Stone Message

by Peter Parfitt

  The Professor wanted to try the first test using his D23s.Tom did his best to keep up with the ever increasing pace of work as the Professor drove forward with the scent of an early success in his nostrils. “Move that to the right, Tom”, “Tom, check that connection”, “Stop, stop. That cable is snagged”, “We’ll stop for tea later”, “Come on Tom. Get a move on.”

  Tom kept his cool as he understood exactly what was driving the Professor forward. The Beast was an impressive contraption. The physics were not revolutionary but the application of the physics was ground breaking. They were finally ready for the first full test. After this they would do another run with the D23s installed and connected.

  Tom sat at the computer and loaded the new parameter data ready for the test run. “I’m ready James. Do you want to check anything or shall I hit the Run button?” The Professor drew a deep breath. “Go for it Tom. Hit the Run button.” The result was quite an anti climax. The computer screen flashed with buckets of figures running across the screen. Then there was a flashing alarm, ‘Power failure’ followed by ‘Reset Required’. “What happened Tom?” asked the Professor as he glanced first at the computer screen and then at the Beast. “I’m not sure, but I think that one or more of the power supplies has tripped.”

  Tom picked up his screwdriver and went to the Beast. He went into the centre of the spherical apparatus by stepping along the plywood gang plank between two of the twelve ribs. He took out the small wooden table designed to support the sensing apparatus in order to give himself more room. He used the screwdriver to undo a power connector cable. “James, would you press the reset button on the main power supplies please.” As this was done Tom used an electronic multi-meter to check that power was available at the connector. Once satisfied, he rejoined the power connector and turned the clamping screw tight with the screwdriver. “Tom, that power cable is sagging and we need to keep it as close to the outer edge of the Beast as we can.” The Professor handed Tom a cable tie. “Use this to fix it back.”

  Tom put his multi-meter and screwdriver down and stood on tip-toe to fix the cable tie. “Don’t bother putting that wooden table back in Tom. At the moment it is just a nuisance.” Once the Professor was happy, Tom went back to the computer to run the test again. “Are you ready James?” he asked. “No problem, Tom. Initiate the Run.” the Professor said. Again there was a hiccup and it looked as though the power had tripped again. “Do you want me to do the same checks again, James?” Tom made this question almost rhetorical as he had already grabbed his multi-meter and was looking for the screwdriver. “James, have you seen the screwdriver that I was using? It’s the slotted one.” Tom asked as he glanced around the area.

  “I saw you put the multi-meter on the bench but I don’t think you had the screwdriver with you when you came out of the Beast.” The Professor also glanced around. Tom went back into the Beast and checked that he had not left it either on the floor or balanced on any of the cables. He then carefully retraced his steps looking right and left until he reached the work bench. Both he and the Professor went down onto their hands and knees to look under the work bench and chairs. The screwdriver was not there. “Well this is silly Tom. Don’t you have another screwdriver?” The Professor was getting slightly impatient. Tom went to his tool box and opened the top and looked down at his 6 neatly laid out screwdrivers.

  He remembered the discovery of the extra screwdriver. He did not say a word but grabbed a torch and frantically went back to check inside the Beast. He looked in every crevice and even shone the torch into the void below the Beast in case the screwdriver had somehow rolled down there. The Professor also helped in the search, realising that Tom was deadly serious about the missing screwdriver.

  Tom sat down on the chair in front of the computer. “Professor,” he was being formal as he was in utter confusion, “that screwdriver was identical to the one we found in the pit before we assembled the Beast. I now have a set of 6 in my tool box, exactly what was brought down from London. I know damn well that mine came in a set of six, it was not yours and there is no way that we could have brought any extra tools from the laboratory.” Tom stopped in order to gather his thoughts and catch his breath. The Professor interjected. “I hope that you are not about to suggest something terribly unscientific.” Tom glanced up at him. “Well, what the hell do you think has happened then, James?” Tom stood up and opened his tool box for the Professor to see inside.

  “Look. There are six screwdrivers, all from the same set. None of them has been out of this box all day. I was using the seventh screwdriver. The one that you or one of those soldiers found in the pit. There are now only 6 screwdrivers in this building – the seventh one has disappeared, James.” The Professor put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Can you be certain that that screwdriver was the actual one found in the pit? Think carefully Tom. This is really important.” Tom did not answer straight away. He was clearly going through events in his mind.

  “No, I am not sure if it was the actual one. When I tidied up last week I put all of the screwdrivers together in here.” He pointed to the inside of his toolbox. “I took one of the two identical slotted screwdrivers out of the toolbox first thing this morning.” Tom looked up at the Professor who was just removing his hand from Tom’s shoulder. “Well Tom, we need to be a little bit careful before we jump to any far fetched conclusions. I know exactly what you think and as tempting as it may be, I do not believe that the screwdriver has somehow travelled back in time. Let’s redo everything whilst it is all still fresh in our minds. Let’s start from here just after the power supplies tripped the first time.” The Professor was no longer being impatient. He could sense Tom’s utter frustration and wanted to resolve the matter in a rigorous scientific manner.

  They went through the sequence of events again and again. They searched along the paths that they had each taken several times. After the third search they stood staring at the Beast. “Tom. Put the kettle on. This is utterly stupid. If that screwdriver travelled back in time then we must surely be able to do it again. If we are able to do it again then we would by now be swimming in screwdrivers or pliers or whatever other crap we might place in the Beast. Don’t you see, Tom. There must be a rational, and might I add, scientific answer.”

  The matter was dropped and they continued with their tests and eventually found the fault that was making the power supplies trip. There was a short circuit inside one of the solenoids. Tom replaced it and they were able to make satisfactory progress. There were no more strange events and Tom was beginning to think that the Professor was right.

  The rest of the week was spent with more basic experiments. Tom had to make quite a few adjustments to the computer program and its underlying data. They were able to run the first of the tests with the D23s, but they made no effort to analyse the data created as time was against them. The week was ending as it had started, with heavy showers and a chilling wind. They were late finishing and Tom was pleased to accept the offer of a lift to London in the lease car. Despite working together all week they still enjoyed each other’s company and the journey to London seemed to take no time at all. The “case of the extra screwdriver” was not mentioned, although Tom did keep thinking it over in his mind.

  “Are you going out with your girlfriend tonight, Tom?” the Professor asked. “No, it’s her grandmother’s 70th birthday and so I won’t see her until tomorrow,” Tom replied. “Are you bringing her to lunch tomorrow? Alison hasn’t briefed me yet, so I don’t know who all the guests will be.” Tom felt a little awkward. Alison had invited him to the birthday lunch but had not mentioned Jasmine. “Well, I didn’t think that the invitation was for us both and so I’ve arranged to meet Jasmine at seven in the evening.” The Professor glanced across at Tom and then resumed his careful watch of the road ahead. “Would you like to bring her Tom?” he asked. “We’ve only been going out for a couple of weeks and so I think that we should leave things as they are for now. But thank you for the thought, James.�
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  The Professor looked over his shoulder, glanced in the mirror and pulled out to overtake a slow moving lorry. “Why not get her to come to the flat at about five’ish. We will have had lunch, she can come in to say hello, have a drink and then you can whisk her away on your romantic date?” Tom heard the Professor but waited with baited breath for the completion of the overtaking manoeuvre. His sigh of relief was almost audible. “That’s really kind. I’ll give her a call and see what she says.”

  The Professor dropped Tom off at the end of Elm Park Gardens. Tom’s flat was cold and empty again and so he put the heating on full blast and went out. Soon Tom reached the ironmongers opposite the cinema in the Fulham Road. He was curious to see if they still had any sets of screwdrivers for sale like the one that he had bought. They had just one set left, “We’ve sold dozens of these sir,” said the salesman. “At £18 for this quality, it is no wonder that they have done well.” Tom asked him if screwdrivers like these were ever sold individually. “Very unlikely, young man. These are imported from China already in sets.” Tom thanked him, left the shop and then returned to the slightly more welcoming flat.

  He gave Jasmine a call. Tom was not able to discuss his work with her and she was very sensible and did not ask any prying questions. They chatted for nearly an hour. Jasmine was happy to arrive at the Professor’s flat at about 5pm the following day and, after a few ‘sweet nothings’, they said goodnight. Tom had an early night as it had been quite a hectic week.

  Tom remembered the card and present, and set off at 11.45 am for the Professor’s flat. Alison had made it clear that he had to be there no later than midday. He was let in by Alison with two minutes to spare. “Oh you clever boy. Spot on time.” Tom wished the Professor a happy birthday and handed him the card and present. Alison soon set Tom to work. “Tom, darling,” she said, “I wonder if I could ask you to help James with the drinks. We have people arriving at half past and it will be a bit of a squeeze.” She turned to the Professor. “James, darling. How many did I say we had coming?” The Professor looked up from the unwrapping of the present. “I think it was twenty two at the last count dear.” He paused as the pen knife appeared from within the paper wrapping. “Oh Tom, this is super. It is perfect. You know me, always lost for a sharp knife or a screwdriver. Look dear, this gadget has everything an absent minded professor could ever want.”

  Tom was pleased that the Professor liked his Swiss Army knife and he did not mind that his early arrival was for him to prepare for a role as waiter. He would never have taken offence anyway as the Gordons treated Tom more like a son than an employee or acquaintance from work, and sons always should expect to help their parents out from time to time.

  The party was great fun. Most of the guests were associated with Imperial College, including Professor McClean and then there was the MP that he had met before, but he had a different ‘secretary’ in tow. The food consisted of delicious canapés handed out on large silver trays. Between them, Tom and the Professor kept everyone’s glasses topped up and they also managed to keep the trays of food circulating. The guests consumed buckets of champagne not least because almost everyone decided to propose a toast of some description. “Happy birthday to James.” “To our delightful hostess, Alison.” “To the most laid back professor in the University of London.” “To everyone for coming.” And so it went on. By 3.30 pm people began to drift away and eventually it was just the Professor, his wife and Tom. Alison made a start tidying up the empty glasses and Tom did the same. “No, no Tom. You have done enough. You were brilliant, we could not have managed this party without you. Now you and James go into the study and have a coffee or whatever boys drink after parties. It will take me no time at all to clear this away.”

  Tom and the Professor put up no resistance. They sat in the elegant study and finished off champagne from one of the opened bottles. “Thanks again, Tom. That was good fun.” Tom felt very relaxed in the Professor’s company and was grateful to sit down at last. Although he had drunk several glasses of champagne, he was not in the least bit inebriated and they sat chatting about all sorts, none of it related to work.

  “Alison bought me a new digital camera,” said the Professor. “I had a hand choosing it, so it was not a complete surprise. When I retire I think that I will make a hobby of walking the streets of London, camera in hand, delving into all sorts of hidden secrets.” He crossed the room and opened the lid of his walnut desk. He moved a small pile of books to one side in order to get at the camera. The books fell to the floor. “Oops,” he said, “Don’t worry about that, just take a look…” The Professor stopped in mid sentence. Tom was staring down at the few books on the floor. He had gone as white as a sheet.

  “Tom, are you okay?” The Professor asked. Tom was looking at a small maroon coloured notebook, almost identical to the one that his landlord had shown him. He stood up. He felt very odd and could not help but ask, “James what is that?” pointing to the notebook. The Professor was quite forthcoming. “That is a sort of history of my family. I was given it by the solicitor who acted on behalf of my father, shortly after my mother died. It was used to make notes about financial provisions for us both. I had hoped that it might have led me to my father, but the trail is now cold as the solicitor is long dead and I suspect my father is no longer with us either.”

  Tom hesitated and, probably due to the alcohol, decided to tell a little of what he knew. “Were you brought up in a house with number 17, with a next door neighbour called Mrs Cox?” Now it was the Professor’s turn to feel a little shaky. He sat down and Tom sat down as well. “How could you know this Tom? Did Alison mention it to you?” Tom was not sure what to say. He knew that he must not mention anything about Special Branch or MI5. He wished that he had not seen the notebook or at least had been able to hide his reaction on seeing it. “My landlord is a retired reporter. He has a book similar to this one. He got it from the son of your solicitor. He showed it to me and asked my advice about researching it on the internet. He thinks that,” he hesitated, “uh, that your father was a member of the House of Lords. He wants to write a book about it. James, when I looked at that notebook, I had no idea that this was anything to do with you. If I had known, I would have called you straight away.”

  The Professor was visibly shocked. He stared up at the ceiling and then glanced across at the notebook. He turned to Tom. “I don’t think I like the idea of your landlord writing anything about me. Just what does he know? Does he know my father’s name?” Tom shook his head. “He knows very little. The only hint of an address is Number 17 and the name of your neighbour, Mrs Cox. Your father is referred to as Lord C, your mother as Miss G and you as Master X. Even the names of your schools have been put in code. Angus, my landlord, is an alcoholic. He is trying to sort himself out and has booked himself into Tynesdale Court for rehab. Even if he manages to recover, I really don’t think that he has a hope in hell of getting any further.” Tom felt a little more at ease and the Professor was looking more comfortable.

  “Right, I think I know the way to play this. We will do nothing and, of course, you will say nothing to your landlord. If he asks you for any help you can either refuse or you can misdirect him. If he finds out anything that I should know then you shall tell me.” The two of them agreed the plan. “Do you have the other half of the five pound note?” Tom asked. The Professor smiled. “Yes I do. It was the method by which I could prove my identity initially to the solicitor who held the other half. It was also used as proof of identity to both my bank and the financial people who were charged with managing the money from my late mother and the money that my father transferred from time to time.” Tom had realised long ago that the Professor could not afford his current lifestyle on his university salary. “And do you have any idea at all about the identity of your father?” The Professor just managed to say, “No. None at all…” when Alison walked in with a very pretty girl at her side.

  Jasmine knew the Professor quite well but had not met
Alison before. “Right,” said the Professor, “shall we all have a lovely cup of tea. Then these two lovebirds can go out dancing and I can play with my birthday presents.” Jasmine reached inside her handbag. “I have a present for you Professor. Happy birthday.” She handed a small gift-wrapped package to the Professor. He opened it to discover a small wooden box with 2 pairs of knotted silk cufflinks inside. The Professor was delighted and gave Jasmine a peck on the cheek. After tea, Tom and Jasmine thanked the Gordons for their hospitality and then went out on their date.

  The Professor decided to tell Alison about Tom’s landlord. In conclusion he said, “Well that’s it in a nutshell. I will never allow him to publish any story about me or my mother, but I would quite like to know if he has anything that could help me to identify my father. Perhaps I should look at the other notebook and see if, with my knowledge, I can spot any clues.”

  Tom had been careful not to mention any of the notebook business to Jasmine. After he said goodbye to her at Waterloo station he did start to wonder whether this latest revelation should be passed on to Inspector Morton-Farrell. By the time he walked back to his flat he had decided not to say anything as he felt that it would not be in the Professor’s interests.

  Tom spent Sunday doing his washing and listening to music. He knew that Monday meant a pre-dawn start as the Professor wanted to get to Larkhill early, and so at 10pm he was in bed and after a quick call to Jasmine he was asleep. He did not sleep well as his mind went from the maroon notebooks to the screwdriver mystery and back again, and again.