Read Online Assassins Have Starry Eyes by Donald Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Donald Hamilton
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bloom—the red, not the yellow—that I hadn’t seen before. I reminded myself to say something nice about it as an exercise in diplomacy, before we left.
“I’m quitting, Greg,” Jack said.
I looked at him for a moment. I had noticed that he had been looking kind of worn and preoccupied Christmas Eve; he looked worse now. He was wearing boots, jeans, and a red wool shirt—they run those tests off in pretty rough country. There was nothing to be gained by taking it big. I said, “This is a hell of a time of night for it.”
“I wrote up my report on the plane coming back,” he said. “I stopped by at the Project on the way. Van Horn was there; I turned it over to him. You can read it in the morning. I’ve had it, Greg.”
“Okay,” I said. “’By, kid.”
“I mean it,” he said. “I’m not kidding.”
“I’m not arguing with you,” I said.
“Is that the way you feel about it?”
“Do my feelings enter into the equation?”
“Well,” he said, “a little. You brought me out here. I appreciate that. It was a big opportunity, and I’ve tried to do my best by it. Also, you’re a… oh, hell, you’re a pretty good guy, and we’ve had a lot of fun together. I hate to run off and leave you in a spot just when everybody’s going to be wanting results. But I’ve got to do it, Greg.” He got up and walked to the picture window and parted the drapes and looked out at nothing in particular. “I’ve just come from there,” he said quietly. “You don’t know what it’s like. It’s… it’s a hundred square miles of… of nothing. Nothing but glass.”
“Glass?”
“Volcanic glass. Stuff like obsidian. What you get when molten rock cools too quickly to crystallize.” He had been reading up on geology since he caught the uranium fever.
“A hundred miles of glass,” I said.
“That’s right.”
“How thick?”
“Several feet, at least.”
“But not more than several feet?”
He glanced at me. “No. It followed the surface, all right, just as you figured it would.”
“Hot?”
“Temperature or radioactivity?”
“Both.”
“We couldn’t get on it. It was still smoking. Radioactivity wasn’t enough to worry about, except for the usual high readings near ground zero, from the trigger explosion. They sent a ’copter in to check; also to look for any signs of Northrop and his team. They didn’t find anything. No block house, no observation posts, nothing. Just glass.” He drew a long breath. “Looks like you had it figured about right. It ought to make quite a weapon—if you can learn how to control it.”
“But you aren’t going to help?”
He shook his head. “I’ve had it, Greg. I don’t want any part of it from now on. To be honest with you, I’m scared stiff.”
I looked at him, and shifted my gaze to Ruth’s cactus. She had not got the red quite right after all. The real flower had a tinge of purple.
“Jack,” I said, “what stopped it?”
He shook his head again. “I don’t know. What stops a chain reaction in an unlimited mass of material? God, maybe.”
“That doesn’t help much,” I said. “We can’t draft Him. Besides, Washington would probably turn Him down as a security risk. After all, isn’t He related to that well-known radical Jesus Christ?”
Jack said, “It doesn’t mean anything to you, does it? A hundred square miles of the face of the earth fused to nothing… What if it hadn’t stopped, Greg? Have you thought of that?”
I said, “It had occurred to me.”
“One of the aerial observers said it looked as if somebody had dropped a coal on a piece of brown paper. You know how paper will sometimes char and glow for a while, a kind of hole growing away from the central point. And sometimes it will go out of its own accord. And sometimes… sometimes, if a breath of air strikes it just right, maybe, it will burst into flames—”
“Jack,” I said, “you’re playing games with words. You’re trying to equate a
“I’m quitting, Greg,” Jack said.
I looked at him for a moment. I had noticed that he had been looking kind of worn and preoccupied Christmas Eve; he looked worse now. He was wearing boots, jeans, and a red wool shirt—they run those tests off in pretty rough country. There was nothing to be gained by taking it big. I said, “This is a hell of a time of night for it.”
“I wrote up my report on the plane coming back,” he said. “I stopped by at the Project on the way. Van Horn was there; I turned it over to him. You can read it in the morning. I’ve had it, Greg.”
“Okay,” I said. “’By, kid.”
“I mean it,” he said. “I’m not kidding.”
“I’m not arguing with you,” I said.
“Is that the way you feel about it?”
“Do my feelings enter into the equation?”
“Well,” he said, “a little. You brought me out here. I appreciate that. It was a big opportunity, and I’ve tried to do my best by it. Also, you’re a… oh, hell, you’re a pretty good guy, and we’ve had a lot of fun together. I hate to run off and leave you in a spot just when everybody’s going to be wanting results. But I’ve got to do it, Greg.” He got up and walked to the picture window and parted the drapes and looked out at nothing in particular. “I’ve just come from there,” he said quietly. “You don’t know what it’s like. It’s… it’s a hundred square miles of… of nothing. Nothing but glass.”
“Glass?”
“Volcanic glass. Stuff like obsidian. What you get when molten rock cools too quickly to crystallize.” He had been reading up on geology since he caught the uranium fever.
“A hundred miles of glass,” I said.
“That’s right.”
“How thick?”
“Several feet, at least.”
“But not more than several feet?”
He glanced at me. “No. It followed the surface, all right, just as you figured it would.”
“Hot?”
“Temperature or radioactivity?”
“Both.”
“We couldn’t get on it. It was still smoking. Radioactivity wasn’t enough to worry about, except for the usual high readings near ground zero, from the trigger explosion. They sent a ’copter in to check; also to look for any signs of Northrop and his team. They didn’t find anything. No block house, no observation posts, nothing. Just glass.” He drew a long breath. “Looks like you had it figured about right. It ought to make quite a weapon—if you can learn how to control it.”
“But you aren’t going to help?”
He shook his head. “I’ve had it, Greg. I don’t want any part of it from now on. To be honest with you, I’m scared stiff.”
I looked at him, and shifted my gaze to Ruth’s cactus. She had not got the red quite right after all. The real flower had a tinge of purple.
“Jack,” I said, “what stopped it?”
He shook his head again. “I don’t know. What stops a chain reaction in an unlimited mass of material? God, maybe.”
“That doesn’t help much,” I said. “We can’t draft Him. Besides, Washington would probably turn Him down as a security risk. After all, isn’t He related to that well-known radical Jesus Christ?”
Jack said, “It doesn’t mean anything to you, does it? A hundred square miles of the face of the earth fused to nothing… What if it hadn’t stopped, Greg? Have you thought of that?”
I said, “It had occurred to me.”
“One of the aerial observers said it looked as if somebody had dropped a coal on a piece of brown paper. You know how paper will sometimes char and glow for a while, a kind of hole growing away from the central point. And sometimes it will go out of its own accord. And sometimes… sometimes, if a breath of air strikes it just right, maybe, it will burst into flames—”
“Jack,” I said, “you’re playing games with words. You’re trying to equate a
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