Page 8-Saturday June 3, 1978-The Michigan Daily A tale of atomic terrorism By Steven Bennish The Judas Squad, by James N. Rowe. Little Brown & Co., 325 pp. $8.95 C ONFRONTED BY THE frightening portents offered by James N. Rowe's novel The Judas Squad, I am reminded of Lester Del Rey's short novel Nerves. Nerves was written early in 1942 and details a disaster in an atomic power plant. At that time the feasibility of atomic power was discussed almost exclusively in the science fiction magazines and Nerves could not, by the standards of most citizens, be called reasonable speculation. So believable, so possible was his plot, the FBI actually investigated Del Rey The Judas Squad is a reasonable speculation. In fact, what makes it so alarming is the indisputaly factual methodology of its execution. The author evidently did not have to rely on his imagination to draw a realistic portrait of a modern atomic power plant and the disaster which subsequently befalls it. He used information readily available to the public. Rowe is not satisfied with depicting a random disaster; he has written of how the security of an atomic plant may be breached by a band of profiteers in order to press extortionist demands. WE HAVE ALREADY seen how three graduate students at various institutions have, using infor- mation found in public facilities, drawn plans for home-made atomic bombs. This is alarming, but less so when one considers that the nuclear material must first be obtained. A blueprint for this appears in The Judas Squad. The conspiracy is hatched by an international cabal of illegal arms merchants. The principal con- spirator, naturally, is a former Nazi munitions manufacturer. He has been given a contract by a representative of certain "third world" nations to secure weapons-grade nuclear material which will ensure for them a measure of self-determination. The former Nazi says, "while the small nation is trying to carve out an identity for itself, it is being played as a piece in the superpower chess game ... See A TALE, Page 14 S O, HERE I AM in one of the most sought-after work positions for science-loving types (especially pre- meds) at the U. And I was tying rubber bands together, while one of the post-doctoral lab researchers was telling me that many would sacrifice much to be where Iam today. That's probably true. But this is the saga of how I managed to slowly climb that ladder of recognition, finally to be handed a position, and with a subject in which I was interested as a bonus. Not many are as lucky as I. The quest began when I decided that I would have enough time from my studies one semester to work part time. Ever since elementary school there had been a little voice inside me that kept saying "research". Research what or who I didn't know, but it was a welcome phrase when I was con- stantly harangued by peers and relatives with that traumatizing question: "Sonny? What are you going to do with your life?" I slyly smiled and answered "I'm going to work in a lab doing research." "ohhhh. . . " and the sub- ject was dropped. ANYWAY, it was the top of my junior year and I didn't know where to begin looking. A friend of mine, already well established, recommended a Dr. Sparks, head of un- dergraduate research. "Well," I thought, "This is my big break. Surely this person will be able to find me something, anything. Once I'm in the door, I can move around, make my presence known." Wrong. I met with Dr. Sparks, called him several times, but he had nothing to offer. Months went by. Still nothing. Finally, he felt so sorry for this pining un- dergraduate that he offered to take a computer project out of the mothballs and let me work on it for at least twenty hours per week, no money and no credit. I thanked him and politely declined. Frustrated and angry, I became depressed and dropped the idea altogether. However, I still used my catchphrase when approached with "the rest of my life" question, and started feeling somewhat uncertain. How can I go into research when I don't even know what research is like? the thought kept reoccurring, gnawing at me like vultures tearing at a freshly-killed carcass. Finally, in the summer before my senior year, I decided to try again. I even knew what subject I was interested in-reproduction, specifically contraceptives. SO I STARTED making phone calls. I called heads of any subject remorely connected wit wanted: Pharmacy, Biochemistry, Anatomy were much help, except for one young lady, wt don't remember; she was of great help. She to the SCRIPT service at the University of Mi whom to call. "SCRIPT?" I asked, feeling quite ignorant. It seems the questionnanires have been s professionals working at the big U. These cs mation including name. address and phone a most important, what fields they are interestedi they are currently doing, whether it be r publishing or practicing acupuncture. Son professionals are nice enough to take some time busy day and fill out yet another form and send ic formation is then processed and stored in a comp key words. For example, a lawyer doing legal a kiddie porn might be referenced under "obs "pornography." The terminal operator can t search for a client, and gather all the infon anyone remotely connected with the key word. THEY RAN a search for me under the keys TRACEPTION and REPRODUCTION and thei with quite a few pages of doctors, some clinici practicing, some researching. Unfortunatel working in Troy and could not come to Ann Arbo fice hours to pick up my printout, and I wanted it It turned out that the woman who so competently Oh! my goodness! i Daily Photo by JOHN Another clutter-strewn scene from the Reproductive Endocrinology lab.