“Yes!” Jabba said. “Check uranium! What’s the supercritical mass of uranium?”
Soshi searched. “Um . . . 110 pounds .”
“One hundred ten?” Jabba looked suddenly hopeful. “What’s 35.2 from 110?”
“Seventy‑four point eight,” Susan snapped. “But I don’t think—”
“Out of my way,” Jabba commanded, plowing toward the keyboard. “That’s got to be the kill‑code! The difference between their critical masses! Seventy‑four point eight!”
“Hold on,” Susan said, peering over Soshi’s shoulder. “There’s more here. Atomic weights. Neutron counts. Extraction techniques.” She skimmed the chart. “Uranium splits into barium and krypton; plutonium does something else. Uranium has 92 protons and 146 neutrons, but—”
“We need the most obvious difference,” Midge chimed in. “The clue reads 'the primary difference between the elements.'”
“Jesus Christ!” Jabba swore. “How do we know what Tankado considered the primary difference?”
David interrupted. “Actually, the clue reads prime, not primary.”
The word hit Susan right between the eyes. “Prime!” she exclaimed. “Prime!” She spun to Jabba. “The kill‑code is a prime number! Think about it! It makes perfect sense!”
Jabba instantly knew Susan was right. Ensei Tankado had built his career on prime numbers. Primes were the fundamental building blocks of all encryption algorithms‑unique values that had no factors other than one and themselves. Primes worked well in code writing because they were impossible for computers to guess using typical number‑tree factoring.
Soshi jumped in. “Yes! It’s perfect! Primes are essential to Japanese culture! Haiku uses primes. Three lines and syllable counts of five, seven, five. All primes. The temples of Kyoto all have—”
“Enough!” Jabba said. “Even if the kill‑code is a prime, so what! There are endless possibilities!”
Susan knew Jabba was right. Because the number line was infinite, one could always look a little farther and find another prime number. Between zero and a million, there were over 70,000 choices. It all depended on how large a prime Tankado decided to use. The bigger it was, the harder it was to guess.
“It’ll be huge.” Jabba groaned. “Whatever prime Tankado chose is sure to be a monster.”
A call went up from the rear of the room. “Two‑minute warning!”
Jabba gazed up at the VR in defeat. The final shield was starting to crumble. Technicians were rushing everywhere.
Something in Susan told her they were close. “We can do this!” she declared, taking control. “Of all the differences between uranium and plutonium, I bet only one can be represented as a prime number! That’s our final clue. The number we’re looking for is prime!”
Jabba eyed the uranium/plutonium chart on the monitor and threw up his arms. “There must be a hundred entries here! There’s no way we can subtract them all and check for primes.”
“A lot of the entries are nonnumeric,” Susan encouraged. “We can ignore them. Uranium’s natural, plutonium’s man‑made. Uranium uses a gun barrel detonator, plutonium uses implosion. They’re not numbers, so they’re irrelevant!”
“Do it,” Fontaine ordered. On the VR, the final wall was eggshell thin.
Jabba mopped his brow. “All right, here goes nothing. Start subtracting. I’ll take the top quarter. Susan, you’ve got the middle. Everybody else split up the rest. We’re looking for a prime difference.”
Within seconds, it was clear they’d never make it. The numbers were enormous, and in many cases the units didn’t match up.
“It’s apples and goddamn oranges,” Jabba said. “We’ve got gamma rays against electromagnetic pulse. Fissionable against unfissionable. Some is pure. Some is percentage. It’s a mess!”
“It’s got to be here,” Susan said firmly. “We’ve got to think. There’s some difference between plutonium and uranium that we’re missing! Something simple!”
“Ah . . . guys?” Soshi said. She’d created a second document window and was perusing the rest of the Outlaw Labs document.
“What is it?” Fontaine demanded. “Find something?”
“Um, sort of.” She sounded uneasy. “You know how I told you the Nagasaki bomb was a plutonium bomb?”
“Yeah,” they all replied in unison.
“Well . . .” Soshi took a deep breath. “Looks like I made a mistake.”
“What!” Jabba choked. “We’ve been looking for the wrong thing?”
Soshi pointed to the screen. They huddled around and read the text: . . .the common misconception that the Nagasaki bomb was a plutonium bomb. In fact, the device employed uranium, like its sister bomb in Hiroshima.
* * *
“But—” Susan gasped. “If both elements were uranium, how are we supposed to find the difference between the two?”
“Maybe Tankado made a mistake,” Fontaine ventured. “Maybe he didn’t know the bombs were the same.”
“No.” Susan sighed. “He was a cripple because of those bombs. He’d know the facts cold.”
CHAPTER 126
“One minute!”
Jabba eyed the VR. “PEM authorization’s going fast. Last line of defense. And there’s a crowd at the door.”
“Focus!” Fontaine commanded.
Soshi sat in front of the Web browser and read aloud. . .Nagasaki bomb did not use plutonium but rather an artificially manufactured, neutron‑saturated isotope of uranium 238.”
“Damn!” Brinkerhoff swore. “Both bombs used uranium. The elements responsible for Hiroshima and Nagasaki were both uranium. There is no difference!”
“We’re dead,” Midge moaned.
“Wait,” Susan said. “Read that last part again!”
Soshi repeated the text. “. . .artificially manufactured, neutron‑saturated isotope of uranium 238.”
“238?” Susan exclaimed. “Didn’t we just see something that said Hiroshima’s bomb used some other isotope of uranium?”
They all exchanged puzzled glances. Soshi frantically scrolled backward and found the spot. “Yes! It says here that the Hiroshima bomb used a different isotope of uranium!”
Midge gasped in amazement. “They’re both uranium‑but they’re different kinds!”
“Both uranium?” Jabba muscled in and stared at the terminal. “Apples and apples! Perfect!”
“How are the two isotopes different?” Fontaine demanded. “It’s got to be something basic.”
Soshi scrolled through the document. “Hold on . . . looking . . . okay . . .”
“Forty‑five seconds!” a voice called out.
Susan looked up. The final shield was almost invisible now.
“Here it is!” Soshi exclaimed.
“Read it!” Jabba was sweating. “What’s the difference! There must be some difference between the two!”
“Yes!” Soshi pointed to her monitor. “Look!”
They all read the text: . . .two bombs employed two different fuels . . . precisely identical chemical characteristics. No ordinary chemical extraction can separate the two isotopes. They are, with the exception of minute differences in weight, perfectly identical.
“Atomic weight!” Jabba said, excitedly. “That’s it! The only difference is their weights! That’s the key! Give me their weights! We’ll subtract them!”
“Hold on,” Soshi said, scrolling ahead. “Almost there! Yes!” Everyone scanned the text. . .difference in weight very slight . . .gaseous diffusion to separate them . . .10,032498X10?134 as compared to 19,39484X10?23.** “There they are!” Jabba screamed. “That’s it! Those are the weights!”
“Thirty seconds!”
“Go,” Fontaine whispered. “Subtract them. Quickly.”
Jabba palmed his calculator and started entering numbers.
“What’s the asterisk?” Susan demanded. “There’s an asterisk after the figures!”
Jabba ignored her. He was already working his calculator keys furiously.
“Careful!” Soshi urged. “We need an exact figure.”
“The asterisk,” Susan repeated. “There’s a footnote.”
Soshi clicked to the bottom of the paragraph.