“I haven’t looked that far ahead, but I imagine so. Why do you ask?”
“I’m still trying to understand it all…and thinking about knitting patterns gave me a clue.”
Joey’s fingers suddenly sprouted a pencil and a scratchpad flopped obligingly open in front of him, although Brenda could have sworn the table was clear and empty. “Tell me more about knitting patterns.”
“Well, when you’re knitting, it doesn’t matter how big the garment is. Every stitch is the same size as the one before it and the one after. If you need different-sized stitches, you use different-sized needles or thicker, heavier wool, but each row still has evenly sized stitches. When the garment—let’s say, a sweater—is the size you want it to be, you cast off with a row of special stitches that stop the whole thing unravelling.”
One by one, the rest of the team came over for coffee and tuned in to Brenda’s analogy.
“Which got me thinking—when this shock wave completes a full sweep of the globe and gets back to where it started, it’s reached the end of the last row. Time to cast off. But what happens next? Is there now a massive wall of rocks and rubble rising above where the trench used to be? And if there is, how powerful will the surge of water be? Strong enough to demolish the rock pile? Or will the rocks prove a solid barrier and turn the wave aside to flow in a different direction altogether?”
“Shit, that’s a whole new can of worms,” Eddie said, “and I’d bet my next pay cheque on her being right.”
Dave put his mug down and half-turned to confront Eddie, who hadn’t realised he’d said what he was thinking. He held up his hands.
“Dave, no disrespect. I happen to believe Brenda’s instincts are spot on. If we can work out what’s likely to happen when this vast wall of water finishes lap one of the world’s first global marathon, it may give us a clue what we can do next. It’s our one chance to sneak ahead of the game.”
Joey’s hands blurred between three or four calculators, which he appeared to operate without even glancing at them or the monitor screen as he threw formulae and complicated-looking diagrams at it.
“There’s one thing I’m not even sure I pointed out, but it works in our favour.” He reached what appeared to be a natural pause in his never-ending calculations and looked around with a relieved smile—the first one any of those present could recall witnessing. “This isn’t the wave’s inaugural sweep. I took readings from the North of England before the tremors were noticed further south. Remember? I told you then, it was most likely a shadow or recoil wave, bouncing back south after juddering up against the solid ice foundation of the North Pole.
“The recoil had already lost some momentum, and this is the second ‘bounce’. In other words, it’s tapering off steadily, moving more slowly. I still need to check some figures, but my gut feeling is, this could be the final shudder before the worst of the underground and undersea tremors settle. They won’t cease entirely for some time yet, but they’ll be less violent, more predictable and, more to the point, easier to control.”
“That’s a bold statement, Doc,” Tom said. “You sure about that?”
“This isn’t wishful thinking. It’s solid, empirical, scientific fact. The data indicates there’s no significant force left in the wave this time around. Even if there is some sort of rock wall or barrier where the trench used to be, the wave’s going to wash around it and settle.”
“Does the brigadier know this?” Harry cut in, a heartbeat faster to react than his SAS teammates.
“Not yet. Brenda’s knitting-pattern analogy was just the kick in the proverbial I needed. I wanted to have something positive to report, and now I’ve got it. I’ll get in touch with him once I’ve summarised my findings.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Are you saying we should sit and wait?”
“That’s what my figures are telling me, Brigadier. It’s easier to understand if I translate them onto a graph. You can actually see the difference. You don’t need to understand the maths involved.”
Joey punched a key to send an image to Groth’s computer. “The timeline is left to right, of course, and you’ll notice the earliest waves, showing an area of high pressure, are bigger on the left then become progressively smaller. There’s no doubt in my mind. The aftereffects are decreasing. The momentum is spent. We can start thinking about mopping-up operations—not that they’re going to be easy to organise. There won’t be any part of the world that hasn’t been affected by the events of the past week.”
Groth was silent for a few moments, but this time, Joey and the rest of the team at Bidston Hill could see him on the computer screen. He wasn’t idle. His hands flipped impatiently through a ring binder on his desk, clearly searching for a specific entry. Suddenly, he stopped and bent closer to read something before addressing the camera again.
“Doctor Hart, what about the possible wobble you mentioned? Is it still affecting how smoothly we spin around the planetary axis? Has the angle itself been altered, either temporarily or permanently? How can we ch—” Groth stopped in mid-sentence. “Sorry, Doctor Hart. I’ve a hundred questions I need answered, and I’m giving you no chance to reply. Work on those two thoughts while I create a list of points, then triage them into some sort of order of importance.”
Completely out of character, Groth didn’t end the transmission abruptly, but looked at the screen and waited. Joey took the hint.
“Understood, Sir. I’ll do as much as I ca—”
Joey just had time to notice the swift movement of Groth’s right arm as he clicked the mouse, then the screen went blank. The brigadier might not have had the final word in this conversation, but he was clearly still in control of the situation.
***
“Doctor Hart, our problems might not be over yet. Not quite, anyway.”
Joey muttered a curse and reached for a notepad.
“Understood, Brigadier. Go ahead.”
“Three reports, three different regions, almost simultaneous and all reported within the last hour.
“Report from Grimsby, Yorkshire. Ground tremor resulting in a section of cliff breaking off, at least six houses destroyed. No report on casualties yet, but we must assume the occupants have been killed.
“In Japan, a strong tremor has caused the collapse of a road tunnel at Sasago, about fifty miles from Tokyo. Fatalities expected, but so far search-and-rescue ops have not begun.
“The third report is from the Philippines, relayed through our sources in New Zealand. The island group has been hit by severe typhoons, and almost all communication has been lost. This has been included because it mirrors similar events in New Zealand and Australia in recent weeks.”
“Acknowledged. Brigadier. I need one more piece of information. I need to know the directionality of these incidents. If I’m right, the first two were north to south, and the last one was moving south to north. Can you confirm?”
“Stand by.”
Groth muted his audio, and Joey and his team watched the dumb show on the monitor as the brigadier spoke to someone off-camera, then switched audio back on.
“Confirmed, Doctor. How does that help?”
Joey nodded. “I said the worst was over, and I stand by that assertion, but we can expect aftershocks for a while yet, possibly as little as the next twenty-four hours, but it may be longer. The point is, in all three events the shock waves were travelling towards the Mariana Trench. Once they meet—as they must, either at the trench itself or somewhere close by—they will effectively cancel each other out. That’s basic Newtonian physics. Equal and opposite forces, as we were taught in school science lessons.”
“Is it really as simple as that, Doctor?” There was an edge of distrust in Groth’s usually expressionless voice. Perhaps the strain and stresses were getting to him, but Joey had no doubt in his mind. He took a deep breath and seemed to discover a hitherto-untapped source of adrenaline-fuelled energy.
“We’re out of the woods, Sir. I’m certain o
f it. We can start planning the next phase, and I’ve had time to chase up some preliminary figures about the two questions you left me with.”
“I’ll come back to those in a moment, Doctor, but you sound confident. Do I take it you’ve something positive to tell me?”
“I believe so, Sir, but establishing some sort of evacuation of badly hit regions such as the Philippines should be high on the list. Where are the nearest groups of shipping which were ordered to stand offshore after detonation day?”
“That’s classified, but I take your point. We have vessels moored within a few hours’ sailing distance.”
“I’m not trying to tell you your job, Sir.” Joey couldn’t help himself.
“Very wise, Doctor. However, you’ve been the eyes and ears of the whole operation from the very beginning. We couldn’t have managed without you. I’m authorising the immediate release of every vessel with hospital facilities and capacity to rescue flood victims in the Philippines and provide specialised assistance to Japan. We’re reasonably strong on the ground in Northern England. We can send in REME squads with the engineering and rescue skills to deal with the landfall in Yorkshire. We can ease off, downgrade from Condition Red, lift military law and travel restrictions. I have to ask you to remain on duty for a while yet, but I’m sending you some relief staff to ease the burden.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
A week became ten days, then twelve: twelve days of unremitting storms and other foul weather conditions, which had to be dealt with as they arrived and in most instances with little or no warning. A deep blanket of snow had covered most of Scotland for most of August, stretching into the North East of England. Further south, where the climate was a few significant degrees warmer, rain was the problem rather than snow, with some parts of the country experiencing landslips as the thoroughly Devon and Cornwall were hammered mercilessly with twenty-eight inches of rain in a single day.
Further sizeable sections of Dover’s famous cliffs simply sheared off from the constant battering of tidal bores travelling north, made worse by pinballing backwards and forwards across the narrow channel separating the UK from the northern coastlines of France and Belgium. The year would eventually be named experienced in the UK since records began, and satellite pictures taken in the aftermath of the clean-up operations would show significant and permanent changes to the British coastline, mostly in the South West of England and in North East Scotland.
The leader of the Conservative Party won a certain amount of respect from the media and possibly bought a few begrudged votes from the electorate when he went to the queen and asked for permission to form a national government for as long as it might take to restore some semblance of order in the UK, citing the War Cabinet of the 1940s as historical precedent.
It was no surprise when the petition was granted. Less than half of an apathetic electorate had bothered to turn out at the last General Election, and the Tories had only been able to tread water thus far with the reluctant support of the runner-up Liberal Democrat party. Basking in the glory of the newly coined title National Minister, the Tory leader was able to draw on the best talents available sitting in the House of Commons. Bickering between various shades of red, blue, green and other party-political differences ceased overnight. An unexpected bonus soon followed. People rallied around, showing the ‘war spirit’ of an earlier generation, and the true meaning of the soundbite, coined by a minister with a large personal fortune and therefore much maligned by the press, ‘We’re all in this Together’ became a reality.
***
“Mayor Anderson has invited us to a private meeting in his office. He’s got some interesting news he wants to share with the ‘Eyes and Ears’ group before it’s announced publicly. He says he wants to thank us all personally for our contribution.” Dave passed the letter across the breakfast table for Brenda to read.
“I’m guessing he’s also written to Eddie and Errol. I wonder if we’ll get to meet Brigadier Groth—even find out the real names of Tom, Dick and Harry.”
“That’s probably covered by some obscure clause of the Official Secrets Act. You know—‘If I tell you, I’d have to kill you afterwards,’” Dave responded gravely. The phone rang, sparing him from becoming the target of a well-aimed cushion.
“Hello?” … “Errol, hi. Have you also got a letter?” … “Yes, that’s kind of you.” … “Eleven o’clock? Fine, it’s only ten minutes or so from here.” … “See you.” Dave hung up and grinned at his wife. “Errol’s got a flash company limo. He says he’ll collect Eddie and Joey, then come for us. He’s even providing a chauffeur.”
***
“All the time we worked together, even cooped up in the bunker, you never once told us you had a regular job as well as playing a mean trumpet, Errol.”
Errol shrugged at Dave’s observation as their group reached the doors of the Town Hall. “Someone had to tout for business, answer the phone, sign a few cheques, and Paw said it would keep me off the streets and out of trouble. But the job has its own small perks.”
“Small?” Dave glanced back across the car park. “That limo needed two parking bays. Did you remember to feed both parking meters?”
Errol was momentarily at a loss, unsure if he was being teased or not, but at that moment, Mayor Anderson appeared in the foyer, taking each of them by the hand and thanking them personally before leading them through to his office. Brigadier Groth was already there, standing at ease; he greeted the team with a formal nod as they entered.
“You’ll notice I’ve cleared the room of lackeys and pen-pushers.” He gestured for them all to take a seat around the highly polished oak table. “The only thing I’m going to ask of you is a promise not to repeat any of this, anywhere, until it’s made public.”
“When might that be?” Joey wanted to know.
“Less than twenty-four hours is all I can say for the moment. There are quite a few people looking to claim a share in the glory of some really good news for Liverpool.” He looked around the table. “Our first priority, nationally, is to take care of the most urgent repairs and rebuilding work needed all over the country, especially in the South and South West, which suffered the worst of the coastal erosion and flooding.”
“I’ve seen the aerial shots,” Brenda said. “Devon and Cornwall—what’s left of them—are a totally different shape.” She’d already started re-assessing her classroom notes for geography lessons once the new academic year began.
Joey nodded. “I hear there are plans to offer full-time employment to anyone prepared to pick up a shovel and roll up their sleeves. Even on a fixed-term, twelve-month contract, it will put more money in the pockets of people who are currently living on benefits.”
“And make the Government look good by reducing unemployment statistics,” Dave cut in. “But that’s beside the point. I’m in favour of anything which makes for an easier life.”
“Might suit me, though.” This very quietly from Eddie, who’d spent most of the month since emerging from the underground bunker scouring the classified ads for job opportunities. He shrugged. “Well, I can still swing a shovel. Just because I’ve been flying a desk for the last few years doesn’t mean I actually enjoyed the job.”
“Easy, Ed. We all know you’re serious. But let’s not get sidetracked. The mayor brought us all here for a reason, and I don’t think we’ve quite got to it yet. Am I right?”
The mayor nodded once more. “When I said, ‘Good news for Liverpool,’ I meant specifically Liverpool. But I’ve also been told—unofficially—those applicants from regions of the country which have higher unemployment rates will get a helping hand if they need it. The benefits for Liverpool as a region will be seen in the immediate future, but we won’t have to wait to get things started.
“Effective immediately, Bidston Hill and the weather research facilities will be extended and improved and become the Hub of a national Meteorological Service. Funds will also be made available to extend and improve weather st
ations around the UK, which will all report to the Hub. I’m reliably informed that someone has leaned heavily on other countries in Europe, and we can expect both an increase in funding and improved weather data from that source, too.”
“Not a moment too soon.” Brigadier Groth’s comment was carefully neutral, containing no hint of censure or blame. Those were the first words he’d uttered since entering the room, other than a courteous acknowledgement when Mayor Anderson had thanked him for his involvement, but Dave sensed there was considerable power and authority behind the man in pristine, perfect uniform. There was no sign of Tom, Dick and Harry nor any explanation for their non-appearance. Dave had to assume that they were gainfully employed elsewhere and unable to attend.
Mayor Anderson seemed slightly flustered by the brigadier’s words, despite their apparently non-judgemental nature.
“I agree with you, Brigadier. It’s time we insisted on more cooperation from our European allies, and I’ll be making that one of my personal priorities.”
“I’m glad to have this opportunity to thank the civilian members of the team which functioned so well and at such short notice,” Groth replied. “We’d have been lost without them.”
The mayor nodded. “Hear, hear. And there’s more good news for the whole of Liverpool. Europe has agreed to allocate Objective One funding for the development and expansion of Merseyside’s docking facilities. In effect, we should be able to offer state-of-the-art cargo operations as well as the Cruise Liners Turnaround Terminal. This information must stay within these walls until certain interested parties decide to go public, but there’s a gentleman’s handshake on the deal, and I can assure you all, it won’t go sour.”
Errol had been fidgeting in his seat for several minutes and seemed to come to a decision. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he raised his hand. For some unaccountable reason, Brenda had the image of a naughty child ’fessin’ up to his teacher for a minor misdemeanour.
Taking the Heat Page 23