In the Bleak Midwinter

by Stan Mason

  ‘Hello, Mr. Sadler!’ she greeted amiably. ‘As you can see, there’s been a family reconciliation. As Timothy said in the Holy Bible... ‘the love of money is the root of all evil’.

  ‘Don’t preach to me!’ snarled Sadler pointing at the tycoon. ‘Tell it to him! I once told you that you were like two peas in a pod. How right I was!’

  Clement moved to his desk and opened a drawer to remove a cheque which he held out towards the banker. ‘This is a small token for brining this beauty back to the family fold. Don’t accuse me of not being a sport.’

  The banker stared at the remittance with disgust. ‘It is a small token for such a prize. I presume you’ll ask her to marry you as you did in the past... only this time it’ll be to save the reputation of your company.’

  The magnate’s eyes flickered at the remark but he declined to take the bait. ‘You’ve come to the end of your line now,’ he commented. ‘In all probability it’s a great relief to you. Your conscience will be able to run free at last.’

  There was no point in pursuing a vendetta with the millionaire. Quite clearly, the man had never lost a fight. The banker turned to find Bates, the butler, by his side and allowed himself to be conducted towards the front door.

  ‘Good bye, Mr. Sadler,’ bade Clement as a token of farewell. ‘Thank you for all that you’ve done. If you’re ever in need of employment, say in the Argentine, don’t hesitate to contact me. I could do with a man of your calibre there.’

  ‘If you think this chapter’s closed, Clement, you’re wrong,’ he retaliated. ‘I’m coming back for Della. Don’t hold your breath!’

  As he left the mansion, the banker was filled with a sense of disappointment. The magnate was too astute and too fortunate to be caught in a compromising situation. What rotten luck that Della had returned to the fold at that particular moment. The timing was catastrophic! Nonetheless, he forgave her instantly and resolved to become her suitor however long it might take. He laughed at Clement’s comment about his conscience. Perhaps it would run free... yet how futile those words would sound in the long-term for there was no alternative but to rob the accounts in the bank!

  ***

  Ivan continued to stay at Teddy’s apartment but their relationship deteriorated day by day., She cooked a meal for them each evening but refused to become involved with him in any other way. Occasionally he went to the cinema or to an inn to occupy himself in the evenings only to find, when he returned home, that she had gone to bed leaving him to sleep on the settee. At one time, he nursed the idea of breaking down the barriers. He wanted to storm her bedroom, take her in his arms and make passionate love to her. However in his wisdom, he calmed himself down, adopting a cautious approach, hoping that she would get to like him as time passed by and a sincere relationship developed between them. But she seemed to delight in becoming more remote, avoiding him as much as possible until he began to sense that he was a total stranger in her home. There was never any warmth or love in her presence and he discovered tiny flaws in her character which grew into a large chasm within weeks. Ultimately, he became grateful for her frigidity as it made the prospect of their separation much more easier to handle.

  ‘We don’t seem to hit it off, do we?’ he challenged dismally one evening. ‘I had hoped... ‘

  ‘I know what you hoped,’ she interrupted rudely. ‘You hoped you’d have someone to sleep with whenever you wanted. When you came here it was strictly a place for you to sleep. Nothing more! So you shouldn’t be disappointed.’

  He had become only too aware of the sharpness of her tongue so he knew what to expect. ‘I’ll be leaving in a few day’s time,’ he informed her, ‘so you don’t need to concern yourself about sharing the apartment.’

  ‘Thank Heavens!’ she riposted. ‘At last I can enjoy privacy without feeling like a stranger in my own home.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he went on, ignoring the sting in her remark. ‘Were you as acid with James when you lived with him?’

  ‘You’d do far better to mind your own business!’ she snapped angrily which offered him the answer.

  He recalled his mother telling him in his youth that in every walk of life there were three situations. The first one always proved to be disappointing to you. With the second one you caused the disappointment to someone else, while with the third one, both parties were satisfied. The axiom was true whether relating to hiring plumbers or dating women. For him there was Teddy who refused him, Elsie who he discarded, and Anna who bore his child.

  ‘I’d like you to come with me when I finish work today,’ he said invitingly.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she responded curtly. ‘I don’t want to go anywhere with you!’

  ‘But this is strictly business,’ he told her. ‘I spent three days at the Wheal Edwards ..mine,’

  ‘I’m sick to death of Botallack!’ she cried irritably, stopping him in his flow. ‘Before you came along, this was the pleasant office of a mining consultant and the business ran sweetly. Now all we hear about is the mine... the mine!’

  ‘It’s important,’ he pressed. ‘I brought back a sample and, if it’s what I think it is, the ore might contain... ‘

  ‘Is there something wrong with your hearing, Ivan? I told you I’m not interested!’

  He sighed heavily at her response. ‘Okay,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re impossible to talk to. Absolutely impossible!’

  An hour later he left the office holding a plastic carrier bag containing the ore he had extracted from the Wheal Edward mine and walked to the laboratory of a metallurgist a short distance away, The man took him into his office and pointed to a stool.

  ‘I suppose you’re eager to find out whether you’re going to be rich,’ commented the metallurgist as the Russian sat down.

  ‘The mine doesn’t belong to me, Mr. Chapman,’ Ivan told him. ‘I’m just interested to know whether the ore is what I think it is. They mined it here at the beginning of the last century. Of course they didn’t know what to do with it then. Were you surprised when I rang you?’

  ‘Nothing surprises me any more, young man. I’ve seen it all. Let’s have a look at it then.’

  Ivan climbed off the stool and went to the desk. ‘As you advised, I looked for pitchblende forming greenish or brownish-black masses clustering together like grapes. Here’s one of the samples I took.’ He tipped out the contents of the carrier bag onto the desk to allow the metallurgist to examine it.

  ‘Many rocks contain uranium but large amount occur only in minerals such as pitchblende which contains various uranium oxides and carnotite. Major locations are Africa, France, Czechoslovakia, Australia, South America, Canada, the USA, Russia and China.’ He paused for a moment involved deeply in the examination of the sample. ‘What you ought to do is to get yourself a gamma-ray recorder. It detects radiation and indicates how far uranium lies beneath the surface, You lower the recorder into a hole drilled into the ground and an electric cable connects it to instruments which allow you to log the information.’

  ‘I know there’s uranium in the mine,’ confided the Russian solemnly. ‘What I want to know is whether the quantity and quality is of commercial value.’

  Chapman continued to work on the ore without looking up. ‘Did you know that uranium is significantly more abundant that gold and silver. Yes, I thought that would surprise you. Local concentrations of suitable ores occur when uranium-rich compounds are exuded into rock faults after the molten uranium silicates in the earth’s crust crystallise. Deposits may be deep or shallow, found in association with a variety of other minerals. Perhaps I should warn you that ventilation is particularly important in underground uranium mining because of the presence of radon gas. Radon gas is one of the products of radioactive disintegration of uranium. It must be kept at a strictly regulated low level to protect miners from over-exposure to radiation.’

  ‘I’ll
remember that,’ uttered Ivan not really interested in the details.

  ‘The chemical inertness of uranium minerals,’ continued the metallurgist, ‘makes recovery difficult, but they have a high-density and they’re very hard.’

  ‘Do you think it’s worth my while waiting?’ asked the Russian with an element of impatience,

  ‘It depends whether you want a quick answer or a full report,’ came the answer.

  ‘You mean that you can already tell whether it’s the real stuff.’

  ‘I can make an estimated guess.’

  ‘Okay... yes or no?’

  ‘Almost certain affirmative. Not a fantastic quality, mind you, but good enough. I’ll need to do further tests before you can take that as gospel but it looks promising.’

  ‘Ivan started to dance around the room uttering whoops of delight. ‘James will be pleased!’

  He left the metallurgist’s laboratory and waltzed his way across the mine to the amusement of the workers there. This was a red-letter day. He would tell Teddy nothing about his find. She wasn’t interested and, in any event, James would want it that way. After all, no one wanted to broadcast the face that he had discovered quantities of uranium... certainly not until the extent and the quality of the lode had been proved. He realised suddenly that destiny was driving him in a specific directions. He wasn’t sure whether he was lucky for the mining consultant or that James was lucky for him. It didn’t really matter either way!

  Chapter Fifteen

  After the case had been heard at the Stannary Court, the national newspapers were informed that the low-level radio-active waste was to be stored at Botallack. Most of the people in other counties in England breathed a sigh of relief, muttering quietly to themselves: ‘There but for the grace of God go I!’ and it was left to the reporters to make what they would of the story. They achieved this by bringing the matter to the attention of the general public offering chilling suggestions concerning the danger to health. The Government was quite prepared to parry the onslaught and they had good reason to do so. With the exception of orbiting the radio-active waste into space or dropping it deep into the depths of the ocean, it had no option but to bury it in some part of the United Kingdom. To the mandarins at Whitehall, the southern tip of Cornwall was an ideal place. The area was remote, the population scant, and there was little danger of leakage or of anyone uncovering the waste once it had been buried. Furthermore, it would be interred under English soil which meant that there was no need to enter into bitter battles with anyone else with regard to their prospective land and the danger to the public at large.

  In the opening gambit, the burden to carry on the fight was placed on the local Member of Parliament. This was followed by a number of venomous letters arguing the case in the columns of some of the newspapers while the main story stayed on the front page. As time passed by however, disillusionment set in and the Cornish villagers grew restless. Nothing of any importance had been submitted or add b any of the authorities and the story began to slide back to the second, third and fourth pages of the local Press as interest waned. Gradually came the realisation that there was no method by which the case could advance... mainly because one would have to take the case to the civil court which was not recognised by the Stannary Court as history had proved that there was no connection between them. There was an old adage which claimed that a man of the people would find his rightful place as a leader in time of distress. It was at this period when a miner by the name of Martin Gross decided to prove the axiom correct.

  He worked at a mine at South Crofty, between Redruth and Camborne and he finished his shift one evening to return home to his wife and children. A simple man, with no particular ambition, he sat down to read the local newspaper before his wife laid the evening meal in front of him in the presence of his two bonny young daughters. It occurred to him suddenly that their future could be put at risk by the storage of nuclear waste dumped on their doorstep and he decided to do something about it. Initially, he considered taking the case to Court but his knowledge of the law left much to be desired. In any case, a man who was his own lawyer had a fool for a counsel. When he went to the mine on his next shift, he discussed the matter with his colleagues and they left together at the end of the day to seek the aid of a local solicitor.

  ‘Money!’ the lawyer told them bluntly. ‘It’s going to cost money. You see the law doesn’t act in haste. It’s a very slow grinding process. The Court needs to be paid its fees while people have to be paid for their services. You can advertised in the newspapers seeking money to support your cause from the public, and even elicit them into your ranks to march to the mine and protect it in protest. Why shouldn’t they help?’

  ‘Is that what we have to do?’ asked one of the miners.

  ‘God helps those who helps themselves,’ advised the solicitor obtusely. ‘You can obtain many signatures protesting against the dumping of nuclear waste to send to the Government although I doubt whether you’ll sway their opinion unless you can present many thousands of them. If you took over the mine and worked it for tin, the Government would have difficulty in removing you for any alternate purpose. It might be worth me seeking Writs of Possession to start off the proceedings. That might make the Government sit up.’

  Gross nodded listening carefully. ‘Right!’ he grunted, feeling the spirit of adventure flowing through his veins.

  ‘Two things,’ concluded the solicitor. ‘Firstly, the mine must be bound in accordance with Stannary tradition. I presume you know how to do that. Secondly, there must be no violence. No one may carry a weapon of any kind. I don’t want to hear of anyone getting injured or hurt. It’s of vital importance you’re seen to act within the law in every way.’

  Gross agreed readily and looked to his mining colleague Ken Trevithick who viewed the situation less diplomatically. In every walk in life, good and evil contend with each other. There was no better breeding ground for both than with major issues of a contentious nature where opposing elements of civilisation grappled to the death. While Martin Gross portrayed the good nature of mankind, Ken Trevithick was the opposite, his ready anger firing swiftly on most issues. Needless to say, the decision of the authorities to change his corner of the world into a dumping ground for nuclear waste was the equivalent of placing a lighted tape to a firework. He was prepared to go to any lengths to defend his position. From experience, he was well aware of the many cases which failed in the Stannary Court or were rejected by the Civil Courts. The end result was a great deal of misery and total collapse of support from the public. He wanted to be certain that it didn’t happen this time. There was only one way to resolve this matter... to produce show of strength of such magnitude that the Government would have to back down to prevent riots. Contrary to the advice of the solicitor, Trevithick was willing to use violence to prove his point at any cost. In his opinion, it was the only way to defeat the authorities... by a show of force... by the sword! And if miners and local people were killed defending their rights and their soil, so be it! It would bring international attention to their plight and support from all the environmentalists in the world.

  ‘That’s all very well,’ he countered, ‘but what if violence is used against us by soldiers or the police? What do we do then?’

  The solicitor shifted uneasily in his chair. He recognised the mood of the impatient man and knew his answer had to be precise. ‘If you touch anyone physically or destroy any equipment, you’ll be committing a criminal offence and you’ll be punished for it. I suggest you think very carefully before launching into such action, Use as much passive force as possible but make certain there’s no contact.’

  ‘Passive force?’ Gross was puzzled by the term. ‘What in Hell’s name is that?’

  ‘Sitting in front of a bulldozer so that it can’t proceed forward is one measure of passive force,’ replied the lawyer briefly.

  Trevithick shi
fted his feet impatiently. ‘Brilliant!’ he scoffed contemptuously. ‘That’s going to help us a lot!’

  ‘All right,’ concluded Gross, in an attempt to retrieve the situation before Trevithick caused problems with his quick temper, ‘We’ll start off by laying the tin bounds an’ leave the Writ of Possession to you.’

  They left the solicitor’s office and set up headquarters at a local inn to define their strategy. By the end of the evening, few members of the group were sober but they had formed a simple plan. The assault was to be similar to a military operation and, within a few days, newspapers began to print a story of a vigilante grou0 of people created by crisis preparing to go to war. It had the effect of uniting the Cornish people firmly against the Government. Surprisingly, support began to emerge from counties beyond Cornwall. Letters were sent to all and sundry wishing to keep the country entirely free from pollution and material dangerous to health while small amounts of money arrived with each post in support. In a short while, a considerable amount had been received and it appeared that the Government had a fight on its hands.

  It was two weeks later before a meeting was arranged at which officials from the Atomic Energy Authority invited James, Sadler, Gross and Trevithick. Sadler was unable to attend because he had been summoned to the Head Office of the bank in London while James took Ivan along with him. They all sat in the Counting House of Botallack mine facing each other around an old table which had been used for a multitude of activities in the past, not least the weekly payment of wages to the miner who worked there.

  ‘I’m Malford,’ began one of the officials calmly, ‘from the Atomic Energy Authority and this is my colleague, Mr. Devine. We’ve come to discuss the decision of the AEA to store low-level radioactive waste at Botallack and to record your comments for further consideration... ‘