“For what you have just described—well, one man will not be enough. You’ll need a team. Perhaps five or six highly qualified men.”
Anne gave him the sweetest smile she could muster.
“I wonder where I could find such men …”
“I have a scheming femme fatale as a cousin!” Martin laughed. “You win! I’ll talk it over with my lads. Don’t worry—I won’t give anything away until I get your okay. Okay?”
After lunch, Martin drove Anne to Heathrow airport. At the terminal, they parted with a hug and a cordial kiss, which seemed to have become habitual.
All well and fine, thought Anne to herself on the Air France flight back to Paris. But nothing can be done unless we find the funding. The admiral’s lead may not be alive or his contribution insufficient for our needs. We’ll need additional financiers, just to be on the safe side. There was this American billionaire at a benefit dinner for starving African children I attended. He gave quite an impressive speech, indicating his pocket was open for worthy causes—and indeed, his donation was gratifyingly generous. Something Dodson. I still have the agenda for that dinner somewhere at home—I’ll have to look him up. Then I’ll see if I can find a way to contact him.
Anne dozed for the rest of the flight and awoke when the plane landed at the Charles De Gaulle Airport. She took a taxi to her apartment. The taxi’s radio blared out the announcements of the Iranian president that “no one could prevent them from developing nuclear power.” For peaceful purposes, to be sure, but the international community was starkly aware of his true intentions—on numerous occasions he had not troubled himself to conceal them.
Oh, hell! We’ve got to hurry. In just two or three years he’ll have the bomb, and that’s exactly what will bring about the global calamity we’re trying to prevent. If we don’t come up with something in a year or two it’ll be too late, and we’ll witness the worst cataclysm in history. And most likely—we won’t survive it.
In her mailbox, Anne found an invitation to an international art exhibition featuring prominent artists who would arrive from the USA and Russia. Interesting, she thought, and noted the date and time.
THIRTEEN
Sir Cedric was perusing a routine report from one of his laboratories when the phone rang. His secretary announced that Albert Allier was on the line.
“Mon cher ami!” the knight bellowed into the mouthpiece in his terrible accent. “It’s been a long time since you last called up an old colleague!”
“True, true,” came the voice over the phone. “But, as they say, better late than never. Listen, my friend, there is something I need to discuss with you quite urgently. Are you planning a visit to Paris? Or would you rather I visit you in London, which I would gladly do?”
Professor Albert Allier was the head of the Paris University Irradiation Research and Development department. He and Sir Cedric had spent many hours together on joint projects. Sir Cedric remembered him as an unpretentious man, unassuming and retiring, who would rather bury himself in solitary work than be seen in public, even on his birthday. The shy demeanor, however, belied a brilliant scientific mind that more than once came up with practical solutions for hitherto insurmountable problems. He had a knack for finding the golden path between expensive excellence and cheap workarounds, resulting in affordable quality merchandise.
Sir Cedric clapped a silent hand to his forehead. How could I have forgotten Allier? His expertise in radiation could be just the thing we need for the association.
“Well, what a coincidence, Albert,” he said hurriedly. “I was just about to visit Paris for a private celebration. A dear friend is getting married tomorrow for the third time, and I haven’t even met the poor bride-to-be yet. I’m sure I could afford some time to visit you at the laboratory. Would tomorrow do?”
“I am overjoyed that you can make it so soon, my friend. I’m sure you will find you have not wasted your time. I shall be expecting you for lunch, then.”
“Absolument!” Sir Cedric mangled the French word. “Au revoir.”
Sir Cedric and Professor Allier sat opposite each other in one of the brasseries near Jardin du Luxemburg. The professor had insisted they postpone their academic discussion until after they had “refreshed” themselves. Now, with the pleasantries over and with a full belly, they each sipped on steaming cups of coffee.
“That was delicious, mon ami Albert,” Sir Cedric said, covering a small belch with his napkin. “Such a tiny establishment, such a gourmet meal. Your taste, as usual, is impeccable.”
“Thank you, Cedric. Now, here is what I wished to discuss with you.”
The professor was a medium-sized man of fifty-nine, with a short brown beard and a nervous smile. He wore a brown overcoat and gloves, and carried an old-fashioned satchel. Sir Cedric always thought that if he would also wear spectacles he could be the twin of Émile Zola.
“Three days ago,” Professor Allier continued, “we were experimenting with a variant of the latest version of my irradiation machine. It’s all here in my papers. Previous tests indicated it would be ideal in the control of certain kinds of pests if radiated onto fields from a low-flying plane. So we took it up in a crop duster and activated it from about three hundred meters up over a test field. We irradiated straight down and covered an area of about six hundred meters in diameter. This was an error—we overshot the boundaries of the test field.”
Sir Cedric was displaying interest, but inwardly he was getting slightly bored. He was eager to question his colleague on how he could contribute to the association’s cause. He finished his own coffee in one gulp.
Professor Allier paused to take a breath.
“About fifty meters beyond the edge of the test field we noticed an explosion. At first I didn’t relate our experiment with this explosion—I thought it was just a coincidence. That evening I verified that the area was an abandoned quarry and that a leftover container of explosives had probably been forgotten there. Nobody was hurt and there was no damage.
“It was then I began wondering about the connection. I hurried to my laboratory and a couple of quite simple tests indicated positively that this particular type of irradiation would cause dynamite to detonate. Of course, the parameters like angle of incidence, power magnitude, duration of irradiation, distance of the target, and many more, all have to be taken into account, but the principle remains the same.
“And that, Cedric, is what I wanted to discuss with you.”
Halfway through the professor’s speech Sir Cedric’s attitude had made an abrupt about-face. This looked like something he could use to the association’s benefit. He paid close attention to Allier’s description, memorizing key phrases for further interrogation later. However, the task at hand was to find out the professor’s political leaning. He put on his “amazed scientist” expression.
“Why, Albert, it looks to me that you have made a major breakthrough! With the proper implementation you could easily win a Nobel physics award for this.”
”I wouldn’t go so far,” Allier said modestly. “You have said the key words—proper implementation. Imagine what this invention could do in the wrong hands, or even if the information was made public.”
“I see what you mean. Gangsters, mafia—they could easily make things messy for all of us. Even worse,” Sir Cedric glanced at his colleague, “certain countries could… well, I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Again, you are taking simple ideas very far, my friend,” the professor laughed. “I was only thinking about criminal elements…”
Sir Cedric decided to take the plunge. He talked about dangerous weaponry in the hands of tyrants, about the looming disaster of hundreds of millions dead in a global atomic war, and about what was being done to prevent it.
“You paint a very gloomy picture, Cedric,” Allier said. “It is quite out of my grasp. I agree with your analysis, but I don’t think anything can be done about it.”
“How true. We, the regular citizens of the
world, can do nothing but sit back and watch missiles with nuclear warheads rain down on us.”
“That’s a very pessimistic approach, don’t you think? We mustn’t lose hope. Perhaps something will pop up to save us.”
“Hope is always a good thing, Albert. I’ve been told that our only hope—and I stress the word—is that these irresponsible tyrants lose their authority with their own people. As no democracy is going to act in suppressing the dictators, it is their own subjects who should overthrow them.”
“My dear Cedric, today a subversive military takeover would never work. Maybe it would have a long time ago, but today it needs a rival government to provoke such a rebellion. And remember, even if you succeed you’ll probably wind up with the same type of regime you’re trying to overthrow.”
“You’re absolutely right! That is why my hypothesis lies in the fact that it is the people themselves that witness their leaders’ downfall through shaming them, embarrassing them, showing them up as an ‘emperor with no clothes’. Do you see where I am heading?”
The professor rubbed his beard.
“You have a point,” he said. “If successful, such an action would deter atomic war, at least for a while. After all, a dictator is only human, isn’t he? Just like we are. The difference is only in his megalomaniac ambition. But again, this needs very heavy preparatory work. Who could accomplish such a job?”
“I really couldn’t say,” Sir Cedric said carefully. “But as you can see, my opinions are similar to yours. I’ll sniff around. If I get a whiff of anything, would you like me to inform you?”
“But of course! Every sane person must assist in diverting nuclear war.”
Sir Cedric gave himself a mental pat on the shoulder. True, this was not full recruitment, but he had no doubt that this ripe fruit was ready to be picked. Now it was time to get access to Allier’s invention.
“As to your laser discovery, Albert—perhaps you should experiment with additional types of explosives.”
“Yes, I know,” the professor said sorrowfully. “But I cannot continue these experiments in my laboratory. The university would never allow dangerous explosives within its compound. And as the pest control test was a failure, oh yes, none of the pests in the field were affected at all, I will not get the funding or the permission to repeat it. I was wondering …”
“… if in my laboratories …”
“… you could continue to …”
Sir Cedric burst out laughing.
“Of course—think no more about it!” Sir Cedric was elated. “My laboratories are privately owned and I can do there as I please. Just find a way to get the apparatus over to me in London.”
Professor Albert Allier was no less jubilant.
“I shall send it to you first thing tomorrow morning. Together with an operations manual and specifications for further experiments.”
“That would be excellent,” Sir Cedric said.
“Thank you so much, my dear friend,” the professor said, smiling from ear to ear. “You don’t know how much this means to me. Please inform me of your results as soon as possible. I shall look forward to visiting London and reviewing them with you.”
“You’re most welcome!”
At this turn of events, Sir Cedric decided to go the whole hog and recruit Allier. Everything proceeded smoothly according to the “ten commandments,” though the professor was hesitant and somewhat reserved. Sir Cedric attributed this fact to Allier’s natural timidity, and he repeatedly assured him that he, the professor, would never need to take an active part in any stage of the association’s endeavors.
“Your invention,” Sir Cedric said, “is in itself a noble contribution to our efforts, which we shall never forget. And you may rest assured that no one outside the association will ever learn about this conversation. This secrecy will benefit us as well as you.” He went on to further emphasize the need for the utmost confidentiality on the professor’s part.
Sir Cedric had a funny feeling regarding Professor Albert Allier. On the way back to London, he mentally compared Allier’s reaction to that of Rosetti in Milan. The latter was overflowing with enthusiasm, prepared to go out of his way to get things working. Allier, on the other hand, was hesitant and reserved throughout. Different people react in different ways, he consoled himself. In time, Allier will discover that he is absolutely safe, and perhaps then he’ll be less jittery. But I could not afford his invention to slip away—it is far too important for the association.
FOURTEEN
Neil Bennett was very much alive. Advanced in years, to be sure, but still spry and alert. He was tickled pink that Admiral Stone wanted to meet with him after all these years. A retired colonel himself, he enjoyed discussions with fellow servicemen. In his entire financial career he had met many high-ranking officers, but none of them was an admiral. Naturally, he agreed to the meeting, and he had his staff prepare the living room in his mansion in Bel Air with appropriate memorabilia that, in his opinion, would interest an admiral. There was the jet fighter he helped financing for the American Navy, and the trust fund for financing advanced studies for deserving cadets.
The association needed huge sums of money—several millions of dollars and probably more for running operations. The admiral had mentally built up a case that he intended to put before the millionaire—ten million would probably be more than enough, so his opening gambit would be for fifteen million.
The admiral usually detested transatlantic flights and felt quite grubby when he alighted. He freshened up at the airport terminal and took a cab to Bennett’s estate.
The meeting itself went off in a friendly atmosphere. Drinks and snacks were abundant, and the admiral took his time admiring the framed photographs, shields, and trophies adorning every inch of wall space in Bennett’s study and living room. Bennett took great pride in relating his achievements during his long life, and the admiral tried to counter with stories of his own exploits.
As planned, the admiral gradually brought the topic of conversation around to world affairs. He followed the ten rules step by step. He had prepared for a long argument—after all why should this very rich person want to help an enterprise such as this on the basis of just a verbal discussion? Therefore, he was rather surprised by the response he got.
Bennett stood up.
“Come, young man—everybody is young in comparison to me. Let’s stroll outside in the garden.”
They both walked in silence alongside blooming rosebushes and pools full of enormous goldfish.
“I prefer that none of my staff overhear what I have to say to you.” The old man put a hand on the admiral’s shoulder. “Look at me, Admiral Stone. I am ninety-five years old, even though I feel a young eighty. I am not fooling myself—I shall be dead, probably sooner than later. And before I die I want to leave a mark in this world. Oh, I know my name flies on many banners, and I’m honored on many plaques—perhaps they’ll even issue a stamp with my picture on it. But that is not what I mean.”
“It is because of your fame and fortune that I have contacted you,” the admiral said.
“No matter. This is something I wish to do, and I have been racking my brains for the correct legacy I wish to leave to posterity. Note that I am not ashamed of the projects I have helped succeed during my lifetime. On the contrary—I am very proud that countless people have benefited, learned, and prospered as a result of my involvement. It would seem, admiral, that to want more would be as megalomaniac as the dictators you have described to me.”
“I can’t see how.”
The old man halted in the path and turned to the admiral.
“I want to change history,” he said simply. “I have, indeed, done a bit to improve a tiny part of my country. But what I really want is to change the course of human history. You see, dear Admiral Stone, I happen to agree with your statements concerning our global political situation. I believe that civilization deserves better than to be extinguished by fanatics with hydrogen bombs. Call me
selfish if you like—I didn’t get to where I am by being a spendthrift. But I want my acknowledged legacy to live on, even if I have to take part in subterfuge in order to ensure it.”
“I understand,” the admiral said softly.
“And I can afford it. You came to me in an attempt to find out which way my opinions on democracy and tyranny were leaning. Now you know. But I have learned something, too. There is hope, there is a chance to do something about it. You have provided no evidence for me to believe you—just a very convincing argument.”
“I can assure you …” the admiral began. The old man raised his hand.
“It doesn’t really matter, Admiral Stone. I am the one who’s gambling here. I am taking the risk. Either you are the world’s greatest con artist—in which case you deserve to steal from me whatever you can—or you can truly confront the biggest threat this planet has ever known. And in that case, I want to be in on the game—even if my name remains unknown. And I’ll contribute whatever is needed.”
There was a long pause. The old man took the admiral by the elbow and steered him back toward the house.
“I am not going to ask you for the figure you had in mind. If I did, I’d have to ask you how you came to that number and how you intended to spend the money. So I’m going to give you a lump sum—no questions asked. And I’m going to continue believing you have not tricked me.”
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