Tim Heath Thriller Boxset

by Tim Heath

  John quickly found that much of the information was unrelated. He had no access to actual files. All source documents were no doubt already planned and locked away. Therefore often, without reference to what got discussed, it was hard to understand what was talked about especially. But anything new, and he would know. Left long enough, he knew he'd come up with something. And he now knew he needed some help. The newspaper did have two teams, usually only working with the leading reporters, on the massive stories. Sitting there with a notepad full of notes already, he thought he could have a shot at getting his own team, but would have to share a little information with his boss later that day, to know if it was possible. It would all take him longer than he wanted, but at the end of it, he would get what he most needed.

  9

  Present Day

  Lorna had dropped off to sleep when John awoke from his latest vision, the sixth that he'd had in the last two days. She stirred quickly, a small alarm making her aware that he'd woken as the vision finished. She stood up, straightening her uniform a little, and went over to switch off the sound. John looked in good shape, though a bit of sweat was on his forehead. She wiped it gently, and he thanked her.

  “How are you doing, John?” she said. He knew the routine by now.

  “It was much like the other ones, though this time I saw a building. It was burning. The walls looked like they were melting, or that they had melted at some point. There was no roof, but it must have been some office or something. It led into another area. Then the vision changed. Everything was new again like nothing had happened; as if what I was seeing was from before the disaster, maybe in our time now? A long corridor led into some sort of industrial area. There were tubes and pipes, huge pipes everywhere. There were large white cylinders, about six of them, standing end to end. They each looked about thirty metres in diameter. Give or take. The vision took me halfway down the long warehouse or building. Maybe it was some power station. It was massive. Between the middle two cylinders, there was housed a control unit behind a solid metal door. It was open. And in the bottom of the unit, under another solid metal protector, there was this big red button. It had the words SAFETY SHUTOFF written around it, circularly. I had the urge to push it, but then it all faded and the vision ended.”

  Lorna had listened carefully, actively nodding to show him she believed him.

  “What do you think it all means?” she asked.

  “I don't know. This one was different in that it was showing two different times, I guess. One time before, and then another time, in the same place, but after. I think the button is important. I think it needs to be shut down before this incident takes place. I think that's why I'm being shown this.” He remembered back through his first few visions. The destruction and death, the body bags. Then he recalled about his own life needing to be given, a necessary sacrifice to save millions. The man in the visions, this Felix, had been clear on that. This thought now unsettled him. If he was just to shut off this button before the incident, where was the risk? Maybe the shut off was the risk, but why would he need to do that? And who'd create a safety shut off anyway that blew you up? It didn't make much sense, but then nothing was making much sense. Life, as he knew it, was very different. Though he had no memory of the time before waking up in the bed that he was now in, and he knew that there must have been an ordinary life somewhere back there, a simple daily routine that he had followed. And yet, something had intervened. Now he was stuck here, seeing visions, talking with some strange man that didn't seem like an angel, and being given the task of saving millions of people.

  That part he was sure. He was prepared to save them, though the last vision had confused him. He wasn't expecting to see anything looking normal, untainted. Before that, it was only an apocalyptic world of death and destruction, and that was an unambiguous message: to prevent it. Now he wasn't sure what to think.

  “If I'm honest, Lorna, I don't know now,” he said, a blank expression of hopelessness and questions on his face.

  “You've come this far, and I'm sure it will soon become clear to you. I'm sure you'll know soon enough what it all means and what you have to do.”

  “I guess you are right. Look...” John said, changing the subject. “I'm sat here all day and night, and there is no television. Can I have something to do? I mean, a book to read or anything?”

  It had been discussed, though the issue was of course not to allow him to see anything from the news. One of the channels was gone altogether, their transmitter, as well as most of their production crew, destroyed in one of the explosions.

  “I'll see what I can do for you, John. Maybe we could get a DVD player and put on some films or something. I'll see what books I can get hold of as well.”

  “Thanks.”

  It was the least she could do.

  Twenty Four Days Ago

  There had been four different launch sites, allowing the team to better synchronise the operation, each probe autonomous in its operation. However, it had caused extensive damage when the probes went offline, each returning to its original launch coordinates, each a mini nuclear bomb. It was the worst man-made disaster of all time. For the UK it already felt like the end of the world. There had been no evacuation plan, as the control room, the location of the original probe and therefore first one hit, had been destroyed. It was only at that moment of impact that they knew for sure the remaining probes were armed. Over the next two days, all the remaining probes eventually came down, exploding on impact, a medium sized nuclear explosion each clearing about four square miles. Every probe, as powerful and state of the art as it could be, had a relatively small payload of 50 megatons in comparison to the main reactors on site. That was the equivalent of 50,000 tonnes of TNT. The bomb dropped on Nagasaki by the USA at the end of the Second World War was about 21 megatons. The damage done to London by the probes was already more than nine times the destruction caused in Japan's second city when it was hit with a bomb all those years ago. What had happened so far would be a mere drop in the ocean compared to what would happen if the main reactor at the RAF base exploded.

  Housed in the main power plant were six state of the art and highly secretive nuclear reactors, a set-up that was so powerful, that it had to be kept secret. Done correctly, it would provide much of the country's power in the years to come. It would be a perfect solution to world energy requirements so they would have energy left over to sell to Europe, and blueprints for the scheme to sell to the highest bidders.

  The outside two cylinders, the ones at either end, had similar levels of power to the probes. Their scientist had found a way of packing an explosive force of about 52 megatons into the small spacecraft. The spacecraft that had been funded in part by outsiders, including NASA. The Americans had been kept from knowing what was really happening. The fact was that the technology was also being used to build a super facility, to make Britain the market leader in energy production. It was one of these two outer reactors that had exploded, killing James and others, just hours after the probe had hit. However, the risk was far more significant than that. Cylinders two and five had been the result of three years of further development, and each had 15,000 megatons of power equal to the highest payload that the Americans had ever tested. The British scientists had not stopped there though, continuing their scientific explorations to create the two central cylinders of the row of six. Cylinder three was made with a depleted uranium tamper. The Russians had once tested a bomb with a lead tamper, but now the British had taken it a step further, producing 100,000 megatons of power. That was the equivalent of 100 million tonnes of TNT. Cylinder four, the last to be finished, one year after number three, went even higher, at 120,000 megatons. Nothing like it had ever been produced before. There was no nuclear reactor on planet Earth anywhere near as powerful. After the Sun, it was the second most powerful energy source in the solar system. Combined, they had the power to destroy most of Europe. The radiation would make the rest of Europe an impossible place in which to
live. It was thought it could trigger a nuclear winter like nothing ever seen. Its potential scared them. Like the young scientist Frankenstein, they wondered if they too had created a monster.

  Built inside the facility was also the ability to shut it down. Between the two most powerful cylinders sat a metal box. Housed inside was a button which would close all six reactors down and drop the uranium rods into pre-dug underground chasms, deep and heavily protected by 10 metre thick walls.

  It was to be the last resort, and of course, no one ever spoke of it. It was an unthinkable final solution, and they boasted about the actual safety of nuclear power, their ability to harness it safely and their track record regarding safety. And it was well founded. There had been no real safety issues. Still, it could not get reported to the world. It was far better to keep it a secret and useable, than public and vulnerable. There would be a storm of protest if it were an open knowledge that a potential time bomb was situated in the middle of half the country's population.

  Three Weeks Ago

  Putting together the final part of the program had not been straightforward. Footage of the inside of the facility was not easy to come by. The central control room had been accessible. News footage had been shot briefly after the first explosion before the reactor blew. The film going in through the doors showed the metal walls melted where they stood, as if made of wax, molten metal apparently running down the walls. How hot had it got?

  There was no further coverage of the rest of the facility though. The nuclear radiation prevented anyone from venturing any further. That caused Felix a problem, but he was lucky to find the solution. Stored inside the offices were archived footage of the base not long after it was completed, and long before the last four cylinders were ever finished. Clean and bright, the presentation video had walked the viewer slowly through the facility, into the central power plant, taking in the giant white cylinders. It was perfect. Midway through there were recordings of the safety features, and especially the cut-off button.

  “Perfect,” Felix had said aloud to himself. With some editing, he'd been able to stitch both clips, old and new, together into one flowing movement, as if it were one continuous shot. He could do nothing about the new, cleanness of the second half. It might confuse, but it would show anyone exactly where the button was. They'd seen it now. They'd been shown where it was. It might work. Maybe someone would be able to walk in there and close it all down, to put the uranium out of harm's way, to silence the risk. Maybe there would be hope. Besides that, there was nothing they could do. If left untouched, the reactors were on, working full power, producing vast quantities of energy that was going nowhere. It was just building up. The five remaining cylinders were effectively ticking time bombs, each with the power to destroy, but combined, the impact was unthinkable. Life on planet Earth, as they knew it anyway, would be changed forever.

  Present Day

  John was asleep again, and once more seeing a vision. He'd been walking with Felix, following him around a building, walking nowhere in particular, just talking.

  “That button you told me about?” John said.

  “That is an important thing. Very important. That is your way of saving everyone,” he said.

  “I see. I felt I saw it for a reason. But why was it so new? That part seemed more like it was now, I mean, not destroyed. Not part of some disaster that is about to happen. Can't we find out where it is now, and stop it?”

  “It's not that simple. Your mind sees things how it wants to. You made it new.” There didn't seem much else John could say to that. “But you are getting close. Time is nearly upon us. You now know what to do. The challenge remains; will you do it?”

  “I will,” he said, without a moment's hesitation. “I'll do what's needed. If there is a way to do this and survive, I'll do it. I'll find a way.”

  “It will cost you your life. You already know that.”

  “But there must be another way. Maybe I'll be okay? Maybe God will save me? Maybe this is what I've been made to do? My calling?”

  Felix was silent. There was no response. For once, there was not an answer to John's comment.

  “You now know what you need to do,” Felix repeated.

  The room shook, darkness fell, and then there was light, and John was once again awake, once again going to process and discuss what he'd seen. The routine was becoming a little tedious, though he didn't want to say that to Lorna.

  One Year Ago

  It had been a heated and uncomfortable day of discussions. The British were holding their ground and keeping their cards very close to their chest. There was too much they were not letting on. That annoyed the other groups present. The Russians, for obvious reasons. They'd been called and were offering some assistance, but they felt they were just being used. The Europeans were fuming, angry at the blatant rejection shown by the UK. The Chinese knew they were outsiders. They were there to listen but had failed at the first round of negotiations twelve years before when plans were first discussed. Their spying network went on to confirm theirs had, in fact, been the highest bid. Its rejection, and their subsequent exclusion, had apparently been for other, as yet unknown, reasons. They were a non-player but were far from happy. Even the Americans were angry, the day's plan not going as they had envisioned. A break was called, each party needed to regroup, to assess how they now stood, to work out what they needed to do next. There was a long way to go if things were to progress.

  Refreshments were brought in. A much more elaborate dinner was planned that evening at the American ambassador's residence. No one was sure, at that moment, if they would go.

  Thirty minutes later, the food going down nicely, there was a different atmosphere in the room, for now anyway. It was calmer, less conflicted. The various parties knew each other or knew of each other, well. Some had worked together on other projects for years. Relationships aside, with something of this magnitude, this potential, they all knew exceptionally well that politics was playing a huge part. Each party knew that the others were spying on them, if not personally then indeed government to government. It was possible there were double agents in the room at that moment, with twenty-five or so men and women there, making up five nations or group of countries. None would suspect it in their ranks, but they certainly thought it of the others.

  Over the last twelve months, a group of four Chinese businessmen, a Russian diplomat, even a French and German chemical research team had all been asked to leave the UK. They had all been spies. Everyone knew it. An American CIA field officer was re-assigned when his cover was blown. It wasn't, of course, just one way either. The British Secret Service had been just as active, and just as devious. Trust, in international relations, was a very fluid currency. It changed as much as the wind did, one time this way, then just as quickly going the other way.

  They ended the evening on more comfortable ground, talking about security and safety, and an agreement regarding nuclear behaviour. All superficial stuff, all a smokescreen to what was really going on, and what soon, if not tomorrow, would have to be adequately discussed. They left for dinner, the British taking up the invitation which they couldn't really have turned down on home soil, plus the Americans were the ones with whom they were most in partnership. The Europeans declined, angry at playing second fiddle to the US in the connection, as did the Chinese. The Russians agreed, which would add some fun to the evening. If anyone knew how to party, it was the small team of seasoned Russian representatives. They even had their special vodka with them. Maybe they could get someone to talk, after all, they mused amongst themselves, chatting quietly as they were led to the venue for the evening meal.

  Winfield House, the home of the Ambassador of the United States of America to the United Kingdom, was your classic English country home situated in Regents Park, London. Fresh security sweeps had been done during the day before the first groups arrived, but that night was largely about dinner. Business would not be discussed, attitudes left on the doorstep, further confli
ct, it was hoped, left for tomorrow's full day of discussions.

  The Russians were the last to arrive––which didn't surprise anyone. All three cars had left from the same place, heading for the same destination, and yet that journey had taken nearly sixty minutes longer for the vehicle containing the five Russian members of their group. They had already started drinking, already ahead of the rest. Soon there was a natural attitude flowing between all three groups, a skilled team of waiters moving around the room, almost unseen, refilling glasses with the various wines available, taking away empties, passing around food. The Russian Ambassador was also there, though neither he nor his American counterpart had anything to do with the discussions. However, they were fully aware what was going on. Two senior British figures were there, once Ambassadors themselves, in both the USA and Russia. It seemed only right for them to be involved, and they helped to balance things out a little, as well as dilute the crowd enough to keep things peaceful. The Europeans not being there helped in that regard, and both the British and the Americans were wary of the Chinese, so their absence was a relief too, though an ominous one at that. Chinese counter-intelligence was growing around the world. They had more known spies operating than the British, US and Russians had combined. Their exclusion from the deal had been one made at government level, with tremendous pressure applied from foreign sources, most noticeably the White House itself in Washington, DC. It wasn't entirely justified, and the Chinese had come up with the most cash, indeed when taking into account trade and financial deals added into the mix as part of their package. True, they didn't have the breadth of experience that the Americans could offer, and that had been the party line when the announcement was made, confirming the initial partnership with just the Americans. The Russians had been brought on side later on, of course, when problems arose, and underlying technology was needed. It was an unusual connection for them as well, in third place behind the other two. They were not happy with it at all, and their goal from the talks was to become an equal in the process, sharing their part of the cost, but more critically, benefiting from the results. For their part, the Americans were there to get an agreement on the nuclear power plant. The probe technology had been the key, it opened up a wide range of options for them, and they were surprised it was the British who discovered it. They hadn't known the Brits were a player in that particular field. However, it suited the US. It was far easier for them to come alongside the UK and negotiate what they wanted than it would have been with nearly any other nation. The British knew they were onto something special, a breakthrough that would put them number one in the world in regard to energy supply. They had to keep the plans secret, for fear that they would be stolen from them. The truth was, though no one currently in Winfield House knew anything about it, was that it had not, in fact, been a British invention, but a British theft of the highest magnitude. It was thought that only three people on the planet knew of its true origins, and none of these three was in a place to be able to say what they knew, their situations far too delicate, or isolated, for that. Because of the advanced nature of the final design, it wasn't obvious how it had started. The secretive nature of the Chinese scientists who first worked on the idea, meant that Beijing could only have their suspicions concerning who was behind the theft. They would have to see the plans themselves before being able to accuse the British. And so far, they'd been sidelined. Which only made them more suspicious of this revolutionary British breakthrough.