Binary - Michael Crichton [40]
'The third box?'
'The third box is the little white unit alongside the other boxes. It's a battery. We wouldn't want to be dependent on electricity in the apartment, after all. You could turn that off remotely.'
Graves had a sinking feeling, and it must have showed, because Wright laughed. 'Oh, you were planning to do that, were you?' He shook his head. 'Too simple. Much too simple. I wouldn't make a mistake like that.'
'What's the voltage of the batteries?' Graves snapped, trying to regain control of the situation.
'A very intelligent question,' Wright said. 'I am tempted to lie, but I won't. It is a twelve-volt unit.'
'Amperage?'
'I haven't the faintest idea.'
'That doesn't concern you?'
'The amperage is adequate.'
'Adequate for what?' Wright smiled. 'Really,' he said, 'you don't expect me to hand you everything on a silver platter.'
'Actually, I do.'
'Then you're being naive. How do you expect to extract information from me?' He glanced at his watch. 'There is not a lot of time, and although I am sure you could torture me inventively, you couldn't get me to talk. Not fast enough.'
'Why did you close the apartment windows?'
Wright smiled. 'Fascinating. I was wondering if you'd catch that. I taped them, too.'
'Yes, you did.'
'I closed the windows,' Wright said, 'because the mechanism in that room anticipates some action you will take.'
'Some action I will take?'
'Yes.'
'You're being cryptic.'
'I can afford to be cryptic.'
'What's the point of the scintillation counter?'
'An interesting problem, but not so interesting as the explosives.' Graves tried to keep his face blank, but it didn't work.
'Ah,' Wright said. 'You don't know about the explosives? There was a robbery of twenty pounds of plastic explosive - Compound C, I believe it's called - earlier today, on the freeway. A hijacked truck. I'm surprised you haven't already been informed.'
Graves was beginning to sweat. He resisted the impulse to wipe his forehead. He sat back in his chair and tried to be calm.
'You seem nervous,' Wright said.
'Concerned.'
'There is no need to be nervous,' Wright said. 'I can assure you right now, it is impossible for you to get into that room alive. I don't advise you to try.'
'You seem quite nonchalant.' 'Oh, I am.' He turned the cigar in his mouth, removed it, stared at the burning tip.
'We can hold you, of course.'
'You mean, prevent me from leaving San Diego?'
'Yes.'
'I'd expect that.'
'You don't care?'
'Not particularly.'
'But you'll die,' Graves said.
'A great many people will die, in fact,' Wright said, and his eyes glowed with a sudden mad intensity. 'You may have noticed that weather conditions are perfect. There is an inversion layer over the city. Any released gases will be blown west - across the city -and will be trapped there. Do you know much about meteorology?'
'A little.'
'You know,' Wright said, 'it's a funny thing about chemical agents. The military makes them, but they don't have much military use. By their very nature, they work best in high population density situations. And that means civilian populations. That's where you get the most bangs for your buck, so to speak.'
His eyes literally sparkled as he talked. 'But the irony goes even farther,' he said. 'Modern city life improves the effectiveness of these weapons. You can imagine a city like San Diego as existing with a giant plastic dome over it. That's the inversion layer. It blankets the area, holds in all the automobile fumes and exhaust gases that make city air so obnoxious. That inversion layer will hold any released gas - or, in the case of ZV, oil droplet suspension.'
Graves snapped his fingers. 'The detergent!'
'Yes,' Wright said. 'Good for you. The detergent was ordered in case I had an accident in the hangar. Have to cut