Free The Sex Sphere by Rudy Rucker Page B

threat of second one.” He rubs brisk thumb against fingers in the money gesture. He’s more criminal than terrorist.
    “Look,” Beatrice says, sternly addressing Peter. “I saw a TV show where any bright twelve-year-old kid can build an A-bomb if he has the…the radioactive stuff. Read some books, man. I say we set off the first one in St. Peter’s Square on Easter.”
    Giulia looks a little upset at this. “No, no. Those are simple people, good people. You must not bomb them.”
    Beatrice shrugs indifferently. “We need the crowd. I’d like to see at least one thousand dead for the news.”
    The last giant concrete shoebox of nuclear fuel is loaded onto the freight elevator down. Orali takes Giulia’s arm.
    “ Vuolsi così colà dove si puote ciò che si vuole, e più non dimandare .”
    “ Bene ,” she says, flashing her sharp teeth.

CHAPTER SIX
    The Anarchist Archimedes

    Sybil was still in Vice-Consul Membrane’s office when the bad news came in.
    “The bait worked… almost perfectly,” Membrane announced, setting down the phone. His eyes were focused somewhere past Sybil.
    “He’s dead,” Sybil said flatly. “Go on and tell me.”
    “No, no. He’s been kidnapped by a new group called Green Death. They’re the ones with the reactor fuel. We monitored the arrangements over a phone-tap. Only…”
    The children had finished their comics now, and were feeling hyper from all the sweets Membrane had fed them.
    “On’y whut? ” shouted Ida, sticking her head out from behind Sybil’s chair.
    Membrane looked genuinely embarrassed. “We…were too slow. They snatched him out from under us. And now…” He raised two trowel-like hands.
    “Now my poor husband will be forced to assemble an atomic bomb for the Green Death,” Sybil spat out. “Just you wait till I tell this story to everyone. Here you’ve taken a simple kidnapping for money and turned it into nuclear terrorism. They’ll never…”
    Never let him go , she had meant to say. But thinking the words brought her tears back, hot and bitter. It was no use staying here, no use listening to this shitweasel blather on about secret agreements and delicate negotiations.
    “Just shut up,” Sybil said, standing. “I’m leaving. I’m going to tell this to the Herald Tribune .”
    Something hard flashed in Membrane’s eyes. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
    Sybil tugged the kids out of their chairs. “Why not?”
    “If you go to the paper, then I will give them my version. I will tell them of my…suspicions.” Membrane scratched his face, goggled at her and continued. “Sybil. I think your husband went over to the terrorists of his own free will.”
    “That is such BULL!” shouted Sybil. “Let’s get OUT of here, children!” She slammed the door behind her.
    A minute later she was outside the Embassy. Buttwhumper gave her a friendly salute. She nodded weakly and walked off down the sidewalk. Where to now?
    To the newspaper. To make a stink. Membrane shouldn’t get away with this. She bought a Herald Tribune at the next newsstand.
    “I’m hungry for lunch,” Tom told her quietly.
    “Me too!” quacked Ida. “Hungwy!”
    “Is Daddy making bombs?” asked Tom.
    “I think he might have to,” Sybil said with a shaky sigh. She too was hungry. “We can have lunch in this café, children.”
    They were standing under the awning of one of the nicer Via Veneto cafés, a big place called The Glacier. Inside was a huge room with marble columns, and out here under the awning were dozens of tables as well. The chairs were the good kind of lawn furniture, made of thick gray plastic cords stretched between black steel tubes. Sybil plopped down in a chair facing the street, and the children sat down across from her.
    A slender, dignified waiter appeared and they placed their orders. Spaghetti con sugo for the kids, a salade niçoise for Sybil. Fanta, mineral water and a quarter liter of vino bianco . The victuals began arriving