Dark Matter

by John Rollason

  George realised he was going round in circles. I know how to chart the rise of warfare, but not to explain the obvious similarities. The professor in George spoke up, stop trying to write the book before you have completed the research and analysed it. That was good advice to himself he realised. Just do the work well and let the cards fall where they may. He decided that as he was on his way to meet Jane he should review her online biography.

  Jane Spencer-Brown, thirty-eight, twice divorced with two children, Rebecca 16 and Julia 7. Father Timothy, a Lieutenant-Colonel in the Coldstream Guards (retired), Mother Sarah-Jane. Older brother Patrick a Captain in the Coldstream Guards. Suffered from bouts of depression her entire adult life. Recognised as one of the best in her field, she has been with Global Disclosure for the last ten years. He looked at the photos of her. Petite and well formed, her presumably dyed blonde hair, setting off her small, almost elfin face. She was undeniably pretty. None of this really mattered to George except her professional reputation; this would undoubtedly mean that they would be sent on some of the best assignments. These however would also be the most dangerous.

  Waterloo station was the end of the line for the train and George hopped onto the Jubilee line for Canary Wharf and the head offices of Global Disclosure. He managed to come out of the correct exit for once, for him this was always a bit of a gamble. Using the underground always made him feel a little like a mole, burrowing from here to there and then popping up to look around and see where he was. After checking in at reception, he didn't have to wait long for Jane to appear and escort him back to her desk.

  'I'm just going to set my out of office and then I thought we could talk over lunch.'

  'That sounds great.' George replied starting to think about having a pint or two over lunch and then maybe venturing over to Covent Garden for the afternoon and evening. Covent Garden being one of his favourite places to spend time when he was in London. That and Soho. The sheer variety of pubs, bars, and cafes always seems endless. There was always something available to suit every mood and occasion. Plus, he thought to himself, it’s a great place to people watch and if some of those people happen to be young, attractive and female who am I to argue? Then he realised that he was going to have lunch with someone young, attractive, and female. Sure, he thought, she may be eight years older than me, but she looks ten years younger than she is and anyway, thirty-eight is young these days.

  They chose a bar overlooking the Thames, the weather fine they sat outside so that Jane could smoke. They ordered drinks and lunch, Jane opting for a lightly dressed salad, George the steak sandwich with mustard. As the waitress brought their drinks, Jane brought the conversation round to business.

  'I think you should know straight up front,' she began, 'that the job is yours. That's if you want it.'

  'Thank you. I do. That's why I'm here. Is there nothing you would like to know?'

  'Of course,' she replied easily, 'many things. But the most important is that you come highly recommended. As you know, we will have plenty of time to get acquainted whilst we work. I guess if I were to ask it would be why have you returned to photo journalism?'

  George explained about his book, his brother taking a sabbatical and his own sabbatical. 'So really I am just looking for some proper time off to research and write. Something I can't do easily whilst lecturing.'

  'But why this work, surely there must be something else you could do?'

  'I'm sure there is. But I genuinely enjoy war reporting, I couldn’t be stuck in a studio all day photographing models.’

  Jane nodded, recognising that part of themselves that they shared.

  ‘Anyway,’ George continued, ‘in order to be truly effective in writing my book I need to be as far away from academia as I can be.'

  'I guess,' Jane began thinking about her own situation, 'I should have some time out of the job. Although,’ she looked down at this her voice going quite soft, 'you should know that I have had some time out. I was… at a clinic.' These last words she virtually croaked out of her throat. Her eyes flicked up to George's looking for the judgement she was sure would be there. She saw none.

  'I know.’ George replied, ‘It’s not a well-kept secret, especially not amongst those in the job. I think more people should have the help they need from time to time. I had ten years of it myself.' It was George's turn to look down, to avoid her gaze.

  'Your parents.' Jane said gently, she was aware of the story, but here in front of her was the living consequence of that tragedy.

  'Yes, my parents.' He replied.

  Time slowed down. The voices all around them condensed into a singular background noise. It became just George and Jane engaged in private conversation. He recounted the events to her, as dispassionately as he could.

  'It was July the tenth. Eighteen days before my ninth birthday when my parents were kidnapped. They were attending a conference abroad, my father being the then US ambassador to Great Britain. They were held for one hundred and sixty eight days before they were executed on camera on Christmas day. I didn't see it at the time, not for years later. Then only once, that was enough. More than enough really, part of me wishes I had never seen it, but it was important for me at that time to accept that they were really gone. My brother Jack, he's ten years older than me, was amazing, although I didn't realise it at the time. He was really there for Tania and me; she was sixteen at the time. I still don't know how but I managed to sit my entrance exams for a scholarship to Eton either side of the funeral. When I was accepted, Jack bought me a house in Windsor where I still live. It’s funny really; the kidnapping affected me more than their deaths. I guess that was because I refused to believe they were really dead. I just thought, wished really, that they were lost and would one day find their way home. Other children had their parents pick them up from school. I never did.'

  George stopped there, but Jane didn't say anything, the journalist in her could sense that he hadn't finished, that there was more. She sipped her wine and waited.

  'I still miss them. I've missed them every day. When I was growing up, I used to get into trouble, hoping that the school would get in touch with my parents and they would come home to punish me. Anything just to see them again. As soon as I could drive, I got into surfing. It seemed the perfect fit to me, as it was all individuals not a parent in sight. Then I fell in love with the feeling. The sheer joy of being out there on my board, just me and nature. No one judging me or feeling sorry for me. That's what had been so hard at school. My friends would invite me to theirs for the holidays. I was always the visitor, never the visited. There was only me and Mrs Pettygrew the housekeeper. Although Jack was my legal guardian, he was serving in the American army until I was fourteen and then he did five years in the British army straight after. I guess it was hard on him as well. No, I know it must have been. Tania was away at school and married not long after leaving. We've never been that close though I love her dearly.' George paused again, collecting his thoughts.

  'Sorry I digressed there a bit. Yes, the holidays with my friend's families were the worst. My friend's parents went to such extraordinary lengths to make me feel welcome and not out of place. They guarded their language using terms like “responsible adult”, rather than just parent. It was suffocating. My friends were good though, they just accepted me for who I was, and they were happy to talk about their parents in front of me. I used to love that, listening and pretending that what they said applied to me too. Anyway, after I graduated I took my PhD in Military History ostensibly so I could just continue with my love of surfing. Then as you know I went into photojournalism, I think this was my way of moving out of my comfort zone. My first assignment was the first time I had been abroad since I lost my parents. I had built up a bit of a phobia about going abroad and this helped me overcome it. After I had done enough to make me feel comfortable with myself I got a job at Oxford lecturing on Military History and that was five years ago.'

  Jane could see that he had finally finishe
d and that he seemed relieved to have gotten that all out in the open. She guessed, correctly, that he wanted her to know but not to have to discuss it. She could imagine that he had discussed it at great length through the years of therapy he had during his childhood.

  Jane recounted her own life, giving texture and flavour to the bland biography he had read on the train into London. Although she talked about her battles with depression, she didn't explain the reason for it, if she knew. George guessed that the reason had never been found as he felt that she was, like him, so open and so honest that she would have said. He wondered to himself what her demon was.

  In true journalistic fashion, they eventually finished their lunch after two and a half hours. Jane left to return to her desk, leaving George to venture into Covent Garden. He was starting to feel much better about life again.

  Jane arrived back at her desk to six messages. Five she ignored for the moment, the top one she couldn't. See me. She knew who it was from, her editor. She started thinking about George more. Young, fit, good-looking, intelligent, well-educated but oh so vulnerable. I'm not so sure it’s such a good idea for us to spend time together. She knew her history with men was not a good one. She had been warned in the clinic about repeating destructive patterns. But what if he is the one? She almost slapped herself at that. For an intelligent woman you sure can be dumb! She screamed to herself. She knew that she was in no fit state either to make a good personal decision or to enter into any type of personal relationship. Not yet anyhow. I'd better go and see what the boss wants.

  As she walked towards his office, she could hear him shouting on the phone.

  'I don't give a shit. Yes, you heard me right. A shit. You wanna what? You wanna talk to my boss? Sure why not? Just give her a ring and tell her what you told me, I'm sure she'll be so happy to hear from you!'

  There was the sound of a phone being slammed down as Jane walked across the threshold of her boss’s office. She stood in the doorway knocking twice on the inside of the open door.

  'What!’

  'You wanted to see me boss?'

  He stood there, breathing hard. A vein in his right temple trying to jump clear out of his skin. Light perspiration was condensing on his forehead, the purple colour of his face gently returning to its normal, if not natural, pale colour. He spends too much time in pubs and not enough in the gym. Jane thought to herself quietly, aware that her boss could almost hear loud thoughts. He is scary like that, an almost sixth sense.

  'Yes. Come in Jane.' His anger dissipating fast.

  'What's up?' Jane asked brightly.

  'My blood-pressure.' He smiled at that, showing that he was back under control. 'I have a two-part assignment for you.'

  'OK, shoot.'

  'Very droll.' He replied.

  Jane didn't get the joke but let him continue.

  'I want you to report on the combined Russian, US and British military training exercise. But first I want you to go to the UN, interview the Sec-Gen and someone from the security council, the French are always good for a quote, and then you fly to Russia to see the exercise live.'

  'I'm being benched, aren't I?'

  'No, this is the assignment I want you on.'

  'And you haven't had any conversations about me with the head of Health and Safety?' Jane asked sarcastically, knowing the truth but seeing if he was going to admit it.

  'Of course we have talked. You were shot, you had a breakdown, not your first either. Now if you ever want to get back to the action you will do this assignment, excel at it as I know you will and then we can look at something more suited to you afterwards.'

  'Good. 'Cause you know I'll leave before I'm benched.'

  'You're not benched. This is your first game after coming back from an injury. Everyone is treated the same, you know that.'

  She did. He was a hard, ruthless, cunning bastard, but absolutely fair. He treated everyone like shit. Jane loved him for it.

  'OK boss, when do I leave?'

  'The day after tomorrow and take that freelance photographer with you, it will be a good opportunity for the two of you to get acquainted.'

  Jane laughed at that, knowing her boss only sends the minimum number of people on assignment and therefore he needed pictures, good ones. He looked back down at his desk and opened a folder not saying anything more. Jane took her cue and left. He never ends a conversation, he just stops talking.

  10:15 06 November [10:15 06 November GMT]

  Research Laboratory, Cambridge University, Cambridge, England.

  The lab, Jack noted, looked very new. The building was recently painted, the grass around it fresh and lush like a well-maintained lawn. The interior was even more impressive. The equipment looked brand new. He was here to see John Deeth having been reliably informed that John Deeth was performing leading-edge research into the extraction of pure Gold from ore. Jack knew the basics of the traditional process and was intrigued to see a new process. He also wanted, needed, his research to be both fully accredited as well as current which meant going to the source of information rather than relying upon accounts that were second hand or out of date.

  John Deeth had his back to Jack. He had been told that a Jack Hamilton was coming to see him, but he had forgotten almost as soon as he had hung up the phone. He was deep into his research again. Jack had waited five patient minutes before venturing a polite cough. John jumped slightly at the noise and jerked his head round to find the cause of the disturbance; this produced a yelp of pain as he pulled a neck muscle.

  'Ow! Fuck!’ John had gone from being deeply engrossed in his work to being deeply pissed off at being disturbed.

  'Sorry.' Offered Jack, half reaching out to John in a feeble attempt to offer assistance.

  John sat there for a couple of seconds, rubbing his neck, before continuing. 'Who are you and what do you want?' He was not in the mood for distractions.

  'I'm Jack Hamilton. I was given to understand that you were expecting me.'

  'Oh,' John collected his thoughts, 'the PhD fellow, yes I remember now.' John didn't offer any apology for forgetting or for his rudeness; instead he simply hopped off his stool and offered Jack his hand.

  'John Deeth, pleased to meet you.'

  'Thanks,' Jack replied, shaking the proffered hand, 'I understand that you are conducting leading-edge research so I'll try not to take up much of your time.'

  'Isn't all research leading-edge? Otherwise, it would just be going over old ground and what would be the point of that? Anyway, don't worry I'll kick you out when I'm done.' John stared at Jack, his eyes penetrating deeply.

  'Are you OK?’ Jack asked, finding the deep stare familiar but disconcerting at the same time.

  'I'm trying to decide whether you are a good use of carbon resources.' He didn't bat an eyelid saying this.

  'You mean am I green or something?' Jack asked, confused.

  'No, no, nothing so trite. We are carbon based life-forms and I'm trying to decide whether the carbon used to create you was worthwhile.'

  Jack stood there, his mouth hanging open slightly. He hadn't been expecting this, he couldn't decide whether he had been analysed or insulted. Probably both, he thought. Jack was in unfamiliar territory, he was usually the one who made others uncomfortable. So this is how they feel. He made a mental note to go easier on people in future.

  'I see,' Jack replied evenly, 'and what do you think?'

  ‘I haven’t decided yet. What can I do for you?'

  Jack explained, at some length it turned out, about his research and his hypothesis that Iron and Coal are better investments than Gold because Gold is just pretty and doesn't do much else, except in very recent times as a great conductor of electricity.

  This guy is pretty switched on, John thought to himself, it's a shame I can't tell him what I have discovered.

  John walked Jack outside on the promise of a coffee in the campus refectory. He really wanted a cigarette and to take Jack away from his laboratory, the better to reduce
the number of questions about what each piece of equipment did. Now he also had the added complication that his research was split in two; his public research into Gold extraction and his private research into the new particles he had discovered but not yet isolated.

  As they walked towards the refectory, John asked Jack to explain his research again. John had gotten it fine the first time, but, he thought, the more talking this Jack fella does, the less I have to contribute myself. John started thinking again about his private research project.

  The particles exist. That much is certain. They have mass, velocity and an ability to pass through other matter. It is likely that they exist on a scale so small that they pass right through atoms. Again this much must be true, as they seemed to just “appear” inside the test chamber. They interacted with something inside the test chamber, most probably the gold atoms. However, gold is sat in banks all over the world consistently not exploding; this means that there must have been unique conditions inside the test chamber. The only three variables were low temperature, high pressure, and electromagnetic energy. One or more of these is responsible for the interaction of the Deeth particles and the Gold atoms.

  The energy and velocities involved are amazing. There were only three one millionths of a gram of gold present in the test chamber, even if all of it reacted at the same time the amount of energy to blow apart the solid steel chamber, take out a wall and bury the half ton chunk of steel several feet into the ground would make atomic power seem primitive by comparison. Then of course, there were two very special ways in which these particles are sooo much better than atomic energy. There were no by-products. No nasty radioactive waste. No deadly X-Rays, Gamma rays or the such like. The other special property is that the energy release can be controlled. Clumsily if it is the temperature or pressure, but easily and directly if it is the electromagnetic energy. The possibilities are almost limitless. Clean cheap energy would obviously be one. Propulsion is another. Then there would be military applications. The list would probably go on and on as new uses are found. I wonder what a two per cent royalty on global energy would be? That would make me a real nice income. More so than Gold mining. John’s focus returned to Jack.