"Go on . . ."
"l'd need something light, a compound. Aluminum alloy constructed with pulleys and levers and a stabilizer."
"You'd get greater velocity and much flatter trajectory than with a recurve bow," Carlos said as he gracefully moved a drawing pencil over a fine sheet of paper.
"I'd need that because of wind factor. A hundred-pound compound would be like shooting a hundred-and-forty-pound recurve."
"With the levers and pulleys you'd increase the speed," Carlos noted approvingly. "And that would enable you to overcome the problem of decreased speed with a conventional bow because of the arching flight."
Bradford nodded and stood over Carlos's drawing board. He pointed to the trigger.
"If you could make an automatic trigger release, the cable could be held back indefinitely."
"I agree."
"What kind of material could be used for the cable?" he asked as Packard paced the bunker, stopping to examine heavy artillery and occasionally interrupting by calling out, "You fuckers are crazy."
"Aircraft cable," Carlos replied. "I can construct it so that it can be taken apart in three sections, the riser and two limbs. It will have pylons where the limbs and handle join, and there will be two pulleys for the wire aircraft cable. You'd be able to assemble it in five minutes."
"Pack, listen, will you? The compound crossbow we're talking about improves accuracy. The pull is easier, and the arrow strikes faster and with greater power."
"What would the maximum range be?" Packard asked, holding a bazooka.
"A hundred yards, I'd guess," Carlos replied.
"Well, how the hell are we going to hit it without a sight?"
Carlos turned to Bradford and smiled.
"That's easy. I'll mount a sniper's sight using a 100 x 100 Zeiss telescopic sight with a 210mm zoom."
"Sounds terrific," Packard said sarcastically. "And we fire arrows, I guess."
"That's right," Bradford insisted. "Stainless steel with razor-blade-sharp broadheads and fletched in red so that we can follow the flight in the snow."
"What do you want to penetrate?" Carlos asked, looking perplexed.
"Something stronger than a rhino's hide," Bradford answered.
"But then"—Carlos threw up his hands in a gesture of futility—"it's hopeless."
"There has to be a way to solve this," Bradford insisted. "We can't quit now." The bows and arrows of the hunters in the cave painting had been representational, he realized. Symbols of primitive men attempting to defend themselves against a force of nature that was invincible.
Carlos wiped the sweat from his brow with a crisp Irish linen handkerchief and poured another cup of the bitter green tea.
"If sound is the governing factor, you still come back to the basic problem you started with. You can't cause an explosion."
For ten years Bradford had withdrawn from society and its pressures because he regarded himself as an outcast. Now he couldn't be vanquished again, just when the opportunity to redeem himself had presented itself.
Carlos's lips were moving, and he glared at Bradford. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"
"I'm sorry."
"Does the arrow have to pierce the target?"
"How else can you kill . . . ?"
"Just suppose the arrow doesn't penetrate the target?"
"No good."
"If the arrow stuck to the target?"
"Then what?" Packard asked, yawning.
"If the head of the arrow were made of some nonslip plastic that adhered to ice and instead of causing an explosion on contact it created just the opposite effect. The target would disintegrate and you could still achieve your purpose."
"Total destruction?" Bradford asked, filled with quixotic optimism.
"Yes, I'm talking about an implosion . Whatever the arrow hit and penetrated would fragment from within."
"What sort of material would you use?"
Carlos returned to his drawing board and drew a round-headed arrow with what resembled a suction cap.
"Plutonium. I'd make miniature nuclear warheads that would operate on transistors."
"Is it possible?"
"For a price, anything is
"l'd need something light, a compound. Aluminum alloy constructed with pulleys and levers and a stabilizer."
"You'd get greater velocity and much flatter trajectory than with a recurve bow," Carlos said as he gracefully moved a drawing pencil over a fine sheet of paper.
"I'd need that because of wind factor. A hundred-pound compound would be like shooting a hundred-and-forty-pound recurve."
"With the levers and pulleys you'd increase the speed," Carlos noted approvingly. "And that would enable you to overcome the problem of decreased speed with a conventional bow because of the arching flight."
Bradford nodded and stood over Carlos's drawing board. He pointed to the trigger.
"If you could make an automatic trigger release, the cable could be held back indefinitely."
"I agree."
"What kind of material could be used for the cable?" he asked as Packard paced the bunker, stopping to examine heavy artillery and occasionally interrupting by calling out, "You fuckers are crazy."
"Aircraft cable," Carlos replied. "I can construct it so that it can be taken apart in three sections, the riser and two limbs. It will have pylons where the limbs and handle join, and there will be two pulleys for the wire aircraft cable. You'd be able to assemble it in five minutes."
"Pack, listen, will you? The compound crossbow we're talking about improves accuracy. The pull is easier, and the arrow strikes faster and with greater power."
"What would the maximum range be?" Packard asked, holding a bazooka.
"A hundred yards, I'd guess," Carlos replied.
"Well, how the hell are we going to hit it without a sight?"
Carlos turned to Bradford and smiled.
"That's easy. I'll mount a sniper's sight using a 100 x 100 Zeiss telescopic sight with a 210mm zoom."
"Sounds terrific," Packard said sarcastically. "And we fire arrows, I guess."
"That's right," Bradford insisted. "Stainless steel with razor-blade-sharp broadheads and fletched in red so that we can follow the flight in the snow."
"What do you want to penetrate?" Carlos asked, looking perplexed.
"Something stronger than a rhino's hide," Bradford answered.
"But then"—Carlos threw up his hands in a gesture of futility—"it's hopeless."
"There has to be a way to solve this," Bradford insisted. "We can't quit now." The bows and arrows of the hunters in the cave painting had been representational, he realized. Symbols of primitive men attempting to defend themselves against a force of nature that was invincible.
Carlos wiped the sweat from his brow with a crisp Irish linen handkerchief and poured another cup of the bitter green tea.
"If sound is the governing factor, you still come back to the basic problem you started with. You can't cause an explosion."
For ten years Bradford had withdrawn from society and its pressures because he regarded himself as an outcast. Now he couldn't be vanquished again, just when the opportunity to redeem himself had presented itself.
Carlos's lips were moving, and he glared at Bradford. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"
"I'm sorry."
"Does the arrow have to pierce the target?"
"How else can you kill . . . ?"
"Just suppose the arrow doesn't penetrate the target?"
"No good."
"If the arrow stuck to the target?"
"Then what?" Packard asked, yawning.
"If the head of the arrow were made of some nonslip plastic that adhered to ice and instead of causing an explosion on contact it created just the opposite effect. The target would disintegrate and you could still achieve your purpose."
"Total destruction?" Bradford asked, filled with quixotic optimism.
"Yes, I'm talking about an implosion . Whatever the arrow hit and penetrated would fragment from within."
"What sort of material would you use?"
Carlos returned to his drawing board and drew a round-headed arrow with what resembled a suction cap.
"Plutonium. I'd make miniature nuclear warheads that would operate on transistors."
"Is it possible?"
"For a price, anything is
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