He stepped closer to the base of the elevator and looked up. The dark shaft rose high into the basement of the main building. When the elevator finally came to rest at least twenty stories above, a large metallic door slid across the ceiling, entombing him in the bank’s vault.
Alex’s lips curved into his first genuine smile for the day as he glanced around the wall to wall metallic room. The entire place appeared sterile as a surgical operating theatre. The room even smelled of disinfectant, like a hospital. It was as though the people who stored their most valuable possessions in this place, wanted to wipe away their fingerprints and DNA — erasing all evidence of their presence. Actually, not so far-fetched, his cynical side noted.
Taking his single brass key out of his pocket, Alex stared at it. The thing looked out of place in this modern bank building. It belonged to the lock of a pirate’s treasure chest.
What were you involved in, grandfather?
Alex grinned for the second time today.
The people who banked here weren’t only storing their most valuable possessions. They were storing secrets.
He spotted the façade of a single locked box — the only one visibly different in the entire vault. On it was an electronic keypad. Next to which, was a single keyhole.
Alex read the note below:
INPUT SAFE-DEPOSIT BOX NUMBER AND INSERT KEY.
ONE ATTEMPT ONLY. INCORRECT MATCH AND ITEM WILL BE LOCKED PERMANENTLY.
Alex confirmed the safe-deposit box number, inserted the brass key he’d received, and turned the key. Despite the outwardly old appearance of the key, the boxes were futuristic and advanced. The façade disappeared into the dark alcove behind the vault. Roughly thirty seconds later, the original safe-deposit box was replaced with a new façade.
This one was simply identified by the number Alex had input.
He put his hand on the small metallic handle and pulled. The safe-deposit box remained rigidly fixed. A moment later, the box glowed red and the entire room was scanned by some sort of laser. Alex glanced around the chamber as more than a thousand laser beams crisscrossed throughout the vault, as though it was confirming the number of persons inside the room and their location. Seemingly content with its findings, the computer then released the drawer which slid effortlessly outward.
What were your secrets, grandfather?
Alex looked inside the box.
A single leather-bound journal stood in the middle. He opened it. The first page had a handwritten message addressed to him.
Dear Alex,
I’m sorry for the loss of your father. Despite your differences, he loved you very much. This journal explains everything. Please read it carefully. I am certain you will know what must be done and that you will achieve what I could not within my lifetime. Good luck.
Your loving grandfather, Wilbert Gutwein.
Chapter Four
Sam Reilly had never been a big fan of the Washington D.C. area, but that didn’t matter, because his father hated the place. Ever since Sam had joined the family business, his father made him run all the company’s errands in D.C. For a guy obsessed with money and power, Sam’s father was practically paranoid about going anywhere near the place.
Which wasn’t to say that Sam knew the area all that well. He knew the strip of road from the Ronald Reagan Airport to the Pentagon and a few similar places very well indeed — but that was about it.
One of the Pentagon drivers had picked him up, barely speaking once he made sure he had the right passenger. Sam was used to it. Many people around here acted like saying “good morning” was the same as giving away state secrets.
Despite the heavy traffic, it wasn’t long before he had reached his destination. Able to comfortably accommodate hundreds in its lobby, the building was immense. Sam was whisked through a security line, then escorted to the office of the Secretary of Defense, a large room with blue carpet, a massive desk, and two small tables for meetings — four seats each. It wasn’t the kind of place for a big, open meeting. Just a few generals and maybe a head of state or two. Secrets passed through this unpretentious, innocuous room day and night.
The door was closed by an aide. They were alone. The inconspicuous air-tight seal made Sam's ears pop.
The Secretary of Defense greeted Sam with a firm handshake. She was a slim but muscular woman with stark red hair. Intelligent, commanding, and often intimidating, she wore her dark business suit and her permanent scowl with equal severity.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice, Sam.” As soon as she released his hand, she added, “What do you know about the German nuclear weapon project during World War II?”
Sam blinked. “Not much, ma’am, except that in the early 1930’s, a scientist named Werner Heisenberg was awarded a Nobel Prize for the creation of quantum mechanics. He paved the way for the atomic bomb. I understand that Germany had a nuclear weapons project, but they were unable to progress to a completed prototype.”
She nodded. “Exactly. We were informed that they didn’t have enough D2O, or heavy water. Heavy water has the same chemical formula as any other water, H2O, except one or both of the hydrogen atoms are the deuterium isotope of hydrogen instead of the regular protium isotope.”
Sam laughed. “I’m a little rusty on my chemistry, but if you say so, ma’am.”
She ignored his comment. “Norsk Hydro built the first commercial heavy water plant at Vermork, Tinn, also in the early nineteen thirties. Since Norway was under German control during the war, Norsk Hydro were obliged to provide the German Nuclear Weapons Project its needed supply of heavy water.”
“But the water went dry?”
“On February 27, 1943 the British led Operation Gunnerside succeeded in destroying the heavy water plant.”
“And that’s what saved the world from a nuclear Germany in World War II?”
The Secretary of Defense cocked an eyebrow. “You have no idea how close that statement is to the truth. Since the discovery of nuclear fission in late 1938, deuterium oxide — aka heavy water — has been used as a neutron moderator that captures neutrons.”
Sam stared at her. “And that’s useful for making an atomic bomb, because?”
The Secretary of Defense scowled. “Sit, sit. We may as well be comfortable.”
Sam pulled out a chair for her. Once she was seated, he dropped down into the comfortable leather chair next to her.
“There are two ways to make a nuclear weapon. Through isotopic separation of U-235 from natural uranium, you can develop weapons grade uranium, which can then be used to make a nuclear bomb. Alternatively, and by far the fastest and cheapest route is to breed and extract plutonium.” The Secretary of Defense frowned at Sam’s puzzled expression and sighed. “Heavy water slows down neutrons. A fast neutron will not be captured by a uranium-235 nucleus. Thus, neutrons must be slowed down to increase their capture probability without fissioning.”
“Which produces weapons-grade plutonium?”
“Exactly.”
Sam poured ice water from a pitcher into a tumbler. He arched an eyebrow in question, but the Secretary just shook her head. “So without access to heavy water, the German nuclear weapons project was bound for failure.”
She nodded. “Exactly. “The Uranium Club, as it was known, didn’t really get going until 1939. At that time, they were turned over to the Reich Research Council in a reduced capacity in 1942 because they weren’t producing enough results to satisfy the Führer.”