“I’ll tell you what I see here. I see dirt, brush, rats, snakes. In the real world, in New York, the future is already happening. A warm blue evening. Someone nodding on the keyboard, scratching on sheet music. The horn section is spitting. Ever hear a horn section spit? Mezzo forte. The bass man is tightening his pegs. Same in Philly, Kansas City. Even Albuquerque. Everywhere but here.… I see Groves.”

Through the binoculars he had found Harvey’s Dodge again. Coming the other way was a convoy of jeeps. The lead vehicle had a flag with a single star. General Leslie Groves had arrived at Trinity, and Joe and Oppy had to climb down immediately to greet him at Ground Zero.

“You think the crackpots have finally pulled it together, Sergeant?” Groves answered Joe’s salute.

“Yes, sir.”

Groves had the familiar leaden voice, the same slow, stoop-shouldered walk, but he had become sleek since winter. There was more silver in his wavy hair and mustache, a more certain angle to his gray eyes. He hadn’t been to the test site since he’d chosen it, and he was too heavy to scale the steps and inspect the bomb in its shed, but he led Oppy and Joe and a dozen colonels and majors around the tower base with the confidence of an engineer whose blueprints had merely been followed.

“Looks like a privy.” Groves eyed an eight-foot wooden crate that stood on end at the tower base.

“That’s what the men call it.” Oppy pointed to the cable running into the top of the “privy.” “It protects the firing switch. We wanted to keep dust out.”

“You mean rain,” Groves said. “The weathermen have let us down. I brought VIPs from Washington, that reporter from the Times. I hope they can see something.”

“They will.”

“My other concern is tower security.”

“At this hour people are staying away from the tower,” Oppy said.

“Obviously, you’re a scientist, not a security officer. This is exactly the opportunity a trained saboteur would be waiting for. I want a light on the tower and some men down here with submachine guns. Security and secrecy are our first priorities from here on.” Groves turned to his aides. “Can you think of anything else?”

“Mescaleros, sir,” Joe said. “The local Apaches.”

“I remember, we saw some when we came in December. I thought you were going to take care of that, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir. If I could be detailed a couple of men of my choosing, sir? Mescaleros like to come down from the hills around dusk. I should get started now.”

“Then get moving. I’ll assign someone else to the Director.”

Oppy caught up with Joe at the jeep. He spoke in a low voice, his back to the officers. “What are you up to?”