On Deception Watch

by David H Spielberg

  “Okay,” Slaider answered.

  Slaider heard the click of the other phone being returned to its cradle. He put the cell phone back in the drawer. Picking up his office phone, he quickly dialed a number and waited until the nurse answered the phone. He asked to speak with his wife. After several moments his wife was on the line.

  “Marion, it’s Morgan. I’ve got a late meeting today. I won’t be home for dinner. I’m sorry, darling. This can’t be helped. The new nurse sounds very businesslike. Let her help you as much as possible, Marion. I’ll call again later when I can give you a better idea of my schedule. Yes, darling, I love you too. Three, four, plus one. Goodbye.”

  He replaced the phone on its cradle. Today, he said to himself, I’m going to Baltimore.

  20

  “Arthur, we must decide which horse to ride,” Berman said as he placed a teaspoon of sugar in his coffee cup.

  Cranshaw smiled and slowly stirred his tea. Morning tea was a ritual he enjoyed sharing with Samuel Berman. He enjoyed the use of the silver tea service and bone china teacups and saucers. He enjoyed the tranquility that the little break always provided him during the late morning activities. Putting his spoon down carefully—it was getting too hot to hold—he raised the raspberry tart to his lips and took a small, appraising bite.

  “Samuel, I realize that you’re uncomfortable with your overtures to Alves, but you know it can’t be helped. We must have a fallback position. And who better than Brazil. They will use the full protection of their government to support our proprietary rights—so long as they gain as well. Did you know, Samuel, that the Wright brothers’ first successful business agreement was not with the United States government. Their first production orders were with European companies. The US government bureaucracy just couldn’t be convinced that these boys had really created a powered flying machine. There was nothing immoral or illegal in their dealings with the Europeans. It was a fallback that proved necessary. We are being prudent, Samuel, in following the lessons of history.”

  “Yes, I understand the business necessity, Arthur. This I understand very well. But it is not the same as with your Wright brothers. We are not only creating a new device, a new industry. We are very likely destroying an old and powerful one. This alone introduces great dangers as you are well aware. But, in addition, dealing with Brazil, specifically, bothers me. Yes, they have the technical base. Yes, they already have a nuclear power industry and can support our technical and manufacturing needs. Yes, they have excellent worldwide business networks. And while these are positive features, they can also prove to be serious matters for concern by United States officials.” Berman paused to take a sip of tea and reached for a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth before resuming.

  “Brazil also is presumed to have nuclear weapons. It also has an active worldwide conventional weapons sales policy. And it has an unstable government and economy. One can make the case, Arthur, that we would be strengthening an undependable and immature regime—strengthening them to the serious detriment of the United States. This was not the case with your Wright brothers. And now that President Drummond has offered to provide us with access to the powerful lasers that we need . . . well, dealing with Alves and the other Brazilians right now, I feel that the president will consider this duplicitous behavior.”

  “And that is why, Samuel, that Brazil is only a fallback of last resort. And that is why you have been exceedingly careful to hide your true relationship with Mr. Alves. And that is why no one else at Nova or AJC knows anything of these particular activities of yours except me. Samuel, you must trust me. We must retain a plan B option.”

  Cranshaw carefully wiped the confectioner’s sugar from his fingers as he sat back on his sofa. He felt the case had been made. It was not like Samuel to be so persistent in the face of his dictums.

  “No, Arthur, I see that you are becoming complacent. This is not good. Secrets have a way of becoming no longer secrets. You cannot count on secrecy to shield us from a wrong act. This is another lesson from history. And if our communications with Alves should become known, it would almost certainly weaken the president’s supporters who back his technology transfer to us.”

  “Nevertheless you must once again trust me, my old friend. You see, Samuel, I well know that there are limits even to the power of the president of the United States. He has great powers, yes. But those powers really derive from consent or acquiescence of the Congress. Should the Congress seriously resist his direction, his powers can quickly turn to dust. This I have seen. Our system reinvents itself with each new administration. Right now we are dealing with a president in the latter half of his second term. As a lame-duck President he can only retain what power he has or he can get weaker, never stronger. This sharing of technology with us will be a first test of his skill in controlling what will inevitably become a more and more restive Congress. He has many arguments he can use for explaining his power to do as he has done. He can justify it as commander in chief. He can simply explain that he was exercising a presidential prerogative in the national interest by awarding us the lens feasibility contract. We shall see how adroit he can be.”

  Cranshaw got up and walked to his high-back leather desk chair and settled himself into it.

  “In any event, Samuel, there is nothing that the Congress can do in time to stop us before the pilot plant is completed. We have finished preliminary testing. With the new lasers having arrived two days ago we should be ready with the pilot plant in less than three weeks. I will announce our results at my next session before the House Committee on Energy. If all goes as expected the president will propose our joint venture to Congress within a day or two of my announcement and the game will be won before the Congress can react.”

  “And what if you are wrong?” Berman asked, realizing the discussion was almost over, that Cranshaw was finished with his philosophizing and his tolerant indulgence of Berman’s concerns.

  “If I am wrong, then there is Brazil,” Cranshaw said. “You see, Samuel, how it all fits together? Don’t worry your head so much. Just keep Senhor Alves interested.” He motioned to the door, indicating the meeting was over.

  After Berman left his office, Arthur Cranshaw leaned back in his chair, sliding his hands under his belt on either side of his huge belly, feeling the comforting mass of his body. Closing his eyes, he let his head recline backward, his chin raising up, stretching the pouch of his neck. He slowly inhaled a long deep breath through his nose and just as slowly exhaled through loosely rounded lips.

  His dream was coming true. The schedule he had created four years ago in his office in Columbia University, with the milestones and durations and resource allocations—with the guesses and hopes—was not a joke, was not an impossible fantasy as so many had predicted. He had achieved a miracle. In his heart he had always known that he would.

  What arrogance, he was told, to challenge the wisdom of the world. What had he been told? And how often? The days of the lonely inventor are dead. The individual can do nothing. The world is too complicated for isolated achievement. Everything that can be learned simply, by individuals or small groups, has already been learned. From now on, human knowledge would advance only through the efforts of huge conglomerates or government-funded and controlled programs.

  Well, he did not believe it then and he acted on his disbelief. He knew he would find a way to tame nuclear fusion. He, Arthur Cranshaw. He was proud of his business skills. He was proud of being a physicist. In his youth, he liked to tell people how physicists are a different breed. They are always physicists and something else. Musicians, maybe. Or mountain climbers. Or even businessmen.

  We are not like engineers, he would say. Engineers work with equations that other people have discovered. Their skill is in learning how to apply those equations, in understanding the appropriate applications of those equations and their limitations. But physicists—we create the equations, he would tell his students. We start with a vacuum and create knowledge. We a
re driven by a different imperative. We seek understanding. We want to understand how the world works and if possible, why. There is an aesthetic aspect of a physicist’s motivation that dwells on the elegance of a discovered and understood secret of nature. It becomes a spiritual quest.

  The search for knowledge must be placed within a context, that is, within a reference frame. And for Arthur Cranshaw, that reference frame has always been business. He believed, even as a child, that the world of business was a noble world, filled with elegant and powerful possibilities. He knew the laws of business were not universal laws. But they worked within the context for which they were intended. He believed it was a context where he could apply physics and produce beauty, profit, power, and satisfaction.

  And he was right. And his satisfaction was growing.

  He knew the one great danger in his context was pride. “Pride goeth before the fall.” He searched his soul for evidence of pride—to confront it and destroy it. Yet, in spite of his efforts to quench the taunting fire of smugness, he knew that he was unique. He acted differently from other men. He was driven and he knew it. He was driven by great purpose. Also, he looked different. He knew that as well. So be it. People of great purpose are often eccentric. It is one of the laws of his reference frame that great achievers are judged by different standards than those who merely follow.

  A rapping on his office door roused Cranshaw from his musings. Cranshaw said, “Enter,” and his program manager, John Welton, walked into his office. Welton had taken over operational responsibilities with the absence of Philip Layland.

  “Excuse me, Dr. Cranshaw. You asked for the progress report on target compression. I have the report here, sir. Would you like me to leave it or I can give you a brief verbal if you like?”

  “Yes, John. Please summarize for me. I will read the report later for the details.”

  “Well, the bottom line, sir, is that with the new laser, everything is now possible. The new solid laser module works like a charm. As you know, we hadn’t pushed the system up the full compression slope because of our concern about back reflection. We’ve now finished testing the new optical system at low power and can confirm that back reflection through the whole optical path is completely suppressed using the Newton shutters. With your permission we’re ready now to begin testing up the compression slope.

  “There is a negative scale factor here due to the small size of our prototype. We estimate for a full-scale commercial plant, better than ninety percent energy efficiency will be attainable. We should be able to demonstrate the seventy percent level within two weeks of your authorization to proceed. The optics group, the nuclear chemistry group, and fuel cell group are in complete agreement on the protocols for the neutron density calculations. We are presently holding at twenty percent of full power.”

  “Excellent, John. Excellent. Thank you very much for your good news. I will read the report and let you know my decision by nine o’ clock tomorrow morning. Please congratulate your team for me. Assuming we go ahead tomorrow, please be prepared to assemble the three teams at nine-thirty. I’ll want to say a few words to them on their outstanding achievements. Thank you again, John.”

  When Welton left the room, Cranshaw picked up the report. He held it in his hands as if it were a precious jewel to be admired for its own sake rather than for the words contained within it. For Cranshaw this was true. It was symbolic of his technical triumph. Everything was happening exactly as he had planned it. And this report was the material proof. As such it was a thing of beauty to Arthur Cranshaw. Slowly and carefully he placed the report on his desk once again. Reverently he turned to the first page and began to read.

  21

  Samuel Berman quickly moved down the dimly lit hall toward his office. As he passed Sylvia Carlyle’s office, she saw him and called out to him. Lost in his thoughts, he failed to hear her and continued to his office. He went in just as Sylvia reached her own office door, puzzled and looking after him.

  Berman went to his desk and sat down. He lowered his head into his hands and tried to rub the anxiety from the muscles of his face. It was no use. He understood the business necessity of an alternative plan should matters with President Drummond go awry. Yet he did not believe the next step was advisable. He understood the need to keep the Brazilians interested, but he did not believe that AJC Fusion could go down parallel paths with both the Americans and with the Brazilians, simultaneously, and not have the duplicity discovered, as it surely would be. And surely they are being watched. Would not the president take steps to ensure that he is not betrayed?

  These were powerful forces at work all around him. Berman had known fear before in his life, but that was a victim’s fear. Fear for his family, for his job, and when a child in Russia, fear for his life. His faith had always been a support to him in those bitter and trembling moments. But this was a fear that Samuel Berman never believed he would experience. He was afraid that he was doing wrong. And that he would get caught.

  He had known Arthur Cranshaw for thirty years. He had grown with him and loved him as a brother. Cranshaw was everything that Berman was not. Arthur was ambitious, shrewd, aggressive, a visionary, a leader, while he, Berman, was steady, predictable, honest, a follower. And he trusted Arthur. He had learned from experience that trusting Arthur was a safe thing for him to do.

  He closed his eyes and thought about when it began with him and Arthur. He was thirty-three years old and Arthur was twenty-eight. Yet Arthur always was so active, he seemed naturally to take the lead. He was afraid of nothing and his size made people think before they teased him. He was not a jolly fat man. He was a daring loner. He did not care if he was liked.

  They had met in a pawnshop. He was bringing a ring in to get money for a doctor. Marsha was pregnant and things were not going well. Arthur was reclaiming his Canon high-definition digital camera. A word, a pleasantry, and in a moment they were deep in conversation—the dreamer and the accountant.

  It was a very difficult time, then, for him and for Marsha. It had been a constant struggle for financial survival as he earned his doctoral degree in finance. A glorified bookkeeper he told himself was all he was. Marsha would soothe him and encourage him. Yet things just did not go his way and he was tired of the constant poverty and sickness and struggle. He and Marsha had agreed that they would go to Israel and start over there where the struggle was for something—if not for them, then at least for the country. But she became pregnant before they could emigrate. When she became ill, he got a job working nights as a movie attendant. And the bills grew, for the doctor and for the medicine. Samuel’s depression became profound.

  Then Samuel met Arthur. Arthur was one of those people who attracted good luck. That was a talent that Samuel did not underestimate.

  When they met at the pawn shop, Arthur was redeeming his property with money from a small inheritance. He had finished graduate school—obtained his doctorate in physics four years before. After only one year as a research associate at Brookhaven National Laboratory Arthur quit to care for his father who was seriously ill with heart disease. After three years, his father died. But it was not his father who left him the inheritance. No, his father was not a lucky man and had no wealth to give to his son. Rather, it was an uncle who, as he explained in his will, was leaving twenty-five thousand dollars to Arthur for his display of filial loyalty to his brother, Arthur’s father.

  It was this money that brought Arthur to the pawnshop where they met. Arthur and Samuel saw each other often after their chance encounter. Arthur invested ten thousand dollars in a publishing company. The value of the stock increased tenfold in a period of a year. Arthur used the profit to buy a small machine shop. It was a prototype shop, specializing in high precision machining. He added a prototype electronics shop. Both businesses flourished.

  By then, Marsha had miscarried. A uterine infection led to a hysterectomy and the realization that they would never have children. They gave up their plan to go to Israel. It was not a
country for childless immigrants. Arthur asked Samuel to be his company accountant and he accepted.

  Arthur’s interest in optics led him to add a lens-grinding shop to his other enterprises. His inventive mind, coupled with his daring spirit, lead him to develop an inexpensive home security system that he could manufacture in his shops. His system was perfected during a period of national security paranoia and both his shops and his product prospered.

  Arthur discovered that in addition to exhibiting great attention to financial details, Samuel had untapped organizational and management skills. He asked Samuel to be the comptroller of his enterprises, which, at Samuel’s suggestion, Arthur gathered under the umbrella company, Nova Industries.

  He also renewed his relationships with researchers at the Brookhaven Labs. His work on radiation-induced color centers in diamonds led to international prominence and an appointment at Columbia University. Arthur had also become successful at acquiring Defense Department contracts for studies of the energy transport mechanisms in organic materials—this at a time when government interest in photosynthesis was at its peak.

  And now there was Arthur’s dream of practical, commercial, controlled thermonuclear fusion. And once again, Arthur had succeeded beyond even Samuel’s expectations. AJC Fusion, the company Arthur started to limit the liabilities associated with the microfusion venture, would prosper and Arthur would prosper and Samuel would prosper.

  The bond of trust that had developed over the years became a bond of loyalty and of genuine awe. It was this loyalty that Arthur was calling on once more. And once more Samuel would trust this lucky man, his friend and mentor. He would meet once again with Afonso Alves because Arthur believed it to be important that he do this and because he had asked him to do it. And because Arthur said it was important to do this, he would bring Alves the results of the classified feasibility study commissioned by the president of the United States. He had no choice.