‘Actually, Simmel found last night that it was beta.’
‘Simmel? How did he get into the act?’ Jack lit a cigarette and said to Manson: ‘I’m sorry, Alec, but I simply fail to see how you could have made such a mistake. Surely, all you had to do was to check a “hot” can after it had been emptied and cleaned, and you would have found that it was no longer “hot”.’
Manson was crimson in the face. ‘Really? And you think I didn’t try that? If you’re so clever, try it yourself.’
Hargreaves said: ‘Quite right. Simmel found the same thing last night.’
Seff said: ‘Well, you’re not going to tell me the cans themselves are radioactive as well. The chances of that happening are millions against! As it is, we’ve got two different kinds of radiation in the food — though I’d put my last shirt on both substances having originated from the same source.’
It was Manson who got the answer this time. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell you what happened. Now we know it’s the food inside that’s “hot”, the problem’s easy.’
‘I wish,’ said Hargreaves, ‘I thought it was easy.’
Manson said: ‘You remember, in the first place, we thought the food might have been contaminated through the sauce dissolving the coating on the inside of the can? Well, the same thing has happened, only the other way round. The coating in the tin is now “hot”, as you call it, because it had combined chemically with something in the fluid. That is why we still get a reading after the cans have been emptied. Scrape the inner coating off and the can will be dead as a dodo.’
Seff broke the silence. ‘The man’s right,’ he said simply. ‘I apologise, Alec.’
‘You needn’t apologise,’ said Manson, this time without malice. ‘I still made the mistake of not checking the beans inside the inert cans.’ Seff took the point with a nod.
Hargreaves said: ‘My God, what a beautiful muddle — and two days utterly wasted! You realise what this means, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Seff unemotionally. ‘It means that the tins we thought were harmless aren’t harmless at all. Does Gatt know this?’
‘No. And he’s still down at the Spigett factory. He’ll be back after lunch.’ Hargreaves took his place at the table. He looked very tired at that moment. He said: ‘Did you discover anything up at Marsdowne last night?’
‘I found what I suspected: that there are no isotopes missing from there. I went right through the books with Selgate and everything’s accounted for. Of course, it’s possible that such isotopes might have been obtained elsewhere, and somehow got into the food, though I think it’s unlikely.’
‘What, then, is your preferred theory?’
Seff fixed his eyes on the hub of the fan, as if he were wondering whether anything could be done about that squeak, ‘Well, of course, the alternative,’ he said casually, ‘is some unforeseen result of a reaction capable of producing the substances in question.’
‘Any particular reaction?’
Seff shrugged. ‘Hard to say. But the ordinary uranium-235 reaction would produce, among other fission products, caesium-137 and strontium-90. Caesium gives gamma (and beta as well, incidentally, but that just confuses the issue) and radio-strontium would account for the beta particles.’
‘The same reaction, in fact,’ said Manson, following Self’s eyes up to the fan, ‘as Project 3.’
If Seff noticed any innuendo in this he didn’t show it. ‘Yes,’ he said expressionlessly, ‘or any other uranium-operated pile — and that includes nearly every reactor in this country. In any case, I’m still only guessing as to their identity.’ He went on without pursuing the point. ‘What I don’t entirely understand is the uneven distribution of the two isotopes in the tins. Some of them must contain practically no gamma radiator at all — hence the fact that with these you get no reading from the outside.’
Gresham got up. ‘I’d better make sure that the necessary warnings have gone out; I sent top-priority signals first thing this morning, but I’d like to be certain that this business of the supposedly inert tins is acted upon pronto. I’ll be down in the Signal Office on the ground floor.’ He paused by the door. ‘By the way, have you decided when the press are to be allowed to print their stuff resulting from yesterday’s conference?’
‘I haven’t,’ said the Director with some emphasis. ‘But the P.M. has. Personally, I would have preferred to gag the press until we had got a bit further with the investigation; but he feels very strongly that the facts should be published at once. So the deadline is one o’clock today. Of course, there’ll have to be a further release now, about the new development. Will you arrange that, Frank?’
‘Leave it to me, old boy.’
Seff said: ‘You’ve left your toys on the table, Frank!’
The Director was not amused.
‘Is Heatherfield coming in this morning?’ asked Seff, unabashed.
‘No. He leaves for Nairobi immediately after lunch, and he’s gone to the Home Office this morning to meet the team of experts who are going with him.’
Mike Ganin said: ‘Look, Sir Robert. So far I’ve been nothing more nor less than a red herring. But there is one way in which I could help. I know Africa and the Africans. Though I come from B.G., I am of African origin myself. And I’m coloured. Let me go with Mr Heatherfield, if he will have me, and help on the other side. I think I could make myself useful.’
‘A very generous offer,’ said Hargreaves. ‘But could you leave at such short notice?’
Mike said simply: ‘I have a suitcase.’
‘Good. That’s settled. There’ll be plenty of room on the plane; the R.A.F. have lent us a Comet II. Will you go and talk to Simmel? He’ll fix you up with any papers you may need. You’d better have a few jabs, too.’
Mike grimaced. ‘Oh, that needle!’
‘Murder, isn’t it! Off you go, Mike.’ He added: ‘I’d like you to know how grateful I am for your help.’
Seff said: ‘I just don’t get it, Robert.’ They were left alone for a while — Manson had gone off in a flap to the laboratory, and Mr Rupert was in Simmel’s office typing up his notes.
‘The whole thing stinks. Consider: here we’ve got a lot of cans containing two different radioactive substances. And just to confuse the issue, they are mixed in different proportions; some of the cans containing little or none of the gamma emitter. How? What sort of accident could have such a result?’ He had a go with the tiddlywinks, and succeeding in shooting a green one right up in the air and across the table.
‘Jack, do you mind not doing that? My nerves are strained enough as it is.’
Seff smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry!’ He lit a cigarette instead and drew hard on it. ‘You know, I think we’ve got to assume the worst.’
‘Marsdowne? Yes,’ he said slowly, ‘I agree.’ He hesitated. Then: ‘I suppose you don’t know anything that I don’t know?’ A throw-away line.
‘I only wish I did.’ His private cloud of smoke was disseminated by the fan. ‘Where do we start?’
‘The pumping-room?’
‘We’d never get near the place, unfortunately. Why the pumping-room in particular?’
‘Just an idea I had.’
Seff didn’t say anything to this. Instead: ‘We’ll have to try an air search again. Go over every inch and electronically “hoe” the entire area.’