The Cup
“He watched the Syrian desert speeding past. The sun was a golden ball of fire, the sky a gray-blue dome that stretched to the horizon. Air blowing through the open windows smelled of dry sand and heated rock.
Sitting next to Haddad was a pinched little man wearing thick glasses with heavy black frames, reading a technical abstract dealing with the finer points of nuclear fission. The paper was written in French. The principles of creating a nuclear explosion were the same in any language.
... Rashid Jaffari had been educated in the West, taking an advanced degree at MIT. He'd been working on building a bomb for Saddam Hussein before the invasion but had run out of time before it could be completed. He'd gone to ground in the lawless mountains of Pakistan before the Americans could capture him. Now he'd been given a second chance to finish his work. This time, he would not be interrupted before he was done.
It was of little consequence to Rashid if success meant the deaths of many thousands of people.MoreLess
Sitting next to Haddad was a pinched little man wearing thick glasses with heavy black frames, reading a technical abstract dealing with the finer points of nuclear fission. The paper was written in French. The principles of creating a nuclear explosion were the same in any language.
... Rashid Jaffari had been educated in the West, taking an advanced degree at MIT. He'd been working on building a bomb for Saddam Hussein before the invasion but had run out of time before it could be completed. He'd gone to ground in the lawless mountains of Pakistan before the Americans could capture him. Now he'd been given a second chance to finish his work. This time, he would not be interrupted before he was done.
It was of little consequence to Rashid if success meant the deaths of many thousands of people.MoreLess
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