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.”

Jeff, a young scientist in horn-rimmed glasses, flushed.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Connolly said breezily. “We don’t listen at keyholes.”

“Yet,” Oppenheimer said quickly.

“Sunday,” Jeff said, turning to leave. “If you can make it.”

Oppenheimer watched him go, then looked back. “Mr. Connolly,” he said wearily. “Pleasant trip?”

“What was that all about?”

“It’s beginning to dawn on them that the gadget has implications,” he said, his voice still taut.

“What hath God wrought?”

“I haven’t been called that yet. No, they think we might be in league with the other one. Implications. Where has everyone been? The implications were there from the start. Now the hand-wringing. The Chicago lab wants to talk to the President-the President, if you please-about a demonstration for the Japanese. Blow up some little island somewhere and the emperor and the rest of the samurai will fall to their knees, begging for terms. And no one gets hurt.”

“It’s an idea.”