The Rocket Man

by Maggie Hamand

  III

  It was part of Nihal’s routine when he was at home to meditate every evening; not that he was religious, but he found the mental discipline rewarding. He was just coming out of his meditation, sitting cross-legged on the floor, when the telephone rang. The answerphone was on, but he leaned over and picked up the receiver before it cut in.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s Mitya Gavrilov. You remember, we met…’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I was wondering… I have something which might interest you. Actually, nothing to do with the IAEA, I was wondering if we could meet.’

  Nihal was so surprised by this invitation that he took a while to answer. ‘I’ll be up at the agency tomorrow…’

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid we’ve just had a circular round from the DG, reminding us that no-one is to speak to the press without getting clearance through the press officer. You’re quite well known up there. I suggest we meet in town.’

  Nihal suggested a bar near the Rathausplatz, not far from his flat. They arranged to meet that evening at nine.

  Nihal hung up, went into the gloomy kitchen and lit a cigarette. He sat in the dark and stared out of the window.

  Gavrilov frankly puzzled him. A few years ago it would have been inconceivable that someone in his position should be acting as he was. He had checked his background, and as a nuclear scientist he had worked in some of the Soviet Union’s most secret research establishments. He’d been abroad for conferences, but that would have been always under the watchful eye of the KGB. Nihal knew the system; they had to sign before they went that they would co-operate with intelligence; they had to report every foreign contact. To speak to the foreign press at all would have been utterly forbidden.

  Of course, in recent years that had been changing. Nihal remembered how, almost overnight, the Russians at the UN had suddenly begun wearing Western-made suits, mingling freely with people of other nationalities and openly criticising their own regime. The Russians were now employed at the UN on the same basis as everyone else; gone were the days when the slightest misdemeanour would have them on the next plane back to Moscow. They could live where they liked, make friends with whom they liked, could say, more or less, what they liked. On the other hand, here was a senior scientist who must possess a vast amount of secret knowledge. How free was he, really?

  The bar was crowded. Nihal arrived first, ordered a beer, and sat in the corner, reading a paper. Gavrilov joined him shortly.

  They sat opposite one another and both lit up. Nihal found that he was pleased to see him; perhaps they felt an affinity for one another, these two, because they were both on their own and neither of them quite belonged anywhere.

  Gavrilov, unexpectedly, jumped straight in. ‘I think it might prove worthwhile for you to investigate the activities of a certain Wolfgang Richter. He’s a German, aged late forties, early fifties. He’s from Stuttgart. He has his own technical research company – I believe something to do with rockets.’

  ‘Rockets?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Any other clues?’

  ‘No, not really… some of his work will have been published. You could look in the International Aerospace Abstracts, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Okay.’ Nihal stubbed out his cigarette. ‘That’s it?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  They were both silent for a few moments. Nihal felt a sense of great disappointment; he’d been hoping for a lead about Brazil. He took the opportunity to get back to what was preoccupying him at the moment.

  ‘I saw you at the inquest into Hans Müller’s death. Was everyone happy with the verdict?’

  Gavrilov’s face changed at once; he was suddenly much more cautious. ‘I think so.’

  ‘So no-one thinks there’s more to it…?’

  ‘Well, you’re not the only person this has occurred to. But we’ve had endless meetings, and there is no evidence.’

  ‘Look,’ said Nihal, ‘It smells to me. What evidence are we talking about? I’ve been thinking about it. You have had all the statistics from the Brazilian nuclear authority, CNEN, isn’t it? going right back to the inauguration of the Valadares centre. Presumably I can assume that all adds up.’ Dmitry made a gesture which implied that he could indeed assume that. ‘But supposing the information was not correct – supposing they had under-declared it. The military could presumably give the wrong information to CNEN… you don’t think the military could conceal anything from them?’

  Gavrilov sighed. ‘Well it’s possible, but I wouldn’t have thought so. Not unless there were people at CNEN who agreed with it. For that kind of thing there would have to be bribery, corruption, the fixing of data on a grand scale, probably right up to the top. The new director at CNEN, Pereira da Silva, he’s undoubtedly – how do you say? – on the side of the angels. He is a long-standing enemy of the military programme.’

  ‘But how near are they to getting the other centrifuge halls in operation? Did the inspectors get to see that?’

  Gavrilov said, ‘They inspected everything that was declared to them.’

  ‘So the IAEA is just taking their word for it, that they only have the one cascade hall functioning.’

  Gavrilov regarded Nihal seriously. ‘Nihal, we always just take their word for it. If a country says they have x number of reactors, x reprocessing facilities, x enrichment plants, then that is the number we go and inspect. Of course inspectors couldn’t be allowed to look all over somewhere like Valadares. It is a military research establishment. They do research into nuclear submarines and nobody is going to be allowed to poke around wherever they like. Nor are they going to be allowed to go in and see where they are assembling their centrifuges. I know exactly what you are thinking. Of course I have thought it myself. So has everybody else. We are not blind to the possibilities. I have discussed all this with the DDG myself.’

  Gavrilov lowered his voice and leant a little closer to Nihal across the table. ‘All right, supposing they were operating another cascade, one they did not allow any of us to see. Perhaps Hans Müller had his suspicions. Is this the kind of scenario you are suggesting? It is not very likely, it is extremely unlikely, but I suppose it is just about possible. Unless we had any evidence, what could we do about it? We could hardly go back to the Brazilians and say, on the basis of supposition, that they are not playing ball. There has been so much opposition to the idea of IAEA safeguards in Brazil that it would be disastrous politically. They might pull out of the whole thing.’

  Nihal offered Gavrilov another cigarette and they both lit up. Nihal said, ‘So a suspicion isn’t enough.’

  ‘No. You know how it is – the IAEA might, because a light bulb failed somewhere and the surveillance cameras did not record anything, be unable to establish absolutely that there has not been a diversion of nuclear material. But everything else is in order… How can one report a country to the UN Security Council for breach of its NPT obligations over a failed light bulb?’

  ‘I think they killed him.’

  Lieselotte sat hunched up on the chair, her hands wrapped round her head. For a few days she had been calm, waiting for the verdict of the inquest, but now that this was over, it was all coming out: the grief, the fear and the anger.

  ‘Who?’ Katie’s German was fluent, and Lieselotte’s English was hesitant, so they always spoke German together.

  ‘I don’t know who. You know as well as I do – he could have discovered something wrong in Brazil.’

  Katie put her arm around her. ‘Liese, that doesn’t make sense. Bob told me they have been into everything. He organised that inspection, he said everything was in order.’

  ‘Yes, but they might not know. Why should they know? Anyway, they won’t let me talk to anyone. I asked if I could talk to the people who were there on the inspection and they said no. There was an Argentine, he’s left the IAEA, Cruz, I think. And a Russian, Dmitry Gavrilov. Why won’t they let me see them?’

  This unexpected men
tion of Gavrilov’s name affected Katie so profoundly that she actually started. She had been trying not to think about him, determined that things should go no further. Lieselotte was immersed in her own thoughts and noticed nothing. Katie said, trying to concentrate on the moment at hand, ‘Perhaps if you wrote again they would let you. If it made you feel better…’

  ‘I don’t want to see them to feel better. I shall never feel better. I want to find out the truth.’

  ‘Liese,’ Katie took her hand; this was hard to say. ‘Liese, if there were something wrong, they wouldn’t have to go round killing people to keep things quiet. Half these countries are running rings around the IAEA all the time, you know that. ‘

  ‘I don’t know it.’

  ‘Well, you have to be more cynical.’

  ‘You’re telling me Hans’ job was worthless.’ Lieselotte was angry with her now; she stared at her fiercely.

  ‘No, I’m not saying that, Liese. I’m sure he believed in what he was doing, just as Bob does. It’s just that there are flaws in the system, that’s all – and they don’t have to kill people to cover it up.’

  Lieselotte stood up and walked to the window. In the next room the baby started crying. She turned and ran in to him, and Katie could hear her voice, talking to the baby, in the same sweet, crooning voice that any other mother would. She came back, the baby held against her shoulder, nuzzling his warm head. She stood in the doorway and for a moment her face was tranquil, almost happy. Then the pain flooded back, and she began to cry again. ‘Thank God I have my baby,’ she sobbed, holding him tightly. ‘If I didn’t have him, I think I would die.’

  Katie was sure Bob hadn’t noticed anything was wrong with her. Well, why should he? Although inwardly she felt as if something had changed, that she was not the same person as before, she was sure there had been nothing obviously different about her or her behaviour which would have led him to think that she had been unfaithful. What she had done was completely out of character, and this made her wonder if she really knew herself, and worse, whether Bob knew her at all. The fact that he’d noticed nothing irritated her, as if she felt he ought to have been able to look inside her and see that she was in inner chaos.

  The worst thing was that she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She kept seeing his room, the pale sunlight dappling the bed and falling on his white skin, remembering the way he had touched her. And yet, he hadn’t rung her. What had come over her? Supposing he didn’t feel anything special for her, had just been desperate to go to bed with someone? The very idea made her feel humiliated. But no, surely that couldn’t be. No-one could behave like that unless they felt something; and besides, he knew that she was married. Perhaps he thought it was best for her to make the next move.

  As a result of this one brief hour, an hour which might not in the end have any significance, everything seemed to be suffering. She had some translating work to do, and she was now behind with it. In the morning when Anna went to kindergarten she had intended to sit down and get on with it, but she was too agitated to concentrate. She hadn’t slept well, and she found herself being short and bad-tempered with Anna. That was the worst thing of all; how could she have behaved like this, risking her marriage, when she had a child?

  But now, as she cleared the table after supper, she couldn’t help notice Bob’s eyes were on her. He came into the kitchen as she was making coffee and put his arms around her.

  ‘Honey,’ he said, ‘I’ve been wondering, you never say, about having another baby… Are you depressed about it?’

  His words broke unexpectedly into Katie’s thoughts. Nothing had been further from her mind. Bob was very keen that she should have another baby; he didn’t want Anna to be an only child. Two years ago, Katie had got pregnant for the second time, but had miscarried at twelve weeks, and since then had not conceived. Well, it was difficult, with Bob away so much, as she usually didn’t hesitate to point out to him. Bob was much keener than she was to have another child. Katie remembered only too well the depression she’d suffered after Anna’s birth, the loneliness of looking after the baby on her own, and she didn’t know that she wanted to repeat the experience. Despite this, the loss of the second baby had been deeply upsetting.

  ‘I don’t know. Bob. I’m really not sure I want another baby.’

  Bob took the tin of coffee out of her hand. ‘Katie, forget the coffee. Come to bed.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to bed. Bob, I wanted to talk to you about Lieselotte. She’s a bit unstable, I think that’s understandable, but now she has this weird idea – she thinks that somebody might have killed Hans.’

  Bob sighed and let go of her. He picked up the coffee tin and began measuring spoonfuls into the filter.

  ‘But we’ve been into that. The DG actually had a whole session with her explaining what had been done and how carefully we had looked into this…’

  ‘She said she wanted to talk to the other people who’d been on that trip and that she wasn’t given permission.’

  ‘No, well, that wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it would put them in a very awkward position, they are not allowed to give out any information to anyone, that’s a condition of their being allowed to carry out inspections. Besides, it wouldn’t tell her anything. No, Kaisler is completely right there.’ Bob turned to Katie. ‘Look, is Liese getting any help? Is she seeing a therapist or something?’

  ‘Her doctor’s put her in touch with someone.’

  ‘Good.’ Once again, he put his arms around her, began kissing her; this time she couldn’t resist. They made love quickly and without ceremony and then Bob went instantly to sleep. Going to bed with him this time felt strange; instinctively she shrank from it. When she had gone to bed with Dmitry she had felt she was betraying Bob; but in going to bed with Bob she felt even more strongly that she was betraying Dmitry.

  The phone rang. Startled, Katie looked up from the German-English dictionary and picked up the receiver.

  ‘I want to see you.’

  It was Dmitry. The deep voice and the liquid Russian vowels were unmistakable.

  Katie hesitated for a moment. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘We could meet in town, if you like, at the Café Central. I just want to talk to you.’

  She said, without thinking, the first thing that came into her head: ‘Lieselotte wants to see you. Can I bring her along too?’

  He was silent for a few moments, as if trying to think through all the implications. Then he said, ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

  ‘On Wednesday morning?’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine. What time? ‘

  ‘Eleven o’clock – I’ll see you then.’ She hung up. So he had rung her, finally; she felt relief and agitation. She looked across the room to where Anna was playing with her doll on the carpet, talking to herself, and she realised that her heart was thumping in her chest so loudly she was surprised Anna didn’t notice. What was she doing, seeing this man? What good could come out of it? Anna looked up at her and smiled, and Katie smiled back, a false, deceitful smile, because she was not thinking of Anna or her best interests, she was thinking of herself.

  Lieselotte had made herself up for the occasion. The bright lipstick and darkened eyes emphasised the paleness of her fragile face, making her look like a china doll. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the cup of coffee to her lips. Katie realised at once that she was necessary in this meeting as an interpreter. Neither Gavrilov’s German nor Lieselotte’s English were up to a difficult conversation.

  Lieselotte had been grateful to Katie for arranging the meeting and hadn’t thought to ask how this had come about. Katie had made a point of telling her that Bob would disapprove and that it would be better if she didn’t tell him. Now, sitting here, she felt she was deceiving him on two fronts.

  Lieselotte came straight to the point. ‘I know you went to Brazil with him on this last trip. You stayed with him, didn’t you, in the same h
otels? Surely you men talk about these things. There wasn’t anything that went wrong, was there? He didn’t make a mistake? There wasn’t another woman or anything was there? Nothing that could have made him do something like this?’

  ‘He didn’t tell me if there was. I’m sure there wasn’t another woman… I don’t think you need worry about that. He talked a lot about you and the baby. I know he felt badly about leaving you alone so much.’

  ‘And was there something else worrying him?’

  ‘Well, only a few things to do with work, I think, internal office politics, nothing else.’ Dmitry looked uncomfortable; he said, ‘This must be very distressing for you. I – ‘

  Lieselotte seemed to understand without Katie’s intervention. She cut in quickly, still in German. ‘No, no, what’s distressing for me is not to talk about it. I think about it all the time, it goes round and round in my head, it’s a relief sometimes to be able to talk about it. But it’s no use, is it? I don’t suppose we shall ever know. The police are not interested in taking it any further. I thought of hiring a private detective, but what would be the point? He would not have access to the IAEA.’

  Gavrilov said, ‘If he did it wouldn’t help him. I can assure you that they have been through everything, all the papers, reports, they’ve checked very thoroughly. I have been to the meetings and it’s all been taken very seriously.’

  ‘This is what Kaisler told me. But it’s not enough. I tried to explain to the police, but they didn’t listen. There is something wrong with the letter. It’s not something I can explain, but it isn’t right.’