by Marc Elsberg
+ Government: ‘Other nuclear facilities secure’ +
Without taking his eyes off the screen, Bollard entered his parents’ phone number on the keypad and put the receiver to his ear. On the line he heard an ominous, quiet hiss.
‘Oh my …’ Shannon called out as Manzano entered the room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, two cameras next to her on the comforter, one of them hooked up to her laptop with a cable. But it was not her computer that had her transfixed, it was the television.
‘Look at this!’ she exclaimed. ‘And this!’
On the screen an anchorwoman in the CNN studio announced, ‘… Asian markets were hit hard by the news from last night. The Nikkei index fell a further eleven per cent, the broader Topix even more at thirteen. Shanghai lost ten per cent and the Hang Seng gave up fifteen per cent.’
‘What did you expect?’ asked Manzano. ‘You must have considered the risk of falling stock prices before you sent your news blast around the world yesterday.’
Manzano was fairly clueless about financial markets, but it had been perfectly clear to him that Shannon’s news would cause stocks all over the world to plummet. Someone who bet on those falling stocks at the right time could make a lot of money.
‘I don’t mean that,’ she said. ‘Read the ticker.’
The text ran in a red strip at the bottom of the screen: ‘Accident at French nuclear power plant. Cooling system fails. Radiation escapes. Special programme coming up.’
Manzano watched Shannon gnaw on her fingernails.
‘… turn now to our correspondent James Turner in France. James?’
‘Dammit, dammit, dammit!’ hissed Shannon. ‘And I’m not there!’
‘Be glad you aren’t.’
The American stood in a field. Way off in the distance behind him stood the cooling towers of a nuclear facility.
‘According to an official statement, the backup cooling systems in Reactor Block 1 in the Saint-Laurent nuclear power plant have given out. No one knows how long it’s been in this state. We’re about five kilometres away here, on the other side of the Loire River. Regarding damages to the reactor core, there is still no precise indication …’
‘This asshole kept me doing grunt work for years, and now he’s got the top story again!’
‘But you had it yesterday.’
‘There’s nothing as old as yesterday’s news.’
‘… any damage could have serious effects on the environment.’
‘How’s he even getting on air?’ Manzano asked.
‘He’s got the satellite truck, probably.’
Behind the reporter a cloud burst forth where the cooling towers had been. Even on the television, Manzano heard the dull blast.
‘Whoa, what was that?’ Turner spun around, his eyes fixed on the broadening cloud.
‘There’s been an explosion!’ he yelled into the microphone. ‘There’s actually been an explosion at the nuclear power plant!’
‘If I were you, I’d start making tracks,’ murmured Manzano.
‘An explosion!’
‘Can’t he think of anything else?’ groused Shannon.
‘Should get out of there,’ noted Manzano.
But Turner turned back to the camera. Behind him the cloud climbed slowly higher, became more transparent.
‘Did you see that? Did you get it? Dammit! Can we see it again? Studio?’
And in fact the producers were already running a slow-motion replay. There was nothing to be seen that hadn’t been seen the first time. Where the cooling towers had stood, all that could be seen now were bursts of white cloud.
‘Shit,’ whispered Shannon.
‘So, would you still like to be there?’ asked Manzano.
Command Headquarters
Saint-Laurent was something they hadn’t counted on. Overnight, the whole enterprise had taken on a new dimension. The intention hadn’t been for Europe to become uninhabitable – on the contrary.
‘We have to call it off, before something worse happens,’ some of them bleated. But their voices were drowned out by the committed majority, who had no time for dilettantes who were only interested in playing at revolution. Even if it turned out that Saint-Laurent was not an isolated event but the first of many such incidents, so be it. It had been obvious from the start that there would be victims. Many victims. That was the price of change.
And change was what it was all about. To call it off now would mean giving up on their goals, dishonouring the sacrifices they had made in order to come this far. Worst of all, it would concede the right to control the future to a society obsessed with money and with power, with order and productivity and efficiency, with consumption, with entertainment, and with ego, and with how to take as much of everything for themselves as possible. A society in which people didn’t count, only maximizing profit. In which community was merely a cost factor, the environment a resource. Efficiency a religion, order its shrine and the ego its God.
No, they could not stop now.
Ratingen, Germany
‘This is a disaster,’ said Wickley. ‘For all of us. Energy revolution, modern energy networks, the Smart Grid and all the rest of it – for the next few years we can forget the whole thing.’
The conference room in the executive suite was not as well staffed as the day before. Even fewer people had made it in to work. The communications agency was represented by two people instead of four: Hensbeck and his assistant. Everyone wore their coats or down jackets.
Lueck had been unable to procure either a new generator or more diesel.
‘Numerous European grid operators have confirmed fatal attacks on their IT systems,’ said Wickley. ‘Unofficially, I was able to find out that some estimate repairs could take several days or even weeks.’
‘As bad as the news and the situation are,’ Hensbeck offered, ‘the situation does create a huge opportunity, doesn’t it? It makes it clear that the current system is flawed and a change is necessary.’
‘I applaud your determination to think positively, Hensbeck, but it’s not that simple. Right now the cause of the outage is painfully clear: the IT system. The very thing that was supposed to play a key role in our plans for the extension of the Smart Grid. A vital part of our core business. Every last one of our visionary development projects depends on the power grid being governed by a communications network. And now the thing that banks, credit card companies and insurance companies have been fighting for years has landed in our sector. Only with far worse consequences. Once the dust has settled after all this, every development project related to IT will be evaluated, reviewed – and halted.’
‘No system can ever be absolutely secure,’ the head of technology spoke up. ‘But we go far beyond every industry standard.’
‘That’s the argument the nuclear power industry will make right up to the next meltdown. It won’t be enough. After this attack, there will be only one talking point in the energy sector: security. Or, to be more precise, energy security. Climate and environmental protection will be forgotten. Europe will be happy just to get back on its feet again. That’s a complete turnaround since the start of the new millennium; no one was talking about security as an issue then.’
‘Excuse me? Of course they were. There was even a movie …’ Hensbeck struggled to recall.
‘Yes, yes, the fourth Die Hard movie. Complete nonsense …’
‘But the topic was in the air,’ insisted Hensbeck.
‘OK, so we’ve only ourselves to blame, because back then everyone wrote off the dangers as so much craziness from doomsday prophets. Naturally it’s also a question of cost. Security costs money.’
‘Well, events have now shown that it costs even more to ignore it.’
The Hague, Netherlands
Shannon had edited her report and was uploading it. The TV was on.
Manzano came back into the room having been out for a stroll.
‘Anything new?’
He threw himself onto the
bed, popped open his laptop and followed the news on the television while the machine was starting up.
‘Hmm,’ answered Shannon distractedly, with a look towards his computer and the strange green sticker on its case.
The news out of Saint-Laurent sounded bad. Blurry images taken from afar showed the power plant with smoke rising out of it.
‘That’s not steam we’re seeing coming out of the cooling towers,’ said the anchorwoman. ‘After the explosion at midday, the situation continues to be unclear …’
Manzano was scanning the live news feed on the Internet. For most of the reports he just stuck to the headlines.
+ European markets closed +
+ Stoppages in all European automobile factories +
+ Munich recalculates damage to date of up to 1 billion euros +
+ Correction: Six workers at Saint-Laurent nuclear facility injured; two exposed to radiation +
+ World Ice Hockey Championship in Sweden cancelled +
+ Government estimates victim count in Germany after power outage at up to 2,000 +
+ USA, Russia, China, Turkey prepare aid +
+ Power temporarily restored to area around Bochum +
+ Interpol releases facial composites of suspects +
+ NATO high command discusses situation +
+ Oil prices in free fall after power outage +
+ Nuclear Authority: Saint-Laurent is not Chernobyl or Fukushima +
‘They said the same thing in Japan for the first few days,’ murmured Manzano. ‘Until it got out that the reactor had been out of control from the start.’
Brussels, Belgium
‘Requests for help are still within bounds,’ Zoltán Nagy, the Hungarian director of the MIC, summed up the meeting. ‘The International Atomic Energy Agency in Vienna is looking into Saint-Laurent and Temelín. They’ve dispatched experts and are keeping us updated.’
For the last thirty minutes they had discussed the latest developments. Things were far worse than Sophia or anyone else at the MIC had feared. The only thing still unclear was the level of breakdowns in technology.
‘One request in from Spain in connection with the explosion in the Abracel chemical plant near Toledo. Poisonous gas has escaped. The authorities still don’t have an accurate victim count, but they assume dozens. Several thousand have been evacuated, some of them from the emergency shelters that had just been set up. The USA and Russia are sending teams of technicians to assist in sealing the leaks. Additional accidents involving escaped harmful substances and fatalities were reported to us from Sheffield in the UK, Bergen in Norway, from the area around Bern in Switzerland and from Pleven in Bulgaria. None of these nations has asked for international assistance; in each instance the victim count is reportedly low single figures.
‘Right, so much for the current state of affairs. The next status meeting will take place in three hours.’
Nagy was about to stand, but then something else occurred to him. ‘Oh, before I forget. The Brussels transport authority have informed us that they will operate a twice-daily shuttle bus service covering a radius of forty kilometres around the city, exclusively for employees of select authorities including the police, government ministries and essential departments of the European Commission. That includes us. You will be able to get on at special gathering points in the morning and will be taken back in the evening. Your employee identification card acts as proof that you’re eligible. You’ll find the routes and pickup locations on the noticeboard.’
Berlin, Germany
Hartlandt jumped as someone behind him clapped his hands. He looked around, embarrassed that he’d been caught napping on the job.
‘I’ve got news that’ll wake you up,’ his colleague announced. ‘The fire department reckon that the blaze at the Osterrönfeld substation was arson.’
‘Shit! Why are we only learning this now?’
‘Because the fire department have got their hands full out there. Cause-of-fire investigations aren’t top priority.’
Hartlandt got up to study the giant map of Germany on which they had marked all known incidents in various colours. There was hardly any land visible under the coloured pins.
‘Then … maybe it’s not a coincidence,’ he murmured. ‘Since the power went out we’ve had reports of fires in eight substations.’
He went back to his desk, rifled through the files.
‘Here,’ he handed his colleague a sheet of paper. ‘That’s a list of the substations that have been hit. Get on the radio and contact every fire station involved. They’re to check what caused the fires immediately.’
Zevenhuizen, Netherlands
François Bollard almost ran into the car that was parked at the farm’s entrance. In the glow of his headlights he saw that cars were parked all the way up to the building. He steered on to the lawn and drove up to the house. In some of the cars he saw people stretched out, wrapped in warm clothes and blankets.
‘They won’t let you in,’ someone called as he got out of his car.
‘Unless he’s one of the special ones,’ another jeered. A few men followed him to the door. Bollard unlocked it and immediately a hand from inside grabbed him, pulled him in and slammed the door shut. From outside, Bollard heard angry yelling. Only then did he notice the sound of raised voices inside the house.
‘We couldn’t take in all of them,’ Haarleven explained and walked down the corridor. As they passed by the breakfast area Bollard understood what he meant. The tables had been pushed to one side, at least forty people were lying on the floor. The smell of unwashed bodies assaulted Bollard’s nose; someone snored, someone else whimpered in their sleep.
‘I’ve told them we won’t be able to feed them,’ Haarleven continued. ‘But what was I supposed to do? There are kids, sick and old people. I can’t let them freeze to death out there!’
‘And the people outside?’
Haarleven looked at him helplessly. ‘I can only hope they’ll remain rational.’
‘What are you going to do tomorrow morning, when these people wake up hungry?’
Haarleven shrugged it off. ‘I’ll think about that tomorrow. All we can do now is improvise. If the power doesn’t come back on soon, we’re looking at a massive problem.’
Bollard marvelled at the man’s naïvety.
‘You’re with the EU, aren’t you …?’
‘Europol,’ Bollard corrected.
‘Isn’t there something you can do for these people?’
‘What about the Dutch authorities? They have emergency shelters.’
‘Not enough, the people are saying.’
‘I can’t do anything today,’ replied Bollard. ‘Tomorrow I’ll see what I can do.’
Which wasn’t much more than to call the city and ask why there were no shelters for people. And if necessary the police, in order to protect Haarleven’s property and the people inside. He could already imagine what the answers would be.
Bollard climbed the stairs to his family’s rooms. He had barely opened the door when his wife had her hands on his shoulders.
‘Have you heard anything from our parents?’
He had dreaded this moment.
‘Not yet. I’m sure they’re fine.’
‘Fine?’ Her voice had a hysterical undertone. ‘There’s a nuclear meltdown happening twenty kilometres from them and you’re sure that they’re fine?’
‘Where are the kids?’
‘They’re asleep. Don’t change the subject.’
‘It’s not a meltdown. The government says …’
‘Oh, and what else are they supposed to say?’
‘Marie, stop – you’ll wake up the kids.’
She started to sob, pounding on his chest with her fists. ‘You sent them there!’
He tried to calm her down, to take her in his arms, but she pulled herself away and kept hitting him.
‘You sent them there!’
Anger and helplessness flared up inside Bollard. He press
ed her so tightly against his chest that her arms were pinned. At first she continued to resist, but he held her until he could feel her relent and she was leaning against his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
Only four days, he thought, and already our nerves are raw. He closed his eyes, and for the first time since he was a child he prayed.
The Hague, Netherlands
‘We’ve got it good,’ said Shannon. She wound noodles around her fork with relish. ‘This became even clearer to me after today.’
‘You certainly do anyway,’ replied Manzano. ‘Getting to drive that Porsche from one disaster site to the next.’
‘Believe me, I’d rather have no Porsche and report on how everything is back to normal again. Haven’t you got anywhere yet?’
Manzano grinned. ‘My dear, I know that you’re looking to build on your coup, all the more so now your esteemed colleague in France is enjoying everyone’s undivided attention. But don’t even go there. My work, as you well know …’
‘… is highly confidential. I got that.’
‘How about you tell me about yourself instead.’
‘You know the important stuff. I grew up in a hick town in Vermont, I started college in New York, then I went on a world tour that ended with me being left stranded in Paris.’
‘Not the worst place to get shipwrecked.’
‘Granted.’
‘That was the important stuff. And the unimportant? Most of the time it’s much more interesting.’
‘Not in my case.’
‘Weak story, Madame Journalist.’
‘Is yours any better?’
‘Haven’t you done your research yet?’
Now it was Shannon who grinned.
‘Of course. But there’s not much on you. You don’t seem to live a very exciting life.’
‘I’m with the Chinese on that point, they only wish an exciting life on their enemies. But the way things have been going recently, looks like somebody did so in my case.’