by Gabriel Kron
The gun was silenced, but the sound of the bullets ripping through the HP6809 MCMS was painfully loud.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt us!” Lee protested as he turned and knelt. Karin steadied herself on Lee’s shoulder as she slowly knelt as well.
“Listen carefully. We have a message for Daniel Bateman. Tell him to give himself and the notebooks up or we will continue to target more and more of his family and friends around him. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” Lee said.
After several seconds of silence Lee dared to look around and noticed that the Americans had gone. The torch was left on the bench shining at them.
“Shit. How the hell? Are you all right?” Lee said as he helped Karin back to her feet.
“Yes, I’m fine, I'm fine. They took the brush,” she said as she straightened her clothes.
“We got the results though, didn’t we?” Lee asked. Please say yes, he thought to himself.
“Oh yes. We know exactly what is in those brushes now.”
“He knew who I was. How the bloody hell did he know who I was and that we were going to be here? I’ve told Wendy, that’s it,” Lee said.
“Only Henrik knows I am here. I didn’t even notify site security.”
“I need to phone Wendy,” Lee dialled his home number and waited. It wasn’t late, but Wendy would have already gone to bed.
“What were the results?” Lee asked.
“From what I saw on the screen, the brush is a lead graphite and the separator is almost pure radium chloride, but we’ll know more when I check my emails. It automatically emails the results when each test is done, thankfully,” Karin said as she used the torch to check the HP6809.
Wendy finally answered.
“Hi, it’s me,” Lee said, “is everything okay?... Good.... I know it’s late... We’ve had a bit of an incident here and I needed to... No, no, I’m, we’re fine, just shaken. I’m worried about you and the kids... Listen, please take the girls to your mother’s. Just to be safe... I know... Give my love to ‘em... I know... No, I’m coming straight back but was going to go straight back to the yard. I’ve got the results, even though we’ve lost the brush... That’s what they took... Okay, love you... Bye.”
As Lee hung up, he noticed Karin doing the same.
The power to the Einstein Tower didn’t return. The laboratory was absolutely silent. Usually there was at least one cooling fan whirring away somewhere. Cautiously they left the building.
Lee intended to drive straight back. Despite having been awake the best part of twenty-four hours and driven a stupid number of miles, he felt pumped. Maybe it was the shock of their encounter at the Einstein Tower, or maybe the excitement and anticipation of being on the brink of what could be the biggest discovery in his life time.
Swanley Kent. 10:30pm Day 52.
The walk from the Yard to Swanley town centre would normally take thirty minutes.
Today, it took much longer. My legs felt like lead and more than once I sank to my knees as I was overcome with the physical pain of shock and grief.
By the time I reached the outskirts of town, I had dried my eyes and begun focussing on the real problem being laid bare before me. I knew information that someone, somewhere did not want me to know.
I headed towards the BP service station in the centre of town where I had arranged to meet Becs. I hoped she remembered to park in the town car-park or a side street and walk to the service station.
I was about to phone her when my mobile started vibrating. It was Clive and he sounded concerned.
“...I just had Lee on the phone from Potsdam. You won’t believe this, they were attacked at the lab,” Clive said sounding slightly out of breath.
“What? Are they okay?”
“Yes, they’re fine. A little shaken but unhurt.”
“Thank god for that.”
“They’ve got the results, but the attacker took the brush and left them with a message for you. Lee’s on his way back now. He said he’ll be back at the Yard sometime late tomorrow morning. Daniel, I need to go home and check on Brenda and the kids, sorry.”
“That’s fine,” I said as I watched several cars drive past the BP service station.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Lee’s got the results and he says to tell you that he has a nice surprise as well.”
“Not sure I like surprises at the moment,” I said as I finally saw Becs walk out of a side road a couple of hundred yards down the High Street.
As I watched her walk up the hill, a car appeared from the side road and turned to follow. I watched anxiously as the car slowly drove towards Becs. I wish I still had the Luger. There was no way I was going to let this go down badly.
I stepped out from the shop doorway I was hiding in and headed towards Becs and the approaching car. She still hadn’t seen me yet, and I was about to cross the road as the car gently accelerated past us towards the roundabout at the top of town. I sighed with relief and continued across the road.
“Becs!” I shouted and ran into her open arms.
“Oh man, am I glad to see you. Are you all right?” I said and hugged her tight.
“Yes, yes I’m fine. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice on the edge of tears.
I held her for a good five minutes before finally pulling away. I wanted to ask her about mum and dad, and what had happened to her. Instead, I put my arm around her and we begun the walk back out of town and along the embankment of the A20. Something occurred to me. Something I needed to check with Mark Stacey, the only person I knew who might know the answer.
If the powers-that-be had managed to track down one of the phones we were using and found out about the test in Potsdam, then why hadn’t they just traced them and snatched me from the Yard?
Mark answered his mobile straight away.
“...There’s only two possible ways they could know about the test and where it was. Phone tap or traitor,” I said after telling Mark about my parents being killed, and the attacks on Becs, Lee and Karin.
“Can’t argue with that, except there’s one flaw. If they were tapping your phone, then they’d know where you are, so why the need to try and intimidate you into giving yourself up? They’d have taken you by now.” Mark allowed what he said to sink in. “Dan, I’m afraid you must have a traitor in your group.”
I couldn’t believe that one of the now small group of people I was associated with would give me up.
“Can you find out somehow how they knew and who told them? Please. And let me know, only me,” I asked.
“This isn’t good news for either of us,” Mark said. “If the mole in the group knows about me or of me then I’m in trouble and will need to move quick.”
“Mark, if I find the bastard, I’m going to kill 'em. Can you find out who they are? I want to know. I want to make whoever it is hurt.”
“If they’re communicating electronically, then yes I should be able to start tracking them down. Tomorrow I’ll be starting something new, hopefully have some results by the end of the week. Hang in there Dan, we’ll get the evidence to blow this whole thing apart soon.” Mark sounded confident.
I put an arm back around Becs and we walked back to the Yard.
“Hate to say this Becs, but I don’t think you can go back to work or your digs now.”
“I know, I was thinking that on the way back.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What do you mean, where will I go? I guess it’s time to move into your tin can.”
“At least you’ll be safe there.”
“I guess.”
It was dark and quiet when we arrived. I had forgotten that Clive had said that he needed to be at home for Brenda.
After a few minutes of blasting the living quarters with a large propane space heater I had acquired from the quarry, I locked up the front door and we settled into bed where we just lay in each other’s arms.
~~~
Becs couldn’t
help but compare the inside of the windowless container to that of a coffin, even converted as this was into something quite acceptable. Images of Daniel’s dead parents were running on a loop in her mind along with the ugliness of feeling violated and dirty after she discovered not only the photograph in her bra, but also where the missing button from her uniform had been inserted. Something she wasn’t going to tell Daniel about. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and enraged — but not ashamed.
She snuggled in as close as she could, trying to allow his arms to engulf her as she listened to his breathing and heartbeat. It was like music and before she realised it she soon started to drift off to sleep.
~~~
I felt Becs fall asleep in my arms. The tell-tale little body kicks were followed by the change in breathing.
I tried letting myself fall asleep as well, but my mind was buzzing. Images of my parents predominately in the foreground and the knowledge that sleep these days meant waking up in cold sweats after the same re-occurring nightmares.
Sleep must have caught me, because when I looked at the digital bedside clock I was surprised that it was 01:14am. Carefully I eased myself out of bed and quietly made my way outside.
The moon was almost full and high in the sky and the usually noisy environment of the surrounding quarry and farm was now silent.
~~~
Becs woke to the faint sound of pounding. Daniel was gone, and she could hear the thumping and pounding coming from outside.
The green LED display of the bedside alarm clock provided a remarkable amount of light to see by. She easily found the door and wrapped in the duvet made her way through the workshop to the already open door. The moon cast a long pathway of blue white light across the workshop floor for her to follow.
Outside was cold, the sky clear and the moon full. Despite the late hour, Daniel was working out on the punch bag attached to the other freight container. He was pounding it hard, over and over again. A large indent in the side of the leather bag showed where he was concentrating the rain of punches and kicks.
Becs stood in the doorway watching him. He was dressed in only a pair of jogging bottoms. His skin glistened with beads of sweat in the moonlight. She wondered just how long he could punish the bag for. Bam, bam, bam. Or was it punish himself when she saw he wasn’t wearing the boxing bag mitts he insisted she use?
She knew his knuckles were going to suffer. Bam, bam…bam, bam, bam, the bag buckled and the chains it hung by clanked loudly as a vicious kick swung upwards into the side of it.
Finally, Daniel leant onto the bag letting it take most of his weight. In the moonlight she could easily see his scars. His back was heaving as he began to recover.
She hugged him from behind. In contrast to before, his breathing and heart rate were through the ceiling and she could hear through his laboured breathing the faint sounds of pain. She hugged him tighter and kissed the back of his neck.
As Daniel recovered and his breathing became more controlled, she allowed her hands to start gently massaging, and begin to wander.
Becs' gentleness turned into Daniel’s aroused hardness. Throwing the duvet onto the ground she took one step back and removed the T-shirt she was wearing. Her naked body glowed under the night sky. As she sank to the duvet, she pulled Daniel down with her and sat astride his hurt and scarred body. The night air was biting cold but it just enhanced every touch between them. They had never wanted each other this much before. Never needed so much of each other.
The Yard. 10.30am Day 53.
The clear sky from the night before had continued into the day, the warmth and brightness of the sun was welcome. Having slept longer than usual, I did a light training session to start the day, leaving Becs asleep. Memories of our passion the night before felt good and my karate katas seemed to have more life in them. As I finished up training with a slow run through of one of karate’s older katas called Jitte, I saw several people walking down the dirt track towards the yard. As they got closer I could see it was Lee, Clive and Brenda.
On his return from Potsdam Lee had arranged with Clive and Brenda to share a taxi to the end of the track.
It turned out that Clive and Brenda had also booked into the same Travelodge as Lee later last night after their house had been ransacked. The back door had been kicked in and the house trashed.
“Nothing was stolen,” Brenda said. “They just completely trashed our lovely home.”
We were sitting round the wooden bench outside the workshop.
“I did find this.” Clive handed me a photograph.
The photograph was a CCTV close up of Clive and myself meeting in the arrivals lounge of Stuttgart Airport. Across the bottom of the photograph was the message: "Bateman must give himself, the notebooks and the device up.”
“It was in an envelope addressed to me and left on the dashboard of our car whilst we were in the house.”
“So this was them again. I’m scared guys, I can’t deny it. We know they’re willing to kill and now they’re targeting everyone connected with me. I can’t let this continue, it has to be stopped,”
“But you can’t just give yourself up!” Becs shouted from the workshop where she was making mugs of tea for everyone.
“No, I don’t want to give myself up, but I’ll have to if the threat to any one of you guys gets any worse. As if it could be worse.”
Lee stood up, put both hands in the middle of the table and said, “What I’d like to know is, how the hell did they know about Potsdam? Who told them?”
“That’s exactly what I want to know.” I hesitated whilst assessing whether or not to tell them that Mark was trying to identify who had informed who about Potsdam.
“The only people who knew about your visit to Potsdam are myself, Clive, obviously Wendy and the Friedmann’s. All of whom I trust implicitly. I know that Becs and even Brenda didn’t know about your trip until after you were attacked.” I knew I was stating the obvious, but I trusted all these people, they had saved my life on more than one occasion.
“Phone taps?” Lee suggested.
“Apparently not, if they could tap our phones then they could easily locate us and that’s not what’s happened. If they knew where I was, then they’d just come and get me. So, I’ve asked Mark Stacey to investigate—” as soon as I mentioned his name Lee’s face dropped. Lee did not trust Mark, for good reason considering, but my gut feeling, instinct, told me Mark was on our side. “Let’s face it Lee, he could hack my phone and locate me whenever he wants, but he hasn’t. I sort of trust him now.”
“Okay, if you trust him. You said he was trying to crack the Locke cipher, any luck yet?” Lee responded.
“No, but he hasn’t had it long enough yet. He’s done a lot already to earn our trust what with saving us at the cemetery, let’s not forget that. He knows and knew at the time that he was being asked to do things he wasn’t comfortable with. Now I think he feels he owes us for what he did do and is hoping to redeem himself. What we’ve got to do is try and work out how the Lockridge device works. Let’s do what we know best, engineering, and let Mark do what he knows best, hacking and espionage it would seem. I want to know who killed my parents and those around me. I need to know.
“Too many have died for what we’ve discovered which makes it even more frustrating to have lost the brush.”
“It doesn’t help having lost it, but we do now know what it’s made of,” Lee said.
He showed us the printouts of the GCMS results that Karin had emailed across. They showed several spectrum graphs, each showing spikes of various heights across the page. Lee ran through the results and tried explaining what Karin had told him. Each of the spikes on the graphs represented a specific chemical element’s molecular weight and information about their structure.
“So the carbon brush part is pretty much standard lead graphite, but the separator is crystalline radium chloride. I take it we can’t just buy it?” I said looking at the graphs.
“Not just any old radiu
m chloride, 'body centred cubic' in structure of Radium two two six to be specific and no, I don’t think we’ll be able to get hold of it easily, but I know a man who can,” Lee said. “Actually, Wendy knows a man who can...”
Lee and Wendy had been covertly fund-raising for the Lockridge device since returning from Stuttgart. They had actually managed to provide nearly all of the funds to get the Yard set up and equip the workshop.
Wendy had approached a client of hers who did a lot of work for a charity that was funded by an organisation called The Lines Foundation.
“... Wendy’s been trying to get you an interview with their assessment panel.”
“The Lines Foundation? Never heard of them. Who and what are they and what exactly will they want from us?”
“They’re a philanthropic organisation. They don’t like to be called a charity and they don’t like or want to be advertised. They do what’s called Venture Philanthropy, providing investment type grants for actual grass root projects,” Lee said.
As an example of what the Lines Foundation did, Lee explained that one of Wendy’s clients had received funding to convert three brown-field sites into a BMX track, skate park and adventure playground, for an inner city youth program. The Lines Foundation had stepped in to provide funding for the development after the Council had pulled the plug when a developer made an inflated offer for the land.
The Foundation purchased the brown field sites freehold and then gifted them to the youth of the city. They put in place a development team that oversaw the construction of the parks using local labour. The unique element of the development was the inclusion of three shops adjacent to the park that provided rent dedicated to the upkeep, making them totally self-sufficient with a little left over.
“And they’re willing to invest in an unproven free energy device? One we haven’t even built yet or even know how it works?” I said with more than a hint of disbelief.
“Until you meet them we won’t know. Wendy was hoping that you would be able to show some preliminary results based on experiments done on the existing brush.