Joseph Kanon - Los Alamos

“No,” said Oppenheimer thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Eisler was a theoretical physicist. He knew the plans for the implosion bomb. That’s a plus for them. But he can’t build their reactor for them. He didn’t know the purity requirements. He couldn’t alloy plutonium. It’s a complicated metallurgy-five different phases and five different densities. He had nothing to do with that. So, yes, they know, but they don’t know how. They will, though, you know. Sometime.”

“Not on my watch,” Groves said. “How about all those coffee klatches you like to have? Wouldn’t he hear about the alloy requirements there?”

“Yes.” Oppenheimer sighed. “I didn’t say he didn’t know about them. He just wouldn’t know in any meaningful detail.”

“He wouldn’t have to know if he just passed them plans.”

“No. He only had access to theoretical. His own papers.”

“He could steal them.”

“He didn’t. He told me. Yes,” he said, responding to Groves’s questioning look, “I believe him. He was a traitor, but he wasn’t a thief.”

“That’s some difference.”

“At any rate, he didn’t give them that. I don’t mean to minimize what’s happened here. He passed valuable information. We don’t know how valuable because we don’t know where they were starting from. But they need more than what Eisler gave them to actually make a bomb. It’s almost a certainty they don’t have one yet. Of course, the point is they know we do.”

“Wonderful,” Groves said.

“Yes, it’s awkward. Politically.”

“Awkward,” Groves said, almost snorting.

“Not telling them. Of course, if that’s the main concern, we could simply tell them now.”

Groves stared at him as if he had missed the point of a joke. “That’s the kind of thing you say that keeps me up at night.” Then he dropped it and kept walking, forcing them to flank him in a kind of brooding convoy. “What gets me is how easy it all was,” he said finally. “This place is like a sieve. A man walks out, hands over some papers, and that’s it. We wouldn’t even know about it now if they hadn’t killed someone. It shouldn’t be that easy. At least we can plug up a few holes. I want you to cancel all leaves. Nobody goes out anymore.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that? The horse is already out of the barn.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Connolly said.

Oppenheimer looked at him in surprise. “You do?” he said, displeased.

“What’s on your mind?” Groves said. They both stopped and turned to him.

“It doesn’t end with him.”

“Go on,” Groves said.

“Eisler only had a piece. But what if he wasn’t the only one? What if there are others? The Russians must want all this pretty badly. Why stop at Eisler?”

“How many of us do you suspect?” Oppenheimer said. “Ten? All?”

Groves, who had paled even in the sun, shook his head. “He’s right. The Reds could have people planted all over the Hill. All over.”

“But we don’t know,” Connolly said. “And we’re not going to. Not this way. There’s no point looking on the Hill. We have to find out who Eisler met.”

“You said there was one here,” Groves said.

“Well, I think there is. It still doesn’t make sense, but somebody drove Karl’s car up here. Eisler’s contact? No. Why meet off the Hill in the first place? There has to be an outside guy. But somebody drove the car and then walked in through the west gate. Which means—”

“There were two,” Oppenheimer said quietly.

“Exactly. I don’t know how or why, but it’s the only way the logistics work.”

“Then find them,” Groves said.

“That’s not so easy. The trail really did die with Eisler. We’ve got to find the outside guy. If there’s someone else on the Hill, he’s the key.”

Oppenheimer stopped to light a cigarette. “What makes you say that?” he said thoughtfully, as if he were looking at a math problem. “Why would he know anyone else? If everyone was working in isolation?”

“I’m guessing,” Connolly said, “but the odds are good that the outside contact was the only mailman. The more people you have running around on the outside, the more chances you have of someone getting caught. Why spread the risk? He’s not essential, like the scientists. He’s just collecting the rent. You lose him, you replace him. But you don’t lose him, because he’s the pro. The tricky part is getting the stuff to him-you’ve got to rely on, well, people like Eisler. You don’t know what they’re going to do if they get excited. So you keep it simple and you keep them in the dark. But once you’ve got the information, you want someone who really knows what he’s doing.”

“And he’s not the one on the Hill?” Groves said.

“No, he couldn’t be. My guess is he’s nowhere near the Hill. Maybe Santa Fe or Albuquerque, but you’re always taking a chance with somebody in place. More likely he breezes into town-a businessman or a tourist, he met Eisler as a tourist-collects the rent, and then clears out till the next time.”

“All the way to Moscow,” Groves said.

Connolly shrugged. “Somewhere.”

“Well, that’s just fine,” Groves said. “Now what are we supposed to do?”

“Cancel the leaves,” Connolly said to Oppenheimer. “Make it difficult for him. You’ve got the test coming up-it’s a legitimate excuse. According to Eisler, there was no procedure for a missed meeting, they just rescheduled somehow. If other meetings are planned, at least we can make him sweat for them. Put a few people on the tourist spots,” he said to Groves, “if we can manage some surveillance without being obvious. I could get some of the local boys to help-Holliday’s a good guy and won’t ask any questions. See who turns up and whether they come back. It’s a long shot, but you never know. Somebody was waiting for Eisler at San Isidro. Maybe he’ll be waiting somewhere else now. The locals aren’t great, but they’re all we’ve got. We can’t use anyone from up here.”

“Why not?” Groves said.

“Why did you bring me here in the first place? Because we can’t trust anyone here.”

“I never said that.”

“You thought it. Karl was security, and you didn’t know whether that meant anything or not, but you sure as hell weren’t going to take the chance. Now we know we can’t. And we can’t let anyone know we suspect. Business as usual. They’ll wonder about Eisler. They’ll look for anything suspicious. But nobody bothered him. I was with him in the lab, so it made sense for me to be in the hospital too. You might want to spread the word that you’re still worried about my health,” he said to Oppenheimer.

“I am,” Oppenheimer said dryly. “What makes you think they even know he’s dead?”

“If they don’t, they will. You don’t need newspapers up here-it’ll get out. We have to assume they know everything. Except that we know. Karl gets killed and they pull down his pants and what do you know? The army gets squeamish and falls for it,” he said, shooting a glance at Groves. “And somebody else comes along and takes the rap. You don’t get luckier than that. Then Eisler dies. An accident? Remorse about Karl? But he’d never talk. And he didn’t. Nothing happens. No security. No sudden visits from Washington. Things just go on. They’re still lucky. Except now they’re missing a source. Maybe their only source, maybe not. Either way, they’ll be hungry. Which is just what we want.”

“And that’s it?” Groves said. “Say nothing and have the police watch the churches? That’s your plan of action?”

But Oppenheimer was studying Connolly, his eyes following the sequence of his thought. “What do you mean, they’ll be hungry?” he said quietly. “What are you planning to do?”