The God Particle

by Daniel Danser

‘Okay, Dawn, listen to me,’ replied Seb, his voice agitated. ‘There must have been an earthquake. We’ve had some tremors here, but nothing on the scale of what you’ve experienced. I’m going to put you on air across the whole network. I’ll get one of the presenters to talk you through what you can see. Are you ready, Dawn? This could be your big break.’

  The words seemed to snap her back into reality. She heard her lead-in, via the headset. ‘We interrupt our scheduled programme to bring you some breaking news of an earthquake that has devastated Istanbul, from our reporter on the scene.’

  ‘Hi, this is Pete. I understand you have some breaking news?’ It was obvious that was all Pete had been told.

  She recognised his voice as one of the presenters on Radyo Ankara. ‘Hi Pete, this is Dawn,’ she replied in far too jolly a voice.

  ‘More serious!’ Devrim hissed under his breath, as he manoeuvred the helicopter closer to the ground to get a better view.

  She lowered her voice a couple of octaves. ‘I am witnessing what can only be described as devastation on a biblical scale.’

  She could see Devrim nodding his approval out of the corner of her eye.

  ‘Can you describe to our listeners what you can see?’ Pete prompted.

  Yes. We’re flying over what’s left of Istanbul. Most of the buildings have been levelled by an earthquake and I can see thick smoke rising into the air from fires that have broken out across the city.’

  ‘And what about survivors?’

  Devrim pushed the controls forward and they descended. He pulled the stick back, levelling the helicopter at just a hundred feet above the ground, the downdraft from the rotor blades fanning the conflagration.

  ‘I can see a few people caked in soot and dust, just sitting in the middle of the carnage, dazed. Others appear to be digging frantically, trying to rescue loved ones trapped under piles of rubble. But the majority are clambering over the debris, still dressed in their night clothes, trying to get away from the fires.’

  ‘And how many casualties do you think there are?’

  ‘It’s difficult to tell,’ Dawn looked down at the ground below her, but she couldn’t determine if what she could see were just heaps of clothes or bodies. ‘I suspect that most people were still in their beds when the earthquake struck, so we can expect a significant loss of life.’

  She signalled to Devrim to take them higher to get an aerial view of the holocaust.

  ‘There are very few buildings still standing,’ she went on, ‘and I can see the Hagia Sophia. However, it appears to have sustained considerable damage.’ She pointed at the building rising incongruously above the smoke.

  Devrim accelerated in that direction.

  ‘I can see that one of the exterior walls has fallen down, the minarets have gone and the Grand Dome has caved in. But, apart from that, it seems to have withstood the brunt of the earthquake fairly well. Wait! I can see the ground shuddering in front of us. It must be an aftershock… it’s shaking the building... part of the roof’s just fallen in… now the walls are crumbling… What’s that, over there?’ Dawn was pointing to a prone figure inside the ruins. ‘I can see somebody inside the building… he’s waving up at us. We’re going in to get a closer look.’

  Devrim steered the helicopter until it was hovering just above the building. Dawn had a clear view of the interior through a large hole in the roof.

  ‘I can see the person now, it looks like a man. He’s crawling towards the door at the side of the building. The ground’s still shaking quite badly and the roof’s disintegrating, slabs of plaster are missing him by inches, but he’s nearly made it. If he can just get outside we’d be able to land in the park and pick him up. He’s made it to the door, but he’s struggling to stand up to open it. He’s up! He’s leaning against… Oh my God!’

  ‘What is it, Dawn?’

  Silence.

  ‘Dawn, are you still there?’

  Still no reply.

  ‘Dawn, can you still here me?’

  ‘Yes, we’re still here…’ Dawn sounded deflated.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘There was another massive shudder and the walls just collapsed in on themselves. There’s nothing left of the building.’

  ‘What about the person inside?’

  ‘Buried! There’s no way he could have survived.’

  ‘Okay. Stay on air, Dawn. We’ll be right back to you after a word from our sponsors,’ Pete informed her as they went to an ad break.

  Dawn felt sick.

  ‘That was great, Dawn. Keep focusing on the human tragedy perspective,’ Seb encouraged her through her headset. ‘We’ve had NBC, CBS, Sky and the BBC, not to mention all the local TV stations wanting to interview you when you get back to base.’

  Great! She was finally going to get to fulfil her lifelong dream of being on TV. But, somehow, she didn’t think she’d have the stomach for it anymore.

  CHAPTER 12

  ‘Bonsoir, Professor Halligan.’ Pierre held out his hand to take Tom’s coat from him. ‘And, may I say, it’s a pleasure to see you again so soon.’

  ‘Thank you, Pierre,’ Tom said, as he handed his coat over.

  ‘Will you be joining Herr Volker and Dr Weiss this evening?’

  Tom was a little taken aback by the question. ‘Er… no, I didn’t realise they were dining here. I’m actually meeting a young lady, but I’m a few minutes early.’

  ‘I see. Then let me show you to one of our booths, they’re a little more… intimate.’

  Tom caught the insinuation and blushed. ‘Oh… no… that won’t be necessary. She’s a colleague from work.’

  ‘Of course she is, Sir.’

  Did he detect a hint of sarcasm in Pierre’s voice? Or was he just being a bit paranoid?

  He followed Pierre across the restaurant to a table in the corner. He spotted Deiter in the seat he had occupied the previous evening. He was deep in conversation with Fredrick, which was probably why neither of them had noticed him. He thought about going over to their table to say hello, but their discussion seemed so intense that he decided it would be impolite to interrupt them. He sat down on the chair proffered by Pierre with his back to them.

  ‘Can I get you an aperitif, while you are waiting for your guest?’

  ‘Thank you, Pierre. I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, a large one. On second thoughts, make it a triple.’

  Tom’s nerves were getting to him. He still couldn’t believe he’d had the gall to ask Serena out, on only the second day of his new job. It was under the pretence of work, he reminded himself. But, after the day he’d just had, that was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

  Pierre returned with his drink and a menu. ‘Perhaps you’d like to browse the menu. I’m afraid we’ve sold out of the lobster, but we do have some excellent pan-fried sea bass fillets, served on a bed of celeriac mash, accompanied by a cream of saffron sauce.’

  ‘Sounds delicious,’ replied Tom. ‘But it would have to go a long way to beat the fillet mignon I had last night.’

  Pierre smiled and left the menu with him.

  Tom checked his watch. Five to eight. He glanced over his left shoulder to the entrance. No sign of her. He glanced over his right shoulder and could only see Frederick’s face reflected in the window. He didn’t look as jovial as he had the previous evening; in fact, he looked tired and drawn. He was shaking his head at something Deiter was saying to him, his expression stern.

  Tom felt a little guilty about spying on a man he admired so much, but this was a different side of Frederick that he hadn’t seen before. Besides, who wouldn’t practise a little voyeurism if they knew they could get away with it?

  ‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’

  Tom jumped around with a start to see his date standing next to him. Pierre was shadowing her. They were both peering at the same reflection of Frederick he had been studying.

  ‘No. I was just… er… I was just…’

  ‘Snooping?’


  Tom laughed. ‘Busted! You caught me red-handed.’

  She slipped onto the leather banquette opposite him and put her tan-coloured briefcase on the floor.

  She was wearing a black, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress with high heels and carried a matching clutch bag. Her hair was tied back in a loose, messy bun with long, angular bangs at the front which showcased the diamond and pearl dangle earrings and matching drop pendant necklace. She wore just enough make-up to accentuate her green eyes and high cheek bones, with a hint of cinnamon-coloured lipstick to complement her olive skin. The overall effect? Tom thought she looked stunning, confident in her own skin, unlike he, who was feeling rather self-conscious about the fact that he hadn’t had time to change out of his work clothes.

  The investigation by the police had gone on all day and Tom felt obliged to oversee the proceedings. They had only managed to get through about a tenth of the workforce by the time he’d left the office at seven that evening. Inspector Gervaux had assigned six of his men to conduct the interviews allocating thirty minutes per employee. They had started with the maintenance team and then moved on to those present in the control room when the explosion happened. Tom realised that he would be seeing quite a lot of Inspector Gervaux over the next few weeks, which he didn’t relish the thought of.

  ‘Aperitif, Madam?’ Pierre handed Serena a menu.

  ‘Yes, I’ll have what he’s having.’

  ‘And will that also be a triple, Madam?’

  Serena gave Tom a knowing smile. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Busted again!’ Tom said with mock guilt written all over his face.

  ***

  The evening went better than Tom had hoped. The food was excellent, the wine was flowing and so was the conversation. He found they had much more in common than attending the same university; keep-fit, theatre, food, travel, families and friends were just a few of the topics they covered. They both managed to avoid mentioning ‘the elephant in the room’, until after they’d enjoyed their dessert, when Serena brought up the subject.

  ‘So, any news on the two injured maintenance crew?’

  ‘I phoned the hospital, just before I came out,’ replied Tom. ‘One’s still in intensive care and the other one they said was stable. That’s all the information they were prepared to give me because I wasn’t family.’

  ‘Talking of which, did you have to inform the relatives of the deceased?’

  ‘Thankfully not. I was dreading it all day. I really wouldn’t have known what to say. But when I spoke to Frederick about it, he kindly offered to take over that responsibility, as he said he knew them.’

  ‘It really is terrible. Did the police give you any indication what caused the explosion?’

  Tom gave a derisory snort. ‘I don’t think Inspector Gervaux likes me very much. The last thing he’d do is confide in me. Did they mention anything to you during questioning?’

  ‘Nothing. They just seemed to be gathering information - what I did, how long I’d worked for CERN, where I was at the time of the explosion, if I’d seen anything, that sort of thing.’

  ‘I was talking to one of the technicians during the experiment, who told me that there’d been an incident about two years ago when a disaster was narrowly averted. Do you know anything about that?’

  ‘It happened just before I started working there,’ said Serena. ‘Apparently, there was a leak in one of the helium coolant tanks. The whole operation was closed down for over a year and every part of the collider was checked over with a fine-tooth comb. I can’t believe it’s happened again.’

  ‘We’re not sure that it has, not until we get the final police report,’ Tom reminded her. ‘Have there been any other incidences that you’re aware of?’

  ‘You’re beginning to sound like the investigation team,’ she said, flashing a smile at Tom. ‘We’ve had minor breakdowns, but nothing more than you’d expect from such a complex piece of technology.’

  ‘And what about the data readings during the test and the experiment?’

  She reached down and retrieved a file from her briefcase.

  ‘I’ve summarised the output from both days,’ she said, handing a single sheet of paper from the file, across the table, to Tom.

  He studied the data in silence, until he’d reached the end of the document.

  ‘Temperature readings normal. Detectors registering intensified activity as power increases, which is what you’d expect. Kinetic energy levels normal. Direct correlation between electromagnetic radiation and power output. All seems to be in order,’ Tom concluded, passing the paper back to Serena. ‘So, what do we put these malfunctions down to? Coincidence?’

  ‘It certainly looks that way,’ replied Serena.

  ‘Coffee or digestif?’ Pierre appeared at their table with his usual discretion.

  Tom looked around the restaurant to see that they were the last ones there. He hadn’t even noticed Frederick or Deiter leaving.

  ‘I think we’d better be going,’ he said. ‘We wouldn’t want to outstay our welcome.’

  ‘As you wish, Sir. I’ll bring you your bill.’

  Tom turned his attention back to his date. ‘Are you staying on the complex, or do you have an apartment in town?’

  ‘That’s a bit forward of you, Professor Halligan,’ she teased.

  Tom blushed again. ‘I only meant that we could share a taxi if you were going back to the complex.’

  ‘That would be appropriate,’ she said, continuing the pretence of being straight-laced.

  ‘Well, we wouldn’t want to do anything inappropriate, now, would we?’

  Tom paid the bill and they left the restaurant, giggling like teenagers.

  ***

  ‘Thank you for a very pleasant evening.’ They were standing outside Tom’s door. ‘Are you sure I can’t offer you a nightcap?’

  ‘Professor, sahib! Professor, sahib!’ They both turned in unison to see Ajay running at full pelt towards them down the corridor. He just managed to stop short of them in time. ‘Have you… seen the… TV? It’s… it’s Shiva,’ he gasped, bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

  ‘Ajay, slow down and tell us what’s wrong,’ Tom said, trying to calm him down.

  ‘…the earthquake.’

  Tom let them into his apartment, switched on the television and flicked through the channels to find an English-speaking news programme. Tom stood to one side of the TV, whilst Serena and Ajay positioned themselves on the couch, his earlier phobia almost forgotten as he focused on the images of the holocaust being broadcast.

  All eyes were glued to the set as a young woman, who looked tired and drawn, was being interviewed by an ABC News reporter. ‘We have with us Dawn Spencer, a local radio station presenter, who witnessed the devastation first hand. Tell us what it was like, Dawn.’

  ‘It’s Maria.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘My name is Maria.’

  ‘Sorry. Tell us what it was like, Maria.’ The runner was going to get it in the neck for that cock-up.

  Maria had lost count of the number of interviews she’d done over the last twelve hours; the questions were always the same. She had formulated the answers in her head and could almost deliver them verbatim, like a script. She could also anticipate the next question before it was asked.

  ‘We were reporting on the early morning traffic, in our helicopter, when the first of the tremors shook the city. Initially, we thought it was a localised gas explosion, but then we soon realised it was an earthquake. We were just above the clouds when the whole city got flattened. As we descended, we could see the full extent of the devastation. The quake must have shaken the buildings to their foundations, because all that was left were piles of rubble.’

  Ask me about the casualties.

  ‘And did you see many casualties?’

  ‘Because it was so early in the morning, a lot of people must have been trapped in their houses as they collapsed. I could see men and women dig
ging in the ruins, dragging individuals out by their arms and legs. But it became obvious, quite quickly, that the majority weren’t so lucky, as bodies littered the streets. Makeshift bandages were being tied around the injured, but as there were no hospitals and no medical treatment available, they were left to suffer in agony.’

  ‘Did you see any emergency services on the streets?’

  ‘Most of the roads were inaccessible. Even if there had been any ambulances or fire engines still running, they wouldn’t have been able to get through. Fires were burning out of control. Some survivors did try to douse the flames with buckets of water, but it was futile.’

  ‘And how long was it before you saw any assistance from outside the city?’

  ‘Military helicopters were the first on the scene. They managed to land on some of the parks that hadn’t been affected by the quake. They were carrying medical personnel and supplies, which they administered to whoever they thought needed it the most. The helicopters took off, evacuating the most seriously injured, whilst the walking wounded were being treated on the ground.’

  ‘Thank you, Maria.’ The reporter turned back to face the camera. ‘There you have it, a harrowing account from an eye-witness to what is being described by experts as a mega-quake. It’s difficult to say, at this early stage, what the final death toll will be, but it is likely to run into the millions. This is Celia Burrows, ABC News, reporting from a city that has been wiped off the face of the earth. Over to you in the studio, Bryan.’

  ‘Thank you, Celia,’ Bryan spoke into the camera, his voice grave. He turned his focus to the screen behind him where his guest, a professor of seismology from Harvard University, was waiting patiently for his cue.

  ‘Professor, we’ve just heard from our correspondent in Istanbul. She is describing this as a mega-quake. Would you agree?’

  ‘The scientific name for it is actually a megathrust earthquake,’ replied the professor. ‘It is the most powerful kind of earthquake on the planet. The magnitude of the one that hit Turkey measured 10.5 on the Richter scale, the largest earthquake since records began.’