‘Helicopters with detection equipment? I think we’d draw a blank. After all, Gatt has done that many times already, and the answer has always been a lemon.’
‘I know. And now two years have gone by without a shred of evidence of anything having leaked out of the pile. On the other hand, this whole business suggests a certain sly cunning on the part of the Mighty Atom. Nobody noticed anything creeping uninvited into those tins. Yet something did. Two somethings, in fact. It’s almost as if the little monsters know when we’re not looking. We’ve got to catch them unawares. If I were a radioactive isotope lying on the ground somewhere near Marsdowne right now, the last thing I’d expect would be a search at this late date.’ He staged a shudder. ‘It gives you the creeps.’
‘All right; if you want the area searched again, Seff, I’ll have it done. And done so thoroughly that there can be no possible doubt, one way or the other, at the end of it.’ He picked up the phone. ‘Get me General Tripling,’ he said. ‘He’ll be in conference downstairs, I think.’
The operator finally traced the general to the luncheon-room. Hargreaves said: ‘That you, Horace? Robert here.’
‘Hallo, Bob. In the middle of my blasted lunch.’
‘What an unearthly time to eat!’
‘Know. Got to go down to Aldershot. Blinking nuisance, but there you are. What do you want?’
‘Helicopters.’
‘Why mine? Why not the R.A.F.?’
‘Because you owe me a favour.’
‘Corruption at the top level. It was a pretty fifth-rate mine-detector, anyway.’
‘Got a better one?’
‘Where do you want the choppers?’
‘Scotland. Glennaverley.’
‘When?’
‘Today.’
‘Stap me. You’re not asking much.’
‘I know I’m asking a great deal,’ said the Director quite seriously. ‘But it is extremely important.’
‘It must be. How many do you want?’
‘Three, if possible. Got to comb a wide area at low altitude.’
‘Ah. We’ll see what we can do. Though heaven knows, about three-quarters of the army is engaged in this business already. I’ll call you back in a few minutes. By the way, have you got a chap named Simmel in your establishment?’
‘Yes; he’s my P.A. What’s he been up t: o?’
‘Nothing — yet! What d’you make of him?’
‘You’re very curious.’
‘I have every reason to be. He seems to be falling in love with my daughter.’
‘Is he now? What an inconvenient time he’s picked for romance. I’ll have to speak to him about it.’
‘Bob. You know Sophie means the world to me. What’s she in for?’
‘Dick has access to all my files, both personal and top-secret. He knows my bank balance, and has only been bumptious once — right at the beginning. That in itself is practically a record in P.A.s. When my mother was dying he was the first to be there — on a Sunday and unasked. Any more questions?’
‘Thanks. You’ve told me all I want to know. I’ll phone you about the helicopters. Do you want to install equipment? If so, I’ll want to know the R.V. and so on. All right?’
‘Fine. I’ll arrange all the details in the meanwhile.’ After hanging up, the Director was human enough to wonder how Kate Garnet was taking it.
He didn’t have long to ruminate upon such personal matters, however. Just twenty seconds after he had replaced the receiver the bell rang again.
‘Hargreaves here,’ he said shortly.
‘My name is Mobels,’ said a rather indistinct voice, ‘and I’m speaking from the Spigett Canning Factory.’
‘Yes? What is it?’
‘It’s about your Mr Gatt. He asked me to get you on the line.’
The Director snapped irritably: ‘Well, can’t he speak to me himself?’
‘Not at the moment. Perhaps I’d better explain…’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Director sat tensely erect at the head of the conference table, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly, as if they were the rails of a companion-way. But if there was to be a storm, this was still the calm that heralded it.
He felt no mercy towards Spigett. ‘I don’t have to tell you, do I,’ he began, ‘what a mess you’re in? You may even have to face a criminal negligence charge.’
Spigett said: ‘Get on with it. I’m for the high jump. I’m ruined, and I deserve it. That’s my worry. What’s yours?’
‘Mine is to discover as soon as possible the life-history of the contaminated sugar.’
Spigett was perfectly calm and businesslike. ‘I bought it from Gould’s. And Gould himself is in the outer office now, so you’d better speak to him.’
Gould was a fussy, dapper little man who spoke so fast and so quietly that he even had Mr Rupert confused.
‘Good gracious gracious!’ he said. ‘What a terrible thing. I’ve never had anything like this happen before. I hope it isn’t due to any carelessness at my refinery. Oh, I do hope so. Impurities in my sugar? Radioactive impurities. Most extraordinary.’
‘Well, we don’t know for certain yet,’ said the Director, ‘but it rather looks as if something did get into the sugar. Perhaps it got there after it was refined. How is the sugar stored?’
‘Dear me. Well, it is stored in a big shed, you know. The granulated sugar, that is. In bins.’
‘Open bins?’
‘Dear me. And what exactly do you mean by an open bin?’
‘I mean a bin with no lid.’
‘Ah. Well, of course, they don’t have lids because the sugar is poured into the top down chutes, you see. So of course they couldn’t have lids, could they?’
Gatt said: ‘How long does the sugar remain in the bins before it is packed?’
‘Ah. That’s quite a conundrum, isn’t it? The new sugar is put in at the top, and the old sugar comes out of the bottom and is packed in cartons. So the bins are never empty — except when they are cleaned.’
‘Let us think of layers of sugar then,’ persisted Gatt. ‘How long do you think it might take for a layer of sugar to go through the bin, top to bottom?’
‘Well, that depends how quickly you take it out, doesn’t it?’ said Gould with a sudden smile of triumph.
Seff tried this time. ‘I take it you have several of these bins?’
‘That’s right. Six. Or is it seven? Gracious, I’m not sure. Perhaps it is six.’
‘You’d agree with me, then, that the more bins you have, the longer it takes for the sugar level to go down in each of them. I mean,’ he added, seeing Mr Gould’s face suddenly fogging over with confusion, ‘I mean that if you only had one bin, the sugar would go down six times as fast as it would if you were using all six of them?’
Gould expressed agreement because it sounded logical, not because he understood.
Seff continued: ‘Also, the chances of an impurity getting in would be greatly increased by using six bins instead of one, owing to the greater surface area of sugar exposed at the top.’
‘Good gracious gracious,’ said Gould. ‘But what could get in?’
‘Is the shed fully enclosed?’ said Gatt.
Gould thought this funny and tittered slightly. ‘Heavens, do you suppose I let my sugar get exposed to wind and weather? “Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness”!’ he quoted, somewhat obscurely. ‘It wouldn’t do at all. Besides, we get a lot of wind in that part of Scotland. The sugar would be blown about for miles!’ An indulgent beam.
‘I didn’t know your refinery was in Scotland,’ said the Director casually.
‘Good heavens, yes! In the Highlands. We’ve always been there, you know. Why, as Bobby Burns said—’