Binary - Michael Crichton [37]
Graves looked around Wright's room. The four sawhorses were still in position. Across them lay two cylinders, each about eight feet long. One was painted black, the other yellow. There were stencilled letters on their sides. As he watched, Wright began connecting hoses from each of the tanks to a central T valve, which joined the hoses into a common outlet. Then he turned his attention to other equipment in the room.
'Well, that's it.' Phelps said, 'Let's go get him.'
'You're joking,' Graves said.
'Not at all,' Phelps said. 'We know he's there, we've seen him connect up the hoses so that he can -'
Phelps broke off and stared at Graves.
'Exactly,' Graves said.
'But this is terrible!'
'It's not terrible, it's just a fact,' Graves said. 'There's no way we can break into that room fast enough to get control before he turns on the valves and releases the gas.'
'If we go in shooting -'
'You risk puncturing the tanks.'
'Well we can't just sit here and watch.' Phelps said.
Graves lit a cigarette. 'At the moment there isn't much else we can do.'
Phelps set down his binoculars. His face was twisted; the earlier look of triumph was completely gone. 'Do you have another cigarette?' he said.
Graves gave him one and then went to the phone.
'Morrison here.'
'This is Graves. We've found your tanks.'
'Listen, you better tell us -'
'They're on Alameda Street in San Diego.'
'San Diego!'
'I want you to get me some people from the Navy chemical corps. I don't care where you find them or what you do to get them, just have them here in an hour. Make sure some of them have gas-protective clothing. And make sure at least one of them knows a hell of a lot about this binary gas.'
Graves gave him the address and hung up. He glanced over at Phelps, who was sitting in a corner. 'Has somebody notified the President?'
'The President of the United States,' Graves said. 'I assume so.'
'Let's not assume,' Graves said. 'Use the other phone.' And he pointed to a phone near Phelps. Graves started to dial another call.
'I don't know how to get him,' Phelps said, in a plaintive voice.
'Use the prestige of your office,' Graves said, and turned away.
'Dr Nordmann's office.'
'This is Mr Graves from the State Department. I want to speak to Dr Nordmann.'
'Dr Nordmann had a luncheon conference and is not back yet.'
'When do you expect him?'
'Well, not for several hours. He has a faculty meeting at two thirty to discuss PhD candidates, and -'
'Find him,' Graves said, 'and tell him to call me. Tell him it's about Binary 75 slash 76. Here's my number.' He gave it to the secretary.
When he hung up, one of the men at the window said, 'Look what he's doing now.' Graves peered through the binoculars. He saw that Wright had removed his rubber suit and was now attaching wires to the floor of the room, to the ceiling, to the walls. He plugged the wires into a central metal box the size of a shoe box.
'What the hell is that box?' Graves said.
In a corner of the room, Phelps was saying, 'Yes, that's right... That's what I'm telling you, yes... a half-ton of nerve gas... Of course it's not a joke...'
Graves saw Wright attach two small mechanical devices to the valves of the two tanks. Then he ran more wires back to the box. Finally he stacked a second metal unit on top of the original box and connected still more wires.
Then Wright looked at his watch. 'Well, somebody better get through to him,' Phelps was saying. 'Yes, I'm sure it's hard...'
'What time is it?' Graves said.
'Two forty.'
'The gas is called ZV,' Phelps was saying. 'An Army shipment was stolen in Utah during the early hours this morning. He's probably already been informed... Well, god damn it, I don't care if you don't know anything about it. He does... Yes, it's here...'
One of the men at the window said, 'He must be insane.'
'Of course,' Graves said. 'You'd have to be insane to wipe out a million people and one whole political party. But the fact is that we've really been lucky.'
'Lucky?'
'Just see that he gets the message,' Phelps said.