67

Raleigh watched the chaos on the monitors. The night-vision capability of the outside cameras made the panicked crowd have a surreal greenish glow.

Did that cop really believe all he needed to do was put up concrete barriers and everyone would stay away?

Floodlights had gone dark. Cars and their headlights had become inoperative. Helicopters had fallen from the sky. Just one explanation could account for all that-a massive electromagnetic pulse, similar to one from a nuclear blast, had sent a power surge through all the electronic equipment in the viewing area, destroying it.

Exactly as predicted, Raleigh thought. He’d reinforced the outside cameras and the entire underground facility with multiple layers of electromagnetic shielding. The office behind him had three times the amount that the rest of the building had.

“Sir, the readings are becoming more intense,” a member of his team said, watching a computer screen.

Despite his earplugs, Raleigh thought he felt a slight vibration. Or was he imagining it?

He glanced toward the shielded door to the command center.

“You’re channeling the signal through the dish above us?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. The signal’s being relayed to the observatory and then up to a satellite. The satellite is beaming the signal to the White Sands Missile Range. But I don’t know if the circuits can handle this much power. We’ve never tested them at this level before.”

68

July 23, 1942.

“Anybody here know what nuclear fission is?” the general in charge of the emergency intelligence meeting asked.

Like the other officers at the long metal table, Capt. Edward Raleigh did not.

“I’m not sure I do, either,” the general admitted. “Apparently if you smash two sections of uranium together, and you do it with enough force, you can create a bomb with more power than anybody’s ever imagined. Some scientists argue that the explosion could set off a chain reaction that would destroy the world, but most conclude that it could be controlled to the extent of vaporizing a city.”

“General, with all due respect,” a colonel asked, “you’re serious about this?”

“Three years ago, Einstein wrote a letter to the president alerting him that tests had validated the theory. Apparently Einstein’s contacts in the European scientific community warned him that the Germans were stockpiling uranium, and moving aggressively forward with nuclear-fission research. At that time, of course, we weren’t in the war, but now we are, and the president’s about to order a top- secret program to create a nuclear weapon as soon as possible.

“The scientist in charge will be Robert Oppenheimer. He was a Red sympathizer during the ’30s, so the FBI’s doing a thorough back- ground check. Our job will be to maintain security at a place called Los Alamos in New Mexico. It’s marked on the map behind me.”

A major went to the map and indicated the exact spot. “Santa Fe and a few other towns are a half-day’s drive away. Otherwise there’s nothing but ranches in the area.”

“Which we’re confiscating,” the general said. “Los Alamos is a boy’s camp in the middle of nowhere. Oppenheimer went there when he was a kid. It’s on top of a mesa, with one road up and one road down, easily contained. Oppenheimer’s thinking about using that mesa as the principal site for designing the bomb. We’re going to make sure nobody eavesdrops.”

“Sir, there might be another out-of-the-way place that’s equally suitable,” Edward took the opportunity to say.

The general looked unhappy about being interrupted. “And where would that place be?” he asked impatiently.

“West Texas. Outside a town called Rostov. Nothing’s there except millions of acres of ranchland. We built an airstrip there before we entered the last war. It was a good place to hide the pilots we were training so the Germans wouldn’t suspect how actively we were preparing to help the Allies.”

“Oppenheimer’s got his mind set on Los Alamos.”

“Rostov may offer another advantage,” Edward pressed. “There might be fission already occurring there.”

The general began to look interested. “Continue, Captain.”

Edward focused his remarks so that they related exclusively to nuclear fission. He described his father’s reports and concluded by saying, “There’s no doubt the lights are powerful. Ultimately my mother died from the skin cancer they gave her. One theory is that they’re caused by radioactive elements in the soil. If the rays can be channeled, and used as a weapon…”

The general held up a hand, cutting him off. “Put it in writing. I’ll submit it to Oppenheimer.”

“Yes, sir.”

But Edward knew what happened to reports.

A week later, during the next meeting, the general announced that Los Alamos would be the primary site for designing the atomic bomb.

Edward contained his disappointment.

Then the general surprised him by adding, “The Germans are pursuing the development of a second major weapon.”

The room became silent.

“It may be related to nuclear fission, or possibly it’s based on a totally different principle. All we know is that since Germany invaded Norway in 1940, they’ve sent a disproportionate number of soldiers there-a half-million occupiers in a country of two million people. Many of those soldiers are in a position that strategically makes no sense-surrounding a small valley in the middle of Norway. The valley’s called Hessdalen.”

The general looked directly at Edward. “Reports indicate that those soldiers are providing security for scientists investigating strange lights that appear there.”

“Lights, sir?” Edward tried not to show the emotion building in- side him.

“With effects that apparently range from mass hallucination to religious rapture. Some people went blind from looking at them.

Others became violent-even murderous. Still others developed cancerous lesions. There’s no telling if any of it is real, but Germany’s committed to exploring those lights as a possible weapon, and once they get interested in something, you know damned well we need to do the same. Even if the lights are bogus, all Hitler needs to do is start the rumor that he’s figured out how to use them as a weapon and de- ploy it anywhere he wants. Sometimes psychological warfare can win more battles than tanks.”

A colonel spoke up: “Sir, are these lights similar to the west Texas phenomena that Captain Raleigh was talking about?”

“That’s the conclusion the president came to. If Hitler’s using them as smoke and mirrors to distract us from his nuclear-fission program, we can do the same thing. Captain Raleigh, you’re ordered to take an exploratory team to whatever this town is in west Texas.”

“It’s called Rostov, sir.”

“To prove how apparently serious we are, two of Oppenheimer’s researchers will accompany you. They’ll send equipment from the University of Chicago. The Army Corps of Engineers-which is building the Los Alamos facility-will contribute a dozen men. There’ll also be a rifle platoon to make a show of providing security. If it turns out there is something useful about these lights, so much the better, but I’m willing to bet that the main thing we’ll accomplish is to drive Hitler crazy by making him think we’re not only commit- ted to this project but actually making progress. As a bonus, you’ll act as a diversion from what’s happening at Los Alamos.”

Before the end of the month, Edward’s team flew on a C-47 military transport plane to Fort Bliss, then drove ten trucks of men and equipment to Rostov. As soon as they reached the old airfield, they set up tents and unpacked electronic instruments, activating a generator to provide an independent source of power.

Oppenheimer’s researchers scanned the ground with Geiger counters but couldn’t find any trace of radioactivity.