Contents ( 48)
- The Sum Of All Fears
- Tom Clancy
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- CHAPTER 39
- CHAPTER 40
- CHAPTER 41
- CHAPTER 42
- CHAPTER 43
- CHAPTER 44
- AFTERWORD
It should have been expected. Things had gone too smoothly, and reality does not often allow perfection. A small mistake in one of the fittings for the Primary had been detected, and that fitting had to be removed and remachined, a process that set them back by thirty hours, of which forty minutes had been required for the machining, and the rest for disassembly and reassembly of the weapon. Fromm, who should have been philosophical, had been livid during the whole procedure, and insisted on doing the fix himself. Then had come the laborious replacement of the explosive blocks, all the more onerous for having already been done once.
"Only three millimeters," Ghosn noted. Just a mistaken setting on one of the controls. Since it had been a manual job, the computers hadn't caught it. One of Fromm's figures had been misread, and the first visual inspection of the assembly hadn't caught it. "And we had that extra day."
Fromm merely grumbled behind his protective mask, as he and Ghosn lifted the plutonium assembly and gently set it in place. Five minutes later, it was clear that they had it correctly located. The bars of tungsten-rhenium next fit into their own places, then the beryllium segments, and finally, the heavy depicted-uranium hemisphere that separated the Primary from the Secondary. Fifty more explosive blocks, and they were done. Fromm ordered a pause - what they had just accomplished was heavy work, and he wanted a short rest. The machinists were already gone, their services no longer required.
"We should have been done by now," the German said quietly.
"It is unreasonable to expect perfection, Manfred."
"The ignorant bastard couldn't read!"
"The number on the plans was smudged." And that was your fault, Ghosn did not have to say.
"Then he should have asked!"
"As you say, Manfred. You pick a poor time to be impatient. We are on schedule."
The young Arab just didn't understand, Fromm knew.
The culmination of his life's ambitions, and it should have been done by now! "Come on."
It required ten additional hours until the seventieth and last explosive block sat in its resting place. Ghosn attached its wire lead to the proper terminal, and that was that. He extended his hand to the German, who took it.
"Congratulations, Herr Doktor Fromm."
"Ja. Thank you, Herr Ghosn."
"Now we only need to weld the case shut, draw the vacuum - oh, excuse me, the tritium. How did I forget that? Who does the welding?" Manfred asked.
"I will. I'm very good at that." The top half of the bombcase had a wide flange to ensure the safety of that procedure, and it had already been checked for a perfect fit. The machinists had not merely handled the precise work on the explosive part of the device. Every single part - except for the single mis-trimmed fitting - had been cut and shaped to Fromm's specifications, and the bomb-case had already been checked. It fit as tightly as the back of a watch.