‘And?’ the inspector prompted impatiently.
Lavelle quickly retrieved his notebook from his breast pocket and found the appropriate pages. ‘His name is Ahmed Singh Lalli. He’s only been working in the job for less than a month. He’s employed by a company called Shiva and has strict instructions not to let anybody through the gate unless they carry a company identification card. He didn’t see anybody for the first two weeks, but he said that recently there has been a lot of activity; people coming and going, maybe two or three times a week.’
‘What about Volker and Halligan?’ asked Gervaux. ‘Did they leave through the gate just now?’
‘He didn’t recognise the names, but he said that nobody has left during his shift, which started at eight this morning.’
‘Do you believe him?’
Lavelle shrugged. ‘Put it this way, after the talk I had with him, he values his freedom more than he does his job.’
‘Then they must still be here,’ replied Gervaux. ‘I want this place sealed off. Nobody leaves the compound unless we can verify their identity, and only then if we get a note from their mothers. Call in reinforcements if you have to. I want the entire complex searched from top to bottom with a fine-tooth comb. And call the forensics team; there are some footprints on the third floor I want analysed.’ Gervaux scanned the car park again, expecting his quarry to suddenly materialise. ‘Where are you, Halligan?’ he muttered to himself.
CHAPTER 27
‘Your arrogance is responsible for that.’
Deiter stopped in front of the television screen and pointed to the images of the devastation caused by the latest earthquake. He had been pacing back and forth in front of his captives like a caged animal. He flicked a switch on the remote control and the screen went blank. He turned round to face the three people seated in front of him, their hands and feet tied with PlastiCuffs, nylon rope binding them to their chairs. The security guard had taken up a position behind them, the muzzle of his automatic pistol resting in the crook of his arm.
‘Did you really think you could control the Collider?’ he was directing his question at Frederick.
‘We had to. We believed we could prevent the discovery of the God particle…’
‘And stop man destroying himself,’ Deiter finished his sentence for him. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fully aware of your beliefs,’ he added sarcastically. ‘But you failed to consider the consequences of your actions.’
‘Which were?’ Volker asked defiantly.
‘This,’ Deiter gestured to the newsreel. ‘You were right about the butterfly effect. The electro-magnetic waves generated by the Collider do have an effect on the Earth’s geomagnetic field, causing it to become unstable. But what you failed to realise is that it’s self-sustaining. By disturbing the polar equilibrium, you have set in motion a chain reaction, the balance of which cannot be restored until it has completed its inexorable march towards the final solution.’
‘Meaning?’ this from Serena.
‘Total polar reversal,’ interjected Tom. ‘What we are witnessing is a phenomenon that has taken place several times over the millennia. North becomes south and vice versa. The last one took place about eight hundred thousand years ago, but as none of us were around to see it reports on how it affected the human population are a bit sketchy. The difference between this one and all the previous ones is that this is man-made.’
‘I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?’ Volker shook his head, trying to rationalise Deiter’s motives.
‘I didn’t — you did!’ Deiter raised his voice, pointing an accusatory finger at Volker.
‘But YOU could have stopped it,’ Volker spat back.
Deiter nodded sagely, as if contemplating the suggestion for the first time. ‘Yes, I could have stopped it. I could have allowed Morantz to go to the media with his findings. But, then again, so could have you. Moranz told me before he died that he’d spoken to you and told you that he thought the Collider was responsible for the earthquakes.’ Deiter shrugged. ‘You did nothing about it.’
‘I didn’t believe it was true at the time.’ Volker’s response was almost inaudible, sadness clouding his eyes.
‘Didn’t believe, or didn’t want to believe?’
Volker was silent.
‘So, why didn’t you put a stop to it? It would have been the right thing to do,’ Serena asked indignantly.
Deiter resumed his frantic pacing. He seemed to be struggling with his internal demons. ‘It would have been the right thing to do,’ he repeated over and over, mimicking Serena’s words.
His actions were becoming more animated now, his ruddy complexion deepening to an unhealthy crimson. Serena thought he was going to have a heart attack. He stopped abruptly in front of her, turned on his heels and lurched towards her, his face stopping inches away from hers. She recoiled instinctively, but her bindings held her so she couldn’t turn from the manic eyes that were now boring into hers.
‘Let me tell you what happens when you do the right thing.’ His last words were delivered with a mocking sneer.
Serena could see spittle accumulating at the corners of his mouth and she could smell his putrid breath. She tried to look away from the insanity evident behind his dilated pupils, but she was transfixed, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
After what felt like an eternity, he released her from the spell, turning his attention to Volker. ‘Professor, I believe you knew my father?’
Frederick stared back at him blankly.
‘Let me re-phase that,’ continued Deiter. ‘I believe you knew of my father?’
The vacant expression remained on Frederick’s face.
Deiter took a few steps back, positioning himself centrally to his captive audience and prepared himself as if he was an actor delivering a soliloquy. He took several deep breaths and trained his eyes just above his spectators’ heads.
‘My father was one of the greatest scientists that ever lived,’ he bellowed as if to a packed auditorium. Sensing he had grabbed everybody’s attention, he continued. ‘My father did the right thing and was castigated by his peers, the American Government and the very people whose lives he saved. It’s time the world knew the truth of what really happened during the war.’
For the next hour, Deiter delivered a monologue on the life of his father, starting with how he had grown up in abject poverty on his parents’ farm in a small village in Bavaria. What little money they had spare was spent on doctors’ fees in an attempt to cure his affliction, which manifested itself as a severe facial tic.
As a child he was expected to help out with the daily chores once he finished school, working long into the night when the crops needed harvesting. Exhausted, he would climb into his bed, which he shared with his four younger brothers and sisters, and read by candlelight until he fell asleep.
His appetite for literature was insatiable. At the age of 10 he had read an entire library of books, mainly donated to him by his teachers, who recognised the latent genius in him. He passed the necessary exams to be selected for higher education with flying colours. Unfortunately, the nearest high school — or Gymnasium, as they were then called — was in Bremen, which meant a four-hour round trip on the local bus. It suited his education as he was able to read uninterrupted for the entire journey, shunned by his fellow pupils because of his facial twitches. As a consequence of his imposed absence, the farm suffered and, eventually, his father had to sell the land that had been in the family for generations, moving closer to the city in rented accommodation so their son could be nearer to his school and have access to the necessary doctors for his treatment.