‘Go on.’
Gatt spoke thoughtfully. ‘If I can persuade Jack to go up to Marsdowne for a thorough check-over, will you go with him?’
‘You mean, to keep him out of trouble?’
‘If you have to put it like that, yes.’
‘Sure I’ll go. If he will have me. The trouble is, he’ll know why I’m going. I haven’t spent much time up there lately.’ The words spoke for themselves. ‘Still, it would be the lesser of two evils even if he gets wise to it.’ She looked at him very directly. ‘You’re not going to strip down that Project 3 thing, are you?’
He looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t think it would be possible. I wish to hell I could.’
‘But you said—’
‘My dear Angela, don’t jump to conclusions all the time!’
She stared at him.
III. THE SECOND DAY
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was no secret in the Department that Alec Manson was jealous of Jack Seff.
Whereas it was probably true that Manson was the only person in the entire Department who considered that he was of comparable ability, Alec had among his allies those who felt that he made up for his inferior attributes as a scientist by his more reliable qualities as a man.
Admittedly, to put it charitably, he was rather anxious to please; but then, surely, it was right to give all he’d got in a manner that was palatable to the Director? Seff, he considered, was too much of an individual, too independent, too purely scientific. Well, everybody knew that politics were just as important as the job itself. What was the good of carrying out experiments, however exciting and important, if you couldn’t sell the ideas that emerged from them? Seff, in his view, was more out for himself and his own nebulous dreams than he was for the Department.
Sir Robert, as it happened, saw things a little differently. He would no more have dreamed of putting Alec in charge of Marsdowne than he would young Simmel. Manson was useful enough, with supervision. But his attitude to research was unimaginative. He would discover one way of doing something, and think it the only way. He ignored digressions, forgetting that sometimes an unexpected result could lead to an important discovery. And if he was carrying out experiments for some specific purpose, he was inclined to force the evidence to point towards the required result, instead of waiting to see what really happened. He had knowledge and ability, but no flair.
With Seff, the faults were all on the other side. As a pure research scientist he was unquestionably brilliant, and his very brilliance rendered him a bit of a question-mark when matters of simple common sense and routine came up. The humdrum things bored him; he couldn’t be bothered with them. Yet the nature of his responsibilities demanded that he saw them through.
Moreover, Sir Robert was well aware, without any prompting from Gatt, of Seff’s drinking habits, and had become increasingly worried about them. But it seemed that Seff had pulled himself together of late. All the same, it had been his intention to promote Selgate, step by step, so that eventually he would take over all administrative control of Marsdowne, leaving Seff free to concentrate entirely on research. This was the logical and sensible thing to do, and had Frank Gresham’s full approval — and, after all, it was Frank’s function in life to look after all administration. In this event, Selgate would become directly responsible to London for all dangerous materials issued or lent to private industry. But such changes took time. Now he wished that he had put the new system into operation a lot sooner.
Something that needed watching, thought Hargreaves, was the personal situation developing between Manson and Seff — even if it was entirely on one side. For, oddly enough, Seff hadn’t even noticed that Manson was after his job. He was too blinded by the situation over Angela to see the obvious…
Simmel was not required to attend all sessions of the meeting. In his capacity as P.A., there were other things to do. The special catering requirements were in his hands. So, too, were all arrangements for transport, official entertainment and press conferences — and the press could neither be held at bay nor pushed on to the A.E.A. for ever. A press conference was therefore arranged to take place in the afternoon. There was also the matter of liaison with the services and the Ministry to organize for Gresham, so that he could spend the maximum time at the meeting and the minimum hanging on the end of telephone lines. All this on top of the Director’s own personal and semi-personal affairs.
Such matters kept him away from the building until after eleven, where he eventually arrived, on the second day of the meeting, in the Director’s official car, and received the usual uncertain treatment from the commissionaire, who never could quite decide whether he should benefit from deferential treatment or not. He thought probably not; but it was better to be on the safe side. Simmel, who rather enjoyed keeping him guessing, had never clarified the situation.
The man opened the door for him. ‘Good morning, Mr Simmel,’ he said.
‘Morning, Sergeant Drake,’ said Dick. ‘Hallo, you’ve got a new medal! What’s that one for?’
‘We call that the Strand Medal.’
‘What’s it mean? That you’ve been a good boy?’
The commissionaire smiled slightly. ‘You’ve got to be a “good boy” for ten years to wear this one.’
‘How on earth do you do it?’
‘It’s a matter of moderation, sir.’
Simmel stepped into the lift. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very moderate about anything, Drake! I either do it or I don’t do it. If you follow.’
The lift doors met exactly at the centre of Sergeant Drake’s broad grin.
Dick kissed Kate on the top of her head, and she didn’t react but said, ‘Manson wants to stage a demonstration with a geiger counter this afternoon. He wants the one from the No. 2 lab, and also a couple of Spigett’s tins, unopened — one “hot” and one innocuous. And let me see… yes: a can-opener and two dinner-plates.’
‘What’s he want to do — poison everybody?’
‘Perhaps. He could start on a man who takes a girl home and nearly falls asleep before he’s even kissed her good night.’
‘Sorry. I’ve had rather a tough time these last few days.’
She turned to burrow in a filing cabinet. ‘I think I’d prefer it without the excuses,’ she said.
He gave her a pat, said ‘Don’t be an ass’ and went through to the Director’s office. Kate sat down, wondering what it all meant and knowing what it all meant and sat down at her desk again. She stared gloomily at the electric clock on the wall but wasn’t wondering what the time was.
She must have been gazing at it like that for at least a minute when the phone rang. She snapped herself out of it and picked up the receiver.
‘This is Ed Springle.’ She recognized his voice from the previous evening. Are they in conference?’
‘Yes, Mr Springle.’
‘What time do they break?’
‘They usually have coffee round about this time. But I haven’t had word yet.’
‘I see. Well, something’s come up. Something important, I think.’ There came a pause at the other end of the line. ‘Look, I’d better give you the gist of it, then I suggest you write it down and take in a note to Arlen. Are you the girl who came to our party last night — with that P.A. fellow?’
‘Yes, we were there.’ She was at a loss. Embarrassed, she began to stumble over some words of thanks.
He interrupted her. ‘Thought so. Glad to have you. So I’m not talking to just a voice, anyway. You got your pad ready?’