The Deputy Chief, stealing a glance at his boss' face, said, "And we have, of course, given all pertinent information to the Air people so they can add it to their target list."
"Atomsk won't be there then," said the State Department man. "At least, it won't if your own reports are correct. Your man said that he has sabotaged the radioactive disposal system. Strikes me as a pretty risky business to undertake in time of peace. Possibly it's even criminal. I'm glad I had no part in it and I won't take any official notice of the incident unless you force me to do so by sending it to me in writing."
"Do you want it in writing?" asked the Chief of Staff, who was a very honorable and extremely literal man.
"No. Of course not," stammered the State Department man.
Turning to the engineers, the Chief said, "I'll have your reports on the technical papers and on the agent's narrative later on. Do you have any preliminary conclusions to give us now?"
They started to speak at the same time, but one took the cue. "It's just as the — er — agent says. They probably have a pile there. They may be studying the biophysical effects of radioactive materials on human beings. It's as though we had combined our Argonne laboratories in Chicago with the Bethesda Naval Hospital facilities. The actual weapons work must be going on somewhere else. You couldn't have the Peenemunde people — the ones they took over from the Nazi payroll — working in an area which depended on forest for its camouflage. I don't have much to add to what the spy says. The Russians are doing just about what we could expect them to do. They're wasting some time with melodrama and so on, but they have a big country and can afford to waste a lot."
"What about the valve and the story of radioactive waste seeping into all the water patterns inside the hills?" asked the Director of Intelligence. "Could the whole mountain get radioactive?"
One of the engineers spoke up: "That's as bad as asking if a car in Australia can be repaired if we've never been in Australia, and if we don't know what kind of a car it is, and if we don't know what's supposed to be wrong with it. Your man seems to have made as good a guess as anybody. I'd give my right hand for a half hour's conversation with that fellow Dekanosov, though. He's re-thought a hell of a lot of engineering in order to make it fit procedures for radioactive materials."
Again there was a silence.
The Chief of Staff looked around the room. The warm July sunlight violated military regulations by shining into the room. The men around the table were all so much relaxed that they could hear their own breathing and could note the soft creaking of the sentry's gun-strap as he shifted his gun ever so slightly. The Chief sighed.
"This isn't like wartime. There's nothing to do about the information, now that we do have it."
"You can get the Intelligence people to follow it up, General," said the State Department man. "I should think it's gotten to be too big for the Army."
"Yes," said the Chief rather wearily, "we can follow it up. We'll have to do something about those other four cities. And suppose we do find out about them, just as we found out about Atomsk. But will it bring peace? I want peace, gentlemen. War has outgrown mankind."
The Director of Intelligence spoke, "It doesn't do us any good to realize that unless all the other nations realize it, too. We have to stay ready for war. It's not we who are making it—"
The Chief of Staff brushed the discussion aside with a wave of his hand. "This doesn't bear on the immediate question. I'm afraid that will be all, gentlemen."
They rose.
But, contrary to protocol, one of the civilian engineers spoke directly to the Chief of Staff: "General, have we gotten anywhere? Forgive me for asking, but I'd really trust your judgment. I know I have no business asking—"
The Chief waved the apology aside. "I don't mind telling you my guess. I think it's pushed war several years further away. Now they know they haven't got something which they thought they had. A surprise. The surprise is gone. It makes them feel weaker. And, I hope, friendlier. That's up to the diplomats now. This report has postponed war. It can't build peace. Peace is everybody's job."
The other military people frowned at the engineer, but the man spoke up again; the Chief of Staff was still smiling.
"And the spy, sir?"
The Chief turned to Coppersmith. "You've promoted him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Decorated him?"
"A second Legion of Merit, sir. It was the most we could do without attracting attention."
"Given him leave?"
Coppersmith exploded—"He wouldn't take it, General. Said he didn't have time. I'm damned if I know what he's doing. He may have turned into the Dalai Lama. We'll get another report sooner or later, on some new mission."
"Satisfied?" said the Chief of Staff.
The engineer stammered his thanks. The Chief left the room first; the others waited their turn for the routine warnings on military secrecy.
At that moment, on the other side of the world, Dugan drove a jeep through the warm windy night of summertime Japan. Sarah sat beside him. Dugan drove with grim speed.
"Don't drive so fast, darling," she said.
He slowed down.
"I couldn't talk to you when you went howling along like that."
"Fine," said Dugan. "There's nothing to talk about. I'll get you home."
The road wound underneath a brilliant red-painted Japanese archway. The jeep headlights picked up the crimson wooden beams with a flash of wild color. Then the road swung left and they were again near the beach. Dugan said nothing; he glanced sidewise at Sarah. Her hair was windblown. In the bright moonlight he thought he saw a smile on her face. It made him stop the jeep.
Almost annoyed, he said to her, in a tone weary with repetition, "You couldn't love one."
"But I do," said Sarah.
"Look," said Dugan, "I can love you. You're good. You're sweet. You're smart. You're somebody."
"Thank you, Colonel," said Major Lomax.
"But you can't love me. I know it. I'm a nobody. I'm Lieutenant Hayashi. I'm Mr. Kabashima. I'm Private Andreanov. I'm Professor Schieffelin. I'm anybody."
"Yes," said Sarah.
"We couldn't get married," said Dugan.
"It's legal," said Sarah.
"What could I do for a living?"
"You're a colonel."
Dugan snorted and then broke into a laugh. "What's the use, Sarah? You have all the answers. I knew I shouldn't have reported back to Coppersmith's office. I got away from Atomsk. But I had a feeling that I couldn't get away from you."
In a very low voice she said. "Did you want to?"
Dugan became serious, almost sad. "Of course not. All my life I've been getting here. And I'm here. With you."
He turned off the jeep lights and helped her out of the car. They walked toward the surf-line on the beach. Moonlight shone across the water.
"My name," said Dugan, "is Dugan. I hope you like it, Lomax."