by David Bruno
FOUR LONG MINUTES LATER
JB put his hands on his face in boredom. He had heard the same story a thousand times before.
“As I said, Dad was a steelman and was apprenticed among the greats in England. Back then, it was boom time in the United States. So he decided to come here to try to make his fortune. He was good at what he did and found work in the Pittsburgh steel mills. They called him the ‘Iron Limey.’ He took it as a badge of honor instead of the veiled derogatory insult some intended it to be. He used to tell us that Andrew Carnegie himself went out of his way to try to hire him. But Carnegie died in 1919, so I don’t think that story was true. At least that’s what he used to say.”
Rolling his eyes, JB stole a glance at Jenn to see if she was awake. He was afraid she’d look to make a break for it. Instead she listened attentively. Maybe she really is a keeper, he thought in agreement with his mother. “Focus, Dad, please.”
SIX MORE LONG MINUTES LATER
“It took him several years to get established. He eventually met a young lady named Amanda, my mom. I guess he went to dinner one evening over a friend’s house at Polish Hill and met her there.”
FIVE MORE EXCRUCIATING MINUTES LATER
JB cleared his throat and tapped his wristwatch. “We’re aging here, Dad. Wrap this up, please.”
“JB!” scolded his mother. “Your father loves this story. He’s almost done. Let him finish.” JB quickly closed his mouth as his throat tightened. He popped an antacid.
“That was magic, Mrs. Brown! I mean, ‘Mom.’ You actually got JB to stop talking. Can you teach me?” Sarah put her arm around Jenn as they laughed at JB’s discomfort.
As if nothing had happened, Jon continued. “As I was saying, Mom and Dad named me Jon in honor of his hero, John Brown. We coincidentally share the same last name. No relation. They said John Brown developed a process of armoring ships in the British navy to protect them against the French. I guess armor plating for the wooden ships existed before him, but he created a process to make thick rolled steel suitable for protection of the ships that was better than the standards of the day. Some people called these ships ‘ironsides.’”
Lightly tapping his head on the table, JB murmured, “Not the ship story again.”
“My sister and her family moved away to California some thirty-plus years ago. There was some family argument and they moved. Can you imagine being mad enough to relocate all the way to California? I don’t even remember what we argued about anymore. We exchange Christmas cards but little else. I guess she’s married and has at least one kid, Betty. Maybe some grandkids. That’s about all I know about her and her family.”
“Wrap it up, Dad!” shouted JB, clearly exasperated by this point in the story. “I’ve had it.”
“Jenn, you met my brother Adam and his wife Beverly, a few months ago. He was the black sheep of the family, never worked in the steel business. He’s an IT guy and developed early software. Pretty smart but kind of weird. JB has made us very proud, most recently by bringing you into our family. We hope one day you two will be as happy together as Sarah and I are.” Jon looked at Sarah. She smiled lovingly at her husband in spite of his propensity for long-winded, mind-numbingly boring speeches.
“Thanks, Dad.” Jenn grabbed his arm and put her head on his shoulder.
Jon said, “My story would’ve been better if I had been allowed to show the slides.” He then had a surprise hiccup, lost control, and ripped a reverberating flatulent note off the chair. Thinking maybe nobody heard, with his head still, he shifted his eyes left and right and saw three pairs of eyes staring at him in disgust. He coyly asked, “Should I have let Jenn pull my finger?”
Sarah smacked her forehead while JB sat with his mouth gaping, unable to speak. “Do you want to go to the kitchen and help me wash dishes, dear?” Sarah asked Jenn, giving her an excuse to leave the room.
“Yes, please,” Jenn said in a hurried response as she sprinted to the kitchen.
JB glared at his father in horror.
“What?”
CH 06
SPECIAL PROJECT
JULY 1995: WEDNESDAY, JBMELTING
The phone rang in JB’s office at JBMelting.
“Hello. JB speaking,” he answered.
“This is Dr. Jeffrey Doe. I work for a division of the U. S. Department of Defense. We have a project to discuss with you. Would you be interested in making some castings for us?”
“Of course,” JB replied excitedly. His company was accustomed to occasional government work. It usually required a great deal of attention to detail. But it often paid better than base rate.
“It’s important that we meet in person,” said Dr. Doe.
“We’ve done work for the Department of Defense before. I’d be happy to talk with you. Can you come next Tuesday?” asked JB.
“How about tomorrow?” Dr. Doe asked. “We’re working on a top-priority project and need to get started right away.”
What could be so urgent? “Well, okay. I have a little time around 10:00 a.m. Will that work?”
“Splendid. My colleague Max Hastings and I will meet with you. Please secure a private conference room for our discussion.”
“See you then. I look forward to our meeting,” said JB, blissfully unaware of what was soon to be asked of him and his company. He shook his head and went back to work.
*****
Dr. Doe and Max arrived at JBMelting on Thursday morning. The foundry was nice, as far as foundries go. The entrance had glass doors and opened into a small waiting room, in which hung a sign that read: Welcome Dr. Jeffrey Doe and Max Hastings: United States Department of Defense.
There was a buzz around the foundry. A lucrative government contract was just what JB needed to establish employee confidence in his ability to run the company.
The receptionist, with large two-tone hair and pronounced New Jersey accent, asked the visitors to sign in. While they signed, she presented them with visitor badges, safety glasses, and earplugs.
“I presume you gentlemen will want to see the plant. You’ll need these. Mr. Brown will be with you momentarily.”
As she spoke, JB walked into the reception area and shook the men’s hands. “Welcome to JBMelting. I’m JB. Can I get you gentlemen anything?” he asked. “Please excuse me but we do not allow smoking in the factory.”
“Some water would be good,” said Max.
“Me too, please,” said Dr. Doe as he put out his cigarette.
The receptionist strutted away, wobbling slightly on her four-inch heels, to fetch a couple bottles of water as JB led the men to the conference room. The three men took a seat.
JB opened the conversation. “I’m happy you’re here, gentlemen. How can my company help the U.S. government?” They then paused as the receptionist entered the room to give the men the water. She quickly left.
Dr. Doe wasn’t interested in pleasantries and jumped right in. “Everything we’re about to discuss is top secret. Before we begin, you will have to sign this agreement.” He placed a thick confidentiality agreement in front of JB, who began flipping through the pages. “Basically, it says that you are to keep details of the program we’re about to discuss to yourself. You’re instructed to lie as required to maintain secrecy. Failure to do so will result in your arrest and possible charges of treason. Do you understand?”
“Well, yes, I understand. I suppose. But I can’t be so quick to sign something like this. We’ve not had to do this before with other government contracts. I need my lawyers to read this first. What’s the benefit to JBMelting if I sign?”
“Let me ask you this. What’s your current selling price per pound of iron?” Not waiting for an answer from JB, he answered for him. “Fifty cents per pound? Maybe sixty cents? We’re prepared to offer you fifty dollars per pound.” That attracted JB’s interest. His eyes widened. “I see I have your attention. This is for a total of 2,500 castings, about five pounds each. That’s it for this order. Maybe more in the future b
ut no guarantees. We figure about $625,000 for a week of work. The catch is that you can have no other production going on that week and you must operate with a minimal crew to help maintain secrecy. It will, of course, be supervised by my team as well.”
JB thought about it. This was a great opportunity for him and the company. He thought about his new fiancée and how a deal like this would help him with the expenses of his wedding and engagement ring. He hadn’t had the chance to buy a ring for her after being rushed into the engagement at dinner over the weekend. With no further thought, JB signed the agreement.
Dr. Doe replied, “Excellent. Now that we have an agreement, we can tell you what you’ll be making.”
As Dr. Doe droned on, JB wondered, What’s with all the secrecy? These guys are seriously paranoid. We’ve done this before. That arrogant dude in the black suit gives me the creeps. His sidekick must be mute, or at least have an inability to think for himself. He hasn’t said a word beyond “hello” and ask for water. We sure could use the money from this project though. Sensing Dr. Doe was finished, JB refocused his attention.
“Do you understand this?”
JB thought this must be a very important project and felt honored to have been chosen. It was his patriotic duty to serve his country and make the castings. He straightened his back with pride. “Of course. When do we start?”
“We’ll need to start Monday. This will delay all of your existing orders. You’re authorized to tell those customers that their orders are delayed for reasons of national security. They should be understanding. We don’t want to hurt your regular business.”
“That’s kind of you. Thank you,” replied JB. It all seemed too good to be true, and he was anxious to get started.
With that, the official order was placed within the factory’s entry system. The deal was done.
*****
Dr. Doe and Max left the foundry and discussed the meeting on their drive. The plan had gone off without a hitch, and there was no suspicion of anything but the need to make a critical government order. They smiled at how easily they had carried out the subterfuge. If their plan worked, one or more combinations of diluted meteoric alloy in the castings would be the secret to creating their battalion of new soldiers.
The foundry rushed the manufacture of patterns for the mould and prepped the core machines to be ready in time. Agency technicians bagged pre-measured amounts of powdered meteoric alloy. These bags would be emptied into the ladles by agents of the Agency as they were filled with iron, thus avoiding any error in the process. The plan was foolproof and Dr. Doe and Max were confident in their future success.
“Hey, Max, I meant to tell you. I spoke with our technicians this morning and they confirmed you’re going to be a father. Well, the Agency is. But I thought you should know.”
Max was silent. He became flush and had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew the whole thing with Veronica and him was wrong. He hoped to intervene in some way so the child would have a somewhat decent upbringing, assuming it survived. That was unlikely though, since it would be considered the property of the Agency. Oh, what horror is in store for my poor child?
“Aren’t you excited? Our plan is becoming a reality,” Dr. Doe said with a satisfied smile as he patted Max on the shoulder. “You should be more excited to get the news of twins. Veronica is wearing a necklace with meteoric alloy around her neck to help with the gene catalyzing. We’re closer than ever to success. It’s still early. But we expect them to be born in early December.”
“Twins?”
*****
JB left work a little early that day and went straight to Jenn’s apartment, knowing she was home. “Jenn, I have great news.” He grabbed his fiancée and spun her around and landed a enormous kiss on her lips. “I just landed a huge contract with the government. It starts next Monday. It’s only a one-week deal, but it’ll give the company a huge boost. I’m talking huge, Jenn!”
She gulped a breath and said, “I knew you could run the company! I’m so proud of you. Let’s celebrate this weekend.”
“Great idea. What do you have in mind?” he asked.
“I was thinking… ” she began modestly. “Let’s go to the Poconos and get married!” Jenn squealed with a smile. “Let’s just do it. Our parents will be mad. But we can have a formal ceremony later. We can go over the weekend and get you back here on Monday for this deal. I just don’t want to wait. I love you so much.”
“Seriously?” He paused a moment to reason through the decision that was sure to upset the whole family. “Let’s do it,” JB said, giving in to her wishes. He was giddy and couldn’t imagine things being any better for him and his family-to-be. He had everything he ever wanted, the woman of his dreams, a successful career, and a great family. “Let’s do this!” He paused once more as a bead of sweat formed on his brow. “Are you sure we don’t want to bring our parents along? They’re really going to be mad.”
Jenn pouted. “Mama’s boy.”
*****
On Monday morning, JB came to work with a skip in his stride. He was newly married and placed pictures of his new wife on his desk next to his favorite pieces of slag. Jenn had moved into his house and they were eager to start their future. Their parents were naturally furious: How dare they rush into a wedding without inviting anyone? But the new couple was sure that their upcoming formal ceremony would soothe their family’s hurt feelings, as would the monumental payday that his company was set to accrue in the upcoming week.
The reduced foundry team, six men hand selected by JB, was ready to cast the government parts. Soon after JB got to work, Dr. Doe, Max, and three other men arrived. All five wore dark suits, including the three men who would be working in the plant. They were certainly not properly dressed for a hot foundry environment. JB greeted them at the door and welcomed them to the foundry. Work began immediately. The three men went to the core room, melting department, and moulding departments respectively. They barely spoke, instead hovering around the employees to make sure the processes were followed correctly.
One by one, the foundry team expertly assembled the moulds. At the pour station, the molten iron was inoculated with the secret ingredient by the Agency. Sparks of molten iron splashed like fireworks. They bounced off the iron pourer’s apron and face shield. Within a few seconds, each mould was filled to the top. This process was repeated throughout the day. Air temperatures in the plant exceeded 110°F, and it didn’t take long for the three “assistants” from the Agency to sweat through their suits and get covered in fine sand dust. The foundry workers, who were properly dressed for their work, chuckled wildly at the discomfort of the Feds.
JB was proud of his employees. They were executing the order flawlessly. He walked to the iron-pouring area to observe the process. As each ladle was filled and inoculated, slag formed on the top. All of this slag was removed and placed into a waste hopper. JB was eager to check it out for any unique samples to add to his collection.
At the end of the day, the foundry had successfully made 928 quality castings. They were already well ahead of schedule. Dr. Doe instructed that even the scrap castings and sprues were to be sent with the order. JB figured this had something to do with the inoculant and didn’t question the demand.
JB went home to his new wife. He’d had a great day—the factory had performed well and Dr. Doe seemed pleased. JB had even found his most beautiful chunk of slag yet. It was nearly black opal in color, with small streaks of green and yellow. But it also displayed unique speckles that were unlike anything he had seen before.
JB had an idea. If he could turn the slag into a stone for a ring for Jennifer, she might like it—at least until they had time to shop around for a real diamond ring. He hid the slag in his dresser drawer and figured he could find a jeweler to cut it into a pleasing shape.
*****
The next morning at the foundry, the contingent from the Agency arrived on schedule. They explained to JB that before they could begin c
asting for the day, they would need to inspect the castings from the day before now that they were cooled to room temperature. To do this, they requested a private conference room and asked JB to wait outside during the inspection. Again, JB puzzled at the secrecy and paranoia of this team.
In the privacy of the room, Max opened his briefcase to retrieve his Geiger counter. A set of castings from the previous day was placed on the table, each with a unique number formed in it which corresponded to the inoculant mixture formula. This was done on the pattern as the mould was made. Numbers were changed as the formula changed.
During the previous day, ten different sets of castings had been made. One by one, samples from each batch were tested for radioactivity. They had hoped to see various intensities of radioactivity from each group. Instead, they detected no radiation whatsoever from any casting.
“How can this be?” shouted Dr. Doe angrily as he pounded his fist on the table.
“I don’t know, Jeff. It appears that the meteoric alloy, titanium-44, was not soluble in the iron. But it had to go somewhere,” theorized Max.
“Where could it have gone?” growled Dr. Doe as he lit a cigarette.
“There are only two other places it could have gone. It could have burned off in the air or scraped off the top of the iron in the slag. If it’s in the slag, we need to get all of it and take it back with us,” said Max.
“Agreed. Either way, this experiment is over.” Dr. Doe instructed one of his men to quarantine the slag. The man walked out of the conference room with the Geiger counter, ignoring JB as he passed by.