Pa'an

Victor Zimmer shambled between two soldiers wearing desert camouflage and a black beret. He wore no restraints, but a third soldier held an AK47 at his back. Victor was a big bent bear of a man, well past fighting age, and not trained in combat. They forced him into a very small room with a high ceiling that contained only one large wooden chair. On the back of the chair was a necklace of gray-silver beads. He stopped moving and stared at the beads. Those radionucleides were not supposed to be available in Azerbaijan. He had heard of such a thing – a Radium Rosary. The armed soldier shoved the muzzle of the AK47 into the back of his neck and forced him into the room. They closed a heavy door and locked him in.

Two decades ago he gave up a mediocre career as an academic, teaching nuclear physics to an ever-diminishing class at the University of Heidelberg, and doing passable research on the effects of ionizing radiation on building materials at the Max Planck Institute. He became a science adviser to the Austrian government. Eventually he was proposed to the United Nations as an inspector for the mid-East nuclear anti-proliferation team.

He had no illusions about the contribution he was making. He only got to inspect the things the politicians let him inspect. Still, because he had a touch of insight and integrity, his reports revealed more than his political handlers anticipated. To some, Dr. Victor Zimmer was a hero. To others, Zimmer was a bad word spit through gritted teeth. He began to realize that he had a very dangerous job. He had given up his wife, Emma, whom he had known since his undergraduate days at the University of Salzburg, when she refused to move to Geneva. In Geneva he met a Swiss/German beauty, Marta. He loved Marta dearly, and often wondered how he was lucky enough to find such a woman. In the end, however, her loyalty was conditional, and she left him when she realized that there was no security in his job with the U.N. In any dangerous situation, his mind turned to Marta, as it did now. What kind of simple, loving life could he have had with Marta? It was too late now.

There was no place to stand. Victor sighed and sat down in the chair. Immediately, a voice came from a hidden speaker, “Put the necklace on, Victor.” The tone implied the rest of the threat. He picked it up – it was quite heavy. The beads were spent fuel elements from a reactor core, threaded with silver wire. He guessed at the reactor and assumed there was a heavy enrichment of plutonium. He backed away, but there was no place to go.

“Put the necklace on, Victor. Now.” It was a death sentence.

“Wouldn’t a bullet be faster?” he growled.

“Radiation is an occupational hazard for a nuclear inspector, Victor, and it sends a message.”

“It’s too late, you know. I already sent my report about the outside assistance this country is getting. This metal wasn’t made here.”

“We don’t care about the nuclear ambitions of any one country. They are just one client.” The voice was a slow tenor overlaid on a codec warble – obviously computer generated, possibly from a remote facility. It was impossible to tell whether it was male or female, or detect a consistent accent.

“Who are you?”

“You will die more slowly if you do not put the necklace on. You already got several rads.”

Victor did his own calculation. Pu239 emitted gamma rays as well as alpha particles. The gamma radiation, invisible needles that destroyed flesh, was more dangerous at this distance. At shorter distances the alpha particles were a quicker death. He put on the necklace. One loop was over his spleen and liver.

“While we wait, Victor, I want you to know that your bosses also work for us. Nothing at the U.N. goes on without our involvement.”

“Doesn’t the possession of nuclear weapons and missile delivery systems in the hands of fanatics disturb you?”

“They are our fanatics. They implement our greater plan.”

“To what purpose? A nuclear war will kill 25% of the population of the planet, and God knows the long-term effects.”

“Your kill rate is low, Victor. While these precious fanatics work to destroy what they call the Great Satan, we are also at work on the other side with a small elite group of survivors. They will inherit a better world.”

“You are insane!” Victor was feeling something like a deep sunburn and he started to cough.

“And you are a nuclear inspector who obviously died of ionizing radiation in a country that is not supposed to have any radioactives. I’m sure your medical examiners will have all the clues to conduct a thorough autopsy. That should put some credibility into your report. And that will further our purposes nicely.”

“Maniacs!” His coughing had become quite painful. He wished he could just make one last call to Marta. It was not possible. The skin on his neck burned, a heat he could feel all the way to his lungs.

“Thank you for your service, Victor, and goodbye.”