‘I was hoping you could spare me some of your valuable time to discuss my ideas – if it isn’t too inconvenient.’
Not at all, King told him, and he led him back downstairs to his office. Warren followed in silence.
‘Take a seat please, Mr. Warren.’ Perhaps this was the kind of distraction Charles needed. It shouldn’t take long to get rid of him.
Warren sat stiffly, with his knees together – his heels clear of the floor. He reached for his briefcase, and pulled out some papers which he handed to King. ‘A Vision of the Universe: Addendum’.
‘These are some further results – I didn’t want to rewrite the whole thing until I had your comments.’
Charles perched on the edge of his desk and looked down at the strange figure. ‘Thanks very much for sending them to me, Mr.Warren.’
‘My pleasure. Was I right to use those margins? I know they should be wide, but I didn’t want to overdo it.’
‘The margins? Oh, they’re fine. It’s what’s in between that I’m not so sure about.’
‘I appreciate, Dr. King, that the ideon theory is perhaps a little difficult to take in in its entirety at a first reading. It is, after all, the result of many years of work.’
‘I’m sure. I admire your energy.’ Now King had found Warren’s opus beneath some other papers on the desk. He picked it up, and began to leaf through it. ‘You say you want to publish this?’
‘Not only want – I regard it as a sacred duty.’
‘Well, you must understand that I can’t really help you on that one. I can give you the addresses of some journals …’
‘I have them already, Dr. King. I’m not stupid. But none of them is suitable for work like this.’
‘Ah, I’m glad you appreciate that.’
‘You see, they have my name now, and they are under instructions not to publish anything by me. The ideon theory would show them all up for the shin-barking cretins that they are; they can’t afford to admit the truth of my ideas. Even if I were to submit my work under a pseudonym, they would know that I was behind it; the ideon theory is so inextricably linked with the name of Edward Warren, they would see at once through such a plan.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’
‘Dr. King, a revolution is approaching in the world of physics. Who can say who will be its heroes, its victims? Its martyrs? But this revolution cannot be started by a single man, no matter how great his vision. He needs allies, helpers. Dr. King, I want you to be my ally.’
King shifted on the edge of his desk, and rubbed his chin. ‘I see. So really the best thing would be for me to give you my honest opinion of your theory?’
‘I humbly beseech it of you. I have come to seek your judgement.’
King opened the ‘Vision’ at page one. ‘Very well. Let’s take your opening chapter, “The speed of light is not constant”. I have to disagree with you on that one.’
‘You disagree?’ Warren laughed. ‘But Dr. King, how can you too miss such a blindingly simple proof; how do you explain the action of a lens?’
‘You’re right, the light slows down when it passes through a lens. It’s the speed of light in a vacuum that’s constant. There are very good theoretical reasons, and there’s no evidence to the contrary.’
Warren got to his feet, and put his hands through his greasy hair. He began to pace up and down in the small office, so that King had to move from his place on the edge of the desk, and stand clear of the troubled figure. ‘Nonsense – shameful nonsense! Dr. King, I thought better of you, I truly thought that you of all people might have the vision, the courage, the will to join me in my struggle. I thought that you at least would have in you the spirit of the revolutionary.’
King flinched. ‘What makes you think that? Why should I be any more revolutionary than all the other physicists you could have contacted?’
Warren ignored him. ‘I can see they’ve already had you in for mind-control, the thought engineers at the Academy of Science. I suppose you don’t remember anything about it, do you? They always give you something to take away the memory afterwards. Don’t you see, they’ve blinded you! You say you’re a man of science, and a seeker of the truth – you’re nothing more than another instrument of propaganda for Zionist science. Now you’re going to tell me all this rubbish about time dilation and E equals mc squared. You’ve been duped, Dr. King, like all the others. I’ve come here to make you free, and all you can do is tell me this magic formula, that the speed of light is constant.’
King spoke quietly. ‘Why did you send your work to me?’
‘Because I thought that you of all people would be a believer in truth, freedom, justice …’
‘But why?’ King had to hold himself back from shaking Warren’s thin body between his hands. ‘Why should I be the one who might care about truth and freedom? Where did you get my name from?’
Warren could see that he was now beginning to make some impression, and this gladdened him. ‘You are a lover of truth, Dr. King. You won’t deny me that, will you? One who will champion the divine right of science to overcome all lies and deception – to conquer the dictatorship of ignorance?’
King was feeling increasingly uneasy. Why should Warren have chosen him as the champion of liberty? Might he even know something about Flood? By now, King was prepared to suspect absolutely anyone. ‘All scientists believe in truth, Mr. Warren – whatever truth means. But tell me what gave you the idea that I could be of any help to you. Who gave you my name? What did they say about me?’
Warren was standing by the window now, looking out. ‘You and I, Dr. King – we could take them all on. You’re a respected scientist; you know the right people – you’ve got all the contacts. A good word from you, that’s all it would take. I don’t expect my theory to be accepted overnight, of course. When an idea is so original and ahead of its time, naturally it takes a while for the rest of humanity to catch up. But they must catch up.’ He turned and approached King. ‘Humanity must be made to understand its blind folly – the eyes of the world must be opened to the pernicious ideology of relativity; this anti-Christian, idolatrous, obscene collection of lies.’
King sat down on the chair which Warren had abandoned, and looked up at the strange, crazed figure in his two halves of different suits. ‘I’m not going to help you, Mr. Warren. Perhaps I’ve been duped, but I disagree with your theory. I think it’s all nonsense. Maybe you’re right and I’m mistaken, but you’ve got your beliefs and I’ve got mine, and we’ll have to agree to differ. I’d just like to know who suggested you send your work to me.’
‘Maybe you’re mistaken?’ Warren stared at King in disbelief. ‘How calmly the fool admits his ignorance! Maybe indeed. You don’t even care either way, do you? What difference does it make, if all your physics is a load of cosmic bollocks – you’ve got your cosy office with a nice big desk. Who cares if it’s all rubbish?’ Again Warren was reaching for his shiny hair. ‘God, you make me sick. You don’t even have to justify yourselves; rejecting everything out of hand. Not even prepared to debate the issue like a gentleman.’
King had tired of this nonsense. He stood up. ‘Very well, if it’ll make you happy, then let’s go through the whole damn lot and I’ll tell you what I think of it. But first, just tell me one thing, Mr. Warren. Why the hell did you come to me? What help was I supposed to be able to give you?’
Warren sneered, and muttered something – possibly in Latin. ‘The thought engineers must have done a fine job on you. I expected better. I knew that someone here had to be my chosen helper; I thought I had interpreted the signs correctly, but I can see I was mistaken.’
‘What signs?’ King was becoming more and more suspicious of this lunatic. He should have left his office door open.
‘A line sent to me in the newspaper: He is a born leader. I had to find a born leader, to help me in the struggle. I checked the names of the staff here a few weeks ago, on the board at the entrance, and there I saw it: King. Leader of men
.’
Charles gave a barely suppressed groan as he took his place again on the edge of the desk. ‘I’ve got ten minutes, Mr. Warren. I’m going to spend them explaining why I think you’re wrong. Then I have to go somewhere else. Now please sit down.’
King began to talk about Maxwell’s equations, about clocks and light signals, and the bending of starlight round the sun during a total eclipse. He could see that Warren accepted none of it.
‘Dr. King, you’re nothing but a blind fool. You start from the assumption that the velocity of light is the greatest speed, and you eventually use it to prove precisely the same thing. I’ve heard it all before – it’s a circular argument! The rabbis at the Academy of Science did a fine job on you, oh yes.’ Warren got to his feet. ‘I came to free you, and yet you choose enslavement.’ Then without warning he lunged at King, who grabbed him by the jacket and easily threw him back against the wall, which he hit with a loud bang. A most undignified scene.
The door opened – it was Joanna, come to see what all the noise was about.
‘Phone security,’ King told her, ‘and have them escort this man out of the building.’
‘No need for that,’ said Warren. ‘I’m going – no point wasting my breath here any longer. You’re a fool, King. A blind fool. You’ll see.’ And with that, he left.
Charles and Joanna stared at each other in bewildered silence. She brought out a paper handkerchief. ‘Are you alright? I think he scratched your face.’ He took it from her, and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Others were in the corridor, looking round the door, trying to see what was going on. King told them it was all over. He only wanted to be left alone. He would have preferred it if no-one had seen him like this. Especially Joanna.
He went home early. It had been a strange and disturbing day – the distraction of Warren serving only to leave him feeling even more uneasy. His suspicions concerning Jenny, and his fears about what might happen next, still had not left him. He rang Robert – this time he found him in.
‘Charles? What a surprise.’
Some kind of forced humour. Robert’s voice sounded strained and unnatural. He might have been drinking.
‘Heard any more, Robert – about anything?’
‘Actually, very busy at the moment, Charles, can’t talk. Lot of work to get through. Things to sort out. I’ll ring you back.’
‘I need to see you, Robert. I think you were right. About Jenny.’
‘Really tied up at the moment Charles. Not a good idea to see you. Things are in a bit of a mess. I’ll ring. Bye now.’
The following morning, Joanna told King she was sorry about the unfortunate incident with Warren; she felt somehow responsible. He said it was best forgotten. He put the ‘Vision of the Universe’ in the bin. Shortly before lunch-time, the phone rang.
‘Dr. King? This is Inspector Mays here – central Cambridge police station. Wondered if you could come down and see us for a quick word. Just some routine stuff. Nothing to get alarmed about.’
20
‘Take a seat, Dr. King. Tell me, how long have you known Robert Waters?’
‘About five years. We met once in a cafe, and got talking. Found we had a lot in common. We’ve remained friends ever since.’
‘Did he tell you that we asked him to come here last week?’
‘Ah, no. I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘No. Should he have?’
‘No reason why he shouldn’t. Word “Flood” mean anything to you?’
‘Yes – why? Is there one on the way?’
‘No, I mean as the name of something. Are you sure Waters never mentioned it, or said anything about things he’d written – essays or poems?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘We can come back to it later. But have a look at this document, now. Do you recognize it?’
‘Of course. It’s my latest paper.’
‘Did you type it yourself?’
‘No, a friend did it. Jenny Lindsay.’
‘Is she your girlfriend? What’s her address?’
‘Flat 9, 34 Owen Terrace, Bayswater.’
‘Did she type it in London?’
‘No, here.’
‘Comes to see you often, does she?’
‘No, I usually see her in London.’
‘Got any other girlfriends?’
‘Is that important?’
‘Could be. Have you got any other girlfriends?’
‘No.’
‘Happy enough with the one. That’s nice. Surprised you aren’t married, nice looking chap at your age. Good job. Good education. Not the marrying type, eh?’
‘Maybe one day.’
‘Do you sleep with her?’
‘Look, what is all this about?’
‘Well, it sounds like you’re sleeping at an address in London every weekend. Have you informed the Housing Office about that?’
‘It’s never more than two nights, and it isn’t every weekend anyway.’
‘If you make a habit of staying for three, you know you need to tell the Housing Office.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Are you a homosexual, Dr. King.’
‘No. What sort of a question is that?’
‘A relevant one, to our enquiry. Eligible man like you, still single.’
‘But I told you, I’ve got a girlfriend.’
‘Do you sleep with her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘What’s this got to do with your enquiry?’
‘Maybe you’re really a queer but you haven’t found out yet. Or haven’t admitted it to yourself.’
‘Yes I enjoy sleeping with her.’
‘And does she enjoy it?’
‘You’d have to ask her that.’
‘Perhaps we will. All in good time. Now, Dr. King, this paper of yours. When your girlfriend typed it, whose typewriter did she use?’
‘I borrowed one from Robert.’
‘Robert Waters? That’s very interesting.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, take a look at this other document now, Dr. King – ever seen it before? Nothing very important, just an old pamphlet that was made a few years ago by some discontent would-be intellectual. Worth six months at the outside, or maybe a fine. Have a good look at it. Notice anything?’
‘It’s called Flood.’
‘But do you notice anything else? Look at the capital F. See how it goes a bit faint in the middle, so there’s almost a gap? Does it all the way through, every time it’s typed. Now let’s compare it with your paper. See, the word ‘For’ – it’s the same F, isn’t it? Your paper and Flood were typed on the same machine.’
‘So what does this prove?’
‘That your friend Robert Waters wrote Flood.’
‘I see. And why are you telling me all this?’
‘Why? To see if you disagree. You’re a very logical man, Dr. King. So use a bit of logic, now. What have we proved?’
‘You’ve proved that my paper and Flood were typed on the same machine.’
‘Therefore?’
‘Therefore … nothing. Somebody borrowed Robert’s typewriter to write Flood.’
‘Yes … sounds reasonable. But then Waters must know who wrote it.’
‘In that case you should talk to him.’
‘We already have, Dr. King. Remember? We’ve interviewed him twice. He’s being vetted for some government work – I expect he told you about it. And we asked him about Flood. Know what he said? He said he’d never heard of it. What do you make of that?’
‘Did you show him my paper?’
‘We hadn’t seen it yet, then. But now that we have, it changes things, doesn’t it? More or less clears the matter up.’
‘But one of his friends could have asked to borrow the typewriter on any pretext.’
‘Like typing a paper, for example?’
‘I told you, I had nothing
to do with it.’
‘And I’m prepared to believe you. We got the Office of Publications to send us all your papers, and this is the only one that’s been done using Waters’ typewriter. So I’d say you’re in the clear. For the moment.
‘Look, Dr. King, ordinarily I couldn’t give a monkey’s about stuff like this; old pamphlets – poetry, for Christ’s sake. My job is catching criminals. But Waters is being vetted for a responsible job. And it’s not just the fact that he might have written this shit that I’m worried about. Did you know he’s a pouf?’
‘Is he?’
‘You mean he’s never told you? Never made a pass at you? Nice looking chap like you? Waters is queer, and I’ve got as much proof as I could want.’
‘In that case, I don’t see how I can be of any more help to you.’
‘Oh, but you can. This is only the start of the enquiry, believe me. Look, they want Waters to do some book; we tell them he might be a security risk. But they say he’s the only man for the job, so we’ve just got to keep an eye on him. And that’s where you come in.’
‘Me?’
‘I want you to keep an eye on him. You say he’s your friend, Dr. King, but it sounds like you hardly even know him – what he really is. He’s a subversive and a homo-sexual. Not the sort I’d want for a friend of mine. I want you to talk to him. Let him confide in you. I want to know who all his other pouf friends are. Maybe some of them were doing this Flood business.’
‘So all of this is about catching homosexuals? Robert is my friend – do you really expect me to spy on him? Even if I said I’d do it, I could easily make it all up if I wanted.’
‘You could. But that would be a very silly thing to do. And maybe our enquiry would turn up something on you. Something you didn’t even know you’d done. Please, Dr. King, don’t fuck around with us. I know you’re in this more than you’re letting on, but for the time being I don’t really care. It’s Waters I’m after. Him and his fairies. Try covering up for them and I might start wondering again if you’re one as well. Just get me a name. A name for starters. You’ll find it gets easier as you go along.’
‘But why? Why all this, simply to catch a man out? You bring me in here, you talk about my paper – what made you connect the paper with Flood? That’s what brought it all out about Robert, isn’t it? What’s Jenny been saying? She’s one of your spies, isn’t she?’
Music, in a Foreign Language Page 14
