"There were reasons," Georgos said. "Let's go below." He led the way down a flight of cement stairs to the basement workroom with its usual clutter of explosives and accessories.
On a makeshift couch against one wall a girl lay stretched out. She appeared to be in her twenties. Her small round face, which in other circumstances might have been pretty, was waxen pale. Stringy blonde hair, in need of combing, spilled over a grubby pillow. Her right hand was heavily bandaged, the bandage stained brown where blood had seeped through and dried.
Birdsong exploded. "Why is she here?"
"That's what I was going to explain," Georgos said. "She was helping me at the substation and a blasting cap went off. It took off two of her fingers and she was bleeding like a pig. It was dark; I wasn't sure if we'd been heard. I did the rest of the job in a big hurry."
"And where you put the bomb was stupid and useless," Birdsong said. "A firecracker would have done as much damage."
Georgos flushed. Before he could answer, the girl said, "I ought to go to a hospital."
"You can't and you won't." Birdsong exhibited none of the affability which was his trademark. He told Georgos angrily, "You know our arrangement. Get her out of here!"
Georgos motioned with his head and unhappily the girl got off the couch and went upstairs. He had made another mistake, Georgos knew, in allowing her to stay. The arrangement Birdsong had mentioned-a sensible precaution-was that only be and Georgos should meet face-to-face. Davey Birdsong's connection was unknown to the others in the underground group-Wayde, Ute and Felix-who either left the house or kept out of sight when a visit from the Friends of Freedom outside conduit-Birdsong-was expected. The real trouble was, Georgos realized, he had become soft about his woman, Yvette, which was not good. It had been the same way when the blasting cap went off; at that moment Georgos had been more concerned about Yvette's injuries than the job in hand, so that wanting to get her away safely was the real reason he had hurried-and botched.
When the girl had gone, Birdsong said, low-voiced, "Just make damn sure-no hospital, no doctor. There'd be questions and she knows too much.
If you have to, get rid of her. There are easy ways."
"She'll be all right. Besides, she's useful." Georgos was uncomfortable under Birdsong's scrutiny and changed the subject. “The truck depot last night went well. You saw the reports?"
The big man nodded grudgingly. “They should all go that way. There isn't time or money to waste on bummers."
Georgos accepted the rebuke silently, though he didn't have to. He was the leader of Friends of Freedom. Davey Birdsong's role was secondary, as a link to the outside, particularly to those supporters of revolution-"drawing room Marxists"-who favored active anarchy but didn't want to share its risks. Yet Birdsong, by his nature, liked to appear dominant, and sometimes Georgos let him get away with it because of his usefulness, particularly the money be brought in.
Money was the reason right now for avoiding an argument; Georgos needed more since his earlier sources had abruptly dried up. His bitch of a mother, the Greek movie actress who had supplied him with a steady income for twenty years, had apparently hit hard times herself; she wasn't getting film parts anymore because not even makeup could conceal the fact she was fifty, her young goddess looks gone forever. That part Georgos was delighted about and hoped things would get progressively worse for her. If she were starving, he told himself, he wouldn't give her a stale biscuit. Just the same, a notification from the Athens lawyers-impersonal as usual-that no more payments would be made into his Chicago bank account. Georgos' cash needs involved current costs and future plans. One project was to build a small nuclear bomb and explode it in or near the headquarters of Golden State Power & Light. Such a bomb, Georgos reasoned, would destroy the building, the exploiters and lackeys in it, and also much else around-a salutary lesson to the capitalist oppressors of the people.
At the same time, Friends of Freedom would become an even more formidable force than now, to be treated with awe and respect.
The idea of creating an atomic bomb was ambitious and perhaps unrealistic-though not entirely. After all, a twenty-one-year-old Princeton student named John Phillips had already demonstrated in a much publicized term paper that the "how to" details were available in library reference materials to anyone having the patience to assemble them. Georgos Winslow Archambault, steeped in physics and chemistry, had obtained all the information he could about Phillips' research and had built up a file of his own, also using library data. One non-library item in the file was a ten-page handbook put out by California's Office of Emergency Services and directed to police agencies; it outlined ways of dealing with atomic bomb threats and that, too, had provided useful information. Georgos was now close, he believed, to creating a detailed working drawing. However, actual construction of a bomb would require fissionable material, which would have to be stolen, and that would take money-a lot, plus organization and luck. But it just might be done; stranger things had happened.
He told Birdsong, "Since you've brought up time and money, we need some long green now."
"You'll get it." Birdsong permitted himself a wide smile, the first since coming in. "And plenty. I found another money tree."
3
Nim was shaving. It was shortly after 7 am on a Thursday in late August.
Ruth had gone downstairs ten minutes earlier to prepare breakfast. Leah and Benjy were still sleeping. Now Ruth returned, appearing at the bathroom door with a copy of the Chronicle-West.
"I hate to start your day off badly," she said, "but I know you'll want to see this."
"Thanks." He put down his razor and took the newspaper with wet 1hands, scanning the front page. Below the fold was a single-column item:
GSP & L,
Rate Hike
Disallowed
Electricity and gas rates are not going up.
This was revealed yesterday afternoon by the California Public Utilities Commission in announcing its turndown of an application by Golden State Power & Light for a 13 percent increase in gas and electric rates which would bring the giant utility another $580 million annual revenue.
"We do not see the need for an increase at this time," the PUC stated in a decision arrived at by a 3-2 vote of the commissioners.
At public bearings GSP & L had argued that it needs more money to offset rising costs due to inflation and to raise capital for its construction program.
High officials of GSP & L were not available for comment, though a spokesman expressed regret and concern for the future energy situation in California. However, Davey Birdsong, leader of a consumers group-power & light for people hailed the decision as . . .
Nim put the newspaper on the toilet tank beside him while he finished shaving; he had learned of the decision late yesterday so the report was confirmation. When he went downstairs Ruth had his breakfast ready-lamb kidneys with scrambled eggs-and she sat opposite him with a cup of coffee while he ate.
She asked, "What does that commission decision really mean?"
He grimaced. "It means that three people, who got jobs because of politics, have the right to tell big corporations like GSP & L and the phone company how to manage their aff airs-and do."
"Will it affect you?"
"Damn right it will! I'll have to revamp the construction program; we'll cancel or slow down some projects and that will lead to layoffs. Even then there'll be a cash bind. Long faces this morning, especillly Eric's." Nim cut and speared a kidney. “These are great. You do them better than anybody."
Ruth hesitated, then said, "Could you get your own breakfast for a while, do you think?"