fell, blocking the light, and Rad felt an instant relief from the buzz-saw vibration in his skull.
“Hey, Corsair,” said Kane, a million miles away. “You got something that belongs to me.”
THIRTY-ONE
Hoffman Island, Lower New York Bay. Eleven acres of not much at all: an artificial island, created from landfill back in 1800 and who cares.
General Fulton Hall liked Hoffman Island. He liked the regularity of it, the way it looked like a near-perfect trapezoid on the big map one of his staffers had got out back at base. He also liked the fact that it was artificial, a product of engineering and effort, a symbol, in a small way, of man’s mastery over nature.
General Hall liked that a lot. It was like his job, overseeing military research into the secrets of the atom in the continuing effort to find the biggest bang of them all, the ultimate weapon, the one the Russians would never see coming before it wiped them off the face of the planet. That, too, was man’s mastery of nature. With the power of the atom at their beck and call, Hall knew he was helping keep the United States the most powerful nation of them all.
Hoffman Island, one mile out from South Beach, Staten Island. New York City lay directly behind Hall and his retinue, shivering under the tarpaulin marquee that had been erected in front of the crumbling ruins of the old quarantine station. Hall didn’t think it would have been any warmer inside the concrete shell, and besides, there was a small but not insignificant risk of collapse if the test on Swinburne Island went wrong. The Quonset huts on the other side of the island would have been better, but they didn’t have such a good view.
Hall adjusted his binoculars, fixing them on the smaller but equally artificial island a hair under a mile south of Hoffman. He could see the test rig clearly: a steel pylon looking something like an oil derrick, with an arm coming out at ninety degrees from the top. At the end of the arm, something small, silver; a teardrop shining in the cold New York air. The test device.
He frowned. Conducting an atomic test so close to populated areas – Staten Island, Manhattan just further north – was a damn strange thing, but he’d been assured it was all under control. The whole harbor was cordoned off by warships, all shipping and transport temporarily halted for a “training exercise.” And, well, Swinburne Island wasn’t worth jack shit to anyone and had been left to the birds for years. Nobody was going to miss it.
Everyone was nervous, everyone except Hall, although when he licked his lips and tried to swallow he found his mouth was dry, and the hand that scratched at his cheek shook a little. But that was normal. What was that old saying? If you’re not nervous, you’re doing it wrong? Hall’s frowned turned to a smirk as he lowered the binoculars. This was a test, just like any other, a little demonstration by an associated department of the US military. That’s what the job was all about: pushing the limits, pushing the might of the United States. It was the only way forward, the only way to keep ahead of the game. And boy, the way the world was these days, the United States was the only damn thing between life and death, freedom and liberty or total extinction.
But today was different. Hall wasn’t entirely sure what the demonstration hoped to achieve. Truth was he hadn’t really read the briefing properly, he’d just skimmed it over a cigarette and coffee in bed this morning. Not his bed, either.
Hall grinned to himself and glanced to his left. In front of him, Captain Mary Poole stared out at the rig a mile distant, her brown hair shining as a sliver of light caught it. Hall sniffed, remembering the smell of her hair and wondered whether he could make up another excuse to his wife to stay, as they say, late at the office.
“Sir, ten minutes until test commencement.”
Hall nodded at the adjunct providing the report, but the staffer just nodded in return and didn’t walk away. He kept his eyes on the general, even though Hall was trying to ignore him. The man didn’t move but his lips were quivering.
Hall sighed and wished he had a cigarette. “Spit it out, corporal.”
“Ah, sir,” the man began. “It’s… well…”
“Corporal, you’ll be on duties as yet unimagined by the