From the top of the Black Suitcase projected two one-inch copper electrodes, fourteen inches apart. The North American Carbide & Metals technicians set up the circuits that were connected to the electrodes without any help from Sorensen.
But just before they started to work, Sorensen said: “There’s just one thing I think you ought to warn those men about, Mr. Thorn.”
“What’s that?” Thorn asked.
“If any of ’em tries to open that suitcase, they’re likely to get blown sky high. And I don’t want ’em getting funny with me, either.”
He had his hand in his trouser pocket, and Thorn was suddenly quite certain that the man was holding a revolver. He could see the outlines against the cloth.
Thorn sighed. “Don’t worry, Mr. Sorensen. We don’t have any ulterior designs on your invention.” He did not add that the investigators of NAC&M had already assumed that anyone who was asking one million dollars for an invention which was, in effect, a pig in a poke, would be expected to take drastic methods to protect his gadget. But there would be no point in telling Sorensen that his protective efforts had already been anticipated and that the technicians had already been warned against touching the Black Suitcase any more than necessary to connect the leads. Giving Sorensen that information might make him even more touchy.
Thorn only hoped that the bomb, or whatever it was that Sorensen had put in the suitcase, was well built, properly fused, and provided with adequate safeties.
When everything was set up, Sorensen walked over to his device and turned it on by shoving the blade of a heavy-duty switch into place. “O.K.,” he said.
One of the technicians began flipping other switches, and a bank of ordinary incandescent light bulbs came on, four at a time. Finally there were one hundred of them burning, each one a hundred-watt bulb that glowed brightly but did not appear to be contributing much to the general brightness of the Utah sun. The technicians checked their recording voltmeters and ammeters and reported that, sure enough, some ten kilowatts of power at a little less than one hundred fifteen volts D.C. was coming from the Black Suitcase.
Sorensen and Thorn sat in the tent which had been erected to ward off the sun’s rays. They watched the lights shine.