By now they had reached the far end of the corridor. Frederick had paused to finish his story, before swiping his security card to open another set of frosted glass doors.
It was a hive of activity in the control room; technicians were monitoring a bank of 46-inch LED screens that covered an entire wall of the large, rectangular room. Each monitor displayed a different graph or scrolling set of figures highlighted in either green or red. It reminded Tom of the images he’d seen as a child of the NASA control centre during the lunar landings, except this was much more high-tech. The room itself was divided into four by semi-circular work stations or islets, each housing five consoles and each one being operated by an individual specialist.
‘As you can see, we are in the middle of testing the alignment of the proton beams,’ Frederick explained.
‘How many people work at the facility?’ Tom queried.
‘We employ over two and a half thousand full-time and fifteen hundred part-time staff across the entire complex.’
Tom let out a low whistle.
‘It may sound a lot, but you have to take into consideration that we are totally self-sufficient, we have our own hospital and fire brigade on site. We grow most of our own produce, farm our own meat and dairy products, purify our own water and even generate our own electricity. We are, for all intents and purposes, a small town unified by a single goal. And you, Tom, are its new Mayor.’
The gravity of his new position struck home.
‘When you put it like that, it’s quite…’ Tom paused, searching for the right word.
‘An honour?’ Frederick offered.
‘Daunting, I was going to say.’
Frederick gave a genial laugh. ‘Let me introduce you to your deputy Mayor.’
They went over to a small syndicate of people huddled around a conference table in the centre of the room.
‘Apologies if I’m interrupting, but I’d like to introduce you to Tom Halligan, our new Director General,’ Frederick announced to the group, resting a hand on Tom’s shoulder.
The gathering turned to face Tom in unison.
‘And this is Dr Deiter Weiss,’ Frederick pointed out the man in the middle of the huddle. ‘If there’s anything you need to know about the facility, Deiter’s your man.’
Tom put out his hand to shake Deiter’s. There was a brief pause and, for a split second, Tom had the uncomfortable feeling that Deiter was just going to leave Tom with his hand suspended in the air. But then he moved forward and grasped the outstretched hand in a vice-like grip.
‘It’s a pleasure to be working with you, Professor Halligan.’ Deiter’s face was impassive, but Tom could sense the insincerity in his voice.
‘The pleasure is all mine,’ Tom countered, emphasising the word ‘pleasure’. Did he spot a flicker of annoyance cross Deiter’s face? The two pugilists parted, retreating to the safety of their own corners.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ continued Frederick, ‘I’ll leave you in Deiter’s capable care to get you acquainted with the rest of the team. I shall pick you up at eight and I’ll take you to my most favourite restaurant in Geneva.’ With that, Frederick left the control room.
There was an awkward silence. Frederick had left a void in the room that Tom felt compelled to fill.
‘So, how are the tests going?’ Tom directed his question at Deiter. Again, a pregnant pause, a second too long, like a bad comedian misjudging his timing when delivering the punchline.
‘We have initiated the alignment sequence and everything seems to be working perfectly.’ The voice breaking the silence didn’t come from Deiter, but from an attractive, auburn-haired woman standing just to the left of him.
Tom turned to face the person who had saved him from an embarrassing situation. ‘And you are?’
‘Serena Mayer.’ This time, it was she who volunteered her hand first and Tom shook it gently. As he looked at her, he couldn’t help but notice her brilliant green eyes, almost feline.
‘And what is your speciality, Miss Mayer?’
‘Please call me Serena. I am the Director of Statistical Analysis.’ She spoke with an accent Tom had difficulty identifying.
The group started to disband and drift back to their workstations, leaving Deiter as her chaperone.
‘Perhaps, when I’ve settled in, we could go over the figures from today’s test?’ Tom enquired.
She glanced furtively at Deiter.
‘I can provide you with all the information you require,’ Deiter interjected.
‘I’d prefer to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth,’ Tom replied, emphatically.
‘As you wish,’ Deiter conceded.
‘I’ll catch up with you later then,’ Tom said, turning his attention back to Serena. She nodded and left the two men to sort out their differences.
CHAPTER 6
By late afternoon, the jetlag had kicked in and Tom’s head was pounding. He had taken a couple of paracetamol earlier, but they had done little to ease the pain behind his eyes. He excused himself from the meeting that he had been invited to attend and made his way to his accommodation.
The apartment was in keeping with the minimalist ethos that seemed to underlie the architect’s vision of a research facility. The beige walls and fawn carpet reminded him of an inexpensive hotel room. The living room had been appointed with the bare minimum amount of furniture required to make its occupant feel comfortable, but not at home.
A large, square, orange sofa dominated the room, with a small, imitation wood table and chair tucked into one of the corners. A laptop computer sat on top of it, its screen open with the words, ‘Welcome to CERN, Professor Halligan’ scrolling across the monitor in luminous green writing. The opposite corner was filled by a TV, CD player and telephone on a matching imitation wood unit.
The kitchen, with its patio doors leading out onto a quadrangle, was functional and had been equipped with all the necessary appliances, cutlery and crockery. The ‘theme’ continued into the bedroom and consisted of a double bed, dressing table, wardrobe with full-length mirror and two bedside cabinets on which stood nightlights. The en-suite bathroom was just that.
Ajay had deposited his suitcases on the bed and had left a note on top of one of them, which read, ‘I am in room 454, please come when you want me to finish the stories’. Putting the note in his pocket, Tom moved the suitcases onto the floor and lay down on the bed. As much as he wanted to, he was far too tired to listen to Ajay’s narrative.
The distant sound of buzzing seemed to grow louder and louder. At first, Tom couldn’t work out what it was or where he was, as he groggily opened his eyes and saw the unfamiliar furniture. Then his brain caught up and he realised he must have fallen asleep. The buzzer rang again, longer this time. His brain told him it was the door bell and he must answer it in order to silence the noise, but his body was having difficulty actioning the request. It rang again. He managed to swing his legs off the bed and stand up, shakily. This time there was a knock followed by a familiar voice.
‘Tom, are you in there?’ It was Frederick.
‘Coming!’ Tom managed to reply, his brain and body finally working as one.
He opened the door to see a concerned face.