Michael Malone - Weebly

way to accidental death in the gray Atlantic. The
demolition team was dismissed with ribald good wishes
for the evening. Now beneath the moon stood Brickhart
with the exhausted Thom, Dick, and Harry. They stood
ringed by a circle of the base's gasoline barrels, which
they had collected and positioned along the perimeter of
the compound. The barrels were stamped ALAS-ORE
OIL Co. And at the base's center was raised a pyre of
plywood and five years' worth of back copies of
Playboy magazine. On top of these Commander
Brickhart placed the chief of staff's framed diplomas
(B.S. from Fairleigh Dickinson, Ph.D. from Rutgers
University, M.D. from Harvard Medical School), along
with a framed photograph of a younger Svatopluk,
wiry-haired and blotto-eyed, in a line of scientists
honored to shake hands with the fairy tale president,
John Kennedy.
Finally, with a sprinkle of gasoline from a coffee
can, the naval commander offered a short blessing,
which the representatives of the secret services, who
did not speak the language, heard with discomfort.
"Earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes. We