Chain Reaction

by Christopher Hodder-Williams

  ‘Just a little thing I ran up.’

  Gatt said: ‘Any notes for me?’

  Kate burrowed in a drawer. ‘Two lots so far, Mr Gatt.’ She handed them to Simmel, who took them over.

  Simmel said: ‘One about an incident near Oxford; the other in Kenya.’

  ‘You realise I know practically nothing about this business?’ said Gatt. ‘Is it really such a mystery?’

  Dick was suddenly serious. ‘If it’s half as bad as the Director thinks, it’s not only a mystery but a pretty desperate business altogether. Still, I’m not allowed to comment on it — not even to you — until the conference.’

  Gatt raised his eyebrows slightly but said nothing. Kate put down the phone. ‘Your breakfast is on the way up,’ she said to Simmel. ‘Mushrooms. And so is Mrs Seff.’

  Simmel looked up sharply. ‘Why is she coming here?’

  Kate shrugged. ‘To meet her husband, I gather. After all, she hasn’t seen him since he left for Scotland.’

  Dick forgot that Arlen was there for a moment. ‘Blast the woman! She could have met him for lunch or something. We don’t want the place cluttered up with wives at a time like this. Couldn’t you have explained that?’

  Every now and then Kate’s naturally defiant nature, never far below the surface, showed itself positively; especially when Dick Simmel tried to boss her about. Being a woman, she found it hard to distinguish between the occasions when he was purely her boy-friend — at which time he couldn’t be allowed to throw his weight about — and when he was simply a member of the staff and senior to her, in which event he was entitled to give her orders. Finally she said: ‘I tried to explain. Have you ever tried to explain anything to Mrs Seff?’

  ‘All right; never mind,’ said Dick. ‘I don’t expect she’ll stay long. How are they getting on in there?’ Meaning the arrangements for the meeting in Hargreaves’ office.

  ‘Nearly ready,’ said Kate. ‘But you’d better check everything yourself.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll have a look. Give me a shout when my breakfast comes up, and have it sent to my room, will you? I hardly got to bed last night.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Gatt watched Simmel disappear into the inner office. Then he said: ‘Kate, I’m going to ask you a favour.’

  She looked up, surprised. He had never used her first name before. ‘Yes, Mr Gatt?’ she said. She thought she knew what was coming though.

  ‘When Mrs Seff gets here, I want you to leave her alone with me for a few minutes.’

  ‘But … do you think that’s wise?’

  ‘Under the circumstances, I think it not only wise but absolutely imperative.’

  ‘The trouble is, it may not be possible. There’ll be people arriving for the conference. Why don’t you take her into Mr Simmel’s office?’

  ‘Because it will look too obvious. It’s got to be here. It’s the only place where we would logically meet.’

  ‘Can I ask you something: will this … talk … you’re going to have with Mrs Seff have a bearing on the conference, or is it a purely personal matter?’

  ‘That’s a very relevant question. And I can answer it by saying that it is a personal matter which has a direct bearing on the purposes of this meeting.’

  Kate said: ‘Then of course I must help you. But she’d better get here soon. The Director is due any moment.’

  ‘Why don’t you go downstairs and stall him off?’ He saw her consternation at such an idea. ‘This is important, Kate! Do you think I’d make irresponsible suggestions at a time like this?’ Evidently he had already forgotten his somewhat irresponsible remarks about Jack and Angela Seff.

  Kate thought for a moment, rubbing her nose with the tip of her finger. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll try. It’ll probably lose me my job though!’ She saw the lift indicator light come on, and through the glass caught sight of the unmistakable contours of Angela Seff. ‘Here she is now.’ She pressed the key of the intercom, and waited for Simmel to answer from the Director’s office.

  ‘Yes, Kate?’

  ‘Can you stay where you are for five minutes, Dick?’ she said. ‘Mrs Seff wants to talk to … me … confidentially. We won’t be long.’

  There was a sound as if Simmel started to curse, then remembered he could be overheard. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But be as quick as you can, will you? Give me a buzz when you’re ready.’

  ‘I will. Thanks.’ She returned the switch to the ‘off’ position. Gatt nodded his approval, and Kate got up as Angela entered the room.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Seff,’ she said. ‘Will you please make yourself comfortable? I have to go downstairs; but I won’t be long. I expect Mr Seff will he here soon.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll wait,’ said Angela in her pleasant, Toronto-brand Canadian. ‘Don’t worry about me — you’ve got enough problems already. I just want a few words with Jack; then I’ll go away like a lamb. Meanwhile, I’ll talk to Arlen.’ She took one of the comfortable chairs next to Gatt, while Kate bustled rather self-consciously out of the room.

  ‘I know it’s unfair,’ said Gatt, ‘but you’re getting the same sort of reputation for being difficult as I am. Shooting your way in here seconds before the meeting of the Lord High Executioner.’

  ‘I just had to, Arlen,’ she said. ‘For Jack’s sake. You’ve heard about this business of the cans?’

  ‘Only what Simmel told me on the phone.’

  Angela was suddenly very tense. ‘Bui there is no reason to suppose that this has … anything to do with the Marsdowne set-up?’

  ‘You seem to think it might. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so worried about Jack.’ He looked at her penetratingly. ‘You’re thinking of what happened at Project 3.’

  ‘Surely, that was far too long ago to have anything to do with this?’ She added doubtfully: ‘It could equally well have been Windscale. Well, couldn’t it?’

  Gatt smiled. ‘In other words, you’d rather pin it on the Atomic Energy Authority than us?’ He shook his head. ‘They found out everything there was to know about Windscale.’

  ‘And didn’t you and the rest of the team get all the dope on Marsdowne?’

  ‘I certainly hope so — my reputation depends on it.’

  ‘Well then, why?’

  ‘Why call this conference? Well, for a start I’ve no doubt that the A.E.A. have done exactly the same thing. Also it’s one of our principal functions to keep an eye on public safety.’

  She persisted with the point. ‘But you don’t think all this has anything to do with the accident?’

  He appeared to be looking over her left shoulder — a trick of his when he was thinking. Eventually he said: ‘There were certain things that never came to light.’

  Angela flushed slightly, but kept herself under control. ‘You mean things that Jack might have concealed?’

  ‘Isn’t that what you yourself suspect?’

  ‘You’ve never been able to forget that he had a few drinks that night, have you?’

  ‘No. And nor have you.’

  She neither denied nor admitted it. After a while she said: ‘How do you think Jack is going to take this?’

  ‘That’s precisely what I want to talk to you about,’ said Gatt. ‘As a matter of fact, I persuaded Kate Garnet to leave the office for five minutes so that I could talk to you.’

  ‘Are you on Jack’s side?’

  ‘I’m not on anybody’s side. There’s too much at stake for that. I’m certainly not against him, though I confess that I feel pretty bitter, under the circumstances, that he hasn’t been able to make you happy.’

  ‘It’s not his fault.’

  ‘You’re very generous. Just how generous very few people know! But the point is, if there was any negligence on his part, I think he should come clean.’

  She stared straight ahead unseeingly. ‘That’s exactly what I was going to say to him. But I doubt if he will.’

  ‘Has he been drinking again?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘he’s bee
n drinking. And I wish to God I could see why.’

  ‘Do people have to have a reason?’

  She said: ‘You would have a better reason than anybody on earth — and yet you don’t drink. But I still think that people must have some sort of motive for destroying themselves.’

  Gatt offered her a cigarette, lit one himself. ‘I know why Jack drinks. I know perfectly well. And so do you. He’s always been afraid he can’t hold you. He thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world — which you are — and the thought terrifies him.’

  She drew at her cigarette, drew hard — so that her cheeks hollowed and showed the fine bone-structure that lay underneath. ‘I should never have married anyone, except you. And I shouldn’t have listened to you on that subject.’

  ‘You had no option. If you’d gone on hammering at me for another five years, you wouldn’t have altered my mind. And I would say the same thing now.’

  ‘Why? Why? I could take it! It was my decision.’ Her eyes were searching his, desperately, uncomprehendingly.

  He smiled quietly into them. But there was no humour in the smile. Only sadness and love. ‘No, it wasn’t. It was decided for you the day I walked into that minefield.’ They sat in silence, while the centre second-hand of the electric clock went halfway round the dial. ‘Would it help if I talked to him?’ he said.

  ‘I’m afraid not. He’d think you were hounding him. You know what he feels about you. No, I’ll have to do it myself.’

  ‘You must make him realise that if he has been holding anything back and doesn’t tell the truth now, it’s bound to come out in the end.’ He looked at her hard. ‘I shouldn’t like the information to come from me, Angela.’

  ‘But you’d have to —’

  ‘If I ever found out. And I would find out. In the end. Or somebody would. That’s partly what this conference is for. When accidents happen, they must be stopped. They must never be allowed to happen again. Hargreaves will spare no one — not for lying, anyway. An honest mistake is another matter. Negligence — that is also human. But concealing facts at a fact-finding committee (that’s what this amounts to) can’t be forgiven. And don’t forget, Jack wouldn’t be the only one to blame, in any event. None of us would come out of this very well. The Department as a whole would be in the mire, and Hargreaves would have to take the ultimate responsibility. Still, we are rather anticipating the worst, aren’t we? There is the man Spigett — he’s got plenty to answer for already.’

  ‘Spigett?’

  ‘The canning magnate. And here’s Kate with the Old Man. Our time is up, and I expect Hargreaves will want to talk to me straight away.’ He got up, rather clumsily, from his chair. ‘You know what? Sometimes I hate my job. So don’t let Jack make me hate it more than I do already.’ He hailed the Director at the swing-doors.

  ‘Sorry to drag you back at such short notice, Arlen,’ said Hargreaves. He did not stop at all as he spoke but, putting out an arm, he caught Gatt in his slipstream and swept him straight into his inner office, talking as he did so. ‘If you’ve had a chance to read the reports, you’ll see why there is no time to lose …’ The door closed behind them.

  *

  Jack Seff stepped out of the lift just as Dick was waiting to go down in it. Seff looked tired and a little dishevelled after his plane journey. Dick let the lift go down empty. ‘Good morning, sir,’ he greeted cheerfully. ‘I hope you had a comfortable journey.’ He had asked the R.A.F. to hand out a little of their V.I.P. treatment.

  Seff’s voice was a little strained. ‘Yes, thanks, fine. By the way, I phoned the flat and got no reply. Is Angela —’

  ‘Mrs Seff is here. Actually she’s waiting in my office. I think she was hoping to have a word with you before you go in.’ Dick thought, he’s in love with her and doesn’t want to show it and is wondering whether she’s been somewhere else all night.

  Seff relaxed a bit and grinned at him. ‘I bet a few wives populating your office is just what the doctor ordered on a day like this!’ Dick made no comment; he knew he couldn’t fool this character. So he steered Seff in the general direction of his office, and left him to it.

  Seff entered Dick’s office and found Angela half-leaning, half-sitting on the desk. He closed the door and stood a little awkwardly, waiting for her to speak.

  Eventually she said: ‘I wish you had let me come with you to Scotland this time, Jack.’

  Seff wouldn’t look directly at her. Instead, his face was turned half towards the window; and Angela could see the stubble etched sharply against the daylight. He hadn’t shaved, but the omission didn’t conceal his basic good looks — the deceptively strong jaw, the hard furrows that gave his face such character. And those too-honest eyes, that made him such a bad liar. ‘Why?’ His voice sounded sharper than he meant it to.

  She didn’t allow it to hurt too much. She was Jack’s wife fulltime, even if he didn’t believe it. She said quietly: ‘Because I wanted to be with you.’ He smiled a little ironically, but made no comment. She went on: ‘How are things up at Marsdowne?’

  ‘Much the same as usual. Why?’

  ‘Everything going smoothly?’

  ‘Like clockwork,’ he said tonelessly. ‘It always does. You know that.’

  She walked over to him, rather timidly, standing half-way behind him, as if she too wanted to look out of the window. She rested a hand on his shoulder and felt it stiffen. ‘You realise,’ she said, trying to keep her voice matter-of-fact, ‘that they’re going to tear the place apart to find out what happened.’

  She had expected him to fly at her, interpreting it as an accusation. But his voice remained flat and calm. ‘Nothing has gone wrong up there,’ he said, ‘nothing, that is, since that old chestnut — Project 3.’

  ‘Do you know that? Have you checked?’

  ‘There’s no need,’ he said. ‘The system is infallible.’

  Angela saw that his hand was shaking, and wondered. ‘I still think you should start an investigation before they do.’

  ‘Who’s they? Gatt?’

  ‘And the others.’

  ‘But mostly Gatt.’ He smiled grimly. ‘I get it. Arlen has given you a friendly warning. If I don’t get at the facts, he will. That’s it, isn’t it? Very nice of him! Very brotherly — or is brotherly quite the right word? Well, you can tell Arlen that he’s got nothing to worry about, and nor have I.’

  ‘Believe me, Jack, if that is so, no one will be happier than Arlen.’

  ‘Arlen, Arlen, Arlen!’ he flared. ‘Is he all you ever think about?’

  She didn’t answer this. She didn’t even lose her temper; there was no point. There was something more important that she had to say, and she took the plunge. ‘One more thing, Jack. I know you’ll hate me for saying this, but I must say it for your sake.’ Her voice shook a little in spite of her efforts to keep it level. ‘Try and go easy on the drinking while you’re down here, will you? It looks so bad.’

  This time what she feared would happen did happen. He was angry and hurt, and suddenly he looked at her as if he hated her. The words came out like white-hot metal. ‘Are you suggesting,’ he managed to say, ‘that people are liable to think that alcohol affects my job or my judgment? Is that what you’re saying? Or perhaps you think that yourself?’

  For the first time she was losing control. ‘I didn’t say that!’

  ‘I didn’t say you said it; I said you thought it. And you do, don’t you?’

  And suddenly she couldn’t help the tears, and Seff’s breaking point came; for it was past bearing for him to see her like that. For despite his jealousy, despite his doubts, his bitter hatred for a man who by his very disability had power, he loved this woman beyond all expression. And as he buried his head in her shoulder he could only say: ‘Oh my God, oh my God …’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘ARE we all here?’ The question was directed at Simmel, who sat opposite the Director at the bottom of the long table.

  ‘Except for the Stenotype
operator, Sir Robert. He should be up at any moment.’

  ‘Well, we’d better wait.’

  There were ten places set round the conference table, each provided with a neat stack of stationery supplies and a glass of water. The Director’s desk had been pushed up against the window to make more room, and the table was set parallel to it. To the right of the window (when seen from the door) and at the top of the table sat Sir Robert; and on his right the Deputy Director, Frank Gresham, looking military but somehow very human and relaxed. Next to him was Seff, who was fidgeting with a pencil; then Heatherfield, who had only just arrived from the airport but looked very fresh and healthy and brown. On his right was set a spare place.

  At the bottom of the table were two chairs next to each other: the first was for Mr Rupert, the Stenotype operator. His machine was all ready, standing on a thing that looked like a music-stand. The second was Simmel’s, who was now hectically leafing through the pages attached to his script-board and ticking-off items. Continuing anti-clockwise up the table on the other side — which flanked the wall adjoining Kate’s office — there was first an empty chair for the ‘visitors’ (Spigett would occupy this seat eventually), and next to that, Manson, who still seemed to be in a pretty bad temper. Finally there was Gatt, sitting on Hargreaves’ left and talking in a low murmur to him.

  Heatherfield was writing something on a piece of paper. He folded it and asked Seff to pass it up to the Director. Seff gave it to Gresham who handed it to Sir Robert. Mr Rupert came in and murmured an apology for being late. He looked round the table, spotted the Stenotype, walked over and sat down next to Simmel. All was now ready.

  Hargreaves read the note rapidly and caught Heatherfield’s eye down the table. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘That confirms what we thought.’ He took Mr Rupert in his gaze. ‘Are you all set?’ he asked.

  Mr Rupert was tall and very slim, with a shock of blond hair that looked as if it could do with some attention from the barber. He didn’t look the part at all.