‘The longer we stay up here,’ said the pilot, ‘the happier I am! And there’s the loch.’ At the head of the stream lay a dark patch of water, only visible because the moonlight was reflected from its surface. All around it rose the black, unfriendly cliffs.
‘The narrowest part of the river seems to be where it joins the loch,’ shouted Dick. ‘And that must be where the ancient dam was. Now it’s all crumbled away, they tell me.’
The pilot studied the shadowy contours below. ‘Still, as far as I can see there seems to be a fair amount of water in the loch.’
‘It must be quite shallow. Don’t forget there’s been some heavy rainfall. But when the level drops, a lot of the bed of the lake is exposed. Sorry, loch! Even now you can see a border of sand all the way round the water.’
Pentecue banked the aircraft to get a better view. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. What was the purpose of the dam, I wonder? I mean, why was it necessary to keep the loch up to that level?’
‘I gather it was used as a water supply in the old days. Must have been a bit pongy too, I should think! After all, it’s only a small stretch of water, and I dread to think how many cows must have fallen off the cliffs and got buried under the silt! The loch is still used for irrigation, I believe. It’s above sea-level, so the water flows out of it easily enough.’
The Major momentarily took his eyes off the controls. ‘Where did you get all your “gen” from, Simmel?’
‘At the local. As soon as they found out why we were here, they came up with their pet theory. It’s all wrong, of course; but there’s just one thing about it that makes sense.’ He switched on the detection equipment, which had been mounted behind the seat. ‘Now, if you will come down lower, I’ll see if I get any pips out of this thing.’
‘Okay. But I’d better get through to base first. I promised to maintain contact.’ He picked up a microphone and pressed the pressel switch. ‘Hallo, baker one; hallo, baker one. Report my signals. Baker one, over.’
‘Baker one. Okay. Over.’
‘Baker one. Okay. We’re over the loch now, and we’re going down to have a closer look. Over.’
‘Baker one. Roger. Wait one.’ There was a lengthy pause. Then the voice came back. ‘Can you put Simmel on? Over.’
Pentecue handed Dick the headset and microphone. Dick looked enquiringly at him, rather surprised. But Pentecue said nothing, gesturing with his spare hand that Simmel was to take over the radio. Dick put on the headset and pressed the switch. ‘Baker one. Simmel speaking. Over.’
‘Good!’ came the voice. ‘Can you remember army procedure? Over.’
‘Baker one. Just about! Over.’
‘Baker one. Roger. All you need remember really is to say “over” at the end of each transmission. It’s important, because we’ve just had orders to connect you by remote control to London by telephone. Each time you say “over” we have to switch over with you — otherwise confusion reigns. Do you understand? Over.’
Dick pulled a face. ‘God!’ he said to Pentecue, ‘what now? I’ve got to have a ruddy telephone conversation!’
The Major grinned but didn’t look up from the controls. ‘Probably a rocket from your outfit for taking a midnight flip. Serves you right!’
Dick pressed the switch again. ‘I get it. I’ll stand by for your further call. Out.’
The aircraft was now hovering quite low over the water, but so far the geiger counter was only registering the background count. ‘Can you get lower still?’ said Dick.
‘This isn’t a bloody submarine! All right, I’ll go down till the wheels touch.’
Abruptly the radio came to life, and clearly through the headphones came Gatt’s voice. He spoke in a very stilted way. He was obviously unused to this kind of procedure. ‘Hallo, baker one,’ he said laboriously. ‘Can you hear me?’ There was a longish gap, followed by a squawking noise. Then his voice came back. ‘Sorry — forgot to say “over”. Once again, are you receiving me? Over.’
Simmel said: ‘Yes, I can hear you clearly. Over.’ He waited in some trepidation or the impending rocket.
Gatt said: ‘Good. I won’t waste time on the why’s and wherefore’s’ — he sounded more relaxed now — ‘but, anyway, I think you did right not to worry us with whatever strange theory sent you aloft in the middle of the night. Now, listen Carefully. We now know — almost for certain — that the centre of contamination is Loch Logie. And I understand you’re over the loch now — is that right? Over.’
‘Yes. In fact we’re almost down to the surface of the water, only there doesn’t seem to be any detectable radiation. The reason I decided to investigate was because some local wizard in the town got talking while I was in the pub. It’s about the level of the loch. Apparently it varies a good deal, because a somewhat archaic dam, that was built heaven knows how long ago, has crumbled away. So there is nothing to stop the water flowing out. It seems the loch has almost run dry on two occasions…’
Gatt looked across the table at Seff, who nodded. Manson had gone white. And when he tried to write an annotation on the piece of paper upon which he had been doodling, his fountain-pen just made a big blotch. He looked slowly up at Gatt as if he couldn’t help himself. But Gatt said nothing to him, just focused his eyes unseeingly on a blob of sweat that threatened to trickle down Manson’s nose, and barked into the microphone. ‘Dick, what’s the radiation level? You’d better watch out for yourselves. Over.’
‘There’s no need to worry at the moment. Unfortunately, I can’t pick up a thing. Over.’
‘That’s odd. Well, keep trying. I’ll call you back in a few minutes. Now I’m talking to the operator: Keep this line free whatever happens and listen on the line. I’m leaving the receiver off the hook.’
Gatt turned to Manson. ‘Alec, now you have been confronted with this thing, can’t you think back and remember whether you had any conscious doubts about that cock? You see, if you turned the right one — as you still say you thought you had — we’re wasting our time with this loch theory. Simmel has already found that the surface, at least, of the water is not radioactive, so we could be wrong.’
Manson spoke quietly and hesitantly. He was clearly on his guard. ‘I can only say,’ he answered, ‘that once I was inside the pumping-room, I was naturally very aware of the importance of turning the right cock.’
‘Exactly what did you do?’ said the Director, quite calmly and quietly.
‘Well, in the darkness there was only one thing I could do. I knew it was the second one from the door; so I groped around until I found the first one, and knew it couldn’t be that. So then I went a bit farther in and found the other one. Having found it I opened the cock.’
‘And at this stage you had no doubts?’ said Gatt.
‘That.is so.’
‘But, Alec,’ said the Director gently, ‘if you had no doubts — then or afterwards — how do you account for what you said under the anaesthetic?’
Suddenly Mr Rupert, who had hardly said anything throughout the entire three days, looked up from his Stenotype and offered an opinion. ‘I think I can explain that,’ he said in his sibilant voice. ‘It is a case of the mind being triggered below the threshold of consciousness.’