“Either a woman or a small man on the left；” said Finn； “and a man on the right。” He measured
the distance from the van。 “I’ll bet the man was injured。 The woman parked next to the van；
helped him into her truck and drove off。”
“Truck？ I thought she was driving a car；” said Riley； waving his hand toward the empty curb。
“And why was she shooting at him earlier？”
“There were two women。 The one doing the shooting drove a car。 That；” said Finn； pointing to
the clear tread in the pothole； “was left by a truck – wide tire； diamond tread – driven by the
second woman。 See how deep her shoe went？ As deep as his； so he was leaning on her pretty
hard。 She loaded him into her truck and got the hell out of here before those blind guards saw
anything but their cataracts。”
Riley shrugged again。 “Yeah。 Right。”
“You don’t follow it；” said Finn。 “Fine。 Take my word for it。” He stared at the footprints；
wondering aloud if it had been Refugio who was shot。
Riley held up both hands； surrendering。 “o’s grandson？” he said。
“How’d you know about my granddaddy？” Riley stood； watching Finn and wondering if he was
joking。
Finn moved off； checking distances； treads； footprints and angles； trying to decipher the pattern
that was there。 Three people。 One man； probably hurt； and two different women – one shooting
and one helping the man。 Was it a case of thieves stealing from each other？ If so； who were the
betrayers and who were the betrayed？
Refugio could have double…crossed Masarek or vice versa。 Masarek’s blonde was probably one
of the women； but where did the other woman come from？ The only woman who worked for
Refugio were whores； and it was doubtful that Refugio would use a whore for anything more
demanding than sex。
And Kestrel – was he involved； despite being a thousand miles away； watching the sun rise twice
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over a place called Trinity？
Questions and facts circled in Finn’s mind。 Four dead men – two Mexicans； one Chinese and
one Caucasian had died on the waterfront this morning。 Until he identified the bodies； he would
not know which players were alive and which were out of the deadly game of hide…and…seek that
had begun at Hunters Point。 Until he used the radiation counter on the bodies； he would not
know who had warmed himself in the forbidden fires of an earthbound sun。
“Riley。”
Riley； crouched over the footprints and treadmarks； looked up almost guiltily。 “Yes？”
“Let’s go。 I have an idea。”
El Paso； Texas
5 Hours 35 Minutes After Trinity
The subtle echo of distance told Kestrel that his telephone call had gone through。 He wiped
away the sweat that gathered at his hairline and looked around the greasy little café again。 Only
an old wino was close enough to hear what he was saying。 There was a click； a subdued crackle
of static； then Takagura Omi’s precise Japanese inflections came over the line。 Though both
Kestrel and Takagura spoke Japanese； they still spoke circumspectly。
“I have two letters from home for you；” began Takagura the moment he recognized Kestrel’s
voice。 “Your honored father regretfully informs you that he cannot accept your suggestion。
What you described is impossible at the time and place you described it。 Even the most hopeful
estimates agree that the event you described could not take place for at least three years。 Your
father suggests that as it is 1945 rather than 1948； you may have been only a mile away from what
you saw； rather than ten。”
Takagura paused； giving Kestrel time to digest the unpalatable message。 The Emperor – or his
militarist advisors – did not believe that America had made an atomic bomb in less than three
years。 Because the bomb was an impossibility； therefore； Japan had no need to surrender
unconditionally。
It was insane。
“Were you quite sure of the reception and translation of the message？”
“Yes；” said Takagura。 “I am most scrupulous in these matters。”
Kestrel held the receiver and wondered desperately how he could convince the militant leaders
of his country that Japan had lost the war just before dawn on a desolate stretch of New Mexican
desert。 A feeling of despair unfolded inside him like a black flower。 He knew that if he had not
seen the explosion himself； he would not believe it had ever occurred。 He had read the same
scientific estimates that they had； the confident statements that the uranium isotope was so
difficult to collect that it would be 1948 before the Americans gathered enough for even a small
bomb。
Obviously his superiors had rejected the reality of America’s atomic capability。 Unfortunately；
what Japan believed or did not believe did not lessen the force of the atomic bomb by a single
erg。
Suddenly he felt deeply tired。 “The second letter？” he asked indifferently。 “What did it say？”
“I’ll read it； although I want you to know I don’t approve of its source；” Takagura said。
Kestrel knew then that the second message came from Minowara； his patron in the Japanese war
cabinet and the leader of the moderate faction that was despised by militants like Takagura。
“Your honored brother agrees with your description of the events；” said Takagura。 “Our
comrades from the enormous mainland confirmed your description in every detail。” Takagura’s
voice was dry； precise。 “Even so； your brother does not agree with your conclusion that your…
family… must lose all face in an unnecessary abasement that will last as long as there are Japanese
to feel shame。”
Kestrel pressed the phone against his ear as though by hearing better he could change the
meaning of what he heard。 His “brother” Minowara believed that Kestrel had indeed seen the
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atomic bomb exploded； because the Russians had confirmed it。 Despite that； Minowara still
maintained that unconditional surrender was “unnecessary。” That was even more irrational a
position than the militants’ refusal to believe an atomic bomb existed。
“Does he say why abasement is unnecessary？” asked Kestrel； his voice raw with the effort of
concealing his anger and exhaustion。
“The event you described can’t be repeated for several months。”
“Why？”
“Our… comrades… have removed the motive power。”
“What？”
“If you remember； a necessary component of the… event… is exceedingly rare。 Gathering it
takes much time。”
Kestrel rubbed sweat out of his eyes as he tried to make sense of Takagura’s elliptical
communication。 Somehow the Russians had defused the American bombs。 But how？
“I don’t understand；” he said。
“There were only two events extant；” said Takagura slowly。 “One you saw。 The other was
awaiting shipment to Japan when our comrades removed the elemental motive power。”
Kestrel heard the emphasis on the world “elemental” and realized that Takagura was referring to
an element called uranium。 Apparently the Americans had had only enough uranium for two
atomic bombs。 They had tested one this morning – and the Russians had stolen the other！
An incredible suspicion grew in Kestrel’s mind。 Tiredness fell away from him as he examined the
idea。 Japan’s “comrades” – Russian – had stolen the uranium heart of the atomic bomb。 It was
almost certain that the Hunters Point theft and the uranium theft were one and the same。 If that
was true； then it was also true that at this moment Japan； not Russia； controlled the core of the
world’s only atomic bomb – unless Refugio had failed or betrayed Takagura。
“Is there any message from my ‘sister’？” asked Kestrel。 “Is she well？”
“Yes； but her husband and her brothers aren’t。 Apparently overseeing the delivery of her baby
was too much for them。 Her husband’s brothers left abruptly。 Her husband is still with her； but
he is… ill。”
Ana was well； but Refugio and his men were not。 Something had gone wrong。 “The baby？”
demanded Kestrel。 “Is the baby well？”
“Quite well。 The mother wishes to know if you will see her there or will you wait until she
returns？”
Relief swept through Kestrel。 The uranium was safe； with Ana。 “I’ll go to her immediately。”
“Good。” Dry curiosity crept into Takagura’s tone。 “The birth of your first nephew seems to
have pleased you enormously…？”
“This isn’t my first nephew；” corrected Kestrel； “but my second。 The first one was born this
morning just before dawn。”
Kestrel hung up before Takagura could reply。
The cafe’s screen door banged loosely as he left。 Although it was not yet noon； the sun was a
white…hot hammer。 Yet Kestrel did not notice the heat in his exhilaration at the news of what
Refugio had stolen。
The physicist in him was impatient to see the U…235。 He wanted to inspect it； feel it； to determine
whether it was brittle or malleable； bright or rough； white or dark – and whether it required
special handling。
The strategist in Kestrel ignored the physicist’s excited speculation。 The physical properties of
an exotic isotope were far less important than the isotope’s value as a political weapon。
With the U…235 America could force Japan to accept unconditional surrender。 Without the
uranium； there was no choice for America but the invasion of Japan。
With the U…235 stolen from America； the Russians could watch their Hated America^ allies and
their putative Japanese friends engage in bloody combat while Russia Consolidated hcr power
over newly conquered European territories。
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And the Japanese… what could Japan do with a critical mass of U…235？ At the very least； Japan
could ready itself for the protracted invasion that American generals called Operation Downfall；
an invasion the Japanese generals saw as a way to force America into negotiated surrender。
Japan’s possession of the uranium would convince Japanese militarists that the atomic bomb was
a reality； that a new world had been born； and that new solutions were therefore possible。 The
Americans could be approached now； not for surrender； but for a conference of equals。 Japan
could offer the uranium in exchange for an honorable end to the war。
With a U…235； it might be possible for Japan to dictate the terms of her own “surrender。”
Japan’s self…respect could survive defeat intact； ensuring her future as a nation。
A slow cattle truck forced Kestrel’s attention back to Texas。 He passed the truck； and in doing
so nearly missed the turnoff to the Army Air Corps base。 He parked the car in a dry； almost
deserted neighborhood； grabbed his suitcase and ile to the front gate。
The MP on duty saluted the captain’s bars on Kestrel’s shoulders； and at the same time
inspected him more closely。 Orientals were not unheard of on the base； but they warranted a
second look。
“Can I help you； sir？” asked the MP； his voice clipped and correct。
Kestrel returned the salute crisply。 “I left a troop train because a soldier told me I might catch a
faster ride here。 I’m going home。”
The MP inspected Kestrel again。 “Where’s home？” he asked。
“California。 A place called Manzanar。” Dryly。 “Maybe you’ve heard of it。”
The MP’s face shifted slightly。 “A Jap； huh？” he said； but there was no hostility in his voice。
“Thought all of you were still in Italy。”
“I was； until the Red Cross told me my father was dying。 I’ve been on the road ever since。 It’s all
here in the compassionate leave p