I’m simply a man who will watch dawn come twice to an obscure New Mexican peak.” He stood
in a single movement and leaned over until his lips brushed her perfumed ear. “Goodbye, Ana.
You picked the losing side.”
Juarez
37 Hours Before Trinity
(Radio transmission received by Kestrel. Decoded.)
REQUEST DENIED. DISREGARD SAN FRANCISCO. PURSUE TEST RUMORS TO
ALAMOGORDO. MAJ. GEN. ARISUE
Juarez
37 Hours Before Trinity
Finn stared down the alley that held nothing but sunlight and shadows. The taste of Mexican
beer was in his mouth and echoes of the Japanese language in his throat. It had been a long time
since he had spoken Japanese.
The sun was hot, yellow-white, its light like a hammer blow. He squinted, pulled his hat lower
and crossed the street to the office of the Juarez telephone exchange. In the hot, crowded lobby,
he paid his pesos, gave a number in El Paso and went to a booth. The phone was hot to his
touch. A woman answered.
“Sarah?”
“Yes.”
“Must be at least 102° in the shade today.”
“You’re getting soft,” Sarah said automatically, as she dialed into the trunk line his code word
designated. If he had said 89° or 93° or 98° he would have been given a different line.
“May I help you?” asked a polite male voice.
“Once in a blue moon,” replied Finn.
Finn heard relays closing, then one ring. The phone was answered immediately.
“Yes.”
“That’s what I like about you,” said Finn as he heard the familiar voice. “You’re agreeable.”
“And you’re negative.”
“Affirmative,” said Finn, completing the recognition code. “I’ve set the hook. I’ll stay with the
fish until I’m sure he’s headed in the right direction.”
“It would be nice to know exactly where the fish was going.”
“I’ll stay with him as long as I can. Or would the General prefer me to miss my ride?”
“No. Be on the runway by 2000.”
“By 2000? That’s cutting it very thin. He may just be crossing the border then. I can’t be sure
he’ll get close enough for our purposes.”
“The General is more worried about him getting too close.”
Finn felt the sweat gather in his palm, then descend his wrist in a slow trickled “I don’t like it.”
“Write a memo.” Then, “Relax. The General has complete confidence in you.”
“Wonder what it feels like,” muttered Finn.
“What?”
“Complete confidence.”
The voice at the end of the line laughed once, a sound without humor. But Finn did not expect
humor from a man whose self-given code name was “Basket Case,” a war casualty with neither
legs nor eyes nor testicles; just one hand, a voice and a mind that knew every shade of green.
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Finn hung up and headed out of the telephone office, leaving the voice trapped in the hot black
phone.
He drove quickly to his house. In the sandy vacant lot next door a Mexican boy was kicking
pebbles with naked brown feet and great intensity. Finn watched for a moment as the child took
aim, kicked, and sent a stone clicking against two others. Jorge was alone but not lonely,
absorbed in a game no one else understood. His small grunt of satisfaction told Finn that the
boy had just scored well.
“Jorge?” said Finn, requesting rather than demanding the boy’s attention.
Jorge turned, recognizing the voice. “Hello, Finn.”
Jorge carried eight years on his thin shoulders and three times that much in his clear black eyes.
“Ghost has had kittens,” said Finn.
Jorge shrugged, but anticipation tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Again?”
“Again. These things happen,” continued Finn, sitting on his heels so that his eyes were on a
level with the boy’s.
“Yes,” Jorge said, rubbing a scratch on the back of his left hand. “My mother is the same way.”
Finn smiled, but his voice did not change. The cat’s well-being was a serious thing to the boy.
His family had been too poor to buy milk for the starving gray kitten Jorge had brought home.
Finn’s oblique intervention had saved the cat’s life and the boy’s pride.
“Ghost has a hard time with kittens, for she has no husband to help her,” Finn said. “But she’s
used to that by now.”
“Yes,” agreed Jorge with a sigh. “It’s hard on her.”
“Ghost could survive by herself,” said Finn.
“Yes.” The boy seemed to shrink back into himself.
“But,” Finn’s hand opened, revealing two silver American dollars, “a little canned milk would
make it easier for her.”
“Yes!” said Jorge, his eyes reflecting the silver shine of the coins.
“I must go for a while, and Ghost can’t buy or open cans of milk.”
Jorge nodded.
“Will you do that for her?” asked Finn, holding out the two coins.
“Oh yes! But,” said Jorge, putting his hands behind his back to lessen the silver temptation of the
dollars, “that is too much money. That would buy milk for every kitten in Mexico.”
Finn laughed. “There is no other favor,” he said, gently pulling the boy’s hands to the front of
his body and giving him the coins. “While you are at the store, get some milk for your brothers
and sisters as well.”
“My mother – “ began Jorge, closing his hands without taking the coins.
“Your mother,” said Finn, “is too pregnant to shop for kittens and milk.”
Jorge hesitated. Finn waited.
“Yes,” said the boy at last, “she is too much pregnant.”
Jorge’s hands closed around the coins, one dollar to each brown palm, one smile for each silver
dollar. A rare thing, two smiles so close together.
Before the boy could speak, Finn stood up. “Gracia, Jorge. The cat and I thank you.”
Finn turned away.
“Se?or?”
“Yes?” said Finn, looking back over his shoulder, his eyes pale in the deep shadow of his hat.
“When will you be back?”
Finn smiled but did not answer. He went into the house and began packing, wondering how
long it would take Ana’s information to reach Kestrel, and what Kestrel would do when he
heard about two dawns rising on an “obscure New Mexican peak.”
The suitcase snapped shut. Finn grabbed it, locked the house and got behind the wheel of the
car. As he started the Ford, he hoped Ana was clever enough to connect “obscure peak” with
the mountain’s Spanish name – Oscura Peak.
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Juarez
23 Hours Before Trinity
The man was past middle age, his skin mottled by time and poverty. His face was lined by grime
and sweat, but like many peasants who could not afford sugar, his teeth were still good. His eyes
were strange, with an epicanthú fold that was neither Oriental nor quite Indio, but some thing in
between.
Kestrel ran his dirty hands through his hair again dulling the silver patches at his temples even
more. He stared at the driver’s license, then at the mirror. Deliberately, he rubbed his thumb
across the picture on the license, further blurring it. He compared the mirror’s image and the
license, which he had insisted must belong to a real person.
The match was not exact, but it was good enough for most purposes. For the rest, if someone
looked too closely, the license would be the least of Kestrel’s worries.
A shoji slid on its rails with a smooth, secret sound. Kestrel’s right hand went to his waist where
a hidden knife waited.
“Ana?”
“Yes.”
Kestrel’s hands returned to the business of making himself look like an Indio peasant. “Any
difficulties?”
“No.” Ana’s voice was lifeless, as it had been since the moment Kestrel said he must go to
Alamogordo and she to San Francisco. She closed the shoji behind her. “Nisei Battalion
documents are a staple of Mexicali’s forgers.”
“Are they good?”
“They look real to me,” said Ana, but her voice lacked enthusiasm. “They’re – “ She looked at
Kestrel for the first time, astonished by the change. “Kestrel?”
Kestrel laughed and started to touch Ana’s cheek. She recoiled instinctively from the rough,
dirty hand.
“It’s good, neh?” he said, smiling at her.
“Very good.”
“Now, tell me what the American said.”
Ana told him. “But you must not go to New Mexico,” she finished.
Kestrel concealed his impatience. He needed Ana too much to alienate her now. “I’m only an
Indio,” he said. “Who will notice me?”
“But – “
“And then I’ll become a soldier, a loyal member of the Nisei Battalion. If I don’t meet you in San
Francisco, I’ll meet you in Jacame.” He looked at her for a long moment. “Japan needs you,
Ana. I need you. Will you do what I ask?”
“Yes, I’ll – “ Her voice thinned. She hesitated, then said, “Yes.”
“Good. Now tell me again what you’ll do after I leave.”
“I’ll drive to San Francisco, to my father’s old flower shop. I’ll be made up to look Mexican.”
Ana’s voice was a monotone that did not wholly conceal her fear. “Refugio’s cousins will give
me one of their delivery trucks. I’ll drive it to Oakland and park at the transfer point by
midnight of the 15th. I’ll hide in the back of the truck until Refugio comes. Then I’ll drive him
back to the flower shop. If you aren’t there by noon of the 17th, Refugio will… kill the woman.
His cousins will bury her. I’ll drive to Refugio’s tunnel and cross into Mexico. If you… If you are
still missing, I’ll take the stolen weapon to Takagura. He’ll have the rest of Refugio’s money.”
“Excellent,” said Kestrel. Then, “Don’t look so frightened, Ana. No one will be looking for you
in America.”
“It’s not that. It’s Finn. You don’t know him,” she said in a rush. “He was playing with me,
smiling and so arrogant and – don’t go! It’s a trap!”
“Finn would not bother to lure me into America, question me, and kill me. If he wanted me, he
Page 45
would have come for me by now, here, in Mexico.”
“But he said ‘an obscure peak.’ He must have wanted you to know about Oscura Peak.”
“Perhaps he underestimated your cleverness at unraveling his game. Perhaps he’s so confident
that he has become careless.”
“Finn?” Ana laughed. “It’s a trap!”
“I am samurai.” He turned away and washed his hands in a basin. He dried them carefully before
he took the forged papers from Ana. He studied them with thoroughness that he gave to all
important things. “Yes. Much better than I expeced.” He looked up from the papers. “And
yours?”
“I have papers under my own name, as well as the name of Ana Ortega.” She pulled coupons
out of her purse. “For gasoline. Take half of them.”
“Your own name?” said Kestrel, taking a second book of coupons she held out.
“They just updated my old papers. No one is paying much attention anymore.”
Kestrel measured the bitterness in Ana’s voice and wondered if his lovemaking had given her
enough to believe in after all.
“Ana, if there were any one but you to go!”
“I know. That’s not it. It’s not San Francisco.”
“Then what?”
“Alamogordo! Finn did everything but give you a map!”
“Ana, Ana,” sighed Kestrel. “Did Finn invite you to see the sun rise twice, or were those your
words?”
“Finn’s.”
Kestrel smiled at his opponent’s irony. “Then I must go. No samurai could ignore an invitation
from a man who is a poet as well as a warrior.”
“Finn would know that about you,” said Ana bitterly.
Kestrel nodded, a gesture that acknowledged her truth and closed the subject with one motion.
“The uniform. Is it ready?”
Ana unwrapped the package she had carried into the room. “American uniforms are also a
Mexicali specialty,” she said. Then, whispering, “Don’t go.”
Kestrel did not answer. He was busy inspecting the uniform of a Nisei soldier. Everything was
there – the proper shoulder patches with unit designations. He looked up and smiled.
“This is very good.”
Kestrel rewrapped the uniform and packed it in a scuffed suitcase. “You must leave for San
Francisco,” he said. “You have less than twenty-four hours to get there.”
“And you,” said Ana. “Where will you go?”
Kestrel smiled. “I have an appointment with the American dawn.”
Los Alamos
18 Hours 30 Minutes Before Trinity
(Excerpt of cable received by Gen. Leslie Groves. Decoded.)
AS YOU READ THIS, I AM ON MY WAY TO POTSDAM…
THE GADGET MUST BE READY TOMORROW. I CAN’T DELAY THE
CONFERENCE AGAIN. IF YOUR BILLION DOLLAR TOY DOESN’T WORK, WELL
GO DOWN AS THE BIGGEST FOOLS IN HISTORY.
RUSSIAN TROOPS MASSING ON CHINESE BORDER… SKIRMISHES REPORTED,
BUT NO “PENETRATION IN DEPTH” YET.
THAT GODDAMNED GADGET BETTER WORK. STALIN WON’T BE IMPRESSED
BY A BUSTED FLUSH – AND NEITHER WILL TOJO.
HARRY S TRUMAN PRESIDENT, UNITED STATES
Berkeley, California
Page 46
13 Hours Before Trinity
The phone rang. Vanessa lifted the receiver before the bell could sound again. “Hello,” she said,
then nodded at Masarek.
Refugio had started across the room but Masarek motioned him to stop with a chopping
movement of his hand. Refugio sat down very slowly, angered at being ordered around in his
own house.
“Good,” said Vanessa, too softly for anyone but Masarek to hear. “And the location?” Vanessa
waited, listening carefully. “Guards?” Pause, then with soft disbelief, “Just one? Are you sure?”
She waited, listening. “After you’re finished, don’t forget to tell the guard that another inspector
from the lab will check the container again before it’s moved.”
Suddenly, Vanessa’s face became expressionless. “It makes no difference who will return, or
when. Leave the questions to me and the obedience to you.” There was a long silence. “Don’t
call here again. You’ll get a call at your home sometime before midnight. Have the ID ready.”
Vanessa’s voice became more gentle, but her expression did not change. “You’ve done very
well, comrade.”
Vanessa hung up and said in Russian, “Fool.”
“A useful fool, I trust?” answered Masarek in Russian.
“Very. If anyone at Hunters Point questions your credentials, the name ‘Grummin’ has been
added to the roster of the Lawrence Radiation Laboratory as a ‘health inspector.’”
“Passwords? Guards?”
Vanessa laughed. “No passwords. One guard.”
“Impossible!”
“No, merely subtle. This General Groves is interesting; apparently he understands that one man
guards a secret better than a batallion of men.” She smiled. “Or maybe it’s just that the
capitalists are afraid to let their own soldiers too close to one billion dollars in a small can.”
“One billion dollars!”
Vanessa smiled, pleased by Masarek’s reaction. “It’s worth more than that.” She moved until she
was so close to him that she could smell the residue of tobacco smoke on his skin. “It’s the key
to the world. Tonight we steal it and then we, personally, are going to present it to Stalin.”
