Operation Damocles (18 page)

“That brings up the problem of frequency,” said Wallace, intent on Johnson. “How does the beam couple with all the different elements involved at the same time, in order to generate repulsion uniformly throughout the target?”

“There are a couple of possibilities there also,” said Johnson. “First of all, one could select a fundamental, or even a harmonic that closely matches the resonant period of most of the elements in the target material. Another way would be to pick a specific frequency that is resonant with a single element that is common to most of the compounds that make up the target materials. For example, an element that is common to steel, plant life, soil, et cetera—even to fuels and lubricants—is carbon. It’s the basis of all organic tissues, including animal life.”

“But it flashes water into steam, Dr. Johnson,” said Mercer, “and that’s simply hydrogen and oxygen.”

“If you’ll reflect, Dr. Mercer,” said Johnson. “I’m sure you’ll agree that as far as we know, it flashes groundwater into steam. Groundwater is comprised of hydrogen and oxygen, just as is pure water, but it also has dissolved impurities—minerals, decomposed plant and animal life, acid chains—a true potluck stew of hydrated compounds and elements, including carbon. The energy released by the fissioning of carbon compounds would provide the exothermic energy to do the rest, and carbon is only one possibility. Hydrogen and oxygen are also good candidates for a key element. The problem with that is that coupling efficiency would not be maximum for every element or compound, and that grates on my bias toward symmetry.”

“You said there were two possibilities,” prompted Wallace.

“Yes. Well, the other is the most likely in my view, because it has symmetry. It permits efficient coupling with all the elements involved, and it also negates the need for a mapping signal to analyze the composition of the target. With the bandwidth available in an ultraviolet laser beam, there can be any number of modulator frequencies, all operating at once. Enough to cover all the elements in the periodic table, if need be. I favor this explanation because in complex compounds, such as any target is bound to consist of, the different ionization potentials of the integrated elements would cause low-energy substances to ionize before others, like in a distillation column, and the resulting currents flowing through the less volatile compounds would tend to damp the phase-sensitive reaction. The latent energy in the volatile elements would also sap the thermal energy of the beam. It would increase the energy demand on the beam, and make for a bigger power supply for the weapon.

“No, these people were efficient. They wouldn’t get that far, and overlook something so obvious. It’s so much easier to introduce multiple gating frequencies. That way, all the elemental atoms attain peak energy at nearly the same instant. With nowhere to go, the charged electrons can only drop back to ground state by disassociation or radiant emission. Some soil silicates have latent fusion energies exceeding eighteen hundred joules per gram. The beam acts as a catalyst to release the energy. The compounds fission.

“Once that happens, the electrons avalanche to ground potential, giving up all that stored energy as electromagnetic radiation, across the entire spectrum, from hard UV to radio waves. Almost everything in the target area dominoes into the reaction. Instantaneous temperatures and pressures inside solids would be incredible. Well, gentlemen, have I missed anything? Any flaws in my argument?”

“Nothing that is immediately evident,” said Wallace. “You’ve been most thorough, Dr. Johnson.”

“So what we have, assuming for the moment that your hypothesis is correct, is a laser disintegrator. Buck Rogers and Star Wars come to life,” said Stickle.

“That’s about it, I’m afraid,” said Johnson.

“So how do you recommend we attack it, Dr. Johnson?” asked Wallace.

“I think that your only chance is at close range, from orbit,” answered Johnson. “Anything else is too risky. If you make a mistake and shoot yourself in the foot on this one, it’s really going to hurt. The whole human race might pay for it. Speaking as one human being to another, I don’t want to see the Earth destroyed.

“Since I’m as much a pessimist as Dr. Wallace, I’m sure you’re going to go through with the attempt, no matter what I say, so for the sake of humanity, gentlemen, please don’t fuck it up.”

XXIII

“Mr. Jack Townsend, this is Professor Theodore Wallace,” said Dr. Ortiz, as he introduced the men. “Ted is the leading lasers and optics man in our neck of the woods. He hangs his hat over at Cal Tech. When he’s home, that is. I’ve been trying to reach you for three days, Ted.”

“I had to attend a meeting back at Huntsville,” Wallace said. “I’d like to talk to you about it later. The graduate student taking my messages took ill while I was gone, and everyone else is off for the holidays. Was it urgent? Oh, excuse me, I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Townsend.”

“Same here, Dr. Wallace,” replied Townsend.

“No, it wasn’t that urgent. I could have called your dean at home, but I thought I’d give it another day before I got worried. Jack has some technical questions concerning the space weapon, Ted. He’s the friend of a mutual friend, a real good-old boy,” Ortiz said. A look passed between Wallace and Ortiz. “I’d like you to help him if you can.”

Wallace regarded Townsend curiously, as if assessing him. “I’ll be happy to do what I can,” he said.

Townsend hadn’t survived as an undercover agent all his life without developing a keen sensitivity to subtle behavior in others. He didn’t know what to make of the electric warning glance that had passed between the others, but he had noted it. He had been in Ortiz’s office when his secretary unexpectedly announced Ted Wallace. He suspected that the two men would have some interesting things to say about him after he was gone.

“Ted has two labs on our campus, Jack. He teaches an irregular graduate course here one day a week. I’ve asked him to let you have some space, and a couple of graduate students. That should get you started. He’ll need three computers, and internet and web connections. Will you see to it, Ted?”

“Of course,” said Wallace.

“That’s very kind of you, Dr. Wallace,” said Townsend. “I’ll try to be as little bother to you as possible.”

“No bother, Mr. Townsend. I’ll have everything set up by next Wednesday, barring the unforeseen.”

“Thank you both,” said Townsend, getting up. “I really do appreciate your help. I guess I’d better be getting home. I’ll be back Wednesday afternoon, then.” So saying, he left.

Though he didn’t hear the conversation, his instincts were proven right a few minutes after he had taken his leave. Wallace signaled to Ortiz, and they took a slow stroll across campus, talking as they walked, pausing in their conversation occasionally, to let a student within hearing distance pass.

“Well, how close are they to working it out?” asked Ortiz.

“They surprised the hell out of me, actually. Whoever started the asinine rumor that Southerners were dumb, never met Able Johnson. He’s a physicist at Georgia Tech. With the exception of a couple of minor points, he’s right on target. He almost sounded like Leland, in describing system resonance. Come to think about it, Leland’s from the South, too, isn’t he? Would they know each other?”

“Leland’s from Utah, but they still might know each other. I’ll ask, next time I talk to him. He’s got to know about this, anyway. What are the minor points they missed? They might be important to us.”

“Just control details really. Johnson thought that several laser transmitters might be located around the country, as a contingency measure, to prevent the military from interrupting the control signals by seeding the stratosphere with an ionizing isotope. Not a bad guess, really, since we did anticipate that possibility. If I were in his shoes, it’s a solution I might have thought of, too. The only other thing is the power supply. They don’t have a clue, as of yet.”

“I’m not sure it matters anymore,” said Ortiz. “Their attack strategy is going to be based on the assumption that it has the capability to fire, and for as long as it has to. They can’t afford to assume anything else.”

“What do you think they will do?”

“Joe says the people at Peterson Air Force Base are trying to activate an old killer satellite called Diana. The Strategic Defense Command abandoned it in orbit some years back. He sent me the encrypted physical data via the mail drop in San Francisco. It’s a Kinetic launcher with spent uranium spears for projectiles. From the engineering data, it looks like the missiles and launchers are all independent systems. There is a good possibility some of them are intact, and can be fired. The big if is the satellite maneuvering and guidance systems. If those can be reactivated, they have a chance.”

“Think we should offer to help?”

“No. They’ve got to do it on their own. If we get too involved, we might slip up and generate some suspicion. We don’t want to have anything more to do with them than is absolutely necessary. We’ve got people inside their telemetry sites already, and that ought to be sufficient for now.”

“What if it fails, or can’t be reactivated?”

“Joe thinks their only back-up plan is to try to launch a nuclear warhead into a catch-up orbit. It would have a small target cross-section, and with a little luck, could be mistaken for space debris until it’s too late. It might also be disguised as an innocuous communications satellite, or a derelict booster shell. Paul and Leland both predicted it.”

“What if they can’t make coincidence?” asked Wallace.

“We’ll help them in a roundabout way.”

“Are we so certain that this is going to work, Hector? Can we really predict what they are going to do, with such certainty? It seems to me that we should just lay down the law to them, and get on with it. Things are going pretty well now, don’t you think?”

“Yes, they are, but the minds of the American people have to be won; don’t you see, my boy? They must understand, without a doubt, what kind of government they have. They must see them in action, all subterfuge stripped away.”

“Don’t you think that they might just return things to what they were before?”

“I don’t think so. I think they will use the events of the past year as an excuse to impose totalitarian rule. They have to subdue us now, so that nothing like this weapon can happen again. They must remove any possibility of future interference by subjugating the planet.”

“I guess you’re right about everything,” said Wallace. “You’ve managed to call the shots pretty accurately, so far.”

“Well, at the risk of seeming a little too cocky, one does acquire a bit of wisdom simply by growing old. You can only hear the lies so often, before you begin to understand how things really work. Only the young can really be whipped into an idealistic fervor by the same old bullshit that’s been used over and over again, since the days of Rome—probably since the dawn of man. Why do you think that the fighting military is made up of teenage kids? Who else could you talk into charging into machine-gun fire and mine fields?”

“Your subtle point is, that us younger guys aren’t too bright. Is that about it?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly say that. Of course, I wouldn’t argue with you, either.”

XXIV

Paul Haas was a tall, rangy man of fifty-two. Abbott to Ortiz’s Costello. He was dean of the Mechanical Engineering Department at Stanford. He and Hector Ortiz had known each other for thirty years.

Like Ortiz, he had a wry sense of humor, a presence that came from absolute confidence in himself, and a total absence of any sense of status or hierarchy, with regard to himself or anyone else.

Haas, his wife and oldest daughter had just returned from vacationing in Chile. On the afternoon of January 10, Ortiz walked into Haas’ office.

“Well, Paul, how was Chile? Did you get to enjoy any of the Christmas and New Year’s festivities?”

“Hector, good to see you,” Haas’ face lit up. “It was just great, and yes, we spent Christmas with Antonio Hernandez and his family in La Paz—had a wonderful time. We went back to Iquique over New Year’s. The hotel bar had a New Year’s Eve party for the American guests, and it was plenty, as far as we were concerned. I caught a marlin—no record, but he gave me all the fight I ever want to experience. Almost three hours. I’m still sore all over from it.

“We took a camera safari into the mountains last week. I can’t wait to show you some of the slides I took. The views are breathtaking. We looked at some twelfth-century middens, and a couple of mummies, circa 500 A.D. I just enjoyed the scenery. I love the tropics. I swear I lived in Mexico or South America in a former life. How have things been with you?”

“Same old, same old. I wanted to talk a bit. Care to take the air?”

“How about the cafeteria, instead? This time of day there’s hardly anyone there. We can find a secluded corner. This fifty-degree weather is rough on my old bones, especially when I was in eighty-degree temperatures just two days ago.”

“Fine with me.”

The two men walked down the hall, talking campus trivia as they went, and took the elevator down to the first-floor cafeteria. In a few minutes they were seated at a table near a plate-glass window, with steaming cups of coffee before them.

“Is everything ready?” asked Ortiz, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Everything is set,” responded Haas. “I rented an old church. It will sleep about fifty people, and we can set up a field kitchen in an army tent next to it. We’ve got plenty of those big, forty-foot tents. I think we could bivouac about three hundred, if we had to. The antennas and other satellite comm equipment is on its way there now. I left two people there to supervise the Chilean contractor who’s going to install the systems. A systems specialist from La Plata, Buenos Aires, and Tony Madragal, my associate professor.

“I also want to set up a dispensary, Hector. We can inoculate a thousand kids from the surrounding villages while we’re there. I promised the local
jefe
that we would throw a little business his way, too. He runs the local liquor store in Aqua Dulce, the nearest town to the dig.”

“What is the site like?”

“The main site is nothing remarkable, but decent. There was a sixteenth-century Spanish garrison there, with a churchyard cemetery and lots of foundation remains. I found a second site that I think is a pre-Columbian tomb. It looks really good—a wall of cut stone, exposed by the erosion of an embankment, beside an old dirt road that winds through the hills. We can make a small detour in the road to move traffic away from our excavation. Not much in the way of traffic anyway—just farmers.

“Between the two sites and a dispensary operation, we can spread out several dozen folks and keep them busy for three or four months. Hell, we might even find something.”

“Good! Good!” said Ortiz. He sat silent for a moment, looking out the cafeteria window at students passing through the outer arcade.

“What’s up?” asked Haas, sensing that something was troubling him.

“Well, nothing much. I just wanted to fill you in on a couple of developments. We have a wannabe recruit. Guy named Townsend. Showed up at Christmas. He’s a friend of Eddie’s, a former C.I.A. agent that claims to be out in the cold. It’s official too, for what that’s worth. He’s wanted for murder.

“He claims it’s a setup, that he refused to whack a woman newscaster—she’s with him incidentally—and his section chief decided that he knew too much to live.

“I had Pete Yarborough, in Chicago, check her out. Her real name is Beverly Watkins. She was fired back in August or September. Her husband and two cops were found shot to death in the foyer of her house, and she’s wanted in connection with it.

“Townsend claims it was for airing an interview live that blasted the federal government. It was just a local show, and ordinarily, nothing would have come of it, but it was picked up by the wire services and broadcast worldwide. The lunatic in charge of Townsend’s section decided to teach all errant newscasters a lesson by making an example of her.

“Most of the story checks out. Anyway, Townsend wants to join up.”

“Think he’s on the level?”

“Eddie trusts him, but suggests discretion. Even old friends can turn on you if they think it’s in the holy name of national security. I’ve turned him over to Ted Wallace for a while. He’ll keep him busy while we consider things. It’s possible that he could be of use to us.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet. He claims that he can infiltrate the American and European undergrounds, and eliminate some of the hidden players. He wants help in identifying them—research help.”

“Hell, go for it, Hector. What have you got to lose? You don’t have to involve him in anything else, or let him know anything else. Just give him a few computers and two or three grad students, and see what he comes up with. We need that data, too.”

“He also wants to track down the ‘makers of the weapon.’ How do you feel about that? And what if I give him the help, and it’s an entrapment scheme. He could accuse me of treason for helping him, and not reporting him to the government.”

“I’m beginning to understand your dilemma. What are you going to do?”

“I did give him the computers and student helpers, just as you suggested, but I made it explicit that I wasn’t helping him in any antigovernment scheme. I offered to humor him, more or less, that’s all.

“I’m going to let Ted distract him for a few days. We’ll give him the computers and the help, but then . . .” he shrugged. “I don’t know. It would be a shame to waste him, or his help, if he’s genuine. We can’t risk everything on it, though. I’ve been trying to think of some way we can authenticate him. Is there a way we can influence him into some kind of test situation without appearing to do so? We don’t want him to know that we are organized, or that we have any particular viewpoint, or that we are active in any way whatsoever.”

Haas idly studied his half-full coffee cup for a moment before responding, “Let me think on it a day or two. Maybe Eddie would have some ideas. Have you thought to ask him? After all, he and this Townsend are a lot more familiar with sneaky tricks than you or I.”

“No. I hadn’t thought of that. It’s a good idea. I’ll drive down and see him tonight.”

“Have you heard from Leland lately?” asked Haas, changing the subject.

“No. Not for about a week, now. He’s been busy reconfiguring the control frequencies. He’s being very careful. It’s almost comical,” Ortiz laughed. “He still loves us, but he doesn’t trust us any farther than he can spit. Can’t say I blame him, really.”

Haas smiled, then frowned. “No one could usurp control anyway, could they? Even if they knew the operating frequencies? How could they, without knowing the pass codes?”

“I don’t know. I just know that Leland thinks it must be done, so it’s going to be done. You know him as well as I do.”

Ortiz changed the subject. “Ted just got back from Alabama a few days ago. He was fortunate enough to be one of two contract consultants hired by Stickles group to do an assessment on the weapon.”

“They don’t have a clue, do they?” Haas laughed gleefully.

“Surprisingly, and maybe unfortunately, they do. Ever hear of a guy named Able Johnson? He’s a professor at Georgia Tech.”

“As a matter of fact,” Haas said, looking concerned, “I know him slightly. We met at an OTEC energy-physics seminar at the U. of Hawaii a few years ago. Ate and drank together a couple of nights, along with a few others. Seemed like a sharp guy, kind of introverted and thoughtful—not a party animal. We sat alone in the hotel lobby, late one night, and talked shop into the wee hours. I liked him.”

“Did any of that talk concern molecular resonances, or anything related?”

“I’m not sure,” said Haas. “God, I hadn’t realized how long it’s been. It’s twenty-five years or more. Let me see, 1979 I think. I was into transient thermodynamic phenomena at the time—Stirling Cycle engines and thermoacoustics. We were investigating a variety of heat engines as candidates to power orbital weapons platforms, as a matter of fact.

“Joe Beatty and I went down together; he was doing shock-tube research at Livermore then, remember? I really don’t think we discussed resonance, but who knows? I take it that Johnson is speculating that resonance is involved?”

“Damn near has it all worked out, according to Ted,” said Ortiz. “He was the other consultant. Ted discreetly pumped him for as much detail as he could get, and he agrees with your assessment of him—he’s sharp.”

“So Stickles bunch knows, then. What can they do with it?”

“I’m not sure. I told Leland about it. He didn’t comment much, just asked questions. I don’t see that it furthers their cause much at present. Given three or four years, they could have a similar weapon system.”

“Who would they use it against? They are a lot more visible than we are. We could prevent them from ever putting it up.”

“All true warriors are optimists, Paul. They really can’t believe they’ll ever lose, so they keep coming back, no matter what. They unconsciously believe that they will somehow overcome any obstacles. They have to keep trying, anyway. It’s what makes life interesting for that personality type. War, business and sports—in-your-face competition—that’s the way some people are made.

“And we scientists are just as bad in our own way. If we didn’t lust so single-mindedly after nature’s secrets, without regard for the uses that our discoveries are put to, the world wouldn’t be in this fix.”

“I’ve heard that argument before,” said Haas, “and I don’t buy it. Pick any time in history, and they were just as bad before the next technological advance came as they were afterward. They misuse whatever technology is at hand; it makes no difference what it is. When the technology was swords and armor, the rich guys had the swords and armor, and they used it to subjugate the weak and the poor.”

“Well, maybe you’re right, said Ortiz.

“Of course I’m right,” grinned Haas. They both laughed.

“Is Leland okay?” asked Haas, sobering. “He seemed really down last month. I’m worried about him. I tried to get him to take a few days and go with us to Chile, but he wouldn’t. He’s under a lot of strain.”

“I know. I feel sorry for him. He has suffered a great deal over all of this. I just can’t bring myself to think of him as a heartless killer—knowing him as I do. He would have chosen another way, if it were possible. Now that it’s done, it’s like a dream. All those millions hurt. He broke down and cried, afterward. Begged my forgiveness. I felt ashamed. We didn’t intend it to be that way, but in retrospect, we used Leland. He believes humanity is worth fighting for. I’m not sure I do, anymore. Maybe, deep down, we all knew he was idealistic enough to carry through with it, when we didn’t have the guts. Like sending an impressionable, naive boy to lead the way into hostile country.”

“Leland’s not a boy, Hector, as much as you like to think of him that way. He’s always been a realist. He’s as human as anybody when it comes to needing approval and support, but he’s always said that either something is real or it isn’t. If an experiment doesn’t turn out the way you hoped, it does no good to try to rationalize the results and defend your theory. You accept the result and you do what you have to do, even if it means dumping ideas you’ve clung to for years. We couldn’t go through with it and he knew it, so he did what he had to do.”

“It still doesn’t absolve us. We still used him.”

“Had to be, though.” Haas wagged his head regretfully. “Had to be. I couldn’t have done it; I know that now. Neither could you.”

“I know,” Ortiz sighed. “I just wish that we could find a way to exorcise the greed and perversity out of humankind altogether, while we’re about this. It would make the whole, bloody business worthwhile, if we could just get rid of the megalomania that lusts for domination of others, once and for all. That would make it worth all the lives.”

“You’re talking about reinventing man,” said Haas. “Never happen. The best we can do is try to instill principles. As to the rest, Thomas Jefferson said it best: ‘Occasionally the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots alike.’ Every so often, it takes a bloody revolution to put things back on track for a while. History has confirmed it ten thousand times.

“Maybe someday we’ll be able to save the actual memories of past generations, and feed those experiences and lifetimes of learning into the brains of newborns, so they won’t have to keep repeating the same stupid acts throughout eternity—won’t have to learn everything anew, every generation. God, what an evolutionary leap that would be.

“We’ve already reached the limits of the mind, to absorb information through sensory input and experience, and most of that is wasted nowadays on television bullshit. It takes forty years of learning and experience under the best of conditions before we begin to know anything, and by then our immune systems have started to decline and aging is progressing rapidly.

“What a leapfrog that would be, to be infused with a couple of centuries of direct scientific experience and reasoning while the body is young and vigorous. We could skip the twenty years of education that take up the first third of everyone’s life. Hell, we’d be out of a job,” Haas grinned gleefully.

“Funny. Townsend said something similar a few days ago,” said Ortiz. “Actually, there are some people working on it.”