Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第8部分

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Once　the　plateau　had　been　a　beautiful　setting　for　a　boarding　school。　The　cabins　remained；　but
were　surrounded　by　angular　buildings　and　signs　that　said；　RESTRICTED；　MOST
RESTRICTED；　or　POSITIVELY　NO　ADMITTANCE。　A　high　fence　enclosed　Los　Alamos；
giving　it　the　appearance　of　a　prison　camp；　an　appearance　reinforced　by　guards　who　patrolled　the
perimeter　of　the　fence　with　dogs　and　automatic　weapons。
The　faint　scent　of　heat　and　dust　gave　way　to　something　more　subtle；　more　pervasive。　Finn’s　neck
prickled。　He　could　almost　smell　the　acrid　sweat　of　tension；　of　sleeplessness；　of　fear。　It　was　the
odor　of　men　living　under　inhuman　pressure　because　each　day　brought　more　impossible
demands；　demands　that　must　be　met　because　the　alternative　was　unthinkable。
“Until　seven　months　ago；”　said　Groves；　as　they　walked；　“we　were　afraid　that　the　Germans
would　build　an　atomic　bomb　before　we　did。　England　couldn’t　have　held　out　against　that。　The
English　Channel　would　have　become　a　German　bathtub。　That　would　have　made　the　Normandy
invasion　impossible。　If　the　Germans　had　put　the　bomb　together　first；　there　would　have　been　no
V…E　Day。”
The　General　kept　his　voice　low　out　of　habit。　Finn　sensed　a　terrible　strain　in　it。　He　tried　to
imagine　what　it　was　like　to　know　that　the　future　of　many　nations　quite　literally　depended　on　your
own　success　or　failure。　It　was　the　kind　of　responsibility　that　could　erode　a　man’s　nerve　and
ultimately　his　sanity。　Then　he　realized　that　it　was　precisely　the　kind　of　responsibility　Groves　had
wished　on　him。　Suddenly　Finn　felt　as　though　he　was　back　in　the　jungle　again；　walking　a　narrow
trail　into　ambush。　Only　this　time　much　more　was　at　risk　than　his　personal　survival。
“Fortunately；”　said　Groves；　“the　Germans　didn’t　get　a　chance　to　make　the　bomb。”
“Were　they　close？”
Groves　shrugged。　“Not　as　close　as　we　are。　Hitler　was　too　stupid　to　know　the　bomb　was　his　best
chance　for　victory。　He　kept　meddling　with　his　scientists。　Roosevelt　had　more　sense。　He　didn’t
care　how　we　got　it　done；　just　so　we　did　it。　Truman　is　the　same　way；　when　gun　soldiers　and　sob
sisters　leave　him　alone。”
“What　about　the　Japanese？”　said　Finn。
“They’re　working　on　two　weapons。　The　first；　called　Project　A；　is　an　atomic　bomb。　They　aren’t　as
close　as　the　Germans　were　to　building　one。　Hitler　didn’t　give　the　Japs　any　help。　He　didn’t　trust
his　little　yellow　brothers。　The　Japs　worked　long　enough　to　understand　the　engineering　problems
of　the　bomb。　They　decided　that　a　bomb　was　possible；　but　there　was　no　way　any　country　could
build　a　workable　bomb　before　1950。　On　my　worst　days　I　agree　with　them。”　Groves　grimaced。
“The　Japs　figured　the　war　would　be　over　by　1950；　so　they　put　all　their　efforts　into　Project　B。”
“Do　we　know　what　that　is？”
“A　weapon　that　kills　with　light。”
“What？”
Page　18
“Light。　Like　a　flashlight；　only　a　million　times　more　intense。”
“Does　it　work？”
“Yes。　But　OSS　says　the　weapon　is　too　cumbersome　to　take　into　battle。　It’s　just　a　matter　of　time；
though。　Like　the　bomb。”
There　was　a　long　silence　that　ended　in　Groves’　sigh。　“Christ；”　he　muttered。　Then；　“You’ve
studied　the　Japs　so　long　you’re　practically　one　yourself。　Do　you　think　they’ll　ever　accept
unconditional　surrender？　They’ve　got　to　know　that　they’re　losing　the　war。”
“Losing　face　is　worse　than　death。　They　won’t　–　can’t　–　accept　unconditional　surrender。　It　would
be　racial　suicide。　But　in　Juarez；　I’ve　heard　rumors　of　peace　feelers　from　Tokyo。”
“That’s　all　they　are　–　rumors。　Stalin　told　the　President　that　the　Japanese　overtures　to　Russia　were
too　vague　to　act　on。”
“Russians　have　less　to　gain　from　peace　than　we　do；”　said　Finn。
“Cynical　soul；　aren’t　you？”
“So　is　Stalin。”
“And　Truman　is　a　realist。　After　Pearl　Harbor；　the　voters　would　have　his　nuts　if　he　gave　the　Japs
an　easy　peace。”　Groves　knuckled　his　eyes。　The　skin　around　them　was　slack；　darkened　by　fatigue；
the　same　fatigue　that　had　eroded　his　military　posture。　Yet　as　he　straightened；　he　again　exuded　a
sense　of　unswerving；　almost　fanatical　purpose。　“It　always　comes　down　to　the　bomb。　So　be　it。”
Groves　walked　toward　a　building　that　had　a　sign　in　front　of　it　stating：
G　Division
Omega　Site　Gamma　Building
POSITIVELY　NO　ADMITTANCE
The　sign　was　small；　plain；　unobtrusive。　The　building　was　new；　almost　raw。　The　guard　saluted
Groves；　then　looked　from　him　to　Finn。
“He’s　clear；　soldier；”　said　Groves。　“His　name　is　Finn。”
“Yes；　sir。”
The　guard　got　out　two　small　cardboard　badges　and　wrote　a　name　on　each。　Inside　each　badge
was　a　strip　of　undeveloped　film。
“Turn　this　in　when　you　leave；　sir。”
The　guard　clipped　one　cardboard　square　onto　the　General’s　collar　and　one　onto　Finn’s。　When
they　had　moved　beyond　the　hearing　of　the　guard；　Groves　spoke　quietly。
“I　want　you　to　appreciate　just　what　you　are　guarding。　Words　like　rare　and　scarce　don’t　really
describe　it。　Irreplacable　comes　close。　The　guts　of　the　bomb　is　about　eight　kilos　of　U…235。”
“Less　than　twenty…five　pounds？”　asked　Finn。　“Is　that　all　that　you　need　to　make　a　20；000…ton
bang？”
“Yes；　but　we’re　dealing　with　one　of　the　rarest　elements　on　earth；”　said　Groves。　“To　get　it；　you
start　with　an　ore　called　pitchblende。　There’s　about　an　ounce　of　pure　uranium　in　each　tone　of　ore；
but　that’s　the　least　of　the　problem。　There　are　two　kinds　of　uranium。　We　only　use　one　kind；
U…235。　We　have　to　separate　it　from　the　U…238　atom　by　atom。　To　get　seven　pounds　of　U…235；　we
have　to　process　half　a　ton　of　U…238。　It’s　an　engineering　nightmare。”
Finn　listened　while　his　eyes　checked　off　doors　that　were　closed　and　open。　The　smell　of　tension
was　stronger　here；　enclosed　by　pale　green　corridors　and　rooms。　Then　he　realized　that　the　smell
of　tension　was　on　his　own　body；　too。
“We’re　not　separating　uranium　here；”　said　Groves。　“That’s　done　in　Tennessee。　Here　we　just
assemble　the　bomb。”
“How　does　the　separated　uranium　get　from　Tennessee　to　Los　Alamos？”
“Convoy。　Well…guarded　but　discreet。　The　fewer　people　who　even　suspect　there’s　something
valuable　being　shipped；　the　better　I　sleep。　We　only　get　a　few　micrograms　at　a　time；　anyway。”
“How　does　the　uranium　get　from　here　to　Hunters　Point？”
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“No。　No　one　knows　that　yet；　not　even　the　men　who　will　take　it　there。　And　I　won’t　tell　anybody
else　until　they’re　beyond　Los　Alamos　and　whatever　goddamn　Russian　spies　we　haven’t　caught
yet。”
Groves　gestured　Finn　into　a　long；　narrow　room　that　overlooked　a　laboratory。　Between　the
room　and　the　lab　was　a　lead…lined；　chest…high　wall　topped　by　a　row　of　leaded　glass　windows。
Every　detail　of　the　lab　was　outlined　by　cold　light　pouring　down　from　ranks　of　fluorescent　lamps。
“We　can　hear　them；”　said　Groves；　gesturing　to　a　ceiling　speaker；　“but　they　can’t　hear　us。”
Inside　the　laboratory　stood　a　container　that　resembled　a　nickel…plated　milk　can。　The　top　was　off；
revealing　a　thick　lead　lining。
“See　that　can？”　asked　Groves。　“That’s　what　the　uranium　will　be　shipped　in。　It　will　be　welded　to　a
cabin　floor　of　the　Indianapolis。”
Finn　looked　at　the　cylinder。　It　was　about　eighteen　inches　in　diameter　and　about　two　feet　high。
The　top　had　a　curved　metal　handle　like　the　lid　of　a　garbage　can。　The　container　did　not　look　big
enough　to　hold　the　future　of　the　world。
Finn　looked　beyond　the　can。　There　were　only　three　men　in　the　laboratory。　Two　of　them　were
seated　at　a　table　against　the　far　wall；　apparently　taking　notes。　They　had　the　look　of　men　who　had
been　up　all　night。　The　third　man　looked　equally　tired。　He　was　seated　on　a　high　stool　near　the
center　of　the　room。　In　front　of　him　was　a　table。　On　the　table　was　a　black　metal　box　with　dials；
meters　and　what　looked　like　a　long　narrow　microphone　attached　by　a　cord　to　the　box。
The　table　also　held　a　glass…walled　container　that　looked　like　an　ordinary　aquarium　turned　on　end。
At　the　bottom　of　the　container；　in　about　three　feet　of　water；　was　a　lump　of　white　metal。　A
smaller　piece　of　the　same　metal　was　suspended　above　the　water　from　a　tripod　that　straddled　the
aquarium。
“Those　two　pieces　are　all　the　pure　uranium…235　in　the　world；”　said　Groves。
Finn　looked　at　the　metal。　He　could　have　held　both　pieces　in　his　hands　at　once。　They　did　not　look
powerful　enough　to　blow　up　the　room；　much　less　Japan。
“How　tricky　is　uranium　to　handle？　Is　it　like　nitroglycerin？”
“No。　It　won’t　explode　if　you　drop　it。　Uranium　is　more　subtle。　It’s　radioactive；　which　means　it
naturally　gives　off　high…energy　particles。　A　few　of　those　panicles　won’t　hurt　you。　Too　many　will
kill　you。　But　so　long　as　you　keep　those　two　chunks　of　uranium　apart；　they’re　about　as　dangerous
as　cookies　and　milk。”
“Now；”　continued　Groves；　“the　closer　together　the　pieces；　the　more　energy　they　give　off；　and
the　more　dangerous　they　are。　If　you　set　those　chunks　down　next　to　each　other　you’ll　get　lots　of
radiation；　some　heat　and　a　little　light。　Deadly　as　hell；　but　no　explosion。　But　if　you　slammed　that
U…235　together　quickly；　with　an　explosive　charge；　the　atoms　would　radiate　their　particles　all　at
once；　literally　blowing　themselves　apart。　That　gives　you　one　hell　of　a　bang。　Those　eight　kilos　of
U…235　are　the　explosive　equivalent　of　forty　million　pounds　of　TNT。”
Finn　looked　at　the　gleaming　metal　and　found　such　power　h