The Krone Experiment (49 page)

“You must return Krone,” the President said
firmly, “but we do not need your spy; you can keep the woman.”

“Spy?” Zamyatin cracked a small smile. “Yes,
she is one of us, an illegal escapee, but no spy. Let us say she
was merely susceptible to persuasion, a family in the old country,
you understand? And you do need her. She is the only contact with
the man. Yes, we could keep her, exact the usual punishment, but we
believe her presence will hasten the day that Krone becomes
rational and useful. You see we are trying to be reasonable.

“Of course,” the Russian shrugged, “we will
also send a more reliable representative to monitor your progress
with Krone. We expect you to relay to us every scrap you learn from
him.”

“That’s outrageous,” the President said, “you
can’t expect us to put one of our citizens under a microscope for
your pleasure.”

“The outrage has already been committed,”
Zamyatin replied, coolly. “You will put Krone under that microscope
to serve your own ends. We are merely asking you to share the
proceeds.

“Mr. President,” Zamyatin continued, his
voice suddenly friendly, “I think you do not adequately appreciate
the spirit of the offer we are making. There is no shrinking from
your ultimate responsibility here, but the problem is immense and
complex. We do not demand Krone and his records. You will have
Krone and his machine, and, of course, you will keep a copy of the
records. We must share this information and seek a common solution
to our common peril.

“The seeds of cooperation on this problem
have already been planted.” The Russian glanced for the first time
at Isaacs. Although no one else seemed to notice, Isaacs felt as if
a spotlight had just been turned on him. His heart raced, and he
could feel his face flush.

“To further this spirit,” Zamyatin continued,
“we will make the following additional offer. Mr. President, you
know Academician Korolev, our distinguished scientist?”

“Yes, of course I do,” the President replied
tentatively.

“Academician Korolev took an early and active
interest in this problem. You know that he is crucial to our
defense effort and has never been allowed to travel to the West.
Mr. President, as a gesture of good will and of our intention to
hasten the day when a solution may be devised, we are prepared to
place Korolev at your disposal as our scientific ambassador.

“Mr. President,” Zamyatin continued, cordial
and reasonable, “I do not expect a reply to our offers just now. I
deduce you have only just learned of the problem. You will need
some time to fully appreciate the situation, and the generosity of
the proposals I have presented. I would remind you that there are
factions in my government that are not amenable to such a
cooperative approach. There are some who would advocate immediate
public exposure, an attempt to wrest full propaganda value from
your predicament. Others would contemplate far more serious and
direct reprisals.

“Before I go, there is one other thing. I
stress that we have proposed a cooperative approach to the problem
at hand. We presume that you do not want the situation and your
role in it to become widely known. We will follow your lead in such
matters if you will but cooperate with us in one other regard. The
problem with which we are now faced arose from a certain line of
investigation.”

The Russian paused, holding the eyes of the
President.

“We ask that you immediately cease all
research and development on beam weapons and related
technology.”

The room filled with a crescendo of outrage.
General Whitehead was among the loudest, shouting, “I knew it, I
knew they’d turn this against us.”

Zamyatin rose and departed, as if oblivious
to the uproar his demand had caused.

“Mr. President,” General Whitehead continued
to shout, “we cannot even think of responding to that crap. If we
make the slightest concession there, they’ll come after our nuclear
arms.”

The President cracked a loud palm down on the
table, resulting in a rapid, strained silence.

“It’s nearly one a.m.,” the President said.
“I’m going to adjourn this meeting. I want you all on call by six.
In the meantime,” he addressed his National Security Advisor, “I
want to know precisely the line of authority Zamyatin represents
and the makeup of the other factions he mentioned.” He turned
toward Drefke. “Howard, I want you, Isaacs and Professor Phillips
to stay. I need a little more perspective on this.”

The President led them to an upstairs study
and poured brandy all around. They sat in silence for awhile, each
man trying to assimilate the rush of events in his own perspective.
For Isaacs, the shock of Zamyatin’s announcements had waned, and he
could feel the deep fatigue again, but he carried a burden he knew
he must unload. He appreciated Drefke’s attempt, not completely
altruistic, to avoid mention of Isaacs’ communications with
Korolev. For that matter, Zamyatin could have roasted him, but
chose not to. He knew, though, that the President could not reach a
cogent decision without knowing all the background. From a strictly
personal point of view, he would be better off confessing his
involvement with the Russians rather than having the President
discover it, as he surely would. He broke the silence.

“Mr. President.” The eyes of the three men
swiveled to him. “I have been in on this affair from the beginning.
There are some things about Zamyatin and Korolev you need to
know.”

Drefke lifted his eyebrows in surprise, but
remained silent.

“Let’s hear what’s on your mind,” the
President said.

“I have been aware for some time,” said
Isaacs, searching for the right words, “that there is a contingent
in the Soviet Union that has some sympathy for our situation. I
believe Academician Korolev is a key person in that contingent. I
think that he has led them to the understanding that we are dealing
with a black hole and that it was made here, but I think he
recognizes the true nature of the problem, that it transcends
geopolitics. Korolev is under pressure; he had to tell them what he
knew. But he is sympathetic to us, and he had influence there. I
believe the offer to have him work with us is highly significant,
both scientifically and politically. Mr. President, I think it is
crucial that we reach out to the people Korolev represents.”

“Even though they demand we abandon our
research on beam weapons, giving them full head to develop an
antimissile technology unilaterally?”

Isaacs had no reply to that.

The President looked sharply at Isaacs. “How
can you be so sure that this one man can and will be of help to
us?”

Isaacs knew what was coming. He looked at the
floor and then back at the President. “I’ve been in touch with
him,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” the President demanded.

“I said, I’ve been in touch with him,” Isaacs
replied.

Phillips stared at Isaacs in surprise. Isaacs
vividly recalled his private conversation with the physicist in La
Jolla, his suppressed desire to confess his communications with
Korolev.

“You mean the Agency has?” the President
asked.

“No sir, it was a personal
correspondence.”

“Personal?” the President blurted. “You mean
to say you’ve been communicating with Korolev directly? On the most
sensitive issue of the decade? Goddamnit, Howard,” he turned to
Drefke, “don’t your people know what channels are for? I’ve got
black holes in my back yard, laser cannons in the front, and hired
hands sending post cards back and forth discussing policy!”

“At the time there were extenuating
circumstances,” Isaacs attempted to explain.

“Extenuating?” the President exclaimed. “May
I ask just what you and Korolev were discussing behind my back,
that you didn’t care to have me know?”

“I knew that Korolev was in charge of the
Novorossiisk investigation, that he was puzzled and frustrated by
it. That much was clear from official communications. Our effort
was bogged down after the Stinson was Sunk.

“Frankly, sir,” Isaacs continued, “I was
frightened. I thought something was sinking ships, triggering a
global confrontation. For a variety of reasons, my efforts were
stymied. I thought that Korolev might have more luck getting to the
bottom of things.”

Isaacs rolled the brandy snifter in his
hands. “I told Korolev about the seismic signal and my suspicion
that it was related to the damage to both ships.”

“You told him that?” The President was angry
and bewildered. “You gave us away? Virtually inviting him to look
for and find the black hole and pin it on us?” He rose and paced to
a window, peering into the dark outside.

Isaacs spoke to his back, trying to explain
more than defend his actions. “I had no idea we were dealing with a
black hole at the time, certainly not that we were in any way
responsible.”

The President turned from the window and
spoke to Drefke. “My god, Howard, you sandbagged me! Did you know
your man had been talking to the Russians? This borders on
treason.”

“Jim,” implored Drefke, falling into old,
first name habits, “it was a lot more complicated than that. Yes, I
did know it, and I had already had it out with him. It’s not what
it seems. You can’t take it out of context.”

“Why don’t you just put it into context for
me then?” The President was still angry, frustrated at events that
had spun so rapidly out of his control.

“The simple fact is that we wouldn’t be
anywhere on this thing if it weren’t for Isaacs here,” Drefke
continued his appeal. “The black hole would still be there, eating
away, and we wouldn’t have the faintest idea. This thing was bound
to blow up in our face one way or another. We know that after the
Novorossiisk, one thing led to another and we’ve gotten into a fine
jam over it, but we would still have no idea why. Isaacs broke
every rule in the book to reach out to Korolev, but I agree with
him that that contact is probably our only way out of this problem.
Without Korolev, we could be dealing with a bunch of generals
ready, anxious, to finger the button.

“As it is,” he continued, “there is some
evidence that the Russians have been calmer to react than they
would have been if Isaacs hadn’t been in touch with Korolev.”

“Calmer?” The President was incredulous.
“They just blew our nuke out of the sky!”

“They were on the verge of it six weeks ago,
when they first put up the hunter-killers. Cooler heads prevailed,
and we have reason to believe that Korolev was instrumental.”

“How do you know that?”

“We got it from Zamyatin.”

“From Zamyatin? What the hell is his role in
all this?”

“We don’t fully understand. His appearance
this evening was a total surprise to us. But he does seem to be in
Korolev’s camp. He’s been the liaison between Korolev and
Isaacs.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” The President
returned and dropped back into his armchair, slopping brandy over
the side of his snifter and onto the carpet. “Honest to god,
Howard, how am I supposed to run this country if things like this
are going on behind my back.”

“Jim, this has been a complex and rapidly
changing situation. We have only begun to appreciate the stakes in
the last couple of weeks, to see how it all ties together. You’ve
got to look at the signals,” Drefke implored. “There are people
over there trying to understand, trying to keep a lid on things.
Sure, they’re trying to get some advantage from it; they have to
cover their own asses internally. But we still have to seek them
out, appeal to the rational ones who see the common danger if we’re
going to keep the crazies in check. We need to pacify the Russians
and figure out what to do with this damnable black hole, but we
must tackle both problems together. We’ve got to open up and work
with them on this thing. If we don’t, they’ll cram it all down our
throats, the black hole, their laser, everything.”

Drefke stared at the familiar figure, unsure
whether his arguments were effective.

Isaacs had scarcely breathed during the
intense discussion. He appreciated Drefke’s stout support and
thought that the Director had established his moral motivation as
well as possible. Still, his breach was massive. There were
immutable political forces once such things came to the attention
of the President. Without seeing the specifics, Isaacs numbly
recognized that his career at the Agency was over.

The President got up and went to the serving
cart. He put down the sticky glass and poured some more brandy into
a fresh one. He sat and took a reflective sip. After a moment he
said, “Let’s put aside the political factors for now. I need to get
some feeling for the broader perspective.

“You say,” the President continued, looking
at Drefke, “that this black hole is consuming the Earth, that the
Earth is falling into it, as you remarked previously. But
apparently there is little directly noticeable effect now. How soon
before we have an emergency on our hands? That is to say, a public
emergency?”

“That’s a difficult question to answer,”
Drefke said, glancing quickly away from the President to Isaacs and
Phillips and then back. “The ultimate danger is apparently many
generations away. But let me stress that although that is farther
in the future than we are normally used to dealing, the threat is
real and implacable.”

“But what is the future course of this
thing?” the President asked. “Professor Phillips, I haven’t heard
from you. What is your prognosis?”

Phillips set aside his brandy and clasped his
fingers in his lap before replying.

“If it continues on its course,” Phillips
said, “there will be a phase of increasingly violent earthquakes.
As the object grows bigger it will be able to trigger large
earthquakes by releasing stress already stored along fault lines.
At a somewhat later stage the tunnels themselves created by the
passage of the object will be so large that their collapse will
engender a continuing series of major earthquakes. As the hole
grows even larger, the Earth will begin to orbit it. The oceans
will be sloshed from their basins by huge tides. The earthquakes
will grow in magnitude until the whole Earth is rent by them and
totally uninhabitable. In the final stage, all the material of the
Earth will be consumed, and only the black hole grown to about this
size will be left orbiting the Sun.” He made an OK sign for
illustration.