He did have his favourite; the girls in the canteen would always tease him, making him blush, but there was one girl in particular that had caught his eye. She was quieter than the others and didn’t join in the banter, but would always give him a radiant smile whenever she saw him.
On one occasion, when he was helping to unload a delivery to the kitchens, she came out for a cigarette by herself and asked him for a light. He fumbled around in his pocket, despite knowing that he didn’t have a lighter on him because he didn’t smoke. When he’d made enough of a show of trying to find one, he apologised and went back to stacking the boxes. The next day, armed with two lighters and a carton of cigarettes, he made certain that he was in the right place when another delivery turned up. And, sure enough, whilst he was carrying the goods into the kitchen, she came out. Before she’d had a chance to take a cigarette from her packet, he’d already dropped the two cases of fish packed in ice and offered her one of his cigarettes.
She smiled coyly at him. ‘Thank you. I didn’t know you smoked.’
He lit hers and one for himself, suppressing a cough as he took in the smoke. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but I’m trying to give them up.’
This was, in fact, only the second cigarette he’d tried in his life. The first one was loaded with skunk, given to him by one of his depraved ‘friends’ when he’d gone off the rails. On that occasion, he coughed so much that he thought he would pass out and vowed never to try another, preferring the simpler-to-ingest cocaine to get his highs.
‘Me too,’ the girl said. ‘It’s a disgusting habit, when you think about it. My name’s Jasmine, by the way.’
‘Ajay, pleased to meet you.’ He held out his hand for a formal greeting.
She smiled again and shook his hand gently, feeling a little embarrassed by the gesture.
‘Have you been here long, Jasmine?’ He liked the sound of her name when he said it; it suited her delicate features, petite figure and dark, chocolate-coloured eyes. She wore a none-too-flattering catering hairnet, but he could tell from her fringe that her hair was black and silky. Her complexion was lighter than his own, suggesting that her family came from one of the more northern regions of India.
‘This is only my second month in Geneva,’ she said. ‘My father got a transfer at work, so our family came with him.’
‘Who does he work for?’
‘The Hinduja Bank in the city.’
‘It must have been difficult for you to leave your home,’ Ajay said, remembering his own immigration. ‘Where did you live before?’
‘My family is originally from Kashmir, but we’ve moved around a lot with Dad’s work.’
‘Do you like it here?’
‘The country or the canteen?’ Jasmine asked, smiling.
‘Both.’
‘I like working here because the people are so friendly,’ she replied. ‘But I haven’t seen much of Geneva. We spent the last few weeks in a hotel while my mother looked for a place for us to live. All our stuff is being shipped over, so I’m living out of a suitcase at the moment.’
‘I could show you around Geneva, if you like?’ said Ajay seizing the opportunity to spend more time with this pretty girl.
‘I’d like that,’ she flashed him another smile.
‘Tonight? I could pick you up when you finish work.’
‘Okay, I’ll see you tonight. I must get back to work, otherwise I’ll be in trouble,’ she said stubbing out her cigarette before scurrying back inside, leaving Ajay standing there with a big grin on his face.
It was several minutes before he saw the puddle of water starting to form around his feet from the defrosting ice seeping out of the boxes he’d discarded earlier. The supplier had finished unloading the rest of the goods and had driven off without Ajay even noticing. He picked up the fish and took it into the kitchen, oblivious to the trail of water he was leaving behind him. His mind was on more important things; he had to ask his father if he could borrow one of the pool cars for his date that evening.
Frederick was usually to be found somewhere on site. Although he was President of the Council and could have spent his days pushing pieces of paper backwards and forwards across a desk, he preferred to take a hands-on approach by involving himself in the day-to-day running of the facility. Ajay knew his best bet of tracking him down quickly was to ask one of the security team that patrolled the premises.
‘Have you seen Herr Volker?’ he asked the first uniformed guard he saw.
‘I saw him when he arrived this morning,’ replied the man. ‘He went into the main building, but I haven’t seen him since.’
Ajay went to the main reception to ask and was told that Frederick had left the building about ten minutes ago.
‘Which direction was he heading?’
‘He took one of the golf buggies and drove off left.’
Ajay ran down the stairs and jumped into one of the buggies parked at the front of the building and set off after him. He had to ask another two security guards on the way before he was able to spot the white cart turning into an underground car park in the distance. Ajay had never been to this area of the compound before; he hadn’t had any need to.
He followed his father through the entrance. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could see that the car park was almost deserted apart from five black Mercedes, the same model as his father’s, parked side by side along one wall, and two white buggies which were abandoned in front of the lift. He parked next to the cars and walked back, peering through the darkness to determine any form of life. It was desolate. As he waited for the lift to arrive, he wondered what his father could be doing in such a remote part of the complex and who the other cars belonged to.
He could hear the gentle hum of the electric motors as the lift made its way to him, but it seemed to take an inordinately long time. Finally, the doors opened and he stepped in. Not knowing which floor his father was on, he decided to go through them one at a time and pressed the first floor button. The journey took a couple of seconds and the doors slid open again to reveal an empty rectangular office space. The walls had been painted and the floor tiled, but it was evident from the musty smell that it had never been a functioning work environment.
He stepped back in the lift and tried the second floor, only to find it identical to the level below. He got out on the third, which was the same as the other two, and walked across to one of the windows to look out. He could see the compound buildings to his right and, to his left, the perimeter, beyond which were green pastures stretching across the landscape towards the horizon.
But what struck him as odd was the road that dissected the fields ending at a barrier in the fence. To the side of it was a small sentry hut. He cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed his forehead against the glass to get a better view. He could just make out a figure sitting in the box. He was dressed in a uniform, but it didn’t look as though it was the same as the ones the guards wore on the compound.
As he watched, the door to the hut opened and the man stepped out, stretching his legs. He was clean-shaven, dark-skinned with tightly-cropped black hair. Ajay could see clearly now his navy blue jacket and trousers, light blue shirt and matching tie, as opposed to the grey/green apparel of the CERN security force. But the biggest difference he could see was what he was carrying over his shoulder; it looked like a machine gun, whereas the compound’s patrolmen carried hip-holstered hand guns.
Puzzled, he returned to the lift. If his father wasn’t here, then where was he? He did a cursory check of each floor on the way back to the basement, just in case he’d missed him, although he thought it unlikely as there were no hidden corners or partitions.
He made his way back to the buggy and was just about to return to the main building when he heard the electric motors of the lift start up again. Instinctively, he bolted for one of the dark recesses by the side of the shaft. He couldn’t work out what had spooked him; perhaps it was the heavily-armed security presence, or the derelic
t building itself. But either way, he got the distinct impression that he was trespassing.
He heard the doors open, followed by the voices of several people. From his vantage point, he could see them getting into their cars, their breath condensing in the chilled air as they said their goodbyes. Four men and one woman started their engines, demisted their windscreens and drove out in an orderly fashion. He was about to run across to his buggy, when the lift doors opened again; this time, he recognised the voices of his father and Deiter Weiss. He wanted to emerge from his hiding place and speak to them, but he thought they might think he was spying on them. No, he would remain where he was until they’d gone and choose his moment to ask his father about the building later.
He could hear them clearly but, as the conversation between the two men progressed, he regretted his decision not to make himself known. What he was listening to made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Suddenly, the exchange stopped mid-sentence.
‘How did you get here?’ Frederick asked Deiter.
‘By golf buggy, of course. It’s parked next to yours.’
‘Then whose is that one over there?’
Ajay looked over to his own buggy, sitting there as prominent as a single milk tooth in a baby’s smile.
‘We know you’re there,’ Deiter shouted. ‘Come out and we won’t have to call the guards.’
He thought of the machine gun, but stayed put.
‘You’ve got until the count of three to show yourself,’ continued Deiter. ‘Otherwise we’ll call in the dogs.’
Ajay had seen what those dogs could do to a man’s padded arm, when he’d watched them practising their training on campus.
‘One… two… three…’
He stepped out of the shadows behind them. Frederick and Deiter spun round to face the interloper.
‘Ajay! What are you doing here?’ Ajay could see the mixture of bewilderment and anger on his father’s face.
‘I… I… came to find you,’ he began. ‘I wanted to borrow a car for this evening. I have a date.’ Even Ajay thought it sounded weak, especially after everything he’d seen and heard.
‘What?’ shouted Frederick. The bewilderment gave way to pure anger. ‘How long have you been skulking there?’
‘Not long,’ Ajay said feebly.
‘Certainly long enough to eavesdrop on our conversation,’ Deiter retorted.
‘Leave this to me, Deiter,’ replied Frederick. ‘You go back to the facility, otherwise people will be wondering where you are.’
‘But he could jeopardise everything.’
‘I said, leave this to me. It’s my problem and I will sort it out,’ Frederick shouted, his face bright red. Ajay had never seen him that angry before.
Deiter reluctantly left them to it.
Frederick paced backwards and forwards, trying to control his temper so that he could think clearer about what to do next. He churned over in his mind the context of the conversation that Ajay must have overheard, to ascertain what damage had been done. He’d heard them discussing Shiva, but he wouldn’t be aware of its significance. He had seen the members, but probably wouldn’t be able to recognise any of their faces again, so he couldn’t expose them. He would obviously have picked up there was a hidden agenda, when it came to the Collider. Damn, he thought to himself, how could we have become so careless, breaking the golden rule of never discussing anything about our mission outside the Bunker?
Frederick walked calmly back to where he’d left Ajay. He hadn’t moved from the spot; his face was ashen, head bowed, staring at his feet.
‘This is a very serious situation,’ Frederick began. ‘What you’ve heard and seen here today is part of a grander scheme, which I’m not at liberty to confide in you. It’s not that I don’t trust you; it’s that I am bound by a code that has been passed down to me. The consequences of going against those protocols could put billions of lives at risk. Do you understand?’
Ajay nodded meekly, not really comprehending the enormity of the situation.
‘Okay. What I need you to do is agree to a pact. A vow never to divulge anything that you’ve heard or seen here today to another living soul. Are you prepared to do that?’
Ajay nodded his assent, still staring at the floor.
‘I need you to say the words,’ his father replied, sternly.
Ajay looked up and met Frederick’s gaze. ‘I swear that I will never tell another living soul,’ he said quietly.
‘On everything that you hold dear?’
‘Yes.’ Ajay put his hand on his heart. ‘I swear, on everything that I hold dear, that I will never tell another living soul.’
Frederick let out a heavy sigh, releasing most of his pent-up anger. He knew that that should be enough to guarantee his son’s compliance, but he wasn’t prepared to take any chances.
‘You said you had a date this evening,’ he said. ‘Is it anybody I know?’ His voice was calm now, almost congenial.
‘Just somebody I met in the canteen. Her name’s Jasmine,’ Ajay told him, bashfully.
‘Pretty name,’ replied his father. ‘I’m sure she’s a nice girl, but I think under the circumstances you should keep a low profile for a couple of days. I still need to convince Deiter and the others that you will keep your word and that you’re not a threat.’
Ajay looked crestfallen. ‘But I gave you my word.’
‘And I believe you, but they don’t know you like I do. Why don’t you tell her you’ll take her out at the weekend, instead? That should give me enough time to sort things out?’
Ajay reluctantly agreed and left to tell Jasmine that he wouldn’t be able to make it that night. He just hoped that he hadn’t blown his chances and she would agree to see him at the weekend.
Frederick watched his son get into the buggy and drive out of the car park. He reached inside his jacket pocket and retrieved his mobile phone. Scrolling through his address book, he found the number and pressed the quick dial button.
‘Bernard? Hi, it’s Frederick. I have a favour to ask.’
***
Jasmine had been very understanding. He told her that he had to do some work for his father and it couldn’t wait. Not so much a lie as a half-truth; his father was the reason he wouldn’t be able to see her. When he asked her out on Saturday instead, she had initially played hard to get, accusing him of standing her up and telling him that she didn’t know if she would be available; but, seeing the hurt look on his face, she quickly changed her tune and told him that she didn’t have to work weekends so they could spend the whole day together.
They had arranged to meet at 10 am at a café on the Rue du Rhône, one of the main shopping streets in the city. Ajay was there twenty minutes ahead of schedule to make sure he got a table in the window so he could see her when she arrived; he covered his bases, as he wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be meeting inside the premises or outside.
Café Le Monde was a small, bustling, art deco style coffee shop serving light lunches and exorbitantly priced coffees to the affluent shoppers who frequented the street’s luxury goods stores. It smelt of its wares; the aroma of richly-roasted dark coffee beans and sweet pastries permeated the air. Ajay had never been to the place before, but he had chosen it for its location; it was directly opposite the Jardin Anglais, where he planned to start his tour. His itinerary was meticulously planned to take in most of the sights worth seeing in Geneva, ending the day at the Hôtel d'Angleterre, on the other side of the lake. On several occasions, he had heard his father talk about how good the restaurant was and it sounded like the ideal place to impress his date.
He wore his best designer jeans, white shirt and a black puffer jacket to protect against the bitter cold of a grey November morning. He sat in the window warming his hands on the skinny latte with an extra shot and caramel flavouring. Daunted by the extensive menu, he had ordered the first coffee on the list; the extras were up-sold by an eager, commission-hungry, pre-pubescent sales assista
nt. He watched the people through the window as they tried to carry their oversized carrier bags stuffed with haute couture to waiting cars. He checked his watch; it was half past ten. She was running late.
She wouldn’t be so vindictive as to stand him up in retaliation for the other night, surely? he reasoned. No, she was far too kind-hearted a person to do that! But he couldn’t wait for her all day.
Why hadn’t he asked her for her mobile number? But then, why would he have needed it? They’d already arranged to meet. If she wasn’t able to make it, she could always phone the café.
Give her another thirty minutes, he thought to himself.
He ordered a second latte, this time without the trimmings, at the counter and took it back to his perch by the window, to continue his people-watching. Another thirty minutes passed. Just as he was about to leave, he thought he spotted Jasmine in the milling crowd. His pulse raced and his mouth went instantly dry as he tried to peer through the throng of people, but as the scarf-swathed individual drew closer he realised that the woman was too old to be her.
Disappointed, he left the café and drove back to the facility.
***
Ajay parked up and made his way to the canteen. He had worked out on the drive back that she’d probably been asked to work. It wasn’t unusual for the catering staff to get a call at the last minute to cover a colleague who was off sick, especially if there was a function on or a visiting dignitary. He’d also come to the conclusion that the reason she hadn’t been able to let him know was because she wouldn’t have had time to look up the café’s phone number if they were that short-staffed.
The God Particle Page 12