The Increment: A Novel - By David Ignatius Page 0,9
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“Sure, anything can wait. But I think you’re going to want to see this. Tony can explain.”
Reddo was brandishing some pieces of paper he had printed out. He was such a kid. He laid the papers down on the conference table like a puppy who has found a bone.
“What is this shit?” asked Harry, motioning to the papers.
“Assays,” said Reddo.
“Come again?”
“Nuclear assays. Believe it or not, I think they are measurements of uranium enrichment.”
“From Iran? Are you shitting me?”
“No, sir. There are notations about the composition of the sample, here, see? I don’t really follow that. But look at the rows. I think they show the enrichment level after each pass through the cascade. They’re just like IAEA documents. That was what got me thinking. I’ve seen stuff like this before, same patterns and categories. Now look at the columns. I think they are measuring what emerges—the enriched product and the depleted tails. See how the one goes up, with each pass, and the other goes down? And see numbers here at the bottom? There’s one batch that’s marked thirty-five percent, and another that’s marked seven percent. And next to the second one there’s a little note that says D2O, with a question mark. See that?”
“Yeah, I see it. What does it mean?”
“Let me think.” Reddo scratched his head. It was hard to explain complicated things simply.
“So it means the Iranians are enriching uranium, just like they always say. But the strange part is the two batches. One says seven percent. That’s what you use to fuel a nuclear reactor. Okay. That’s interesting. The other batch is thirty-five percent. Uh-oh. That’s more than they need for a reactor. So you have to assume that’s for a weapons program. They’ll keep enriching more and more, until they hit weapons grade, which is above ninety percent. That’s bad news, but it’s not really a surprise. We figured they were going in that direction. So they’re halfway there. What’s super weird is the ‘D2O question mark’ notation.”
Harry rolled his eyes. He had gotten a C in high school chemistry and he had never taken a physics course.
“Explain it for the dumb guy. What’s D2O?”
“It’s the symbol scientists use for heavy water. Regular water—‘light’ water—is H2O, two hydrogen atoms and one of oxygen. Heavy water has two deuterium atoms for each oxygen. And heavy water is what you use in the kind of reactor that can make plutonium. That’s the creepy part. Maybe this notation means they’re thinking of diverting the seven percent batch to a heavy-water reactor for a plutonium bomb program. In which case they wouldn’t need to enrich it at all.”
“The Iranians have plans for a heavy-water reactor at Arak, right?” said Harry. “But it isn’t operational. Unless we’ve missed something.”
“Uh, yeah,” said Reddo. “That’s the point, I guess.”
“Shit.” Harry shook his head. “And you think it’s real? The document.”
“Yeah. Maybe. Probably.”
“Which means it came from someone inside the program?”
“Gotta be. Or someone with access.”
“Well, fuck me,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Where the hell did this come from?”
Reddo pointed to an email address at the bottom of the message. It said [email protected].
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Um, I think that’s the return address. That’s how we contact the guy who sent this.”
Harry closed his eyes. “Sweet Jesus,” he said. “We’re inside.”
Harry asked Marcia Hill to stay behind when the meeting ended. He wanted to think out loud a moment before the Iranian message took on a life of its own. Marcia had a card-room smile. She lived for moments like this. She had put up with the shit for so long, she wanted to enjoy the rare good parts. But Harry needed to worry it, poke some holes in it before he let it out.
“This has to be bullshit,” said Harry.
“No it doesn’t. Sometimes good things happen. Even to us.”
“Why would someone do it? Explain that. He’s giving up big secrets. Why would someone send a message like this, on an open Internet line, out of the blue?”
“It’s a calling card,” said Hill. “He wants to talk. Or she.”
“Is it a setup? Is it a dangle, to see how we react?”
“Maybe. But that’s CI’s problem, not yours.”
“Is he crazy?”
“Possibly. But so what? If the information is for real, who cares?”
“Will he get caught? I mean, what’s the chance of sending a message like this, and nobody seeing it? They have a good service. You know that better than anyone. You had to pick up the pieces after the postal fiasco.”