‘We’ll have to look at a hell of a lot more things than that!’ said the Director, grimly enough. But the loudspeaker cut him short.
‘Hallo, baker one. Can you hear me okay? Over.’
Gatt replied that he could.
‘Good. Nice to know you’re there. It’s pretty spooky in these parts! Well, we’ve been up and down the water like a ruddy lawn-mower; and although the count is slightly above normal background in one or two places there is nothing much cooking in these parts. Over.’
‘Baker one. I’m certain we’re on the right track, but I think I see what’s happening. The water itself won’t be very radioactive because it has been replaced several times over by the rain and the springs flowing into it. The real trouble must therefore be in the silt underneath, and the water is shielding you from the radiation. If you are right about the level of the loch going up and down, what must be happening is this: when the level is low, parts of the loch-bed are exposed and become dry. Then, during a high wind, the radioactive silt is blown away, causing the trouble. Are you with me so far? Over.’
‘Yes. I understand. Then there is no way of finding out without dredging the loch? Over.’
‘I think there is. But it depends how much fuel you’ve got. Over.’
‘Just a minute, then.’ A minute ticked by, and the pip-pip-pip of the trunk-line timing system came clearly over the speaker.
Seff said: ‘I think your idea is too dangerous, Gatt.’
Arlen said: ‘It depends on the moon. As long as they can see what they’re doing they’ll be all right. But we’ll have to leave it to them.’
‘Baker one again,’ said Simmel. ‘We’re okay for fuel for another hour. What we’re a bit concerned about is the light. The moon is bright most of the time, but there are some streaky clouds that keep obscuring it. I think we’ll be all right if we keep an eye on them though. What do you want us to do? Over.’
‘Well, for God’s sake be careful and don’t take any unnecessary risks. Because what I am going to ask you to do means going near the cliff edge. If it is too dangerous you must not even try it. On the other hand, if we can get a positive answer to the problem it’s going to make a lot of difference to everyone.’
The Director said: ‘Ask him what the wind is like.’
Gatt nodded appreciatively. ‘Of course: most important.’ He spoke again into the telephone. ‘How’s the wind, Simmel? Over.’
‘Not much of it. But what there is is gusty. Over.’
Gatt covered up the receiver with his hand. ‘I don’t like it,’ he said. ‘There’s too much risk.’
Frank said: ‘Couldn’t we send out a ground party?’
‘The trouble is it’s difficult to reach the loch by land,’ said Hargreaves thoughtfully. ‘The only way you can get down is to scale the cliffs. And if we don’t get the answer tonight… well, there might be something like a general panic. The Cabinet are extremely anxious on that score. No, we’ll have to go through with it, though you must understand that it is entirely on my responsibility.’
Gatt made no comment on this. But he said: ‘Do you mind if we stop the fan, Robert? My head is pounding like a road-breaker.’ Hargreaves got up to turn the thing off. Gatt uncovered the telephone receiver and spoke to Simmel. ‘Baker one. My idea is that the silt at the edge of the loch must be in the same condition as the mud at the bottom. But because the water is shallow at the edge the radiation should come through. Over.’
‘Roger. Actually if we can get tight-in to the cliff we will be over naked ground, because even now the water isn’t quite up to its maximum level. The biggest patch of uncovered mud is near the outlet — where the dam used to be. On either side of the channel there is open ground. The trouble is, it’s the narrowest point for us, because the cliffs close in on either side. Wait a minute; I’ll ask the pilot what he thinks.’
Abruptly there came a knock on the door. The Director who had been standing by the fan switch, himself went to the door and opened it. ‘Sophie!’ he exclaimed. ‘What —?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, a little embarrassed now that she had taken the plunge. ‘I just wondered—’
Hargreaves managed a smile. ‘You’d better come in, dear. We’re just talking to Dick on the radio.’ He saw she was perplexed. ‘Remote control from Glennaverley,’ he explained. She nodded rather doubtfully, and he motioned her to Simmel’s chair. Gresham smiled reassuringly from across the table. Sophie, grateful, tried to smile back.
Simmel’s voice came up on the radio again. ‘Baker one. We’re going to try it. And I’m going to stay on the air all the time until we’re clear of the place.’ Sophie sat transfixed, her eyes wide open, like a child’s, gazing intently at the loudspeaker. ‘Major Pentecue has opened the throttle and we’re heading down the lake towards the outlet. We’re about thirty feet up, and that’s about as low as we dare go once we reach the crevice between the two cliffs… The moon’s okay at the moment, though you can’t always see this cloud until the last moment. So far, no radiation.’
‘What’s he doing?’ said Sophie tensely. ‘What’s this about a crevice?’
‘He’s going to take a closer look, that’s all,’ said Gatt, kindly enough. ‘Nothing very dangerous.’
‘But…?’ She broke off. ‘Can’t I speak to him?’
‘I’m afraid not. At least, not yet. No one can until he stops transmitting.’
‘I see.’
‘…It’s getting a bit bumpy, now that we’re approaching the cliff. And I think we’ll have to get lower if we can — because there’s nothing much coming out of the hot-box. I suppose most of the stuff became deposited near the other end — the Marsdowne end…’
‘Tiddlywinks again,’ said Gatt in an undertone.
‘We’re dropping down into the gully now — I wish you could hear some of the things Major Pentecue is saying about you! Hallo! We’re beginning to get some real action from the geiger counter. Hurrah! Yes, this loch is hot all right!’
‘Come out now!’ shouted Hargreaves impotently. ‘You’ve told us what we’ve wanted to know. Come out of there, for God’s sake!’
‘…The radiation level, Gatt, on this machine is reading about three-quarters of the way up the dial, on the low range — about 7 roentgen-hours, that is. Our height is roughly twenty feet. I hope that is some help. Damn! Just as we wanted it most the moon is going behind a cloud. This may be a bit dicey. Hell, it’s dark around here. There’s a bit of wind, too. It must get sucked through the narrow end of the valley. Frankly, I’m scared. I’m glad I’ve got to keep talking… we’re going up now, and with any luck we’ll get clear. But you can’t see a damn thing! Pentecue is allowing for drift and we’re sort of edging crabwise out of the crevice. E-a-s-y, now!.. Thank God, the moon is coming up again and Jesus Christ…!’ There was a click on the line.
And then, nothing.
With unnatural calm Gatt spoke into the phone. ‘I’m speaking to the radio operator at Glennaverley. Can you hear me?’
‘Yes, sir. I’m afraid… I’m afraid they’ve stopped transmitting.’
‘Call them up yourself and re-establish contact.’
‘Yes, I’ll try that. Hold on, please.’
Sophie stared across the table, an awful, unspoken question in her gaze. If she had been capable, in those few long seconds, of considering ‘love’ as an abstract idea, her thoughts of the previous day would have seemed strangely inapplicable — ‘because you are the man, you will know your feelings more quickly…’ She had learned hers quickly enough.