Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
That the gentleman in question was a nut was beyond question. He was an institutionalized psychotic. He was nutty enough to think he could make an atom bomb out of modeling clay! Miss Abercrombie, the manual therapist patted the old man on the seen, their tree-studded flanks making a pleasant setting for the mental She stopped behind a frowning, intense patient, rapidly shaping blobs of The flying fingers continued to whip out the bits of shaped clay as the patient ignored the question. He hunched closer to his table as if to draw away from the woman. Thaddeus Funston continued to mold the clay bits and put them in place. Without looking up from his bench he muttered a reply. "Atom bomb." A puzzled look crossed the therapist's face. "Pardon me, Mr. Funston. I thought you said an 'atom bomb.'" "Did," Funston murmured. "All right, fellows," he called out, "time to go back. Put up your things." There was a rustle of paint boxes and papers being shuffled and chairs being moved back. A tall, blond patient with a flowing mustache, put one more dab of paint on his canvas and stood back to survey the meaningless smears. He sighed happily and laid down his palette. At the clay table, Funston feverishly fabricated the last odd-shaped bit with a small, secret smile on his lips. Attendants and nurses scurried through the hospital, seeing how many had been injured in the from a half-dozen neighboring communities had gathered at the still-smoking hole that marked the site of the vanished crafts building. Within fifteen minutes, the disaster-trained crews had detected heavy radiation emanating from the crater and there was a scurry of men and equipment back to a safe distance, a few hundred yards away. At 5:30 a.m., a plane landed at a nearby airfield and a platoon of Atomic Energy Commission experts, military intelligence men, four FBI At 5:45 a.m. a cordon was thrown around both the hospital and the blast crater. In Ward 4-C, Thaddeus Funston slept peacefully and happily. "It's impossible and unbelievable," Colonel Thomas Thurgood said for the fifteenth time, later that morning, as he looked around the group of experts gathered in the tent erected on the hill overlooking the crater. "How can an atom bomb go off in a nut house?" "It apparently was a very small bomb, colonel," one of the haggard AEC men offered timidly. "Not over three kilotons." "I don't care if it was the size of a peanut," Thurgood screamed. "How did it get here?" A military intelligence agent spoke up. "If we knew, sir, we wouldn't be standing around here. We don't know, but the fact remains that it WAS an atomic explosion." Thurgood turned wearily to the small, white-haired man at his side. "Let's go over it once more, Dr. Crane. Are you sure you knew everything that was in that building?" Thurgood swept his hand in the general direction of the blast crater. "Colonel, I've told you a dozen times," the hospital administrator said with exasperation, "this was our manual therapy room. We gave our Madame Curie was a misguided scrubwoman." "All I know is that you say this was a crafts building. O.K. So it was," Thurgood sighed. "I also know that an atomic explosion at 3:02 this morning blew it to hell and gone. "And I've got to find out how it happened." Thurgood slumped into a field chair and gazed tiredly up at the little doctor. "Where's that girl you said was in charge of this place?" now," the doctor snapped. Outside the tent, a small army of military men and AEC technicians moved around the perimeter of the crater, scintillators in hand, examining every tiny scrap that might have been a part of the building at one expression. "He did make an atom bomb," she cried. Colonel Thurgood, who had snapped from his chair at her words, leaped Colonel Thurgood, looking more like a patient every minute, sat on the on the wooden surface, making Miss Abercrombie's chart book bounce with every beat. "It's ridiculous," Thurgood roared. "We'll all be the laughingstocks of the world if this ever gets out. An atomic bomb made out of clay. You are all nuts. You're in the right place, but count me out." At his left, Miss Abercrombie cringed deeper into her chair at the strategists and radiologists sat in various stages of nerve-shattered weariness. conferred briefly and then the intelligence officer spoke. "That seems to settle it, colonel. We've got to give this Funston another chance to repeat his bomb. But this time under our supervision." Thurgood leaped to his feet, his face purpling. "Are you crazy?" he screamed. "You want to get us all thrown into this filbert factory? Do you know what the newspapers would do to us if they ever got wind of the fact, that for one, tiny fraction of a second, anyone of us here entertained the notion that a paranoidal idiot with the IQ of an ape could make an atomic bomb out of kid's modeling clay? "They'd crucify us, that's what they'd do!" At 8:30 that night, Thaddeus Funston, swathed in an Army officer's Two military policemen and a brace of staff psychiatrists sworn to military men huddled around a small wooden table. Thaddeus in the staff car outside, Colonel Thurgood spoke to the weary Thurgood signaled to the doctors and they entered the shack with She smiled at Funston. "Now isn't this nice, Mr. Funston," she said. "These nice men have brought us way out here just to see you make another atom bomb like the one you made for me yesterday." A flicker of interest lightened Thaddeus' face. He looked around the walked to the table and sat down. His fingers began working the damp clay, making first the hollow, half-round shell while the nation's top atomic scientists watched in fascination. His busy fingers flew through the clay, shaping odd, flat bits and clay The two psychiatrists went to Thaddeus' side as he put the upper lid of and photographed it from every angle. Then they left for the concrete observatory bunker, several miles down range where Thaddeus and the psychiatrists waited inside a ring of stony-faced military policemen. "I told you this whole thing was asinine," Thurgood snarled as the scientific teams trooped into the bunker. the dim interior of the bunker and the pneumatically-operated door slammed shut just before the wave of the blast hit the structure. Six hours and a jet plane trip later, Thaddeus, once again in his strait jacket, sat between his armed escorts in a small room in the Pentagon. closeted with a gray-faced and bone-weary Colonel Thurgood and his baker's dozen of AEC brains. Scraps of the hot and scornful talk drifted a neatly-tied bundle. In the conference room, a red-faced, four-star general cast a chilling glance at the rumpled figure of Colonel Thurgood. "I've listened to some silly stories in my life, colonel," the general asylum inmate in a strait jacket and you have the colossal gall to sit there and tell me that this poor soul has made not one, but two atomic devices out of modeling clay and then has detonated them." The general paused.

<question>:
What does the colonel seem to think about the bomb situation at the mental institution?

<options>:
A He wants to let Thaddeus create more things to study them
B He is worried about the perception if others hear about what's happening
C He wants to keep the story away from the newspapers so that others cannot learn Thaddeus' secrets
D It figures that this is where this is happening, so he's frustrated for yet another bomb case

<answer>:

B