Hurricane went through first, and after giving him a moment to get clear, Dodge, still holding Nora’s hand, took a deep breath, plunged into the water and swam for the opening.
The surface looked deceptively close. The front end of the plane had already sunk more than ten feet below, and by the time Dodge broke from the water, his lungs were on fire. He sucked greedily at the fresh air.
Hurricane was nearby, still clinging to the canister. Dodge could make out the words EMERGENCY LIFE RAFT stenciled on its surface, but he knew why the big man hadn’t yet deployed it.
High above them, the surviving Sparrowhawk turned lazy circles in the air, surveying the damage. From such a distance, they would be indistinguishable from the floating debris of the wrecked plane, but inflating the bright yellow raft would be like a firing off a signal flare. Dodge couldn’t help but think about Vaughn’s wounds, still dribbling blood into the water; would sharks come? Were they already circling beneath their feet?
Finally, after nearly five minutes of searching — five minutes in which the fuselage of the broken Catalina slipped quietly beneath the surface — the fighter plane turned away and headed back to Majestic.
Chapter 18—Hammer and Chisel
When he had been a research scientist in the employ of the War Department, Findlay Newcombe had wrestled with the ethical problem of using scientific discoveries in the pursuit of military dominance. It was perhaps because he understood that knowledge about the universe and the marvelous principles which made it tick, was freely available to all residents of the planet, regardless of their moral character, provided they possessed the intelligence to unlock the mysteries and understand the applications. Because he loved science, loved making those discoveries, it was unthinkable for him to willingly leave off the search for understanding. And because he knew that foreign governments, many with openly belligerent aims, were likewise striving to use science to build a better sword, he took some comfort in the knowledge that his research would protect the government and people who, collectively speaking, were dedicated to preserving liberty for all.
Nevertheless, part of him had been secretly pleased when those ties had been cut. Writing a newspaper column with Dodge was a far cry from what he had always imagined his career would be, but in many respects it was much more satisfying.
Now however, he was facing his worst nightmare: the certain knowledge that his activities would lead to a perverse weapon that might kill or enslave thousands.
He stared at the contents of a stoppered test tube in the rack on the lab table. It contained a solution of adamantine ore and cyanide. The ore had completely dissolved and now existed only as a molecular amalgam of the two substances: adamantine cyanide. He had been staring at it for a long time, conscious of the fact that, when he finally removed the rubber stopper and added a few grains of sodium to the solution, triggering a chemical reaction that would draw the cyanide away from the adamantine, leaving that latter element in a pure, refined state, it would be like letting the genie out of the bottle.
Newcombe looked up as Barron — or rather, Baron Von Heissel — entered the lab. Two days had passed since the baron’s act of betrayal at the Avernus Crater; two days in which Majestic had left Europe behind and struck out across the Atlantic. In that time, Von Heissel had pushed for results, making veiled threats against Fiona and Rod Lafayette if Newcombe did not produce. The scientist didn’t know if the baron sensed the truth, that he had already unlocked the refining process and was intentionally delaying, but as Majestic’s final destination drew closer, Newcombe knew that the threats would become less subtle.
But this time, the baron had not come to threaten or cajole. “Good morning, Dr. Newcombe. I trust the work continues?”
“There’s not much else for me to do.”
Von Heissel smiled. “All the amenities of Majestic are at your disposal. I would hate for you to think that you are chained to this lab table.”
“Somehow it’s hard to enjoy those amenities with an armed babysitter always at my side.”
Von Heissel shrugged. “I’m sure you understand my reluctance to simply give you free run of the ship, but perhaps I can instruct your minder to be less obtrusive.”
“It’s your ship, do as you like.”
“I’ve been thinking about our arrangement — our professional relationship, if you like — and it has occurred to me that you might have reached an erroneous conclusion about my plans for the resonance wave device. I suppose it’s only natural that you would assume that I have some malign purpose for it; I am a manufacturer of armaments and I was working with the War Department, ostensibly to use this technology to create a new kind of weapon. But I want to assure you that such has never been my true intent. If it eases your conscience, I can assure you that the device will not be used to harm a single living thing.”
Newcombe studied the other man’s face for some hint of deception. “What, if I may ask, is your ‘true intent’?”
“I suppose there’s no reason not to tell you.” Von Heissel leaned casually against the table, and picked up the test tube, peering at its contents. “Do you recall our conversation about the other applications for this technology?”
“I recall you promising to build a weapon so terrible that it would end war altogether. But you’re very adept at telling people what they want to hear in order to get them to do your dirty work.”
Von Heissel smiled patiently. “I have found that most people have a tendency to hear what they want to hear, regardless of what is actually said. Everything I have told you about this device and my plans for it is the truth, but not in the way you might believe.
“The resonance wave generator does indeed have the potential to be used as a weapon, but not a very effective one. It can shake a building to its foundation; so what? A B-17 Flying Fortress can drop a two-thousand pound bomb and wipe out an entire city block. I ask you which is more efficient?”
“So if you’re not going to use it as a weapon, then why go to all the trouble?”
“My purpose is not so different from what Tesla intended for this technology; an application which you yourself used.”
“You want to use the device to see through rock? To drill tunnels in the earth?” Newcombe cast a skeptical eye at his host. “And for that, you are willing to kidnap and kill?”
“You of all people, doctor, should understand just how important the earth’s hidden resources are, from a strategic point of view. Why do you think wars are fought, if not to control such wealth?” Von Heissel’s smile broadened. “And what better way to end wars than to open up the earth’s treasure houses so that resources are no longer so scarce as to be worth fighting over?”
The argument was persuasive, seductive even, and Newcombe wanted to believe the baron. But Von Heissel had unknowingly incriminated himself. People hear what they want to hear. Newcombe was not going to make that mistake. Von Heissel hadn’t revealed anything about his true purpose; he had merely given a few plausible alternatives — straws to grasp at — that he knew would ease the scientist’s ethical uncertainty.
Newcombe focused on what Von Heissel actually had confessed to. He wouldn’t need to reinforce the device with adamantine if he only intended it as a way of probing underground. He’s going to use it to dig. But why?
Newcombe did his best to return the baron’s smile. “Thank you for putting my mind at ease. As it happens, I think I’ve isolated the formula for refining the ore. Let me show you.”