HE KNEW THE COMPONENTS. HE HAD WRITTEN EVERYTHING down. He wanted to start by building the coil and the capacitor. Save the Audion, the antenna, and the amplifier for the next phase of work. He just wanted to buy what would fit in his leather briefcase, to make several trips. This way he could keep things under control—the device mustn’t get too big or too heavy. He also needed to stock up on wires, switches, clips, and a new soldering iron. His plan was to not buy anything prefabricated; instead he would have something tailor-made, handcrafted almost. That way it would be harder to trace the source. The whole thing capable of being stowed in two suitcases max.

He left the dog at home. She whined as he left like she did every time he closed the door on her wet nose. He fished a letter from Carl out of the mailbox—airmail. He opened it outside as he walked.

Dear Josef,

He skipped straight to the last page—that’s where Carl always put the most important news.

Our daughter will soon be a year old. Our son three years old. The two of them are a great joy to us! Don’t you want to marry and bring children into the world yourself someday? It truly is the greatest happiness in life.

How’s work? Are you getting along better with your boss, have you gotten past your differences of opinion? A man should always make sure he’s on good terms with his superiors. I hope you don’t mind the advice.

By the way, my business was declared essential to the war effort. So you don’t have to worry about us if it does come to war. Also I’m considered unfit for military service—one eye isn’t enough for the front. What’s that saying? A blessing in disguise.

Warm greetings from your brother Carl, Edith, and the kids

At the newsstand Josef bought the New York Times. He went over the list again on the train. Memories came flooding back to him: the different steps, the focus, handing wire and cables back and forth, Arthur’s voice. “You have to bend little feet at the ends of the wire. Look, like this.” Maybe Arthur would help him if he got stuck.

He had a hundred seventy dollars on him. He held his briefcase close as the subway rattled downtown. “Only the best materials,” Max had said. “We’ve got the green light from Hamburg!”

He searched for some small feeling of triumph. His ideas were being taken seriously. But he felt only apprehension.

Delancey Street. Foley Square. Fulton Street. He opened up the newspaper. Today he found the name on page three. A private airport was now being built for him, an hour from Berchtesgaden. A Catholic priest had been sentenced to sixteen months in prison for speaking ill of him.