Stone Message

by Peter Parfitt

  Throughout the week, the Professor and Tom worked long days in order to complete the assembly of the Beast. It had been a relatively easy process thanks to some accurate drawings, to which each had contributed, and superbly engineered components made by a small contractor in Basingstoke and some of the workshop staff at Imperial College. Tom remembered to ask the Professor about the extra screwdriver. “Do you have any screwdrivers like this one James?” Tom asked, showing the Professor a screwdriver from the set. “I’m afraid not Tom. I do have a screwdriver in the flat somewhere but here I’m quite happy borrowing yours when the need arises. Perhaps it came with us from the lab at Imperial.” Tom did not think that likely but could find no other explanation for the additional item.

  Tom had little opportunity to devote any more time to “the case of the extra screwdriver” as the Professor had called it. They had to work to a tight deadline as they were to be helped with the computer control system by a young post-grad from Imperial College who would start on the coming Monday and be with them for two weeks. Both the Professor and Tom were ready for their weekend and were on the way to London by car and on motorbike by 4 o’clock.

  Tom unlocked the door of the Elm Park Gardens flat and nearly tripped over the suitcase in the hallway. A neatly rolled umbrella was leant against it. Angus emerged from his bedroom. He was sober but not in a good mood. “Bloody banks. I paid a cheque in nearly 2 weeks ago and they still haven’t done the transfer to Tynesdale. I’m stuck here now until Wednesday.” Tom put his backpack down. “Oh I’m sorry Angus. How have you been this last week?”

  “Been? Been? I haven’t BEEN any bloody where. It’s all BEEN Charlie’s bloody fault. He put the wrong bloody date on the cheque. Silly old sod.” At least there was no longer any hint of a stutter in Angus’s voice. Tom understood and offered to make a cup of tea. Angus calmed down and the two sat down at the dining room table and chatted over their cups of tea. “What sort of week have you had Tom? Have you got much longer on this attachment at Salisbury College?” Angus asked.

  Tom had to refresh his cover story in his mind. “The work is boring but it’s going okay. I think I’m going to be going down there for at least another 6 months. How come Charlie had to write a cheque out for your winnings? Surely the betting shop should have done that.” Tom looked at Angus. “Oh, yeah, bloody Charlie put his bet and my bet on the same betting slip and when he collected the winnings the cheque was made out to him.” Angus managed not to get upset again. “How is your book going?” Angus reached across the table and dragged his laptop in front of him. “I’m not doing very well at the moment. I am okay with word processing, even when it was first introduced in Fleet Street I found it easy, but I just can’t get to grips with the internet. I think that I’m just too old for all the gobbledygook.” Tom moved his chair so that he could see the screen of the computer. “What are you trying to do on the internet Angus?”

  Angus reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the maroon notebook that he had bought from the son of the late Mr Marcus Bridewell. “This notebook is the source of the whole story that I am working on but it contains very few names and the key players are referred to as ‘Master X’, ‘Miss G’ and so on. I am sure that I could find out more using the Internet. What do you think Tom? You’re pretty good at this sort of thing.” Tom took the notebook from Angus and scanned the first few pages. “I would need to spend a couple of hours looking at this notebook before I could make any judgement about what might come from the Internet.” Angus looked at him with an expression that could best be described as ‘wet puppy’. His face was saying “help, I cannot do this myself, I need you, please, eternal gratitude…” Tom flicked through a few more pages. “All right Angus. I was not planning to go out this evening. I’ll take a look at it and tell you what I think.” Angus was absolutely delighted and Tom actually derived some pleasure from being able to help. He worked on through the evening, taking only a short break for a microwave curry and a large glass of orange squash. Eventually he called Angus over and the two of them sat side by side as Tom went through his findings.

  “This is a bit complicated to be honest, Angus. I have found that there are 58 members of the House of Lords whose names begin with the letter C. Obviously our man is going to be at least 75, if he fathered a child in the early 1950s but I can’t find out the Lords’ ages. I suspect it is more likely that he is no longer with us as, otherwise the solicitors would still be acting on his behalf.” Tom paused and his body language gave away his frustration at being unable to offer any easy help.

  “Look Angus, I think that you need to draw up an action plan to get through all of this. The best information is that the next door neighbour was called Cox. Now the lady and her son lived at Number 17 and so the Cox family probably lived at Number 15 or 19 but it could also be number 16 or 18.” Tom broke off and reached down and picked up the first section of the London telephone directory. “There are 122 Coxes in and around London and you could phone each of them and see if any of their relatives ever lived at one of the possible numbers. I don’t think that the schools will be much help. What can they tell you if you do not have a name of the child?” Tom had finished and there was silence. Then Angus shrugged his shoulders and decided, “Well, I suppose I shall start to chase the Coxes.”

  Through all of this, Tom kept thinking about the interest that had been shown in Angus by both Special Branch and MI5. He was sworn to secrecy and could not even mention Angus’s plans to anyone. Tom felt that he could do no more. Angus showed his gratitude and Tom went to his room and gave Jasmine a call. The two agreed to spend the following day together and would meet at South Kensington Tube Station again.

  On Sunday morning, Tom was up before Angus and he decided to prepare a cooked breakfast for himself. He nipped out to the Open Always Deli and bought some bacon, half a dozen eggs and a small loaf of bread. He planned to cook fried bacon, tinned tomatoes and fried bread. He heard Angus stirring and took him a cup of tea and invited him to join him for breakfast. There was a little method to his madness as he was then able to use the mushrooms, potatoes and sausage that Angus had in the fridge. The two sat down to a most delicious breakfast. Tom thought that Angus needed some good wholesome food inside him, particularly now he was trying his very best to keep off the booze.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get very far with your notebook Angus. Why don’t you let me take a photocopy of it and then I can do some work on it during the week whilst I’m in Salisbury? I have a better Internet connection down there.” Angus was reluctant to agree to the idea. “I do trust you Tom and I know that you have helped me a lot over the time that you’ve been here but I am just worried about letting this information out of my control.”

  Tom did not want to push the idea as he knew that Angus could become difficult if he was backed into a corner. Angus did not change his mind and made it clear that the notebook represented his pension and he would even take it with him to Tynesdale.

  The weekend was soon over.

  The following week saw the arrival of a bright postgraduate computer specialist, Peter Boyde, who was to install the software that would control the electro-magnets and sensor array that would bring the Beast to life. The Professor was happy to put Peter up in the house in Durrington, but both he and Tom were rather surprised at his long working hours. They would travel together to Larkhill Camp each morning and be working on the Beast by about 8.30am. Peter would eat his sandwich for lunch, hunched over the computer terminal and then not stop until 9 or 10pm. His long hours really paid off.

  By the end of the Wednesday they were able to control most of the electrical functions of the Beast from the computer terminal. By Friday morning, Peter was able to fully test the complex computer program that he had created in London. The program would allow all of the magnetic parameters throughout the Beast to be varied either automatically in response to external magnetic stimulation, or manually in order to simulate external magnetic variation. All of this w
ould allow the sensing equipment to determine if any variation in magnetic flux was due to natural background features or due to the movement of large objects as required by the project. Well that was the theory and it was to take another week of testing, tweaking and more testing by Peter Boyde, the Professor and Tom before the Beast and its sensor equipment became stable.

  By now it was mid-March and the days were becoming longer. The Professor was very happy with the contribution made by Peter, and Tom was more than happy to be given the responsibility for the computer program that would control the Beast.

  Peter took Tom through the important features of the program. “The power of each of the electro-magnets can be adjusted up and down, as well as being made to vary with time. The data that determines all of this are stored as the operating parameters. You can create and amend these using a spreadsheet. Once you have loaded the operating parameters you have one of three choices. You can Run the experiment with the chosen set of parameters. You can do a Purge to de-Gauss the electro-magnets to clear away any residual magnetism, and finally you can generate a Pulse of magnetism in order to test the detection equipment. Are you happy so far?”

  Tom was quick to respond. “Yep. No problem. That is a very simple top level set of options which will make it easy to repeat experiments. How often do you reckon we should run the Purge procedure?”

  Peter invited the Professor to join them. “Professor, how often do you think that Purge should be run? I would think at least once a day.” The Professor walked over to the bench where the computer terminal was sitting. “How long does a Purge routine procedure take Peter?” “Oh, not long.” Peter leant across to the keyboard and after a few keystrokes he was able to add. “It will take 18 minutes.” The Professor thought for a few seconds and then decided, “We will run it before every experiment. That way, there is less chance of any creeping error.” He returned his attention to the three D23 sensors that would be used in the Beast. He had taken them apart in order to clean them thoroughly after the move from London. Tom and Peter continued going through all of the technical aspects of the computer program until they both felt that they had had enough. They informed the Professor that Tom was fully up to speed.

  “Tom are you absolutely sure that you have everything you need from Peter to keep this computer program working as it should?” the Professor needed to double check that Tom understood the notes that Peter had made and the location of all of the relevant files on the computer. “No problem Professor.” Tom would always address his boss more formally in front of others. “Peter has shown me how to adjust all of the control variables and I can even get into the code of the program if necessary.”

  Peter Boyde assured the Professor that Tom was well briefed and added. “I am still available at the end of a telephone line if you get really stuck, but I don’t think that that is likely.” The Professor thanked Peter profusely for all his hard work, they shook hands, farewells were said and the computer expert left to return to London.

  The Professor and Tom stared at the Beast. It was a 3 metre high hollow globe defined by the 12 ribs of its outer shell. The Beast was supported from underneath but it appeared to be hovering just above the concrete floor of the Dagger building. There was a plywood plank that formed a crude bridge between the concrete floor and the circular floor of the Beast .There were wires threaded through the ribs of the Beast which went to every one of the 36 evenly distributed electro-magnets set just inside the ribs. Sitting on the floor outside the Beast was a 1 metre tall wooden stand that had 3 of the D23s mounted inside. “What do you think Tom?” he asked. “Well it really looks amazing,” Tom replied, “just amazing.” The Professor suggested that they tidy up and make a start for London.

  Tom was in London by 5pm. The flat was deserted and the heating had been switched off all week. Tom hit the central heating override button and stayed in his leathers until the radiators started to do their job. He had just come out of the shower when his telephone rang. It was Alison Gordon. “Tom, is that you? What are you doing for lunch next Saturday? What – no plans, perfect. It’s James’s birthday. Come around at noon sharp – don’t be late. See you next weekend darling.” Tom looked at his watch. It was 6 pm and so he decided to have an early start in the morning in order to get a present and card for the Professor.

  Something led him back to the ironmongers not far from Drayton Gardens. He remembered, on a previous visit, seeing a selection of Swiss Army knives with all sorts of useful gadgets and one of these would make an ideal gift for the Professor who was always borrowing a screwdriver, scissors or sharp knife from Tom’s tool kit. The one he chose cost £20 and came with a neat leather case that could be attached to a belt. When he got back to the flat he carefully wrapped the present and wrote the card, then put them both on the shelf above his bed.

  The flat was rather odd without Angus. Previously, Tom would have done everything to avoid his inebriated landlord but for the last few weekends he had been quite reasonable and, at times, quite interesting company. Tom wondered how he might be coping with what must be a very strict regime at Tynesdale Court. He soon got back to his own routine; a visit to the launderette, a call to Jasmine and then a quick trip to the shop for some food. Tom also missed his pub quiz nights. They were almost always held during the working week in order to encourage people into the pubs. After supper he went out for a glass of beer and managed to bump into Charlie.

  Charlie asked if Angus had finally got away to Tynesdale. “He’s there as far as I know,” said Tom. “Thank you again for your very generous present Charlie. What a great bit of timing for Angus. Without that win he would never have been able to get himself sorted out.” Charlie smiled. He was a thoughtful old man and he took pleasure from helping others. “I was hoping that Angus would be able to get back to some serious writing, rather than wasting his time obsessing about his blockbuster story. He will never find a publisher for such a weak story line. Perhaps when he is well again he will see sense and, I hope, be able to enjoy life again.”

  Tom was surprised that Charlie knew any of the detail of the story. “Oh yes,” said Charlie, “Angus described the whole plot to me a while ago. Even if he can identify the characters it is still not worth three column inches let alone a 200 page book. The best thing that could happen is for him to lose the stupid notebook that he bought from that solicitor.”

  “I bet he’s taken it with him to Tynesdale, Charlie. He said to me a couple of weeks ago that the whole story would provide him with a pension and he is bound to be keeping it safe.” Tom picked up Charlie’s empty glass. “Would you like another beer, Charlie?” he asked.

  “No, not for me thanks, Tom. Beer goes straight through me these days. It’s one of the problems of growing old I’m afraid. I must go anyway. If you see that stupid notebook you’d be doing Angus a favour by burning it. No good will come of it. None at all. Goodnight Tom.” Charlie quietly left and Tom had one more pint of beer and then went back to his flat. Tom did not agree with Charlie about Angus wasting his time. Tom felt that the whole idea was the one thing giving Angus the incentive to overcome his addiction to alcohol. Tom did have a little inside knowledge, of course, and that did tend to support Charlie’s point that the story was of little value. “Oh well,” he thought, “it’s not really my problem.” Tom’s weekend came and went with little drama.

  Monday morning arrived far too quickly and he had to suffer an awful ride in the rain to Larkhill. He had put an all in one rain suit over his leathers but this did not protect his neck, wrists and feet. His clean clothes in his backpack were wet and he had to hang them up to dry in the Dagger Building.

  The Professor was like a child with a new toy. The Beast was ready for the various experiments that would be needed to determine the best method of addressing the MoD’s requirement. “Right, Tom. Let’s do some simple calibration runs this morning and then with any luck we will be able to do some more detailed work with the sensor array this afternoon.” Tom had already r
un the computer up and he had just finished checking the connectivity of the 50 or so cables that ran from the Beast, via various ‘clever boxes’, as the Professor called them, to the computer. The calibration work took the whole day as the Professor had not realised that after each test Tom would have to create a new spreadsheet with the amended settings needed for the next run. This did not dampen his enthusiasm and they were both itching to get started the following day.