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Shakey looked at his watch. 2:12 p.m. Four minutes to go. He reached inside the mouth of the thick, steel-walled canister, its faded pea-green paint flaking off in spots around the rim. His hands shook as he reached in to remove the smaller canister of helium nestled at the top. As he pulled it out, the pressure hose thudded against the thick steel and caused him to freeze. He laid the helium canister on the prayer rug to prevent any sounds coming from the van’s ridged metal floor. Beads of sweat matted against his hair. His breathing was choppy.
Inside and halfway down the length of the canister hovered a perfect sphere four inches across—the uranium core. It was suspended in midair by a series of powerful magnets on all sides. His instructions were simple. To initiate the nuclear r
