She folded her arms, holding herself. “You think he’d have us watched?”
“It wouldn’t be up to him.”
She took that in. “I thought this was over.”
“Almost. It’s just a precaution.”
“Still on the job,” she said, putting out her cigarette. “Right. And here I thought you were being romantic.”
“I can still be that.”
“Where now?” she said brightly. “Do you think you could manage something a bit grander? The Waldorf?”
He grinned. “No. I was thinking of the Pennsylvania. It’s the one place we’re sure to be alone.”
“Unless that man’s still there.”
“He won’t be. Anywhere but there.”
He was there, however. After dinner, a little tight, they went to the Cafe Rouge to hear the music, and it was Emma who spotted him, sitting not far from the band.
“It’s him,” she said. “He must be off duty-he’s checked his hat.”
“And picked up a girl,” Connolly said. “What do you know.”
“I don’t think he’s seen us.”
“Come on, let’s dance.”
Emma giggled as Connolly maneuvered her toward the other table. “You’re torturing him,” she said, watching the man pretend not to recognize them. The girl, all bright lipstick, was drinking a highball.
“Just a little.”
“He’ll be furious.”
“Because we ruined his little night on the town? I doubt he’ll want to go into that. Looks bad on the report.”
She giggled again. “But what will he think?”
“That we’ve been here all along and he should have kept his mouth shut. Now he’s going to have to explain it.”
“Who do you think she is?”
He grinned. “There’s a question.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Now he’ll be on the train.”
“Paying very close attention this time. Just think of him as your personal bodyguard. Look, he’s getting up to dance. I didn’t think there was anybody in G-2 who could do that.”
“Stop. He’ll see you laughing. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know. It’s not supposed to be funny. Why is it?”
“He doesn’t think he’s funny. And he’s going to write a report and it’s going to sit in a file until it’s useful to someone who isn’t funny either. And there won’t be a thing in it about his pumping his way across a dance floor and trying to get some girl into bed. That’s the way it works.”
“Not funny at all.”
“No. How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. From one minute to the next. Today—”
“Don’t think about it.”
“I did something I never thought I’d do. Deliberately harm someone.”
“That depends on how you look at it.”
“I’m not even sure it was wrong. How is that possible? Not to know what’s wrong. And I didn’t mind. I wanted it to work. And now we’re laughing at that man and dancing, as if nothing had happened. What sort of person does that make me?”
He looked at her. “I don’t care. Like the rest of us, I suppose. Everybody has his reasons.”
“Even Matthew.”
“I don’t know the answer to that, Emma. Some are better than others, maybe.”
“So maybe you can be wrong for the right reasons.”
“I don’t know that one either. We’re not going to solve it here, you know. Let’s take a little time out. You’re still all keyed up.”
She smiled weakly at him. “The wine, no doubt. At least you didn’t say that. I have to sort it out sometime, though.” She looked up at him, studying his face. “What about you? What were you thinking about today?”
“In the restaurant? That I wasn’t helping you at all.”
“But you did. You made it easy.”
His eyes asked a question.
“I didn’t know how I would feel. And then it was easy-I knew I could do it. It’s easy when you don’t love somebody anymore.”
“He was a fool to let you go.”
“We let each other go. Anyway, he’s gone.”
“Pretty quick divorce, by the way.”
She smiled. “I couldn’t resist. I wanted to hear what he’d say. I must say, he might have protested a little,” she said lightly. “Anyway, there’s our answer. Free. Aren’t you pleased?”
He looked at her. “He’s not the one I’m worried about.”
17
Oppenheimer’s voice came through the half-open door, as angry as Connolly had ever heard it. “You picked one hell of a time, Jeff,” he was saying, his tone almost witheringly sharp.
“It’s the right time,” a voice answered, so young it seemed adolescent. “There’ll never be a better one.”
Connolly could see Oppenheimer standing behind his desk, holding a bulletin board notice. “ ‘The Gadget and the Future,’ ” he read disdainfully. “And just what the hell do you expect to accomplish with this little town meeting? Where do you think we are, Palo Alto?”
“We can’t just ignore it, Oppie,” the young man said, holding his ground. “There are issues. The scientific community has a right to a voice in this. While there’s still time.”
“There isn’t any time. We’ve got people working twenty-four hours a day. We don’t have time for seminars on civilization and its discontents.”
“We should.”
Oppenheimer, at any rate, must be working around the clock, Connolly thought. His frame, always frail, was now alarmingly thin, the eyes set deeply in their sockets, the bony fingers clutching the cigarette nearly skeletal. His voice, dry and scratchy, seemed to cry out for rest, but instead his body was in constant motion, pacing edgily, his arms jerking involuntarily to relieve the tension of being awake.
“Is Leo behind this?” he said suddenly.
“Leo?”
“Szilard. In Chicago. You know very well what Leo. Don’t fence with me, Jeff.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Oppie.”
Oppenheimer looked up, suddenly embarrassed. “You don’t? Sorry. I thought he might be, that’s all. He’s circulating a petition. No doubt you’ll want to sign it. Meanwhile, I’d appreciate it if you’d cancel this damn-fool meeting.”
“Why?”
“Security wouldn’t like it.”
“So what?”
“It upsets them. This is a sensitive time, Jeff, you know that as well as anyone. Let’s not make it more complicated than it is.”
“Oppie, we’re talking about scientists getting together to discuss the implications of what we’re doing. That’s all.”
“I know what we’re talking about,” Oppenheimer snapped, taking a puff on his cigarette. “I’m talking about a test scheduled for today that’s now two weeks late. I’m counting hours. Kisty’s down at S Site fixing the explosive lenses himself. You know that. In fact, why aren’t you down there helping, instead of-instead of—” His voice sputtered, caught by the look on the man’s face.
“What?”
“Scheduled for today? The glorious Fourth? What was the idea-the biggest fireworks ever?”
“Don’t be a jerk. Not precisely the Fourth. This week. Nobody thought about fireworks.” He stopped and smiled to himself. “In fact, nobody did think about that. Odd. Anyway, what’s the difference? We didn’t make it.”
“Oppie, are you ordering me not to have this meeting?” the man said calmly.
Oppenheimer lit a fresh cigarette from the end of the other, his body visibly backing down. “No,” he said finally, “I wouldn’t order you to do that.”
“You were the one who started the open meetings.”
“Yes.”
“And to hell with the security bozos, remember?”
“All right, Jeff, if the men want it—”
“So what happened? We haven’t had a meeting in quite a while.”
Oppenheimer looked at him, his eyes flaring in anger again. “I got busy, Jeff. I’m busy now, in fact.”
“You’re welcome to attend, by the way. In fact, people would really like that-to hear what you have to say. We’re not trying to hurt the project.”
“I know,” Oppenheimer said gently.
Connolly knocked on the open door.
“Speak of the devil,” Oppenheimer said. “One of your security bozos, in the flesh.”