Muller watched the other men as Madox continued his tirade. It seemed to Harry that the other guys were a little uncomfortable now that Madox had taken off from the Islamic terrorist problem and was finding new enemies to kill. And then there was the oil thing, which Harry thought was at least as important to Bain Madox and Global Oil Corporation as getting rid of terrorists. Harry already knew this guy was nuts, but now he was
seeing
how nuts—and so were Madox’s buddies.
Madox stood, and his voice became strident. “And as a Vietnam veteran, I tell you, we will also redeem our lost honor when American troops march into Saigon and Hanoi without a peep from China or anyone.”
He looked at his four colleagues and concluded, “For us
not
to go nuclear—for us to continue this fight against our enemies by conventional and diplomatic means, to waste lives and treasure in this battle, to prolong it without a clear victory in sight—is morally wrong. We have the means to end this quickly, decisively, and cheaply through the use of nuclear weapons that we already possess. To
not
use these weapons against people who would use them against us if they could would be national suicide, a strategic blunder, an affront to common sense, and an insult to God.”
Bain Madox sat down.
The room was still.
Harry Muller studied the faces in the dim light and said to himself,
Yeah, they know he’s nuts. But they don’t care because he’s just saying what they’re thinking.
Bain Madox lit a cigarette and said matter-of-factly, “Okay, let’s talk now about which American cities need to be sacrificed, and how and when we’re going to do that.”
PART V
Saturday
N ORTH F ORK , L ONG I SLAND
Nassau Point, Long Island, August 2, 1939
F. D. Roosevelt, President of the United States,
White House, Washington, D.C.
Sir . . . it may become possible to set up a nuclear chain reaction in a large mass of uranium, by which vast amounts of power and large quantities of new radium-like elements would be generated . . . by which, my dear Mr. President, it might be possible to unleash an immense destructive force.
—Albert Einstein
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A fter dinner at the barge restaurant, Kate and I drove out toward Orient Point on the eastern tip of the North Fork of Long Island.
The sky was partly cloudy, but I could see stars, which I rarely see in Manhattan.
The North Fork is a windswept spit of land, quite beautiful in a stark sort of way, surrounded by the Long Island Sound to the north, Gardiner’s Bay to the south, and the Atlantic Ocean to the east.
Because the surrounding water holds its summer heat, the autumns are unusually warm for this latitude. In fact, this microclimate, plus maybe global warming in general, was the reason for the newly planted vineyards, and the resulting explosion of tourism, which has changed the feel of the land.
As a kid, I summered out here with my parents along with other hardy and less affluent families who could not afford the Hamptons, or who specifically wanted to avoid the Hampton crowd.
One such hardy soul was Albert Einstein, who summered here at a place called Nassau Point in 1939; and since there wasn’t much to do, he probably had a lot of time to think. So one day, at the urging of other physicists, he wrote a letter to Franklin Roosevelt—now called the Nassau Point Letter—in which he strongly advised the president to get moving on the atomic bomb before the Nazis built one of their own. The rest, as they say, is history.
Regarding microclimates and the warming weather, I said to Kate, “Let’s go for a skinny-dip.”
She glanced at me and replied, “It’s October, John.”
“We should take advantage of global warming before everyone else does. In ten years, this place will have palm trees instead of vineyards, and thousands of people will be coming here in October to soak up the sun.”
“Then let’s come back in ten years for a swim.”
I continued east on Route
seeing
how nuts—and so were Madox’s buddies.
Madox stood, and his voice became strident. “And as a Vietnam veteran, I tell you, we will also redeem our lost honor when American troops march into Saigon and Hanoi without a peep from China or anyone.”
He looked at his four colleagues and concluded, “For us
not
to go nuclear—for us to continue this fight against our enemies by conventional and diplomatic means, to waste lives and treasure in this battle, to prolong it without a clear victory in sight—is morally wrong. We have the means to end this quickly, decisively, and cheaply through the use of nuclear weapons that we already possess. To
not
use these weapons against people who would use them against us if they could would be national suicide, a strategic blunder, an affront to common sense, and an insult to God.”
Bain Madox sat down.
The room was still.
Harry Muller studied the faces in the dim light and said to himself,
Yeah, they know he’s nuts. But they don’t care because he’s just saying what they’re thinking.
Bain Madox lit a cigarette and said matter-of-factly, “Okay, let’s talk now about which American cities need to be sacrificed, and how and when we’re going to do that.”
PART V
Saturday
N ORTH F ORK , L ONG I SLAND
Nassau Point, Long Island, August 2, 1939
F. D. Roosevelt, President of the United States,
White House, Washington, D.C.
Sir . . . it may become possible to set up a nuclear chain reaction in a large mass of uranium, by which vast amounts of power and large quantities of new radium-like elements would be generated . . . by which, my dear Mr. President, it might be possible to unleash an immense destructive force.
—Albert Einstein
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A fter dinner at the barge restaurant, Kate and I drove out toward Orient Point on the eastern tip of the North Fork of Long Island.
The sky was partly cloudy, but I could see stars, which I rarely see in Manhattan.
The North Fork is a windswept spit of land, quite beautiful in a stark sort of way, surrounded by the Long Island Sound to the north, Gardiner’s Bay to the south, and the Atlantic Ocean to the east.
Because the surrounding water holds its summer heat, the autumns are unusually warm for this latitude. In fact, this microclimate, plus maybe global warming in general, was the reason for the newly planted vineyards, and the resulting explosion of tourism, which has changed the feel of the land.
As a kid, I summered out here with my parents along with other hardy and less affluent families who could not afford the Hamptons, or who specifically wanted to avoid the Hampton crowd.
One such hardy soul was Albert Einstein, who summered here at a place called Nassau Point in 1939; and since there wasn’t much to do, he probably had a lot of time to think. So one day, at the urging of other physicists, he wrote a letter to Franklin Roosevelt—now called the Nassau Point Letter—in which he strongly advised the president to get moving on the atomic bomb before the Nazis built one of their own. The rest, as they say, is history.
Regarding microclimates and the warming weather, I said to Kate, “Let’s go for a skinny-dip.”
She glanced at me and replied, “It’s October, John.”
“We should take advantage of global warming before everyone else does. In ten years, this place will have palm trees instead of vineyards, and thousands of people will be coming here in October to soak up the sun.”
“Then let’s come back in ten years for a swim.”
I continued east on Route
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