CHAPTER 1... is live

Read now and enjoy!...

Every Friday at 4:00 I’ll be sharing a chapter of “The bomb in the shed….” If you’re not up to date you can see all previous chapters and other content here…

And here we go with CHAPTER 1…

Chapter 1

The whole audience turned to stare at Arthur Price as he skulked in the shadows at the back of the hall, nursing a half empty glass of wine, trying his best to stay out of everyone’s way. It was the most attention he’d received in all of his sixty five years, and it was mortifying.

“Tell us about your husband, what does he do?”

That was the question his wife, Camilla, had been asked by the young publicist interviewing her on stage. Camilla had paused, her silver hair shining as bright as a halo in the glare of the spotlight. Up to that point she’d been basking in the adoration of the crowd, sharing the secrets behind her seventh and latest best-selling novel A season for love. But at the mention of her husband her smile had faded, just a little, and she’d shielded her eyes from the light’s glare as she sought him out in the crowd. She’d pointed and waved. The spotlight had swung round and picked him out. The audience’s attention had followed.

Arthur waited patiently for the ground to swallow him whole.

Camilla said, “You know, he keeps himself busy, with his little project in the shed.”

This insight was greeted with polite laughter before the interview quickly moved on to more pressing questions, around the love life of her glamorous retiree heroine Jacqueline Devereux. It was a relief that everyone’s attention was elsewhere once more. Arthur shouldn’t even be at the launch, there was far too much for him to do back at home. His little project wasn’t going so well and standing around a book launch like a spare part wasn’t going to help. Camilla usually took their daughter, Alex, to these events. She was a big fan of her mum’s writing. But Alex was away at a fashion shoot, so Camilla had made Arthur come along for moral support. And this was his reward, total humiliation. 

“You must be very proud of your wife.”

A young man had appeared next to Arthur, slicked back dark hair, sharp features, pristine white jeans. What on earth would Camilla think if Arthur wore trousers like that? He assured the fellow that he was indeed very proud of his wife, but the words sounded hollow in his own ears. It was hard to maintain the appropriate level of sincerity when he’d had to answer the same question so many times. The young man’s eyes momentarily flicked to the nearby poster of the square-jawed hero on the cover of Camilla’s new book, then back to Arthur, the stark contrast between fiction and reality evident in his expression.

It was a typical reaction.

The young man offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Jacob.”

“Arthur Price.”

Jacob’s strong handshake squeezed Arthur’s fingers together uncomfortably and almost pulled his shoulder joint out of its socket. You had to be so careful with rotator cuffs, they were a nightmare.

Jacob said, “I’m here with my mother.”

The clarification was understandable, the room was full of women over the age of sixty, crowding around Camilla as she left the stage, desperate for her to sign their books. Jacob nodded in the crowd’s direction but it was hard for Arthur to tell whose son he was, they all looked the same to him.

 Jacob topped up Arthur’s glass with a bottle of wine he’d clearly been keeping to himself.  “Tell me about this project of yours, I’d love to hear about it.”

Was he being serious, or being sarcastic? Arthur could never tell the difference.

“It’s nothing really, just something I’ve been tinkering with since I retired. I’m an engineer.”

Jacob didn’t seem discouraged. “What kind of engineer?”

“Weapons systems mainly. I worked for the MOD.”

“You’re not building a bomb, are you?”

Jacob laughed at this, like it was funny. So Arthur did too.

They chatted for a while, which was fine by Arthur because it was about work. He wasn’t very good at small talk, especially with strangers, but Jacob seemed to make conversation easy. The attention was surprisingly enjoyable too, he could see why Camilla found it so intoxicating. If this was what it felt like when one person was hanging on your every word, what would it be like with a room-full? Terrifying probably. Arthur talked about his time at BAE systems, QinetiQ and Lockheed Martin, and some of his more interesting patents. He had to be careful how much he revealed, but once he got going it was hard to stop, he was proud of his work and rarely got to talk about it.

The more he shared, the more engaged and animated Jacob seemed to become.

“That’s an impressive career.” Jacob poured Arthur another glass of wine.

The praise felt good.

“You seem to know a lot about the defence space yourself,” replied Arthur.

Jacob was a good listener but he knew the right questions to ask too, smart stuff that got Arthur thinking, which was a rare quality.

“I’m no expert,” Jacob replied, “But it pays to stay up to date with new tech, for my work. It all moves so fast. In fact, I’d love to see what you’re working on now, if you don’t mind?”

The request caught Arthur by surprise and he wasn’t sure what to say. On the rare occasion someone asked him about the shed he always did his best to change the subject, but with Jacob it felt different somehow.

“There’s not much to show, I’ve hit a bit of a roadblock, truth be told.”

That was an understatement, progress had ground to a halt, through lack of materials and funds, and Arthur honestly didn’t know what to do about it. There was only so far you could go on a pension, and he wasn’t going to ask Camilla for extra money.

Jacob handed him a business card, “Maybe I can help?”

Arthur had never had a business card of his own, anyone he’d ever worked with knew who he was and how to get in contact with him. Jacob’s was plain white, or was it cream? It had simple black lettering: Jacob Germaine, Seed One Capital, and then a mobile number. Nothing else. Could Jacob be the saviour of his project? Arthur hadn’t had anyone visit the shed before, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to have him take a quick look?

Except, what would Elizabeth say? It was her project too. Not that you’d know it these days. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in weeks now. She was frustrated at how things had slowed down, just like he was, but as ever she didn’t deal with it so well. Perhaps a visit from Jacob would get things going again, lure Elizabeth back to the shed so they could work together again. It wasn’t the same without her.

He said, “Ok then, why not.”

Jacob stuck his hand out. Arthur stared at it. What was that for?

“Shake on it?” suggested Jacob.

This time Arthur put a little more oomph behind it and was pleased that his fingers didn’t get squeezed and his shoulder remained firmly lodged in its socket. Jacob left soon after, escorting his mother who wore a grin from ear to ear as she clutched a copy of her signed book like a trophy. Jacob turned back just before disappearing out of sight. He held his finger and thumb up to his ear like a phone, then mouthed the words call me. Just like an American.

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When they got home Camilla went straight to bed complaining of a migraine. Arthur couldn’t sleep, he rarely managed more than a couple of hours most nights anyway. His head was still buzzing from meeting Jacob, so he Googled Seed Capital One. They were a venture capital firm investing in early stage tech businesses, specialising in defence, energy, utilities and communications. It all looked very big business. Hard to believe that Jacob would be interested in his shed. Arthur didn’t have a company. But he did have an idea, perhaps that was enough.

He called Jacob the next day, in the morning while Camilla was still asleep, she always had a long lie-in after a book signing. Were there rules about how soon you should call a venture capitalist after meeting them? There had been rules about calling girls when he’d been dating all those years ago, but he’d never really understood how it all worked even then.

“Hey, Arthur, great to hear from you.”

At least Jacob remembered him and sounded pleased he’d called. They arranged a visit to the house on Saturday morning. Apparently Jacob was swamped during the week. What was that like? Arthur had never been swamped even when he was working. Busy yes, but he’d just been getting on with doing his job. It seemed that wasn’t enough these days though.

That Saturday Arthur hung around waiting for Camilla to leave. What is the matter with you? She asked him more than once, but she didn’t wait for an answer, just got on with doing a few bits and bobs around the house. He couldn’t help but feel nervous, Jacob might arrive early which would spoil everything. He hadn’t told Camilla about Jacob, or his visit, he had a feeling she wouldn’t approve. Saturday morning had seemed the ideal time to meet as Camilla was supposed to be at her book group, she never missed a session. but the book club had been pushed back an hour because Mary’s husband had had a particularly difficult night.

To Arthur’s relief Camilla finally disappeared and Jacob turned up about a quarter of an hour later, this time wearing a purple velvet jacket. It looked like something you’d see on a Parisian catwalk on the TV, not in your kitchen while you were getting its owner a cup of tea. As he returned the sugar back to the cupboard Arthur couldn’t help but notice how tired the kitchen units were looking. How long had they had them, thirty years? The whole house was old and faded, the decoration hopelessly out of date, what must Jacob think? It hadn’t occurred to him before today.

The air was sharp against the skin of Arthur’s face and arms as they emerged into the garden. It was unseasonably dry and cold for April, the blustery wind creating a chill and toying with the wisps of grey hair on his balding head. He was in the same plain short sleeved shirt he always wore when he worked. There was no point in wrapping up for the few moments they were outside, and anyway the shed got incredibly hot whatever the weather. Scout, the cat, followed eyeing Jacob suspiciously. She kept a careful distance, tail aloft and curled into the shape of a question mark. She was old now, probably the same age as Arthur in cat years. When she was younger she’d spent all her time with Camilla, barely registering Arthur’s existence. Now Arthur did most of the feeding Scout had switched allegiances and followed him everywhere. Camilla called her traitor.

It wasn’t really a shed, it was a double garage at the back of their north London 1960’s semi, with a roll up door secured by a large lock that Arthur had to wrestle to get open. It seemed to get harder every day, was it the lock getting older and more worn, or him? Finally he succeeded, then tapped a few numbers into a keypad on the wall and the door started to rise.

Jacob looked amused, “That’s pretty heavy security for a shed.”

Arthur didn’t offer a reply. It wasn’t clear if Jacob was expecting one, but with no question and no obvious response it was easier to say nothing. Arthur had learnt you were less likely to get it wrong and upset people that way. Once inside he pressed the button to close the garage door, then hit the light switch. The strobe lights flickered for a moment then sprang to life, filling the room with a harsh bright light. Scout sat herself in the corner and watched Jacob’s every move. Jacob didn’t look too comfortable. Maybe he was worried about ruining his jacket. The place wasn’t dirty, but it was a bit rough and ready, with just an old, tattered rug on the floor and bare breeze blocks on the windowless walls. But it was home, familiar and comfortable. Arthur had spent more time there than anywhere else in the last twenty years.

Jacob said, “Do you mind if I have a look around?”

“Be my guest.”

It must have been a lot to take in on a first visit. Along one wall there was floor to ceiling shelving crammed with all kinds of electronics, ancient to modern, whole machines to plastic boxes full of parts. Raw materials were stacked along the other wall: liquids, powders, metals, some kept in heavy metal cases with yellow triangle labels warning of hazardous materials. On the back wall was Arthur’s workbench, with laptop, lamp, magnifying glass, soldering iron and a wall full of tools. Hanging up next to the desk was a yellow hazmat suit and in the corner a tall metal server rack with his memory array. He wasn’t going to be saving his work in the cloud.

“All this can’t have been cheap.” Jacob was at the workbench now. 

It wasn’t. And some of it was possibly illegal to own.

“Old colleagues used to help me out here and there. Not so much anymore though. Everyone’s retired now… or dead.”

Jacob lifted one of the notebooks off a pile in the corner, “Do you mind?”

Arthur shrugged. It would be impossible for Jacob to understand, even if it hadn’t all been written in Arthur’s own code. Jacob flicked through a few pages then put the book back down on the pile.

He said, “So, can I see it?”

“Bella.”

“Sorry?”

Arthur rolled back the rug to reveal a metal door in the floor. “She’s not an it, she’s called Bella.”

He typed a code into a keypad on the wall and the door slid back with a mechanical rattle. Once it was fully open he pressed a button and the lifting platform that was buried in the cavity below began to rise. The sight of Bella emerging gracefully from her place of rest gave Arthur butterflies in his stomach, even after all these years. Maybe more so because he was sharing what was normally a private moment with a stranger. Seeing her with fresh eyes. She was beautiful as always.

Or so he thought.

Jacob looked on stony faced. Arthur looked at Bella again, trying to see what Jacob might see, a large black and chrome flight-case with no lid, components, lumps of metal and wires spilling out of the top. Some people were incapable of looking beyond the surface to see the real beauty in the world.

“What am I looking at?” asked Jacob.

It was hard to know where to start. Everything about Bella was in Arthur’s head or in his notebooks, he hadn’t talked to anyone about her. Apart from Elizabeth of course. She could have explained it all to Jacob easily, she was good with words in a way Arthur wasn’t. And with people. But Elizabeth hadn’t come, despite Jacob’s visit. Arthur tried talking through some of the developments he was most proud of, but Jacob’s eyes glazed over and he looked uncomfortable. The heat was starting to kick in. How would Elizabeth have explained it? She would have kept things simple, less technical.

Arthur tried again, “Look, a typical thermonuclear device has two phases. The main explosion is caused by the second stage fusion reaction, but it needs temperatures of over a hundred million kelvin, which is created by the first stage fission reaction. This fission material is what makes these devices so hard to make. With Bella we’ve found a way to create a fusion reaction at room temperature, which means no first stage fission reaction is needed. It’s pure fusion.”

He smiled proudly, he couldn’t help himself. But Jacob was staring at him. Staring, sweating and not saying anything. Arthur didn’t know what to say. So he stayed quiet.

Then Jacob said, “Fuck me, are you saying this actually is a bomb?”

“Yes.”

Jacob was staring at Bella, “A nuclear bomb?”

“It’s a pure fusion nuclear device, yes.”

“And you built it here in your shed?”

All of this seemed rather obvious to Arthur, but Jacob seemed rattled. “Don’t worry, it’s safe, she’s not finished yet.”

This didn’t seem much of a reassurance for Jacob, so Arthur gave him a few moments to collect himself. Jacob was still staring at Bella.

jacob took a deep breath. “How does it work?” Then quickly corrected himself. “She. How does she work?”

Could Arthur really do this, share the secrets he and Elizabeth had been working on, with a stranger? He’d hoped Jacob’s presence would bring her back to the shed, but it hadn’t. Arthur was alone. Maybe Jacob’s visit was a mistake after all. Without Elizabeth it would never work, even with all the funding in the world. Maybe she would never come back. He reached down to press the button that would send Bella back down into the safety of her chamber beneath the floor. Away from prying eyes and difficult questions.

But then he heard a voice.

It was Elizabeth.

As clear as if she were standing next to him.

He’d always loved her accent. It was American, but Northwestern, smoother and less jarring than most of her compatriots, who sometimes mistook her for Canadian, which infuriated her.

She said, “We need him, Bear. Tell him everything.”

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That’s it for Chapter 1, I hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to more.

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NEXT CHAPTER out now - Chapter 2

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I’d love to hear your thoughts…

If you have any thoughts, comments or questions about the story, characters or writing I’d love to hear them. You can use the comment button at the top and bottom of this email or the link below.

Here are some questions for you to mull over …

• What do you think of the ‘bomb in the shed’ premise?

• Could Arthur make an interesting hero? (or does he seem more a villain?)

• What unknowns does the chapter leave you thinking about?

(But of course, share anything you like)…

“Typo Watch” and “Continuity Challenge”

If you see and typos or continuity errors in the chapter do tell me in the comments, it’s good to know. What you won’t be sure of is if they’re a mistake or I put them there on purpose to check you’re paying attention. No prizes yet, just bragging rights.

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