MacLeod thought, toying with the stem of his
wineglass, of some of their triumphs: The West Australia Atomic Power
Plant. The Segovia Plutonium Works, which had got them all titled as
Grandees of the restored Spanish Monarchy. The sea-water chemical
extraction plant in Puerto Rico, where they had worked for Associated
Enterprises, whose president, Blake Hartley, had later become President
of the United States. The hard-won victory over a seemingly insoluble
problem in the Belgian Congo uranium mines----He thought, too, of the
dangers they had faced together, in a world where soldiers must use the
weapons of science and scientists must learn the arts of violence. Of
the treachery of the Islamic Kaliphate, for whom they had once worked;
of the intrigues and plots which had surrounded them in Spain; of the
many attempted kidnappings and assassinations; of the time in Basra when
they had fought with pistols and tommy guns and snatched-up clubs and
flasks of acid to defend their laboratories.
A good team--before the rot of treason had touched it.
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