The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [163]
The hardest balance, as always, was choosing between the two aspects of security. On the one hand, the more people who knew that anything was happening, the worse it was. On the other, some people were necessary just to provide a guard force. Qati had brought most of his personal guard, ten men of known loyalty and skill. They knew Ghosn and Bock by sight, and their leader came forward to meet Manfred.
"This is our new friend," Ghosn told the man, who looked closely at the German's face and walked away.
"Was gibt's hier?" Fromm asked in tense German.
"What we have here," Ghosn answered in English, "is very interesting."
Manfred took his lesson from that.
"Kommen Sie mil, bitte." Ghosn led them to a wall with a door in it. A man with a rifle stood outside of it, which made much better sense than a lock. The engineer nodded to the guard, who nodded curtly back. Ghosn led them into the room and pulled a cord to turn on the fluorescent lighting. There was a large metal work table covered with a tarp. Ghosn removed the tarp without further comment. He was tiring of the drama in any case. It was time for real work.
"Gott im Himmel!"
"I've never seen it myself," Bock admitted. "So that is what it looks like?"
Fromm put on some glasses and peered over the mechanism for perhaps a minute before looking up. "American design, but not American manufacture." He pointed. "Wrong sort of wiring. Crude device, thirty years - no, older than that in design, but not in fabrication. These circuit boards are 1960s, perhaps early 70s. Soviet? From the cache in Azerbaijan, perhaps?"
Ghosn merely shook his head.
"Israeli? Ist das moglichf." That question got a nod.
"More than possible, my friend. It is here."
"Gravity bomb. Tritium injection into the pit to boost yield - 50 to 70 kilotons, I'd guess - radar and impact fusing. It has actually been dropped, but did not go off. Why?"
"Apparently it was never armed. Everything we recovered is before you," Ghosn answered. He was already impressed with Manfred.
Fromm ran his fingers inside the bombcase, searching for connectors. "You're correct. How interesting." There was a long pause. "You know that it can probably be repaired and even "
"Even what?" Ghosn asked, knowing the answer.
"This design can be converted into a triggering device."
"For what?" Bock asked.
"For a hydrogen bomb," Ghosn answered. "I suspected that."
"Awfully heavy, nothing like the efficiency of a modern design. As they say, crude but effective " Fromm looked up. "You want my help to repair it, then?"
"Will you help?" Ghosn asked.
"Ten years - more, twenty years I have studied and thought How will it be used?"
"Does that trouble you?"
"It will not be used in Germany?"
"Of course not," Ghosn answered, almost in annoyance. What quarrel did the Organization really have with the Germans, after all?
Something in Bock's mind, however, went click. He closed his eyes for a moment to engrave the thought in his memory.
"Yes, I will help."
"You will be well-paid," Ghosn promised him. He saw a moment later that this was a mistake. But that didn't matter, did it?
"I do not do such things for money! You think I am a mercenary?" Fromm asked indignantly.
"Excuse me. I meant no insult. A skilled worker is someone to be rewarded for his time. We are not beggars, you know."
Neither am I, Fromm almost said, before his good sense intervened. These were not the Argentines, were they? They were not Fascists, not capitalists, they were revolutionary comrades who had also fallen upon bad political times though he was sure their fiscal situation was highly favorable indeed. The Soviets had never given arms to the Arabs. It had all been sold for hard currency, even under Brezhnev and Andropov, and if that had been good enough for the Soviets when they still held the true faith then
"Forgive me. I merely stated a fact, and I did not mean to insult you, either. I know you are not beggars. You are revolutionary soldiers, freedom fighters, and I will