“What you do to me is not important. Just don’t hurt my family. Please, I implore you!”
The co founder of the Irish Republican Brotherhood seemed to deliberate a moment before verbally reacting to this plea.
“That’s the kind of attitude that will show results around here, Doctor. Your family is being held outside of Dublin by a group of my associates. I give you my word of honor that no harm will come to them as long as you cooperate with us.”
“Can I at least speak to them?” asked the physicist.
“I believe that can be arranged,” replied Bernard Loughlin thoughtfully.
“But first I have a little task for you to perform. Do it to my satisfaction, and you’ll earn both your family’s release and your own as well.”
“Anything you say,” implored the scientist.
“Just don’t harm them… that’s all that I ask.”
“Your loyalty is very touching, Doctor. I like that in a man. A person should passionately believe in something, whether it be another person or an ideal. I myself am involved with the latter. But that’s irrelevant.
It’s time to get on with the task that necessitated your presence here. Marie, forget about those damn plants of yours, and get over here where you belong!”
This invective served to redirect the attention of the redhead Maguire had driven up with from Dublin.
“I’m sorry, Bernard. I guess I should have staked those tomatoes before I left.”
“You and your damn tomatoes!” shouted the one eyed terrorist.
“Forget about your damn veggies for a moment and concentrate on more important things,
like finding the good doctor so that we can get on with this thing.”
“Where is he?” questioned the redhead defiantly.
“How the hell should I know?” screamed Bernard.
“Try his study. If I know the old man he’ll be in there, sipping poteen and engrossed in his father’s diary.”
While she hurried into the manor house to carry out his directive, Bernard Loughlin escorted his guest to the locked doors of the barn.
“Damn women!” muttered the terrorist angrily.
“No matter how tough they say they might be, they’re all satin and bows on the inside.”
Not knowing how to respond to this, John Maguire nodded timidly, and discreetly turned his head to examine the grounds more closely. Beyond the green meadow that surrounded the house was a thick pine forest. Such tracts were planted with governmental assistance several decades ago to counter the severe deforestation that had plagued Ireland through the centuries. A partially worked peat bog could be seen at the edge of these woods. In place of wood and coal, such a substance was the native fuel of poor regions such as this one.
The nuclear physicist had hoped his reactors would make such a time-consuming practice obsolete. Only then would new industry be attracted to areas such as County Caven. And as its population began to be trained to work in these new jobs, its rural populace would be given an abrupt introduction to the modern wonders of the high-tech era that they lived in.
Such was John Maguire’s vision of what he had hoped his homeland would be someday. Yet as he was all too soon to learn, the Irish people just weren’t ready to make such a drastic jump forward. His carefully laid plans had met with nothing but distrust and skepticism. Endless bureaucratic red tape made the obtaining of a simple construction permit an ordeal, and it was only after a superhuman effort on his part that he was able to convince his countrymen finally to go ahead and build Dublin’s Shamrock reactor. Soon to go on line, the plant would be a clean, cheap source of electricity, and one hoped it would calm the suspicions of the doubters who had constantly opposed him every long step of the way.
His ponderings on Ireland’s future were all too soon diverted by concerns of a much more immediate nature when two figures emerged from the manor house. One of them was the redhead named Marie. The other was an older gentleman with silver hair, a stooped posture, and a kindly, almost grandfatherly demeanor.
“So this is our respected guest from Dublin,” greeted the elder.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, sir. Too bad we couldn’t have met under different circumstances, but such is life. Shall we get on with it, then? I’m certain you’re eager to return home and be reunited with your family.”
Instantly liking this fellow, John Maguire felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him, and his face broke into a relieved smile.
“You don’t know how true that is, my friend. Now, how can I be of service to you?”
Dr. Tyronne Blackwater answered while pulling a key from his coat pocket and inserting it into the barn door’s recessed lock.
“You might say that we have a little technical problem with a piece of equipment inside and we’d like you to take a look at it.”
The lock triggered with a loud click as the puzzled physicist replied.
“If it’s within my know-how, I’d be glad to assist you.”
Bernard Loughlin had to stifle a chuckle as he pulled back the rusty doors of the barn and switched on its interior lights.
“Our little gadget’s over here,” said the elder.
“If you’ll just follow me, we’ll see what you can make of it.”
Maguire entered the barn and first spotted a stack of dried peat squares. Behind this mound were dozens of wooden crates with official RUC seals stenciled on them. On the floor immediately beside the largest of these crates was a large pallet. Displayed here was a curiously shaped steel cylinder that looked disturbingly familiar to the nuclear physicist. It was only as he bent over to take a closer look at the object’s rounded nose that he gasped in horror.
“My God! Where did you get this?”
Bernard smirked.
“Let’s just say it was a little gift to us from the sea. Now, how do we go about detonating it?”
Hardly believing what he was hearing, John Maguire countered, “You can’t be serious! Do you have any idea the amount of death and destruction this device is capable of producing?”
“Look, we didn’t drag you all the way up from Dublin to hear you mouth off,” retorted Bernard.
“Show us how to explode this damn thing, or that family of yours dies!”
Quick to intercede at this point was the calm voice of the silver-haired elder.
“Can you at the very least have a look at it, Dr. Maguire? You’d sure save a lot of hurt and sorrow by doing so.”
The physicist looked up to the old man and stuttered.
“But… this is a hydrogen bomb! Do you realize how many locks and fail-safe measures are incorporated into this device to keep it from going off?
I couldn’t bypass them even if I wanted to without the authorized code of the day, which only the President of the United States knows. He keeps it constantly at his side in a briefcase called the football.”
“I told you it would be impossible,” said the redhead.
“It looks like we’re going to have to use it for blackmail purposes after all.”
“Like hell we are!” shouted Bernard, who looked at the physicist with a wrath-filled glance.
“I know that you worked for the company that designed this bomb while you lived in the United States, so quit playing games with me, Doctor. Open it up, and do whatever it takes to get it operational, or you can kiss that family of yours goodbye.”
“But I can’t!” implored Maguire, whose frustration nearly brought tears to his eyes.
Without paying this passionate outburst the least bit of attention, the one-eyed terrorist coolly addressed Marie Barrett.
“Comrade, call the lads and have them kill the youngest child. Make sure her sister and mother are there to watch as her brains are blown from her skull.”
The redhead nodded and turned for the doorway.
“You wouldn’t dare!” yelled the sobbing physicist.”