‘Well, it might be rather fun.’
She looked at him in absolute amazement. ‘Rather fun? Is that what you think?’ She spoke with exaggerated precision. ‘Whom for? Me? You? Whom?’
Her contempt for him was bitterly humiliating. ‘What’s wrong with me’ he said. ‘Aren’t you girls here to be… taken home?’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ She laughed cynically, a staccato monosyllable. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you! I just know I don’t want to go home with you.’ She took a swig at the drink. ‘Isn’t that plain enough? Or do you want to be psycho-thingimijigged?’ She stubbed out a cigarette that was liberally tipped with lipstick. Manson didn’t say whether he wanted to be psycho-thingimijigged or not, so she said: ‘If I were you, I’d go home and sleep it off.’ She added, not unkindly, ‘I don’t know why you’re doing this, but frankly you’re not very good at it. Thanks for the drink, anyway.’
Manson drove himself home, through deserted streets. He drove badly and drunkenly, but he didn’t hit anything. He drove across the bridge and down towards Kennington, where the trams used to go, and past the Marquess of Granby, where he took the right fork, skidding slightly on the wet road. And he drove towards Lewisham, up the hill and left into the familiar side street, and pulled up opposite the house he hated so much. A lorry came roaring down the hill, much too fast, with a great clattering and banging, but nothing else seemed alive, and there were no windows showing light in any of the houses.
Manson dragged himself out of the car and slammed the door, and that sound seemed very loud also. He found his keys and went up the steps and let himself in. He turned on the hall light, and went up the stairs he had never bothered to have carpeted because there was no one to carpet them for. And he went into the bedroom, which was a very lonely place. But it did contain a golf trophy, which stood, together with a few other personal items, on the bedside table. They included a photograph of his mother.
Manson sat down on the bed, and didn’t move for a while. Then he picked up the trophy, and examined it as if he had just received it and had never seen it before. He read the inscription and looked at the coat-of-arms above it. Then he turned the thing upside down and read the stamp that proved it was of sterling silver, and turned it the right way up again. After a while he replaced it, very carefully, on the table.
And then he broke down and cried like a baby, far into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Several days later Gatt walked briskly into the office. He seemed rather distracted.
‘Morning, Kate. Can I go in?’
‘Yes, Mr Gatt. He’s expecting you.’
He nodded and entered the inner office, found that the conference table had gone and the desk was in the usual place. The fan was still there though. It wasn’t working.
Gatt came straight to the point. ‘Robert, what’s all this about you resigning? Is it true?’
Hargreaves seemed more relaxed than he had ever known him. ‘Yes, Arlen. It’s true.’
Gatt said angrily: ‘Well, I’ve never heard such rubbish in all my life. They won’t find a better person to run this outfit, you know that. You shouldn’t have done it.’
Sir Robert smiled at him. ‘Pot calling the kettle black!’
‘Don’t be damn silly. I had to resign. I was in charge of the original investigation, and I missed up on too many things. And if I hadn’t resigned, they probably would have fired me. But you—’
Hargreaves cut him off with a gesture. ‘It’s no good, Arlen. I’ve made up my mind.’
‘They’ll never accept it.’
‘Oh yes, they will.’ He stood up easily, walked to the window and looked down on Whitehall. ‘Don’t you see that it’s necessary?’ He pointed down to the street. ‘You see all those people? A few days ago some of them were very frightened. Some of them still are. You see, nothing makes people more afraid than the unknown thing that they can’t understand. They’ve got to feel that the man at the top is someone they can trust: Well, they won’t be able to trust me any more. I’m no good to them now. I’m not a scientist; a scientist has a right to make a mistake. But it’s my job to take the responsibility.’
‘What about Jack? Don’t say he’s quitting, too!’
‘Like you, he’s tried. But also like you, he hasn’t succeeded.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t follow, Robert.’
‘Well, it’s quite simple really. The Commission has refused to accept either his or your resignation.’
‘The Commission is off its head.’
‘No, Gatt.’ Hargreaves turned round and pushed the cigarette-box across the table. ‘Have a cigarette and sit down.’ The Director sat back in his own chair and looked very comfortable. He didn’t look at all like a man who had just been forced to resign from office. ‘The Commission acted upon my recommendation. It’s true that the structure of this organisation will be altered somewhat: you will be working in much closer collaboration with the Atomic Energy Authority. But I pointed out — and they entirely agree — that you and Seff are the best possible people to carry out the most important job this Department has had so far. It will take a long time, because of the radiation hazard. But it’s got to be done.’
‘You mean, stripping down Project 3?’ Gatt raised his eyebrows. ‘I suppose,’ he added, looking thoughtfully over Hargreaves’ shoulder, ‘you wouldn’t be wondering whether Jack pressed the shut-down button in time to get the control rods down, would you?’ He shifted his gaze back to the Director. ‘Well, Robert, it might interest you to know that I have had the output meter very carefully examined by the instrument makers. You know what they found? The needle had shot across the dial and hit the pin so violently that the mechanism was appreciably buckled. That pointer didn’t creep up the dial, Robert. It happened instantaneously. So Jack Seff told nothing less than the truth; he had no warning, and could not have acted any differently.’
Hargreaves was smiling at him, ‘I think you and Jack will work together much better now,’ he said. ‘However, I could have saved you the trouble of having that meter checked.’
‘You mean, you knew?’
‘Of course! If I hadn’t I would probably have been forced to accept Seff’s resignation.’
Hargreaves got up from his seat. ‘My dear Arlen, don’t look at me like that! I’m no genius — it’s merely that I look for the simple things. Don’t you see? It was the alarm bells. If they had started ringing before Ed had got back to the control-room with the supper, he would have heard them, and would have known that something had gone wrong. Yet the first he knew about it was when he dropped the tray — after he had entered the control-room.’ He didn’t give Gatt any time to comment on this. ‘By the way, did you see in the papers this morning about Newlands Steel?’
‘Yes, something about fraud, wasn’t it?’
Hargreaves scooped him up in his slipstream and they made for the door. ‘Yes. I don’t think they’ll be turning out any more sheet-metal for quite a while. And no doubt the police will find out where they got that piece of cobalt, and what happened to it.’
Gatt opened the door. ‘I wonder what Mike Ganin will think about that?’
For a moment the Director’s attention seemed to have strayed. He was looking rather absently round the office — at the little battery of telephones and the big window overlooking Whitehall. And the fan. Then slowly he turned his back on it all and ushered Gatt out of the room. ‘What? Oh, Mike. The funny part is, he’ll probably feel sorry for them.’