It was a head scratcher all right. Why in the world was Kumar insisting that a full 50 percent of the device be made of molybdenum? And why a thin layer of copper? And down the center, did he really want gold? A strip of honest-to-God gold? Like you could just go to Home Depot or Wal-Mart and pick up a brick or two? They’d used 100 pounds of it, more or less, at a value of more than $1 million, before machining. And then tempered steel, and another layer of titanium alloy. It was as though a metallurgist had gone completely mad. The tolerances were incredibly precise, and different metals had to be layered inside one another to within a tenth of a millimeter. And then Kumar wanted an inverse hyperbolic curve to the molybdenum layer, with the gold along the central horizontal axis. The molybdenum was to decrease in thickness, with its greatest mass being along the outer edge, and its least mass where it connected with the central gold strip.
Ethan had reached for the telephone more than once to say sorry, Kumar, so very sorry, but we can’t do this one. It’s too weird, too complicated for us local guys. But he persisted, partly because he valued their friendship and business relationship, but mostly because he and his men had been promised a very substantial raise and a bonus for taking care of this bit of business.
Ethan and his engineers had started by creating a three-dimensional computer model of the device and then using some of their digital numerical routers to chisel a small model out of hardwood, just so they could physically see, in miniature, the device that they were building.
“What the hell did he say it was going to be used for?” asked the software engineer.
“Kumar said it was some kind of device they were going to use to communicate with whales,” answered Ethan.
“My ass. You don’t spend two or three million bucks to do that. Nobody does. Nobody,” scoffed the shop chief.
“Well, the Federal Government does. I mean they can spend $1 billion for a Navy toilet, or some such BS. They’re the Feds. Money has no meaning to them,” said a second engineer. “If it costs less than a few hundred billion, no one notices.”
“He’s got a point,” said Ethan. “But it’s a damned weird thing, anyhow.”
“You know, Ethan, I know where I’ve seen that type of thing before,” said the engineer. “It’s like the head of a flashlight, you know, the part where you have the reflector, with the bulb in the center, and a glass cover across it. It’s kind of like a lens. Yeah, that’s it. Maybe to focus sounds at different frequencies over long distances. Maybe that’s what it’s designed for. But I’ll be damned if I know why they want that ribbon of gold across the central axis. That makes absolutely no sense at all.”
31
Yousseff disembarked from the plane feeling energized and refreshed. The news Kumar brought him was good — the final pieces were ready. Preparation and planning were now over. It was time for the execution.
“Take me to the plant. I want to see the new submersible. Are all of the alterations done?” he asked.
“Yes, Youss,” Kumar answered quickly.
“The rails? The supports?”
“Yes, Youss. It is all done.” Kumar felt the edge of adrenalin pumping through his system, just as in the old days, when they set out to try a new device. It would be a big moment for him when Yousseff saw the completion of his new design. He rushed Yousseff into his truck and drove him back to the workshop.
Yousseff was impressed every time he walked into the PWS manufacturing facility. It was large enough, he’d always joked, that one could build a 747 in there. The main facility had more than 120,000 square feet under one roof, and an enormous gantry crane that moved along roof rails. Complex metalworking machinery occupied most of the floor space. At the moment, six of the exotic submarines manufactured by PWS were in the lifts, in various stages of construction. Kumar had come a long way since the Karachi days with KDEC.
“A tourist company in Cancun has bought those two,” said Kumar, motioning to the two units that were almost completed. “The US Navy wants those two, and National Geographic wants the fifth. No one has bought the last one yet, but the Canadian Armed Forces have expressed an interest.”
A seventh, larger craft was sitting at the far end of the line.
“Is the far one ours?” asked Yousseff.
“Yes, that’s the PWS-14. You can see the initial stages of the weight platform on its roof.”
“On its roof?” Yousseff repeated.
“That’s the only way we could think to transport the Semtex,” replied Kumar. “Do you see the two large beams on either side?”
“Yes, I see them,” said Yousseff.
“They contain a telescoping rail system, similar to the rails that we built into the Haramosh Star. Those rails will extend forward 20 feet. That’s far enough to transfer the explosives to the exact point the Egyptian engineers asked for. If it doesn’t work, it won’t be because of us,” said Kumar.
Yousseff quickly moved on; at this point, failure was no longer an option. “What about the defense systems that we discussed?” he asked sharply.
“We’re working night and day on those, to get them just right. You haven’t given us much time, Youss,” protested Kumar.
“Are you getting old? My God, Kumar, I remember the old days, floating up and down the Indus. I would say build me a small submarine. It’s got to be this big, and this long, and be able to stay under water for three hours, and should have a set of arms, and grapples and things on it, to transfer a pallet of product this big, from the hold of one ship into the hold of another, and you would have it done in an hour. Horse shit. Horse and camel shit. Mountains of dung. You’re getting old, my man,” said Yousseff, chuckling over the image.
“Not fair,” Kumar protested. “I was 20 back then. I could do all of that at the same time as getting bedded by a river queen. But I have slowed down a bit. For you, Youss, and only for you, I can still do this. You want both systems?”
“Yes. Always a backup. The metal mesh is important. It will slow the torpedoes, if there are any, and confuse their guidance systems. It could get into the propellers. And the second system, to eject a second skin off the rear of the craft. It will confuse anything pursuing the sub still more, and will likely cause torpedoes to explode prematurely. We may not need this, Kumar. But I have been researching the length and breadth of the American Intelligence apparatus. It is a huge, monstrous, multifaceted beast, sucking hundreds of billions of dollars every year out of the American taxpayers. By the time we get this thing to where we want it to be, most of that multibillion-dollar beast will be looking for this very machine. They will find it. We must have these systems in place to protect it when they do.”
“For you, I will have it, Youss. But only for you. Consider it done.”
“Good, thank you,” said Yousseff. “Now where are the two operators?”
“You mean Massoud and Javeed? They’re in the simulator. You’ll like this, you haven’t seen it yet.”
By this time they were standing on a catwalk above the factory floor. At least 60 men were working on the PWS-13 units still under construction. The sound of drills, riveters, and metal saws filled the plant. The floor was a beehive of activity. Kumar turned and walked off the bridge.