Insequor

by Richard Murphy

  “Hello, Toby,” he said. “You got here quick.”

  “Yes, well we had to have a wash-up after yesterday’s events.” Toby appeared at his side, a guidebook thrust under his armpit. He leaned in, peering at the canvas.

  “I’ve always liked Martin’s works. They’re so dramatic. Why do you like this painting so much?”

  “What makes you think I like this one more than the Mona Lisa down the corridor?”

  “Because I think it has an effect on you. I’ve seen you stare at it before; that day with the French Minister.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it reminds me of something.”

  “Staring at Pandemonium, the capital of Hell, is not a good thing to find familiarity in.”

  He turned and looked across the gallery; an old man and his grandson idly made their way from picture to picture but his security men were still by the door. A quick thumb up from Daniel and they nodded before blending back in with the scenery.

  “You read it?”

  “What?”

  “Paradise Lost,” said Toby.

  “No.”

  “‘Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light.’ That’s what Martin drew his inspiration from.”

  Daniel turned to look at Toby; he was slightly dishevelled but much his usual self. They turned and carried on walking together, side by side, occasionally stopping to look at a picture.

  “We need to do a review of yesterday,” said Toby, “what went well, what didn’t go well, lessons learned, corrective action and so forth.”

  “What exactly did go well?” said Daniel.

  “Even though we didn’t manage to freeze him, and let’s be honest it was a long shot, we did get some really unique readings.”

  “I’ll need copies of your data.”

  “Of course. Are you free to attend this afternoon?”

  “Not really,” he said, “but I’d appreciate if you could send Davis over to take me through your findings.”

  He didn’t notice Toby pause and walked on a few steps before turning around.

  “Davis is off the team,” said Toby.

  Without missing a beat and feigning disinterest Daniel said, “Fine, send somebody else.”

  Toby considered him for a moment before nodding and then turning to a picture on his right. It was a table strewn with fruits and exotic foods, glasses and goblets.

  “Ah,” said Toby, “Jan Davidsz de Heem. ‘A Table of Desserts.’ Fascinating piece.”

  Daniel stepped closer to inspect the painting. The oils were hard, cracked and old; on the panel next to it he saw the artist’s name and the year; 1640. A table dominated the picture on which a huge feast had been laid out and leaning against it what looked like an old-fashioned guitar. In the background, behind a curtain loomed a globe.

  “It’s a moral,” he said, “but I don’t get it. The food, the mandolin; are they meant to represent earthly pleasures?”

  “It’s actually a lute,” said Toby, “But more importantly that’s not just food. It’s the forbidden fruit; back to Paradise Lost again. The globe, revealed behind the curtain, tells us how universal this message is.”

  Daniel shrugged. “What’s the message? Don’t eat the forbidden fruit? It’s a bit late for that.”

  “Moderation,” said Toby, “Material things are just…material.”

  He nodded and looked more carefully at the delicately painted fruit. It almost looked real. His eye caught a blue ribbon hanging off the table in the picture. “What’s this?”

  “A watch strap with no watch,” said Toby.

  “What does that mean?”

  Toby caught his eyes. “Time is fleeting.”

  They both stared at each other for a second, the silence of the gallery hanging around them.

  “We’d best get moving,” said Daniel. He indicated to his security men it was time to leave and they quietly crossed the room and stood beside him.

  “Don’t forget that report,” he said.

  Toby nodded and they said farewell. Back outside the hustle around the Louvre was starting to intensify and they weaved their way through the crowds back to the bridge.

  It was approaching lunchtime in Paris and people were pouring onto the streets in search of food and company. A young and beautiful woman paused and looked across at him as she spoke into her phone. Another man turned his head as they crossed on the bridge.

  Dammit! He’d forgotten to put his sunglasses back on. He quickly stepped into a doorway to replace the shades and pull down the baseball cap whilst his escort covered him. Then, bracing himself, he stepped back into the throng. The anonymity was immediate and most welcome; he didn’t turn one head as he made his way along the Left Bank.

  Back at the apartment Jones met them downstairs. “Any trouble?”

  “No,” he said, placing his baseball cap on the hat stand. “We bumped into Toby though.”

  “Bumped into?”

  “He found me at the Louvre. He says they’re doing a wash-up about yesterday. I told him to send over the report.”

  The security men headed back upstairs leaving Daniel and Jones alone in the cool hallway.

  “You had a visitor. He came over this morning.”

  “Who?” said Daniel.

  “He said he was a friend of Davis; name was Grey. Do you know him?”

  “Not yet,” said Daniel, heading up the stairs. “But can you get him over for dinner tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll need you too.”

  “Not a problem. Mind if I ask what it’s all about?”

  “Time is fleeting,” he said, before winking and carrying on up the stairs leaving Jones scratching the back of his head.

  Chapter 32

  When Daniel wasn’t being wined and dined by politicians or businessmen he generally ate in the kitchen of wherever he was staying with Jones; but tonight he thought he’d wheel out the silver service.

  As soon as he had a name he’d done his research. Professor Benedict Lyndon Grey. Born in England, graduated from Oxford before heading up research divisions at several big tech companies. Now a leading expert and lecturer on quantum theory and multiverses. His credentials were extraordinary, but what was his connection with Davis?

  As he heard footsteps ascending he got up from his seat and approached the door just as Jones showed the Professor in. He was in his fifties, thin and short with grey hair parted at the side. He smiled enthusiastically and shook his hand with vigour.

  “Professor Grey,” said Daniel, “A pleasure to meet you.” Up close his face was small and angular, his eyes dark and sharp.

  “Likewise, Mr Loman.” Grey’s eyebrows raised as Jones squeezed past to stand behind Daniel.

  There was an awkward moment when no one said anything before eventually he suggested they sit down for dinner. It was a long, dark wooden table and he seated himself and Jones at either end with Grey in the middle.

  “You mean to interrogate me, Mr Loman?” said the Professor, as he picked up his napkin, placing it carefully across his legs, a smile easing from his lips.

  “Not at all,” said Daniel, “that will be Jones’s job. He’s the professional.”

  There was another awkward pause. “I’m joking,” said Daniel, “and please, drop the Mr Loman.”

  Drinks were poured, salutations spoken and glasses raised. They started off with light chat, the Professor telling them a little about himself, his days at university then various projects he’d run. Throughout Jones probed and questioned. Was he genuinely interested or looking for mistakes?

  They dined lightly; small exquisite meats and sauces were served, along with good wine and fresh breads. Finally, after dessert, they sat back and Grey started to talk business.

  “So, gentlemen, you will be no doubt wondering about my arrangement with Mr Davis and the purpose of my visit?”

  “The thought never occurred,” said Jones.

  “I am sure it did, Mr Jones, just as I am sure you
had your friends in the FBI run my profile through their computers after we met this morning.”

  Daniel looked across at the ex-detective eyeballing Grey. “Go on,” said Jones.

  “Mr Davis, as you may be aware, is no longer on the project. He’d voiced concerns over Toby’s methods and strategy. Toby did not like this.”

  “So he’s been fired?” said Jones.

  “Reassigned,” said Grey.

  “Do you know Toby too?” said Jones.

  “I know his methods,” said Grey, with a wince.

  “And where do you fit into all this?” said Daniel.

  “Mr Davis and I had worked on a project together previously and we kept in touch. When we met recently we talked of your situation and I offered a solution based on some research I was doing at the time.”

  “A solution?” said Jones.

  “I believe I know a way to destroy the robot.”

  Daniel said nothing but his eyes caught those of Jones. Was there finally a way out?

  “Why didn’t I hear about this?” said Daniel.

  Grey shrugged. “Everything has to go through Toby. He maintains strict control. Mr Davis put forward my proposal and he rejected it.”

  “What was the proposal?”

  Grey paused to make sure he had their attention. He did. “I’ve been conducting research into the creation of antimatter and quantum teleportation.”

  “Now I’m lost,” said Jones.

  “Antimatter is the exact opposite of matter. The particles have the opposite charge and when the two meet…”

  “It’s very bad?” said Daniel.

  “Correct. I proposed creating an antimatter copy of the robot. I believe it could be done. I would then introduce the copy to the original and, in theory, they would both obliterate each other.”

  “Why didn’t Toby go for it?” said Daniel.

  “Firstly, there was the cost and the time. Antimatter is tremendously expensive to create and takes a very long time. At present a fully equipped lab can only create a few nanograms per year. It would take several million years to create enough antimatter to form a copy of our friend. However, I have recently completed some research and believe there is a way to conquer this. I just need the funds to develop it.”

  “And secondly?” said Jones.

  “Secondly there was the risk. Any variation in mass either side would mean that a tremendous amount of extra energy would be released. You would have to make the copy have exactly the same mass.”

  “Exactly?” said Daniel.

  “Within billionths of a nanogram.”

  “I see,” said Daniel. He stood up and went to the sideboard to pour himself a scotch. Grey politely declined.

  “This plan,” he said, “I assume there’s a detailed proposal? Fully costed and specified?”

  “Of course,” said Grey.

  “Send it to me,” said Daniel.

  Grey nodded. “You’re interested?”

  “I’m interested in any way of stopping it, but I have a question. What’s in it for you?”

  Grey shrugged, the creases in his shirt gathering around his neck. “A fair point which brings me on to the final issue Toby had with the plan. I wanted to maintain intellectual property rights to the antimatter creation technology. If I succeeded, I would be able to introduce a new fuel source into the earth tens of times more powerful than nuclear. We could run cities, power vehicles, reverse global warming. The possibilities would be boundless.”

  “And you would be a very rich man,” said Jones.

  “Ah,” said Grey, “now there you’ve got me.”

  Daniel smiled. “At least you’re honest. Thank you Professor. We’ll talk again some time.”

  Recognising it was time to leave Grey made his farewells and headed down the stairs accompanied by Jones. Daniel had barely a moment to himself before he heard his head of security tramping back up.

  “I don’t think this is what we’re looking for,” said Jones.

  “What I’m looking for is certainty.”

  “Of what?”

  “Its destruction,” said Daniel. Just uttering the words made him shake underneath his clothes. He felt his fingers tighten and looked at Jones for a response.

  “His solution sounds…unique,” said Jones. “But it’s a lot of money and a lot of risk.”

  “Let’s see the proposal before we make any decision. There’ll be years of research anyway.”

  With that, he said goodnight, and strolled across to his bedroom. A quick check of his phone revealed dozens of emails that could wait until the morning. Tonight he was going to sleep; perchance to dream.

  Central Intelligence Agency

  Interview Transcript

  File Number – 133329DKK

  Date and Time: Classified

  Agent Conducting Interview:

  Classified Classified

  Session 3

  AGENT Classified

  So it was a tough time for you. Yes, the financial rewards, but a life moving from one country to the next. Every fifty-three days, or thereabouts, you would fly back to the States from Europe, or vice versa. All the time, the entity being kept under water.

  LOMAN

  Not too tough. I was doing well out it.

  AGENT Classified

  Maybe, but there were close calls too.

  LOMAN

  Yes, there were.

  AGENT Classified

  One incident in Florida caused particular concern. A miscalculation meant that you arrived in Orlando in the wrong week. By the time your plane had landed the robot was less than a kilometre away and nobody had noticed.

  On another occasion Classified Classified Classified Classified Classified Classified

  LOMAN

  Yes, I remember that.

  AGENT Classified

  You were sued by the government for damage to a Federal building. But, no lives were lost and pretty soon after the entity was back in its now almost permanent home of the Atlantic Ocean.

  LOMAN

  Yes, that’s right. We had trackers on him so I knew when I had to make a ‘jump.’ That’s what we called it. We ran a much tighter ship after that so there were no mistakes. I had a great team around me and things were a lot safer. He never got close.

  AGENT Classified

  You say ‘he?’

  LOMAN

  I think of ‘him’ more like an old friend now. Without him my life would have been so much more different.

  AGENT Classified

  Do you ever wish it had been?

  LOMAN

  Perhaps.

 

  Chapter 33

  Veronica’s warm wool sweater felt good and smelt so nice he didn’t want to pull his face out. In the background a log fire crackled excitedly whilst outside there was a blizzard wailing at the windows. But here, in her arms, he felt harmony.

  “I missed you,” he said, into her chest. They were laid on the couch together.

  She kicked off ballet pumps and adjusted her position to get comfortable. The light from the windows made her face pale and she stroked Daniel’s hair and gently kissed the top of his head.

  “How have you been?”

  “It’s been crazy,” he said, “I’m just so tired. I don’t even know what day it is never mind what I’m supposed to be doing or where I’m supposed to be.”

  “I heard the government tried to stop it again.”

  “It’s back to the drawing board. They’ve got another idea; I think it involves gas or something.” He sat up, stretched his arms and made his way to the window. The room was luxurious, the hotel the best in the whole of Sweden. About twenty miles from Stockholm, it was as a secret hideaway known only to the rich and famous; and Daniel was both.

  They’d arrived three days ago. Daniel had left Jones in charge; Grey was off spending his money on various items for his experiments, much to the grumbling old cop’s dismay. The robot itself was at the bottom of the Atlantic once mo
re; but, as ever, getting closer with each step.

  “I’m glad you waited for me,” he said, still looking out of the window.

  “You said you’d be back.”

  “I never break a promise and I promised myself I’d be here with you, one day.” He turned, suddenly looking awkward. “Not here in Sweden, I mean…” He crossed back and sat down beside her, holding her hand. “I mean ‘here.’ Does that sound corny?”

  She smiled and kissed him, her lips sticking to his for just a fraction of a second afterwards. As she pulled away his eyes remained close.

  He beamed, a stupid happy grin, but it was real. He hadn’t felt this way, ever. Veronica made him happy, free and able to forget the world around him. Perhaps, with times like this either side of his necessary trips he could have a normal life? They could honeymoon all they wanted to, live in a few different locations and the children could be schooled privately as they travelled. It was no different to the way some movie stars lived so why should he feel guilty?

  No, he reasoned, it wasn’t guilt. Just the knowledge that, if they wanted to, a movie star could buy a normal house in a normal street and just raise a family like everyone else. Or could they? Maybe this was how they felt too.

  The rest of the day washed away merrily as they drank, laughed and made love. Come dinner time neither of them were really hungry so they decided to brave the snow and go out for a walk. Daniel had an idea it might be romantic, but as they walked into the lobby his stomach sank.

  Luckily, Veronica hadn’t seen the unruffled man in a cream suit lurking around the foyer. He excused himself and said he was going to the bathroom after he parked her in the main bar and placed a cocktail menu in front of her.

  Outside the gents Toby was waiting. “Is this convenient?” he said, through a smile.

  “No, it’s not convenient Toby. What are you doing here?”