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Authors: Doug Norton
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reveal it.
So
we are close to having scientific information fingering the country that
enabled terrorists to destroy Las
Vegas, Rick
thought. Thank God it’s not China or Russia!
It’s
going to be awkward knowing what country it is but not knowing who the
terrorists are. The existence of this information, right now, is itself a
problem. How long before it leaks? If I can control it, do I want to
keep it secret or tell the country and the world right away? When do I want the
NSC to know? Pretty soon, because I can’t get the full benefit of these good
minds if I withhold information.
As he had aboard Marine One, Martin felt
events running away from his control. Then his private smart phone vibrated. He
saw it was Ella and, with a gesture to Bart, left the room.
“Rick, Dottie told me you’d gotten a call
from Rog Phelps. My curiosity is killing me!”
“Yep! I think you can imagine what he had
to say, most of it, anyway. I nearly passed him off on Bart, but figured in the
circumstances I ought to at least listen to the Democratic party chairman, even if he did try to block our nomination
last year.”
“Let me guess. He was urging prudence,
statesmanship, multilateralism—that sort of thing.”
“That about sums it up. He cautioned me
not to get the country into another preconceived war of choice, as he put it,
which will infuriate the base and drag our party down for years.”
“So after we’ve been attacked and tens of
thousands of Americans murdered, Roger’s main concern is the politics of it!”
“Well, Ella, he’d probably say that’s
because managing the politics is his job and that’s best done unemotionally. I
grant you he’s not very credible to us—he was so wrong about our decision to
run—but his message matters. We don’t want to go off half-cocked, seeing
everything through some familiar framework of us versus them that may not fit
this situation.”
“Look, Rick, we’re not starting from a
clean slate. America
had several deadly enemies before Las
Vegas was bombed. Not everybody is innocent until proven guilty—you can’t
disregard what was done and said before Las
Vegas. We weren’t attacked by men from Mars! I’m
betting we’ll find it was a group we already know. When that happens—”
“Ella, when that happens, we will decide
what to do about it.”
“Rick, has it already happened?”
“I’m sorry but I have to go. I ducked out
of an NSC meeting. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Ella put her phone down and exhaled, her
cheeks puffing as if blowing out a candle. The
murder of Las Vegas
gets to me. Evil threatens my family and my people again. I’ve seen a society
destroyed by the failure of good men to defeat evil men. It’s not the same for
Rick . . . He’s put those scenes of Las
Vegas away in a box. I want them on the table, in
front of him like they’re in front of me. I’ve got to get him out of his head!
Rick slid back into his seat knowing Ella
realized he had ducked her question, but not ready for the conversation they
would have if she knew what the spooks had told him. While he was away Scott
Hitzleberger had taken over from Hendricks.
“At several points in the process of
turning fissionable material into a bomb, the uranium or plutonium acquires
characteristics, or tags if you will, that are unique to the particular
manufacturing process. Uranium ore contains impurities—we call them trace
elements—indicating where it was mined. Ore
is crushed and mixed with acid, creating uranium oxide. To get the high
concentration of U-235 required for a nuclear explosion, uranium oxide gas is
spun through centrifuges. Then the U-235 is recovered as a solid that is
compacted and machined into two or more pieces of uranium the right shape and
size to produce a nuclear explosion if brought together.”
Hitzleberger’s hands mimicked squeezing
an object.
“This manufacturing process causes the
uranium in a bomb to have a distinctive mix
So
we are close to having scientific information fingering the country that
enabled terrorists to destroy Las
Vegas, Rick
thought. Thank God it’s not China or Russia!
It’s
going to be awkward knowing what country it is but not knowing who the
terrorists are. The existence of this information, right now, is itself a
problem. How long before it leaks? If I can control it, do I want to
keep it secret or tell the country and the world right away? When do I want the
NSC to know? Pretty soon, because I can’t get the full benefit of these good
minds if I withhold information.
As he had aboard Marine One, Martin felt
events running away from his control. Then his private smart phone vibrated. He
saw it was Ella and, with a gesture to Bart, left the room.
“Rick, Dottie told me you’d gotten a call
from Rog Phelps. My curiosity is killing me!”
“Yep! I think you can imagine what he had
to say, most of it, anyway. I nearly passed him off on Bart, but figured in the
circumstances I ought to at least listen to the Democratic party chairman, even if he did try to block our nomination
last year.”
“Let me guess. He was urging prudence,
statesmanship, multilateralism—that sort of thing.”
“That about sums it up. He cautioned me
not to get the country into another preconceived war of choice, as he put it,
which will infuriate the base and drag our party down for years.”
“So after we’ve been attacked and tens of
thousands of Americans murdered, Roger’s main concern is the politics of it!”
“Well, Ella, he’d probably say that’s
because managing the politics is his job and that’s best done unemotionally. I
grant you he’s not very credible to us—he was so wrong about our decision to
run—but his message matters. We don’t want to go off half-cocked, seeing
everything through some familiar framework of us versus them that may not fit
this situation.”
“Look, Rick, we’re not starting from a
clean slate. America
had several deadly enemies before Las
Vegas was bombed. Not everybody is innocent until proven guilty—you can’t
disregard what was done and said before Las
Vegas. We weren’t attacked by men from Mars! I’m
betting we’ll find it was a group we already know. When that happens—”
“Ella, when that happens, we will decide
what to do about it.”
“Rick, has it already happened?”
“I’m sorry but I have to go. I ducked out
of an NSC meeting. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Ella put her phone down and exhaled, her
cheeks puffing as if blowing out a candle. The
murder of Las Vegas
gets to me. Evil threatens my family and my people again. I’ve seen a society
destroyed by the failure of good men to defeat evil men. It’s not the same for
Rick . . . He’s put those scenes of Las
Vegas away in a box. I want them on the table, in
front of him like they’re in front of me. I’ve got to get him out of his head!
Rick slid back into his seat knowing Ella
realized he had ducked her question, but not ready for the conversation they
would have if she knew what the spooks had told him. While he was away Scott
Hitzleberger had taken over from Hendricks.
“At several points in the process of
turning fissionable material into a bomb, the uranium or plutonium acquires
characteristics, or tags if you will, that are unique to the particular
manufacturing process. Uranium ore contains impurities—we call them trace
elements—indicating where it was mined. Ore
is crushed and mixed with acid, creating uranium oxide. To get the high
concentration of U-235 required for a nuclear explosion, uranium oxide gas is
spun through centrifuges. Then the U-235 is recovered as a solid that is
compacted and machined into two or more pieces of uranium the right shape and
size to produce a nuclear explosion if brought together.”
Hitzleberger’s hands mimicked squeezing
an object.
“This manufacturing process causes the
uranium in a bomb to have a distinctive mix
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