‘Surely a few setbacks, even one as serious as the heat shield failure, wouldn’t drive a man to take his own life?’ Tom queried.
‘I believe the balance of his mind was disturbed,’ Frederick announced gravely. ‘There is a fine line between genius and madness and I think, unfortunately, Erik crossed that line. The afternoon before he died, he came to see me. He was very agitated. He was like a man possessed; ranting on about how we need to destroy the collider before it destroys the world, and that Deiter knew all about it and was letting it happen. He said that he had proof and was going to go to the media if we didn’t stop the experiments immediately. The poor man — obviously some kind of breakdown.’
‘So, what did you do about it?’
‘I tried to placate him, of course. I told him that we’d shut down the collider immediately and look at the evidence to see if there was any truth in it. He seemed to calm down and we agreed to go through the data the next morning. That was the last time I saw him alive. He must have gone back to his apartment — your apartment — more disturbed than I realised, because they found him the next morning. He’d taken an overdose of sleeping pills washed down with a bottle of whisky.’
‘And the evidence he said he had?’
‘Nothing. The police searched everywhere — his apartment, office, computer — but they found nothing. Again, further proof of a deranged mind, I’m afraid. A tragic loss to us all.’
Frederick looked forlorn; he had obviously cared deeply about the man. A heavy silence fell between the two men, which was fortunately broken by the arrival of Pierre and their food.
He wished them ‘bon appétit’ whilst placing their respective dishes in front of them.
‘I just hope that tastes as good as it looks,’ Frederick said, smiling at Pierre.
Tom tried to lighten the mood by changing the topic of conversation. ‘Why is there a statue of an Indian god at the entrance of the control centre?’
Frederick chortled. ‘You mean Shiva the Destroyer?’
Tom frowned, which made Frederick laugh even more.
‘I bet, at this stage, you’re wondering what you’ve let yourself in for,’ Fredrick mused.
Damn right, Tom thought, but didn’t say anything.
Frederick continued. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not all bad. He’s also known as Shiva the Transformer. In Hinduism, he is regarded as the most powerful deity — his role is to destroy the illusions and imperfections of this world, paving the way for beneficial change. According to Hindu belief, this destruction is not arbitrary, but constructive. Shiva is, therefore, seen as the source of both good and evil and is regarded as the one who combines many contradictory elements.’
‘But why is he here?’
‘Shiva takes many forms,’ Frederick explained. ‘The one we have at CERN is Shiva Nataraja, or Lord of Dance. It is believed that he performs a cosmic dance to destroy a weary universe and make preparations for the god Brahma to start the process of creation. The symbolism of the dance is a metaphor for the cosmic dance of subatomic particles that we observe and analyse every time we operate the collider.’
‘Okay, two out of three. I’ve got the “what” and the “why”, but who put it there?’
‘It was given to us by the Indian government in 2004, to celebrate the research centre’s long association with their country. Don’t forget that, if it wasn’t for a certain Indian physicist, CERN would probably not exist and we wouldn’t be here, enjoying this delicious meal. So, I’d like to propose a toast…’ Frederick raised his glass. ‘To Satyendra Bose.’
Tom clinked his glass against Frederick’s. ‘Satyendra Bose,’ he repeated.
Frederick noticed that his plate was almost untouched, whilst Tom had nearly finished his meal. ‘I’ve been doing all the talking and neglecting Chef Michelle’s culinary masterpiece. I will be in trouble.’
They finished their meals in relative silence, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. They made small talk, but neither man felt obliged to fill the pauses between conversations. To Tom, it felt like he’d known Frederick for years; the stately man had a certain way of making him feel relaxed in his presence.
‘And how do you like your accommodation?’ Frederick asked, as he finished his last mouthful of lobster.
‘I’ve lived in worse.’ Tom thought about his student flat back at MIT.
‘It’s as temporary as you make it,’ Frederick replied. ‘Some people prefer to stay on campus because they are closer to their work. Erik was one of them. Others move out to the suburbs of Geneva, so they can have a distinct work-life balance. I am a strong advocate of the latter, and I’d recommend you do the same. I have a little place overlooking the lake. Why don’t you come round for dinner? My wife makes a wonderful Schweinshaxe mit Sauerkraut. Mrs Volker is always scolding me for not bringing my work colleagues home.’
Mrs Volker. Up until now, Tom had regarded Frederick as either a widower or confirmed bachelor.
‘Sounds delicious,’ Tom said, not having a clue what the dish was. ‘I’d love to.’
Pierre was hovering in the background and saw his opportunity to clear the table.
‘Give Chef Michelle my compliments,’ said Frederick. ‘That certainly was the best lobster I’ve ever tasted.’
‘And mine. The steak was superb,’ Tom echoed the sentiment.
‘Could I interest you in the dessert menu?’ Pierre asked, looking from one diner to the other.
Tom was the first to answer. ‘Not for me, thank you. I couldn’t eat another morsel.’
‘Could we just have the bill when you’re ready, Pierre?’ said Frederick. ‘I would think my colleague is exhausted, it’s been a long day for him.’ He turned his attention back to Tom. ‘I understand, from Deiter, that there will be a full operational trial tomorrow.’
‘Yes, it should give me an insight into just what I’ve let myself in for.’
Louis was waiting for them, by the car, at the entrance to the hotel. He quickly extinguished his cigarette when he saw them coming.
‘They’ll be the death of you,’ Frederick told him, reproachfully.
The return journey to CERN was even quicker, due to the lack of traffic. Louis pulled up outside the accommodation block; it was just after midnight. Frederick wished Tom goodnight and Tom thanked Frederick for a most enjoyable evening. Then he watched as the car left the compound.
CHAPTER 7
‘I think we’ve found our man.’ Frederick sat at the head of the large, polished mahogany table, addressing the five men and one woman that occupied the other seats to his right and left.
He had dropped Tom off at his quarters. However, instead of going directly home, he had instructed his driver to take him to an underground car park on the far side of the compound, where there were very few buildings and even fewer people to see him enter the lift, wait for the doors to close, insert a key into the control panel and press the ‘alarm’ button. Instead of the lift ascending to one of the three marked floors, the arrow indicated that he was going down.
After descending for almost a minute, the doors opened to reveal a brightly-lit, sterile, white corridor, at the end of which were two anonymous doors. The one on the right led into a windowless room where the meetings were convened; the one on the left, which could only be opened from this side, led into the underground maze of corridors and service tunnels that made up the bulk of the CERN complex. Volker had personally overseen the addition of this section to the architect’s plans and referred to it as the Bunker. Apart from the people waiting for him in the room, the builders and the architect himself, nobody else was aware of its existence.