CHAPTER 8... is live
The story continues
All previous chapters - CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5 - CHAPTER 6 - Chapter 7
Previously on “The bomb in the shed…”; Camilla tries to give Arthur one more chance, looking for complete honesty from him, while Gibson reveals the true story behind New Mexico. Camilla finally enters the shed but finds only darkness and fear.
And here we go with CHAPTER 8…
Chapter 8
New Mexico Desert - 2003
“You gotta take a look at this.”
It was Marie, a diminutive technician with an improbably loud voice and a tendency to dart around the place like a frightened squirrel.
“Hey, you’re not asleep are you?” she added.
Elizabeth was lying under her desk with a cushion under her back and a small towel over her face. Sometimes she needed to escape. She was in a windowless lab hundreds of feet under the desert floor, sharing recycled air with a bunch of hyper intelligent nerds.
“I’m resting my eyes,” she replied without moving.
There was the sound of a stack or reports hitting the desk above her.
“What’s that?” asked Elizabeth, still motionless.
“Plasma analysis.”
“You know I don’t read those.”
She could hear Marie’s footsteps receding, along with a parting shot of, “Your loss.”
“Maybe later,” Elizabeth mumbled, more to herself than in reply, Marie was probably out of earshot by now.
Just half an hour’s more rest more under the desk.
That would be good.
…
Sod it.
She reached up and felt along the edge of the desk until her fingers came into contact with the pages, then pulled the reports down to the floor next to her. She picked one up at random and pulled the towel from her face so she could read. The light wasn’t great in her hiding place but she could just about make it out.
“Jesus Christ,” she whispered.
Elizabeth flicked through a few more pages. Then sat up quickly without thinking, hitting her head on the metal rail on the underside of her desk with a loud thunk that echoed through the lab.
“Jesus Christ,” she shouted out loud this time.
That really hurt...
“Told you,” Marie called out from across the room.
Elizabeth got up and went over to find Marie chewing the end of her pen in a vain attempt to contain her told you so grin.
“How’s this even possible?” asked Elizabeth, still grimacing from the pain and waving the report in Marie’s face.
“Don’t ask me. It’s that weird Brit. His new monitoring system just went live yesterday.”
She was talking about Arthur Price. Elizabeth saw the file of everyone who was hired but she’d barely talked to this guy in over a year. No-one had. She’d tried striking up a conversation with him on one of the rare times she’d seen him but hadn’t had much luck. She’d assumed he didn’t like her, but it turned out everyone’s experience with him was similar. It took her a while to track him down, in lab C, the scientific equivalent of being banished to Siberia. He was holed up in a small space behind a couple of huge server cabinets.
“Who stuck you back here?” she asked, looking around the crammed space in wonder.
Arthur jumped up from his seat with a startled look on his face, stood up straight, like he was guard on parade ready for inspection.
“At ease, soldier,” said Elizabeth with a grin.
He didn’t return the smile, just sat back down, then looked deeply uncomfortable with this choice as Elizabeth perched herself on the desk next to him. He rolled back a little to create more space between them and accidentally hit the cabinet behind him with the back of his chair, sending a metallic clang reverberating around the room.
She threw the reports on his desk in front of him, “How did you do this?”
He stared at them for a moment, then reorganised them so they were properly stacked and symmetrical to the edge of the table. Then replied, “You’re not happy?”
“Happy? Of course I’m happy. I’m on cloud freakin’ nine, can’t you tell? I want to know how you managed to get this data.”
Arthur looked thoroughly confused now. “I was asked to. It’s my job.”
It’s my job. Typical bloody British art of understatement. Except Arthur wasn’t looking secretly pleased with himself. He didn’t seem like someone waiting to be showered with praise before admitting ok, yes, I just performed a miracle. He seemed more like someone who wished he was somewhere else right now.
“Talk me through it,” she said.
“It’s quite complicated,” replied Arthur.
If she’d thought he was deliberately trying to push her buttons Elizabeth would have lost her shit at this point. But he clearly wasn’t. However, she kept a sharp edge to her voice when she said, “Try me.”
They ended up talking for over two hours. For every challenging question Elizabeth threw at Arthur he gave a clear and concise response. Answers that didn’t just open her eyes to the principles he’s applied in the new plasma monitoring protocols. They also had implications for the broader project. From his file she’d assumed his knowledge was an inch wide and a mile deep, but she was wrong. He knew a hell of a lot about all sorts of unexpected topics. She would have loved to have gone deeper with him on it but she couldn’t. He didn’t have the security clearance.
“Arthur, why don’t we have dinner some time?” she asked. “I like to get to know the members of my team a little better.”
Arthur didn’t look at all sure about it.
---
In the end they didn’t make it out to dinner until a few weeks later. Everything was busier than usual, mostly because of all the extra data Arthur had brought in. He’d created a bit of a buzz around the place which it appeared had only encouraged him to spend more time holed up in his metal cave. He was sat opposite Elizabeth at her favourite Italian place, dressed in a simple smart suit, sporting a wary look.
“Don’t be nervous,” she said. “It’s not a date.”
“Of course,” he replied quickly.
He did seem to relax a little after that though.
She was joking, but not entirely. She’d previous noted the wedding ring on his finger, the only jewellery he wore, and was pretty sure she could be comfortable with him. However, being in her mid-thirties, single and surrounded by men typically older than her she had to be aware of these things and tread carefully at times. Sad but true. A wedding ring was no guarantee of anything.
It looked as though Arthur ordered the first thing on the menu his eyes settled on, but when it came to the wine selection he surprised her. He went through the list in detail, asked some very probing questions that sent the waiter scurrying to the back for advice and then settled on a rather expensive Solaia from Tuscany. Elizabeth would never dream of ordering a wine at that price a bottle but she was glad they did. It certainly helped loosen up the atmosphere a little. She admired people who could be teetotal but found it could make moments like this far more difficult. Elizabeth had worked with dozens of scientists and technicians over the last fifteen years, often as project lead, and seemed to spend half her time getting them to trust and open up to each other. The cliche of the insular genius scientist didn’t apply to her, engaging with other people came naturally. But it was a cliche for a reason. It took a lot of effort to get many of her colleagues out of their shell.
Arthur was no exception, but with him it felt a little different. His was not a deep-rooted social awkwardness, more like a reflex coping mechanism. A way of keeping people at a comfortable distance because he seemed to prefer it that way. Once she broke through that he turned out to be chatty and quite funny in a weird way. Even a little bit charming. But she had to be careful with him. Cross a line and he’d disappear back into his shell and needed to be coaxed out all over again. Other people might have found this annoying but Elizabeth began treating it more like a game. How far could she push and tease before Arthur retreated, then take on the challenge of coaxing him back. She went through the cycle a few times over the course of the evening.
It was work related chat mostly, it was hard to find anything else Arthur was interested in, apart from the wine. That was how they ended up getting a second bottle. Elizabeth tried to steer the conversation on to something else. With work there was always the danger they would stray onto topics she wasn’t allowed to talk to Arthur about. Anyway, that was the point of the evening, getting to know each other a bit better. Hard to do if you only talked business.
“Do you have a nickname,” she asked, trying another tack.
“No.”
“Come on, you must have one.”
She grabbed the bottle from the ice bucket, leant over and filled up his glass. As if that might coax a hidden truth out of him. They’d given up waiting for the waiter to pour their wine for them a while ago. He couldn’t keep up.
“I really don’t.”
“Well I can’t call you Arthur, it’s a dull name. I think I’ll call you Bear.”
She thought this might push him back into his shell again, but it didn’t.
He actually laughed. “Why Bear?”
“It’s one of the meanings of the name Arthur.”
He looked nonplussed.
“How can you have the name for over forty years and not know that?” She shook her head as if in despair of him. “You seem to know just about everything else.”
He shrugged and smiled.
Maybe it wasn’t common knowledge. Elizabeth only knew because she had a teddy bear called Arthur when she was growing up. A therapy bear, although she hadn’t know he was that at the time. She’d been given him by the psychologist on her first visit and then taken him with her every week after that.
“I still don’t think the name fits me,” he said.
“Why not? You hibernate in that cave in lab most of the time and growl at people if they come and poke at you. I think it fits perfectly.”
He was strong too. She’d felt in when she’d stumbled in her heels at the coat check. He’d caught her arm to steady her. Elizabeth thought he might ask her if she had a nickname, but he didn’t. Good job too. She did have a bit of a reputation growing up, and teenage girls could be so mean.
---
The next time Elizabeth saw Arthur was six weeks later. They were sat on stools in a roadside dive bar with a pitcher of beer and a row of shots between them. At least it was the next time she’d seen him properly. Before that they’d barely exchanged more than one or two sentences in passing. It seemed strange to her that they could have reverted to acting like near strangers back at work after the dinner. Arthur appeared to be more than comfortable with it that way though. So she’d invited him out again.
For her part she’d thought about him often since the restaurant. Whenever a difficult question or interesting challenge had come up she’d wonder what his thoughts might be, what left-field ideas he might come up with. Elizabeth could only discuss much of what troubled her with a tightly knit circle of people who were not of her choosing. Each was brilliant in their own way. But sometimes brilliance wasn’t enough. The truth was they were going round in circles with their research. Thanks to Arthur they had more data to work with than ever before, but no breakthrough insight. Maybe what they were trying to do was impossible, but she didn’t want to believe it. Elizabeth had dedicated years of her life to it.
“Put the wine list down,” she scolded him. “It’s beer and shots today.”
Arthur put it aside reluctantly.
It wasn’t really a wine list anyway. It was a drinks menu which offered under the heading of wine a list of three; white, red and for the truly avant-garde, rosé.
“It’s for the best,” she assured him. “There’s be no happiness for you there. Hey, why don’t we try a drinking game?”
Elizabeth intercepted a waitress and got her to bring over a pack of cards and another pitcher of beer.
“Is this a good idea?” asked Arthur.
“Of course not.”
She put the pitchers of beer into the centre of their table, along with the shuffled pack of cards face down. The shots were arranged around the edge. The game involved turning over the cards one at a time every five minutes, with a different drinking forfeit depending on the value of the card. It didn’t take long for Arthur to spot that Elizabeth was switching up what each card meant on a whim. But it didn’t seem to matter, they were both tipsy within an hour and thoroughly drunk within two, which was probably a good thing given the conversation she wanted to have.
“Do you know what it is we’re doing at the facility?” she asked him eventually.
“I think I have a fair idea,” he replied.
Arthur would have been told nothing during his recruitment and briefing, and the chances of anyone at the lab revealing anything to him was minimal, even if he were to talk to them. The importance of security was drilled in to everyone. But it wouldn’t take a genius to work out what they were doing, and Arthur really was a strange kind of genius.
“Does it worry you, what we’re trying to build?”
He shrugged. “I’m just happy to get paid to do what I love doing.”
It was a familiar story. So many of Elizabeth’s colleagues were there for the science, the challenge of working through an insurmountable problem, the pride that came with succeeding against the odds. Even the bragging rights for the ones with egos, of which there were many. They barely considered or discussed the consequences of what they brought into the world. That was for politicians to worry about, not scientists.
She said, “It’s more than that for me. I’m a believer. I love this country. I honestly think what we do helps keep us all more safe and secure.”
Which made what she was about to ask even more difficult.
Arthur picked up his glass of beer, which was only a quarter full, and drained it, before turning it upside down and slamming it down on the table with a loud bang. Which was another part of the game. It meant Elizabeth had to drain her full glass and do an extra shot.
Which she did.
“Hey, what was that for?” she asked when she was done.
It was the first time Arthur had instigated a ‘down in one’. Elizabeth had done so several times claiming it was to stop him when he was boring her.
“I had to find a way to shut you up.”
He was swaying on his stool now and his eyes were glazed. Elizabeth laughed. She’d been alternating between gently teasing him and outright rudeness all evening. This was the first time he’d given her a taste of her own medicine and it felt like a breakthrough.
“Can I trust you, Bear?” she asked.
It was the first time she’d called him that since the restaurant.
“I think so,” he replied.
“Good. I want to share my research with you.”
Arthur was struggling to focus. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I think it would be good for the programme. You could make a big difference.”
“But…?” he asked.
“But… you don’t have clearance. I could be fired for sharing it with you. Or worse. It would technically be treason.”
She’d thought about taking the idea to Robert Fitzpatrick, the head of operations. He was a scientist, he might understand. Maybe he would, but he would never agree. Security was everything. Why put your trust in the crazy Brit engineer?
“Why me?” he asked.
“I don’t know, it just feels right. A hunch.”
She’d caught his imagination, she knew it. He was far too curious to pass up the chance of getting involved in something like this. But then he pursed his lips and shook his head.
He said, “I’d love to, but we can’t. It’s too dangerous. For you and for me. I have to think about my family.”
Of course he did. What other answer could she possibly have expected? She shouldn’t have asked. Elizabeth picked up her beer glass and held it to her lips, giving Arthur a mischievous look as she did so.
“Hey, don’t you do it,” he said.
She’d only just topped up both their glasses.
“Still friends?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied.
Elizabeth drained the glass in one, turned it upside down and slammed it onto the table.
That’s it for Chapter 8, I hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to more. Chapter 9 will be out the same time next week, Friday at 4:00pm UK time.
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