Elizabeth worried for a moment that he might ask about her own background, and she would have to make up a story again. But Groves had never shown any interest before, and he didn’t now. He seemed preoccupied only with himself and his project. He had no real conception of what he was starting—and Elizabeth no longer had any idea how it would all turn out. Too much had changed.
Groves stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray beside his seat in the coach. Elizabeth tried to open the train window to let in some fresh air, but the catch would not work.
The general opened his briefcase and stared at its contents. He spoke as if finally deciding to break news to her. “The real reason we have to get to Oak Ridge when we do is to be on hand for a very special inspection. It seems one of the congressional ninnies, Albert Engel from Michigan, is making a stink about all the money we’re spending and the funny way we’re covering up our expenses. He thinks I’m committing a major-league fraud on American taxpayers, and he’s making public noises about it.”
Groves sighed. “Just what we need—some congressman calling all sorts of attention to a billion-dollar secret war project we’ve been working on for years. Why not just send a typed notice to the krauts?”
Elizabeth looked at him. She had not considered the funding before. “You mean all this work, all that money, and nobody in Congress knows about it. Nobody authorized the expenses?”
“Roosevelt authorized them. He’s commander-in-chief, it’s wartime, and he considered it his own prerogative. Oh, Secretary of War Stimson and a couple others have met with the House Speaker, the Majority Leader, and the Minority Leader about it, explaining the Project’s urgency and all that. They accepted the explanation and they agreed not to worry about it until after the war. But you can’t tell everybody. And trying to convince Congressman Engel to keep his mouth shut just makes him yap more. Especially now with the election only a couple months away, with Dewey ahead in the polls, anybody’s looking for a way to shoot down the people in office.” Groves ground his cigar stub into the ashtray once more.
“So what is this inspection at Oak Ridge?” Elizabeth asked.
“Secretary Stimson is traveling down with Engel. I’m supposed to be there as head of the whole Project to show them around, tell Engel as little as possible, but impress the hell out of him.”
“I thought we were going to check on uranium production?”
“Well, that’s the main reason anyway. Stimson shouldn’t be traveling anywhere. His health is so bad he can hardly walk. He’s got to use a cane. We had new ramps installed all over the place at Oak Ridge, then polished all the doorknobs, cleaned all the windows, swept all the sidewalks. Of course, none of the Oak Ridge folks know Stimson is coming. Half of them think it’s FDR and that the ramps are for his wheelchair.”
Groves looked at her with his pale eyes. He puffed out his cheeks and spoke in an almost human tone. “So please cooperate and help me out here with whatever I need. This is important.”
Elizabeth frowned and realized that Groves actually seemed intimidated by her. “Okay, I will,” she said. “But don’t get used to it.”
Late summer left the Tennessee hills verdant and filled with insects, most of which bit or stung. The air was rich with humidity that made Elizabeth sweat just from the effort of breathing. Her gingham dress clung to her and itched. She had rolled down the passenger-side window of the limousine, but even the stirred breeze didn’t help as the motorcade climbed the hill.
In the back of the limousine rode General Groves, dressed in a clean and freshly pressed uniform, taking up more than his share of the seat. Next to the general sat the gray-haired Secretary of War, Henry Stimson. Stimson’s skin looked ashen, and his pale moustache emphasized the sharpness of his hawkish nose. Stimson laid his cane across his bony knees and rode with an expression of discomfort on his face. Directly behind Elizabeth, Michigan congressman Albert Engel sat making nervous small talk with his two companions. The balding, red-faced representative looked as if he had somehow gotten in over his head by questioning the Manhattan Project.
In the backseat General Groves attempted to explain some of the physics behind isotope separation. Elizabeth listened with a bemused smile on her face as he simplified the concept to the point of ridiculousness, but neither Stimson nor Engel appeared to be grasping the science, nor did they seem to care. When Groves described the atomic nucleus, comparing hydrogen and helium, Stimson perked up and interrupted. “Helium? That word comes from Helios, the Greek sun god, doesn’t it?”
Groves stumbled on his words for a moment, then agreed, though he plainly couldn’t see the relevance of the comment. “Yes, I believe helium was first discovered in the sun.”
Stimson formed his thin lips into a smile and nodded as if pleased with himself. He had apparently not understood anything else. But then, Elizabeth realized, Stimson probably didn’t need to understand. He had given Groves the responsibility of bringing the whole Project together, and he trusted his choice.
Meanwhile, the Oak Ridge driver tried to make small talk with Elizabeth, working too hard to catch her eye and then drawl some inane comment about the weather or about his local baseball team. The man’s words came out so slowly in his Southern accent that Elizabeth wanted to shake his cheeks and knock the rest of the sentence out long before he ever got to the verb.
She looked out the front windshield instead, at the bug specks all across the glass. Butterflies flew about in the pine, oak, and poplar trees; fluffy seeds gusted in the breeze. The driver had pointed out the dogwoods that would be bursting with pink or white flowers in the spring. To the west she could see the bluish hazy line of the Cumberland Mountains, to the east were the Great Smoky Mountains. Below the road the meandering Clinch River wound around the base of the ridge.
Nineteen miles from Knoxville, Black Oak Ridge had been selected by Groves himself as the first major site for the atomic program because of its isolation, its pleasant climate, and abundant water and electrical supply, thanks to the Tennessee Valley Authority dams. Few locals lived in the area, yet the site was easily accessible by train and road. The enormous construction project here had revitalized the flagging rural economy.
When the driver topped the ridge and drove out across the sprawling complex, Congressman Engel leaned forward and spoke to no one in particular; his words rang in Elizabeth’s ears. “Good Lord!”
Stimson cackled and slapped his cane on the back of the limousine seat. “Now do you see what all the money’s being spent for, Albert?”
Groves spoke in a smug voice. “Actually, this is only the K-25 plant, just one of the major facilities we have here. The entire complex is on 54,000 acres.”
“But it’s… huge!” Engel said.
The sight astonished Elizabeth as well. The building sprawled in front of them, shaped like a squared-off U half a mile on a side, four hundred feet wide. It appeared as ugly as the buildings at Hanford, sinister and gray, like a fortress with tiny windows along only the top floor.
Groves smiled. “We believe it’s the largest single building in the entire world. Shall we step outside the car? You can comprehend the size better.”
Groves opened the car door himself and stood. He extended his large hand to help Stimson climb out, slow and careful. Congressman Engel got out the other side and stood, gripping the edge of the car. The driver waited, pleased to have a chance to talk alone with Elizabeth, but she got out of the car as well, staring down at the gargantuan building.