“That is so. In time of war or tension it would be permanently fused. But we are as yet not quite certain as to the inherent stability of the propellant.”
“Forty minutes?”
“Forty minutes.”
LeClerc turned to me. “You heard. Forty minutes.”
“I heard bits of it,” I mumbled. “I’m not hearing very well.”
“You are feeling sick?”
“Sick?” I tried to stare at him in vast surprise, but I couldn’t find his face anywhere. “Why should I be feeling sick?”
“You could fuse this, Bentall?”
“I’m a specialist in liquid fuel,” I said with difficulty.
“I know differently.” I could see his face now, because he’d stuck it within three inches of mine. “You were Fairfield’s assistant at the Hepworth Ordnance Branch. You worked on solid fuel. I know.”
“You know an awful lot.”
“Can you fuse this?” he persisted quietly.
“Whisky,” I said. “I need a drink of whisky.”
“Oh, my God!” He followed this up with some more language, most of which I fortunately couldn’t catch, then called to one of his men. I suppose lie Chinese must have gone to the officers’ mess, for a few moments later someone was putting a glass in my hand. I gazed blearily at it, a hefty three fingers in a tumbler, and put it all away in a couple of gulps. When I’d stopped coughing and wiped the tears away from my eyes, I found I could see almost as good as ever. LeClerc touched my arm.
“Well, what’s the answer? Can you fuse up the Shrike?”
“I wouldn’t even know how to start.”
“You’re ill,” LeClerc said kindly. “You don’t know what you’re saying. What you need is some sleep.”
CHAPTER TEN
Friday 10 A.M.-1 P.M.
I slept for two hours. When I awoke the sun was high in the sky and Dr. Hargreaves, the hypersonics specialist, was shaking me gently by the shoulder. At least he thought he was shaking me gently, it was probably the fact that I had a blanket drawn over me that caused him to forget that he shouldn’t have been shaking me by the left shoulder. I told him to be more careful, he looked hurt, maybe it was the way I said it, and then I pushed back the blanket and sat up. I felt stiff and sore practically everywhere, my shoulder and arm throbbed savagely, but much of the tiredness was gone and my head was clear again. Which, of course, was what LeClerc had wanted, you can’t have a man fusing and wiring up the complicated circuitry on a propellant with the disruptive potential of a hundred tons of high explosive if he’s peering, fumbling and staggering around with exhaustion like a drunken man. From time to time I have cherished my share of illusions but one which I didn’t cherish was that LeClerc had finished with me.
Hargreaves looked pale and distressed and unhappy. I didn’t wonder. His re-union with his wife couldn’t have been a very happy one, the circumstances hadn’t been very favourable and the immediate prospects even less so. I wondered what they had done with Marie, whether they had put her in with the other women, and when I asked him he said they had.
I looked around the tiny hut. It was no more than eight by eight, with racks along the walls and a tiny steel-meshed window above my head. I seemed to remember vaguely that someone had mentioned that it used to be the small arms and ammunition storage shed, but I couldn’t be sure, I’d just dropped on to the canvas cot they’d brought in and gone to sleep instantly. I looked at Hargreaves again.
“What’s been going on? Since this morning, I mean?”
“Questions,” he said tiredly. “Questions all the time. They interviewed my colleagues, myself and the naval officers separately, then they split-us up and separated us from our wives. We’re all over the place now, two or three to a hut.”
LeClerc’s psychology was easy to understand. With the scientists and naval officers broken into tiny groups, agreement on a concerted plan of resistance or revolt would be impossible: and with the scientists separated from their wives and in a consequent and continuous state of fear and anxiety over their welfare, their cooperation with LeClerc would be absolute.
“What did he want to see you about?” I asked.
“Lots of things.” He hesitated and looked away. “Mainly about the rocket, how much did any of us know about the fusing. At least that’s what he asked me. I can’t speak for the others.”
“Do you-do any of them know anything about it?”
“Only the general principles. Each one of us knows the general principles of the various components. We have to. But that doesn’t even begin to be enough when it comes to the complex particulars.” He smiled wanly. “Any of us could probably blow the whole thing to kingdom come.”
“There’s a chance of that?”
“No one has ever given a guarantee on an experimental rocket.”
“Hence the blockhouse-that sunken concrete shelter to the north?”
“The test firing was to have been carried out from there. Just a first-time precaution. It’s also why they placed the scientists’ quonset so far away from the hangar.”
“The sailors are expendable, but not the scientists? Is that it?” He didn’t answer, so I went on: “Have you any idea where they’re intending to take this rocket, the scientists and their wives. The naval officers and ratings, of course, won’t be taken anywhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know damn well what I mean. They’re of no further use to LeClerc and will be eliminated.” He shook his head in what was more an involuntary shudder than a shake and buried his face in his hands. “Did LeClerc make no mention of his ultimate destination?”
He shook his head again and turned away. He seemed badly upset about something, unwilling to meet my eye, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to blame him.
“Russia, perhaps?”
“Not Russia.” He stared at the floor. “Wherever it is, it’s not Russia. They wouldn’t look at this old steam-engine affair.”
“They wouldn’t-” It was my turn to stare. “I thought this was the most advanced-”
“In the Western world, yes. But in the last few months it’s been an open secret among our scientists, but one they’re all frightened to talk about, that Russia has developed-or is developing-the ultimate rocket. The photon rocket. Hints dropped by Professor Stanyukovich, the leading Soviet expert on the dynamics of gases, don’t leave much room for doubt, I’m afraid. Somehow or other they’ve discovered the secret of harnessing and storing anti-protons. We know about this anti-matter but have no conception of how to store it. But the Russians have. A couple of ounces of it would take the Black Shrike to the moon.”
The implications of this were beyond me: but I agreed that it was unlikely that the Soviets would want the rocket. Red China, Japan? The presence of Chinese workers and LeClerc’s Sino-Japanese transmitting set seemed to point that way, but the possibility was that those pointers were far too obvious, there were other countries in Asia-and outside Asia-who would dearly love to lay hands on the Black Shrike. But even more important than the question of what nation could or would want such a rocket was the answer to the question how any nation in the world had known that we were building such a rocket. Far back in my mind the first beginnings of an answer were beginning to shape themselves towards an impossible solution … I became gradually aware that Hargreaves was speaking again.
“I want to apologise for my stupidity this morning,” he was saying hesitantly. “Damn silly of me to persist in saying you were a solid fuel expert. I might have been putting a rope round your neck. I’m afraid I was too upset to think at all, far less think clearly. But I don’t think the guard noticed.”
“It’s all right. I don’t think either that the guard noticed.”
“You’re not going to cooperate with LeClerc?” Hargreaves asked. His hands were clasping and unclasping all the time, his nerves were no match for his brains. “I know you could do it if you wanted.”
“Sure I could. A couple of hours with Fairfield’s notes, diagrams, coding symbols and examining the actual layout, and I think I could. But time is on our side, Hargreaves- God knows it’s the only thing on our side. As far as LeClerc is concerned, the fusing is the key. He won’t leave till he gets the key. London knows I’m here, the ‘Neckar’ may get suspicious over the delay, anything can happen, and anything that can happen can only be to our advantage.” I tried to think of anything that could be to our advantage but failed. “So I sit tight. LeClerc suspects I’m an expert on solid fuels: he cannot possibly know.”