Stone Message

by Peter Parfitt

  Morton-Farrell looked at his notebook. “Professor McClean is already on our books and is authorised to discuss this work. As far as my brief goes, you should refer anyone in your command chain to Professor McClean should there be any awkward questions. What about PhD students or other researchers working with you?”

  The Professor looked slightly uncomfortable. He stood up and sat on the edge of the desk opposite the policeman. “When this project was first discussed I didn’t know quite what the Ministry of Defence required. I, er,” he hesitated, “I thought it was all rather trivial and did not put in a bid for this financial year to cover any research students or other staff. I was lucky to get funding for young Brooker through the system, long after the deadline.” Morton-Farrell actually smiled for the first time. “Well that’s easy then, we only need to get your Mr Brooker checked out. Perhaps I could interview him today. Have you given him any idea about this project?” The Professor sat down again. “No, but he does know that there is something new around the corner.”

  The meeting went on for another half an hour, focusing mainly on measures to safeguard any sensitive data that might be gathered or created during the course of the research. A special tamper-proof document safe would be provided and there would be Home Office and Ministry of Defence contact numbers for security advice and assistance if required.

  Tom was called into the office and given a very low level brief, not far from the level of information that could be gleaned from the internet. “Mr Brooker, you and Professor Gordon are about to do some research for the Ministry of Defence. The work is classified and is known as Project Argus. You will be required to sign the Official Secrets Act. You will not be allowed to discuss any facet of the work with anyone except Professor Gordon. The work concerns the ability to detect the passage of large metallic objects, such as ships and submarines, by studying minor changes to the earth’s magnetic field. It is hoped that the work will establish procedures for detecting such movements and reduce our reliance on satellite technology. Now, before you can learn any more we have to get your security vetting under way. This is not done by me but by an agency within the MoD. I have here however, some forms for you to complete which I will forward to the Defence Vetting Agency. They will do a quick check on you and make a decision whether you can be given temporary clearance to allow you to get on with your work. The full vetting process can take many months.” Morton-Farrell handed over a sheaf of forms. “Oh, sorry. I forgot to mention that you have to provide three copies.”

  Tom looked at the forms. They each had eight pages of questions. “Help!” he said “I’m going to have to speak to my Mum to get some of these answers. I don’t know when any of my grandparents were born and haven’t a clue where they were born. This might take a day or two, is that okay?” The policeman was not surprised. “If you can do it within a week, you’ll be ahead of most of the people I get to visit.”

  The meeting soon drew to a close and after Inspector Morton-Farrell departed, Tom was eager to quiz the Professor about the work ahead. “Slow down, Tom. You’ll know what’s going on soon enough. What you have to remember is the importance of keeping everything about our work secret. Now I think you should get those forms done.” Tom went back to the corner of the lab where he had a small area for his papers and an internal telephone. He had just settled down, looking through the forms, when the Professor came across to him in a bit of a panic.

  “Tom, I’m sorry but I am going to have to leave early. Alison, my wife, has just phoned. She’s had a bump with the car and is awfully upset.” He did not wait for any response from Tom but added, “Why not close up here and concentrate on getting those forms sorted out. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that he whisked out of the door. Tom stayed in the lab to work on the forms and felt justified using the University telephone to call his mother in France. After several telephone calls to his mother he had everything that he needed.

  The following day the Professor arrived half an hour late which was not like him. “Tom, I am so sorry but I had to drop Alison’s car off for repair. Were there any calls?” Tom pulled out his notepad, sat on the edge of the desk and pretended to straighten a non existent skirt, “Well Professor, Dr Skimsky or is Skaminsky was the first to phone. He says he will be in London next week and wanted to know if you were attending the Memorial Lecture.” Tom noted the Professor’s smile and continued hamming it up. “Professor McClean also called but said that it could wait until you see him this afternoon.” Tom sat back and pretended to file his nails with his pencil. The Professor had a broad grin, “Excellent Miss Brooker, take the rest of the day off, but before you go tell Tom he’s got work to do.”

  That day went particularly well and by the end of it, Tom felt that he had got to know a lot more about the Professor and had a better understanding of his character and values. Tom was already aware of the Professor’s devotion to his wife, but he found out that she suffered a nervous breakdown about twenty years ago when they finally realised that they could not have children. Tragically, that nervous breakdown had precluded them from being able to adopt a child. Even a minor bump with the car was enough to force the Professor to his wife’s side. Tom was pleased that the Professor had a good sense of humour and was not worried about having his leg pulled. However, Tom also realised that one had to choose one’s moments and sense the mood before risking even the mildest jape. The Professor was quite happy to talk about his student days which had also been spent at Imperial College. He had fond memories of Professor Sir Eric Laithwaite whom, he recalled, had invented the linear motor, but had never managed to get sufficient commercial backing for such a brilliant idea. “Now in those days Tom, nobody worried about all of this health and safety nonsense. Dear old Prof Laithwaite was known to have caused considerable collateral damage during demonstrations. Big slabs of aluminium would be placed on his linear motor platform and when the power was applied they would shoot off at amazing speed. It narrowly missed his assistant on one occasion. So you had better look out! His enthusiasm for his subject was a great inspiration to me and many others. Ah well, those were the days…”

  During the coming few weeks, many of the preparations were put in place for the new work for the MoD. Tom completed all of his vetting paperwork and he was told that, pending the full review of his submission, he would be allowed to take part in the classified work associated with Project Argus. With that hurdle negotiated, the Professor was able to brief Tom on the challenges ahead. When the Professor had been told of the requirement nearly a year before, he had thought that the aim was to detect the odd passing ship or submarine. It turned out that the sponsors wanted a system that could track multiple movements across every ocean. The project name “Argus” was a reference to a many eyed creature from the myths of ancient Greece. A joint United States and United Kingdom pilot study had been carried out fifteen years earlier using magnetic techniques but the project was dropped after budget cuts on both sides. Now the UK Ministry of Defence wanted to produce a prototype system within 2 years to plug a known gap in its intelligence gathering capability. This time, however, there would be no cooperation with the Americans. If the prototype was successful, a defence contractor would take on production work with support from the Professor. At that point the Professor felt that Tom would be seconded to the contractor for a year or more. Tom found all of this background fascinating and he and the Professor made a good team as they went about their research and experimentation.

  Authority for Tom to be briefed on classified work also meant that the Professor was able to show off some of his “toys” which he had been developing over the preceding months. “Now Tom, I think you will find this particularly interesting.” The Professor went to the security cabinet next to his scruffy desk and unlocked the top drawer. He took out a neat little wooden box which he carefully opened on the desk in front of Tom. The box contained four identical plastic encased objects about nine centimetres long and two centimetres in diameter, with a sligh
t bulge near the middle and each with four wires coming out of the middle. “I gave one of my PhD students the task of designing a means of measuring small changes in magnetic flux. His ideas were very good but I adapted them and made some important changes to create these. What do you think Tom?” Tom was singularly not impressed, but feigned interest so as not to dull the Professor’s enthusiasm, “Oh, what do you call them Professor?” he asked, remembering the awful question posed on the subject at his interview. “That’s a good point,” the Professor paused, “they were known as Design 23 when they were being made so, uhm, we’ll call them D23s.” Tom realised that the Professor had just made up the name. “No wonder I got that question wrong at interview.” The Professor smiled.

  Tom thought the moment was right to ask a question that had been on his mind for ages. “Professor, do you remember the question at my interview asking whether I should choose a lazy bright guy or a hard working thicko to help with a task?” The Professor corrected Tom, “I think we used the term industrious fool rather than thicko but go on.” Tom knew full well what was actually said. “What’s the correct answer then Professor?” asked Tom. “You gave the right answer. A good leader will choose the industrious fool as he can be made to do exactly what is required. The poor leader, or clueless sheep, will choose the bright guy because they see him capable of decision making.” Tom could not help but wonder whether the principle applied in his case. The Professor went back to describing his flux detectors.

  “Let me show you how simple they are.” He took one of the D23s and gave a slight twist to separate the two halves of the plastic outer casing. Inside were two small coils of copper each wrapped around a ferrite core, “just like your old fashioned transistor radio would have had,” said the Professor, “and the two cores are separated by a two centimetre disk of pure gold exactly three millimetres thick. That’s why I keep them under lock and key.” He passed the device to Tom who did his best to be interested and asked questions about the purpose of the gold and how the D23s should be used. “We will use three at a time, lined up so that they are at right angles to each other, just like you would expect X, Y and Z co-ordinates. That then gives us both direction and magnitude for the flux changes. Eventually we would need a network of these devices so that the exact position of a flux variation can be calculated. At the moment we only have one spare, unless we discover another dimension.” Tom gave a half hearted laugh and tried hard to stay focused. Tom learnt how to set up the D23s, what other equipment was required to make them work and how their output could be sent to the laboratory computer system.

  By late September, Tom had been working for the Professor for over 6 months and he was invited to supper with the Gordons on a Saturday evening. Tom was quite excited and enjoyed himself shopping during the day. He bought more “grown up” clothes, a pair of brown loafers and a bottle of Rioja and some Bendicks mints for his hosts. The Gordon’s flat surprised Tom. It was located on the second floor of a rather splendid block halfway down Drayton Gardens, not very far from Tom’s bolt-hole. They had lived there ever since the Professor had graduated and it had become a very valuable property. Everything about the flat was modern and even trendy. There were photographs everywhere and these appeared to be a mixture of family, friends and places that they had visited, but very few children appeared in any of the shots. The drawing room was a delight with some antique pieces amongst the modern furniture, a baby grand piano and some lovely pieces of silver. Tom concluded that Alison was the arty one and money was no object in this household.

  Tom had been in the flat for less than twenty seconds when a very large and somewhat stiff gin and tonic was thrust into his hand. “This’ll sort you out Tom”, said the Professor, “and let me introduce our other guests.” The Professor was a very experienced host and took great care to make a fuss of Tom who was by far the most junior in both age and status. He met another professor and his ghastly wife. She barely looked at Tom when they were introduced and soon resumed the conversation that she had been having before his arrival oblivious of his presence. He then met a Member of Parliament who was accompanied by his secretary, although they appeared to be closer than that relationship should allow, and finally there was an actor who was “resting at the moment” and working in the local supermarket.

  It took no time at all for Tom to see the very strong love and bond between the Professor and his wife. The Professor’s eyes would cross the room to where she stood and every now and then she would glance across at him. When their eyes met, they exchanged coy smiles. What a pity that such a loving and considerate couple should be childless. Tom wished that his parents could have been just a fraction like the Professor and his wife. He was an only child, brought up by quarrelling parents, when all he wanted was to be part of a proper family where love, respect and discipline were held in the right balance by a considerate father and a loving mother.

  The evening was great fun. Tom learnt that the actor had been in several television sitcoms and even a couple of West End plays but was never going to set the thespian world on fire. The MP was almost certainly having an affair with his secretary who was at least ten years his junior. The seemingly ghastly wife of the other professor turned out to be fascinating. She had spent her early years as a make-up artist for the now long gone Windmill Theatre in London’s West End. It was through her that the actor had been brought into the community of friends. The Windmill was once one of London’s raunchier venues and Tom found himself blushing more than once as the anecdotes were recounted. Tom discovered that the Professor knew Charlie or “that silly old git” as the Professor called him. Alison had rebuked him for this description of the old man and said that she thought he was “a little rough around the edges but so charming in his eccentric way”.

  By the end of the evening Tom felt as though he had been made most welcome in the Gordon home. He had been careful not to overdo the alcohol and, on leaving, made all of the right noises to his very attentive and considerate hosts. It only took him five minutes to walk back to the relative squalor of his basement flat. The lights were on and he could hear the television blaring as he entered the hallway. Tom dreaded these late night encounters with his landlord. “Been out Tommy my fwend?” slurred the inebriated landlord, “Ize, jus’ got a dwink – wan’ one pal?” Tom declined and pushed past him and on into his room. He shut the door and sat down on the edge of the bed. The supper with the Gordons had been a real treat and their flat was delightful and this made Tom realise just how awful his own living arrangements were. Despite this slightly negative end to the day, he slept well.

  Tom arrived at work on the Monday morning bright and early. He had remembered to bring in the “thank you” note to Alison Gordon which he would pass to the Professor later. He was in a very good mood having spent much of the day before thinking about how happy he was in his job and how important it was now to find better accommodation. He had no significant savings and this, together with a still quite modest salary, precluded any possibility of buying his own place. The Professor’s urgent arrival forced him to set the accommodation issue to the back of his mind. “Tom, I need to double check the readings from Friday. I sat down yesterday to look through them and some of the results are ridiculous.” The Professor went straight to his computer terminal and then added, “I set the test-bed and D23s up myself and I think you checked it before we ran the recorders. It appears that the background magnetic field in the lab is varying by more than ten times what I expected. It either means we have some faulty kit or else there are sources of magnetic noise too close to the experiment.” Tom was puzzled too, “I can test the instruments right now and I could then run a short test for, say, the next four hours. If there is any fault in the equipment it is likely to show over that length of time.” The Professor nodded and Tom went over to the test-bed to get things under way. The equipment was designed to measure the background magnetic field over a period of several days. It was necessary to choose a reasonably long period so that
any anomalies could be identified. Professor Gordon had used similar techniques when he had been doing his pioneering work on body scanners and so he knew what results to expect.

  The two of them worked on together, checking instruments, adjusting power supplies and looking at the results scrolling past on the computer monitor. They took no lunch until the final readings were complete. Tom then set up the computer program to process the millions of readings taken. “It’s a smaller file than normal Professor. I reckon we will have the results in twenty minutes.” The Professor smiled, “Time for a sandwich then Tom. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Lunch was soon over and the results were similar to the original set. The equipment was all working perfectly well and so they concluded that there were bursts of quite strong magnetic fields at random intervals, roughly every five to ten minutes. “It could be electrical equipment near this building, it could be underground trains running nearby or even magnetic noise from other work in the College.” The Professor sounded concerned. “You see Tom, we are expected to devise an experiment which will prove the feasibility of detecting the movement of ships and subs but the levels that we will be trying to detect will be minuscule compared to this random noise we are experiencing here. We may have to move the lab.” The Professor sat back in his chair staring up at the ceiling looking for some elusive answer. Tom kept quiet. He had learnt not to interrupt at such times. “When the joint US-UK work was being done years ago they were aware of this issue and deliberately put their lab on the outskirts of Malvern where it is known to be relatively quiet in the magnetic sense.” Professor Gordon pulled out his scruffy notebook. “I think that it’s time to take a closer look at what other issues were known at the time.”