。　The　death　of　a　city　was　a　terrible　price　to　pay　for　the　end　of　the　war；　but　was　a　lesser　evil
than　an　invasion　that　killed　millions　by　ones　and　twos　and　drove　mothers　to　destroy　their　own
children。
Finn　left　the　disembodied　newsman’s　voice　dangling　from　a　cockpit　clip。　He　returned　to　his
bench　and　dozed　against　the　wall；　dreaming　in　shades　of　green；　a　familiar　dream；　where　children
struggled　and　screamed　silently　but　still　could　not　fly。
The　tires　shrieked　as　the　plane　touched　the　runway　at　Alameda　Air　Station　outside　of　Oakland。
A　crisp　seaman　met　him　at　the　foot　of　the　ladder。
“Captain　Finn；”　he　said；　saluting。　“I　have　a　message　for　you　from　Code　Name　Relief。”
Finn；　expecting　to　hear　of　the　bomb’s　success；　yawned　and　said；　“Give　it　to　me。”
“The　message　is：　‘Someone　opened　the　oyster。　The　pearl　is　gone。’”
Adrenaline　flashed　through　Finn’s　body；　burning　away　the　drugged　residue　of　a　sleepless　night。
The　world　narrowed　to　a　single　instant　–　now。　He　leaned　toward　the　sailor。　“Repeat　that。”
“Yes；　sir；”　said　the　sailor；　backing　away　from　Finn。　He　repeated　the　message　with　the　precision
of　a　man　used　to　relating　nonsense　codes。　“　‘Someone　opened　the　oyster。　The　pearl　is　gone。’”
He　waited。　When　Finn　made　no　further　demands；　the　sailor　added；　“Here　is　a　new　set　of　orders；
sir。　You’re　supposed　to　call　this　number　on　the　base。　If　you’ll　follow　me；　there’s　a　phone　right
off　the　flight　apron。”
Finn　followed　automatically。　He　did　not　see　the　buildings　or　hear　the　planes　taking　off。　His
whole　being　was　focused　on　a　single　question：　Who　had　taken　the　uranium？　Kestrel？　No；　he　had
not　had　enough　time　to　get　from　the　test　to　Hunters　Point。　Masarek？　Finn　thought　of　the　cold；
competent　Russian。　He　had　the　nerve；　but　not　the　resources　to　steal　the　bomb　by　himself。　If　it
was　Masarek；　he　must　have　had　help。　Refugio；　certainly。　But　Refugio　did　not　have　the　vision　or
the　resources　for　such　an　incredible　theft。　What　of　the　blond　woman　who　had　been　seen　with
him？　Was　she　more　than　his　mistress？　Was　it　she　who　had　planned　the　theft？
“Sir。　The　phone；”　said　the　sailor；　holding　out　the　receiver。　He　looked　nervously　at　Finn；　then
backed　away　so　that　he　could　not　overhear　what　was　said。
Finn　took　the　phone。　He　dialed　the　number　on　the　slip　of　paper。　He　identified　himself　and
listened　to　random　clicks　as　contacts　closed　and　relays　opened。　He　guessed　who　he　would　be
talking　to　even　before　he　heard　Groves’　voice。
“What　the　hell　happened？”　said　Finn。　“Do　you　know　anything　beyond　what　was　in　the
message？”
Page　62
“Empty　canister　in　the　Delta　warehouse；”　said　Groves。　“One　dead　sailor　on　the　floor　beside　the
can。”
“Just　one？　How　many　guards　were　there？”
“One！”　exploded　Groves。　“Hunter’s　Point　is　a　fucking　military　Base！　Why　the　hell　should　I
assign　a　platoon　of　guards　on　a　military　base！　All　that　would　do　is　call　attention　to　what　should
have　been　the　biggest　fucking　secret　since　the　date　of　the　Second　Coming！”
Finn　understood　Groves’　logic　–　and　its　flaw：　setting　the　canister　in　the　middle　of　a　bunch　of
soldiers　was　not　the　same　as　having　the　can　guarded　by　a　bunch　of　soldiers。　The　average　soldier
could　not　be　presumed　to　guard　his　own　ass　unless　he　was　given　a　direct　order。　A　gun　soldier
knew　that。　A　desk　soldier　did　not。　But　pointing　out　that　fact　to　Groves　would　not　put　the
uranium　back　in　the　can。　Or　end　the　war。　Two　million　dead　children　falling。
“Any　other　details？”　said　Finn；　his　voice　hoarse。
“That’s　all　that　goddamn　Admiral　Purnell　could　tell　me。”
“That’s　a　lot。”
“I　don’t　need　sarcasm　from　an　insubordinate　gun　soldier！”
“Not　sarcasm；”　said　Finn。　“If　they　got　in　and　out　and　only　killed　one　man；　then　it　stinks　of　an
inside　job。　Somebody　knew　where　to　find　the　can；　and　how　to　get　on　and　off　base　without　being
noticed。”
“But　the　Navy　didn’t　know　what　was　in　the　can！”
“Other　than　you　and　the　guards　who　accompanied　the　shipment；　who　knew　when　the　uranium
would　arrive；　where　it　would　be　stored　and　how　it　was　guarded？”
“No　one；”　began　Groves；　then　stopped。　“The　Lawrence　Radiation　Lab。　They　checked　the　can　at
midnight；　but　they　were　briefed　about　it　earlier。　Scientists；”　said　Groves　in　a　choked　voice。
“God　save　us　all　from　sob…sister　scientists！”
“I　doubt　that　they　stole　the　uranium。”
“Why？”
“Crying　about　war　and　loving　your　fellow　man　is　one　thing。　Murder　is　another。　None　of　your
scientists　is　naive　enough　to　mistake　treason　for　legitimate　protest。”
“Then　who　did　it？　The　Japs？　Did　we　tell　Kestrel　too　much？”
“I’m　betting　on　the　Russians。　Have　your　men　check　all　the　phone　calls　they　can　from　New
Mexico　to　San　Francisco　in　the　last　forty…eight　hours。　It　may　give　them　a　lead。　Rerun　all　the
security　checks　in　Los　Alamos　and　at　the　Lawrence　lab。　Put　somebody　to　work　on　a　list　of
people　who　knew　about　the　shipment。　I　hope　it　isn’t　a　long　one。”
“You’re　at　the　top　of　it。　Who　gets　the　job　of　checking　you　out？”
“General；　if　I　stole　it；　you’re　up　shit　creek　without　a　paddle。”
Groves’　silence　was　agreement。　He　sigh