Tom wanted to make a contribution to the debate but felt awkward. “Professor, surely if whatever it is that you have to create is going to work it may have to be placed somewhere less than ideal. Perhaps you should be able to make it work here.” The response was so quick that Tom knew that his point had been through the Professor’s mind long ago. “Good point Tom, but we need to have the best conditions possible for this delicate experimental stage. The MoD will probably be able to site this kit in various places around the world where there is little spurious magnetic activity. They would choose coastal sites or even sites underwater so we should not make life more difficult than we need.”
They worked late that night, checking the equipment once more and setting up another test run. The analysis of the results the following day showed the same issue again. By the end of the week they were no further forward and the Professor was unable to get any value from the scant notes that he was able to find from the US-UK work from long ago. By the second week of October, and after nearly 3 weeks of deliberation Professor Gordon had his “eureka” moment. “Tom, what do you think of this?” He laid a scruffy sketch down on the bench top. “You know those smart headphones that people use with noise cancelling? Well I reckon that we could use loads of small electromagnets to tune out background magnetism. The headphones can cope with varying levels of unwanted noise and in the same way, we can cancel out unwanted magnetic fields.” He turned the drawing around so that Tom could see the detail more clearly. “Professor, how many of these small electromagnets do you think we need – and how would they be laid out?” Tom felt rather pleased to be involved in this discussion. The Professor did not answer straight away and instead walked across to the white-board which he cleaned aggressively before creating a three dimensional sketch of his idea. “Logic would dictate a spherical array with an even distribution of electromagnets over the surface of the imaginary sphere. Our test sensors would then be at the centre in order to detect the tiny magnetic fields caused by the movement of subs or whatever.”
Tom moved closer to the white-board. “What diameter do you envisage for the sphere?” The Professor went back to the bench to pick up his notebook. “It will need to be quite big to allow for our complete test rig. It needs the equivalent of a door to get equipment in and out of the enclosure.” He looked down at the notes he had made. “Probably about three metres diameter, with a door or gap big enough to allow you or me in and out to set up the rig.” Tom looked around the laboratory. “It’s a monster. We will never fit the beast in here Professor. Can we get a bigger laboratory or have a hole cut in the ceiling?” The Professor smiled, “We will need a hole in the floor wherever it goes, preferably at ground level, in order to ensure an even magnetic profile. I have a meeting fixed for today with the Faculty Principal to look at real estate. Perhaps in the meantime I can get you to start work on the fine detail of the electromagnets.” He handed Tom a sheet of engineering gobbledegook. “I hope that we can manage with 36. If not then we will need 48 in order to maintain an even distribution over the sphere.” Tom was happy with the task. The Professor said that the sphere should be known as “the Beast” following Tom’s point about it being so big.
Later that day the Professor returned from his meeting with the Faculty Principal. “I am afraid we might be in trouble Tom. McClean says that there is nowhere else on this site for the Beast and any increase in laboratory space was not considered in the budget. He’s suggested that I talk to the MoD and see if they can provide some space.” Tom looked concerned, “But what about all of our test instruments and our little workshop? We would need to move everything Professor.” Professor Gordon did not appear to be concerned about the equipment, “That should be okay, but my worry is just where we might end up. I bet that there is nothing in London and although Malvern is a lovely place, it is far too far away. If you want to go there from London on a day trip you have to set out the day before and return the day after.” Tom laughed. By the end of the day Professor Gordon had found the right person within the MoD to address the issue and a meeting was arranged in Whitehall for the following afternoon with a staff officer working for the MoD sponsor of the project. “Tom, I want you to come to this meeting with me. These military types can be a bit daunting and so I think that strength in numbers is needed here. Perhaps you could swap the jeans for something appropriate.”
The following day was one of those magical early autumn days that Londoners enjoy from time to time. It was clear, slightly warm for the time of year with almost no breeze at all. At midday the Professor announced: “Right Tom, it’s lovely out there, let’s scoff our lunch now and then walk to Whitehall. Okay?” Tom loved walking in London and agreed, not that there would have been any scope for a refusal. They decided to walk through Hyde Park, Green Park and St James’s Park and then cross Whitehall to the MoD Main Building. The two spent the time talking about their respective student days. Tom, as usual, found the Professor’s anecdotes fascinating.
He had been brought up by an Aunt who lived in Eaton Terrace, one of London’s most expensive addresses, as his parents had been killed in a car accident when he was just 6 months old. He had a privileged childhood but was neither spoilt by the experience nor less determined to make an effort to succeed in life. He became a scholar at Winchester College, one of the finest schools in England, and then went to Imperial College to study Electrical Engineering but transferred to Physics after his first year. During his student days he lived in a first floor bed-sit at 75 Drayton Gardens not far from his current flat. The bed-sit gave him some independence from his aunt and was within an easy walk of College. He told many tales of the swinging sixties, including the trips to Carnaby Street and the parties on the Kings Road. No wonder he wanted to live away from his aunt. He lived next door to the keyboard player of a then newly formed pop group who went on to become a formidable pop sensation of the seventies. Across the road from the bed-sit lived the crusty old Chairman of one of London’s huge department stores who complained time and again about the loud music from numbers 73 and 75. After graduating, the professor joined the Army on a Short Service Commission. He had joined the Royal Engineers to become a “Sapper” and had a wonderful 3 years building bridges and roads in Germany, Africa and Cyprus. He was lucky to be able to resume his studies when he left the Army and did a PhD in Electro-Physics at University College London.
The time spent walking just flew by and they were soon crossing Horse Guards Parade and then into Whitehall. The Professor seemed to know his way around quite well and they were soon at the Northern end of the MoD Main Building. Tom was amazed at the pair of huge stainless steel doors at the main entrance, probably over a foot thick, 30 feet high and each over 16 feet wide that could be swung shut when required. Gaining entry was a considerable challenge. They had to identify themselves to the clerk at one of the check points and then wait whilst the person they were visiting was contacted. It was only when their host, Lieutenant Colonel Douglas Cleves, arrived that they were given their temporary passes and permitted to enter under his escort.
They introduced themselves, were ushered to the lift and soon found themselves on the sixth floor in an open plan office area. “I’m sorry about the mess in here. They are putting some new computers in.” said Lieutenant Colonel Cleves. Tom thought that the whole place was quite tidy, but then all he had for comparison was his cramped bed-sit and the chaos of the Imperial College lab. They eased passed a pile of cardboard boxes full of flat screen monitors, stepped over the legs of a man with a screwdriver and then into a small conference room where there were four other members of the project staff already seated.
The meeting started promptly at 2 pm. Cleves introduced those present and got straight to the point. “We were rather surprised that the question of accommodation for your test machine has come up, but I accept that you had no idea of the size and shape of your…what did you call it on the phone Professor?”
“We call our apparatus ‘the Beast’ and
we were only able to calculate its size and shape a few days ago.” The Professor glanced at Tom and added. “We think that the underground trains near Exhibition Road would dictate an alternate site even if size were not a factor.”
Cleves invited one of the Majors on his team to describe the option. “I’ve found three possible sites for you, Professor. Colonel Cleaves asked me to see what might be available in London, but I’m afraid we drew a blank there.” The Major leant across to the centre of the conference table and switched on a projector connected to his laptop. His first slide showed a small building inside a barracks near York. “This is the first option,” said the Major, “and it has a large garage area, here,” he said pointing to the building in the centre of the picture.
“What is that building next door with all those cables coming out?” asked the Professor.
“That’s the electricity sub-station for the camp. Very handy for the any power requirements.” The Major responded.
“I’m afraid that might cause interference which would be quite significant given the proximity.” The Professor turned to Cleves and added, “I’m sorry, I should have stressed the need for low electrical interference.”
“No matter, let’s look at the next one.” Cleves said.
The Major brought the next slide up. “This is a site in Daysbrook, Liverpool. This line of garages is empty. The site is going to be re-developed in about 2 years time and so you can do what you want with the place. As far as I’m aware there are no power lines in that area of the barracks.”
The Professor was pensive, saw the expression on Tom’s face and invited him to make a contribution. “Do you have firm details of the timetable of the re-development?” Tom asked.
The Major referred to his notes, but was beaten to the answer by the Lieutenant Colonel. “There’s an issue over the clearing of some asbestos, but work could begin within eighteen months. I also suspect that there may be security issues as the perimeter fence is in a bad way and there is no incentive to replace it.”
“I am afraid that we need to have at least three clear years. Even when work is passed to a defence contractor, our test setup may well be required right up until the end of production. I am sure that security would be an issue as you say.” The Professor had a disappointed expression on his face.
The Major smiled. “Third time lucky then, Sir. This is the final site that we have found so far and it is probably the best of the three.” He put the next slide on the screen. “This is the Dagger Building in Larkhill Camp. It was used...” he was interrupted by the Professor.
“Sorry, where is Larkhill Camp?”
The Major continued. “Larkhill Camp is about ten miles north of Salisbury, just off the A303 near Stonehenge.” He checked that the Professor was happy then continued. “It used to house some classified radar equipment, now destroyed and rusting away near the Kuwait - Iraq border. There are no windows and the walls and roof are made of a plastic and glass fibre laminate as the radar that was housed there was required to be tested from within the garage.”
The Professor had a broad smile on his face. Tom smiled too. “It looks quite big in the photograph. How much space is there?” asked Tom.
“Its about 80 feet wide and 50 feet deep. The ceiling is quite high, so is the main access door. The radar was pretty big and was mounted on a large truck.” The Major sensed the approval and concluded with, “The building has a high grade security system and it is within a well established and well defended camp.”
Cleves took a sip of water then added, “We can arrange a visit next Monday if that suits you, Professor.”
“Super. Absolutely super. This really does sound ideal. I particularly like the glass fibre construction. Brilliant.” The Professor was beaming.
Lieutenant Colonel Cleves added, “I see no reason why the building can’t be handed over to you early in the New Year.”
The meeting was concluded at 5.30 pm and once Tom and the Professor were escorted to the exit of the MoD building, they were able to discuss the new plan. The Professor summed up his view. “Thank goodness the York and Liverpool sites were no good. They are too far away from London.” He really meant that they were too far away from Alison.
Tom was worried, “Professor, if we are going to work in Larkhill where do we stay and what about transport and…” He was interrupted. “Tom, don’t worry, the budget will cover bed and breakfast for us both and we might even be able to rent a house or flat.” Tom was still worried, “I don’t have a car Professor and there is no way that my moped is going to run to and from London.”
They crossed Whitehall and stopped. “We might as well head for home from here Tom. We’re not far from each other, are you happy to walk? We could have a quick pint in the Three Elms if you like.” Tom was happy to walk and was delighted at the prospect of a beer. During the walk, Tom kept the conversation focused on the practical side of working at Larkhill. After his parents split up Tom had no further ties with Salisbury. London was his only home now. Professor Gordon’s home had always been in London and, of course, he knew that London meant being with Alison. The prospect of working in Larkhill would have its challenges but they would manage.
In the pub, the two found themselves a quiet table on the opposite side to the main door. It was 6.30pm and the Professor made a quick call to Alison to let her know what he was doing. “Darling, you silly old thing. Finish your pint of beer and bring that nice young man home to have supper with us.” Alison was insistent. “You know how awful his digs are and I bet he could do with some home cooking.” A quick glance at Tom, with his hand over the telephone microphone, “Alison says come to supper?” Tom nodded enthusiastically. “He says that will be lovely darling. See you soon.” He ended the call.
During the walk from the pub to Drayton Gardens, Tom decided to tell the Professor about his life at home as a teenager and about his parents. “When I was still at school, Dad would come home from work and he always found the time to sit down with me and ask me about my day, about the things that I had been doing and what might be worrying me. He knew all the names of my friends. He had a busy job and spent a lot of time on the road going to Filton, near Bristol, or Heathrow and sometimes both in the same day. When I think back, nobody ever asked him how he was doing, what might have been on his mind or even if the roads had been busy. He always made time for me and it meant so much.” He also explained the pressures that his parents’ separation had put on him during his final weeks as an undergraduate. “I went home for a long weekend a month or so before finals. On the Sunday, I had packed ready to return to London and when I returned from a friend’s house, Dad told me that Mum had headed off to see her sister in Basingstoke and had been given a lift to the station by a neighbour. I knew that I could easily walk to the station and be on the same train as her and so I grabbed my bag and made it with 5 minutes to spare. Mum was nowhere to be seen and so when I boarded the train I rang home. Dad discovered that she was not staying with her sister and that she was having an affair with a family friend. He was devastated.”
Tom found himself describing the pain and anger of those awful days and how it had knocked him for six. “After graduation I received a letter from Dad. He told me that he had learnt that the affair had been going on for several years and that there would be no reconciliation. He said that he had tried to talk to me at graduation, but decided not to ruin my important day. He said how proud he was that I had done so well and how sorry he was to inflict such pain…” Tom stopped in mid-sentence and struggled to continue, “he said that by the time I received his letter, he would have taken his own life.” Tom was almost sobbing. “It was all my fault. I should never have let him know that Mum was not on the train.” The Professor reached out and caught Tom’s arm and brought him to a standstill. “Tom stop, now. You are hurting yourself.” Tom looked up at the Professor and stared through him to a vision in the distance. “I want to tell you this. I have not been able to talk to anyone about this until now.
” Tom took a deep breath and continued. “The inquest was awful. The Coroner was very understanding, but I was made to read out Dad’s letter. Afterwards I felt so bad. I just needed somebody to help but Mum was long gone, I have no brothers or sisters and I had no bloody girlfriend then either. After the funeral, Mum ended her affair and went to live in the south of France. It was all such a waste. I miss my Dad.” Tom had to stop. The Professor sensed the vacuum that had sucked so much from this young man’s life and the lack of support now that he had reached the final leg of his journey into adulthood. There was silence.
The Fulham Road cinema was in sight. The Professor had listened to every word and understood the emotional hurdles that the young man had been forced to negotiate. They turned into Drayton Gardens and the Professor, wanting to lighten the mood, gave a guided tour of the street as it was in his student days. “This is number 75. My bed-sit was there at the front, on the first floor. It was quite a find at 7 guineas a week and it had a balcony. Just here used to be a garage specialising in Lotus cars and somewhere about here was a tiny cinema called the Paris Pullman. It was quite a trendy place in my student days. It’s mainly bankers and foreigners now though. They were soon at the Gordon’s flat.
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