The vacuousness of the deserted service tunnel belied the crisis that was unfolding in the accelerator ring just feet away from him. The alarm bells had been silenced, but he knew that that was no indication of a catastrophe being averted; they had probably just got on Jed’s nerves.
Through the reinforced concrete and steel walls, Tom could hear the beams circulating at almost the speed of light, completing over twelve thousand laps every second. It sounded like a cross between an angry nest of hornets and a light aircraft taking off.
He parked up at the spur that doglegged out of the main structure. The proliferation of warning signs confirmed that he was in the right place: Danger, Radiation Risk, High Temperature, Electromagnetic Radiation, Wear Protective Clothing. The last one made him smile: Mind your head.
His hearing was tuned in to detect any sound that would indicate he wasn’t alone; but, apart from the drone of the beams, his sensors didn’t pick anything else up. Perhaps he had misjudged Deiter? Perhaps he had valued his own life above the satisfaction of personally overseeing his plans come to fruition, after all?
Tom retrieved the pass key from his pocket and swiped it in the electronic lock; it was similar to the ones used by most hotels to allow guests access to their rooms. The red light remained on, unblinking. He tried again. Nothing. He was about to try a third time when he noticed the panel on the front of the lock was cracked. He pulled at it and it came off in his hand, revealing a circuit board underneath. A wire had been hastily attached from one part of it to another with chewing gum. He removed the makeshift modification, replaced the cover and tried again. The light flicked from red to green, followed by a resounding clunk as the door unlocked.
He stepped over the threshold and found himself in a small, brightly-lit chamber. The fast kicker magnets that diverted the beam were located in the collider ring itself, which was separated from the ante-room, in which Tom stood, by a set of steel doors two feet thick. A similar pair of doors was located to his right, which would simultaneously open to allow the passage of the beam into the dump tunnel.
In the centre of the room was a metallic silver podium, similar to the lecterns Tom had used onstage when addressing a large group of students or visiting dignitaries in one of the auditoriums back at MIT. On top of it sat a control panel and screen.
He made his way over to it. Initially, his heart sank when he noticed the bullet holes that peppered the screen; but, as he got closer, his despondency faded. Behind the spider-web of cracks emanating from the holes he could see a faint image, disjointed as it was, where the schematics of the collider ring and dump tunnel could still be made out.
Sweat peppering his top lip, he keyed in the word ‘elevation’ as an instruction and the screen changed to display a set of figures; the elevation of the fast kicker magnets was set to zero degrees. He let out a sigh of relief; everything seemed to be functioning properly. A few more keystrokes and he had changed the angle to thirty degrees as instructed by Jed.
Pressing the ‘enter’ key took him to another set of instructions: ‘operate, Y or N’. His finger trembled as he pressed the affirmative key. Immediately, he heard the distinct hum of an electric motor starting up, above the sound of the beams. The screen changed yet again to a diagram depicting the magnets being tilted to the programmed angle. It took several seconds to complete the procedure, after which the screen changed a final time to show a digital clock, its luminous green digits counting down from one hundred and eighty in second intervals: his three-minute warning to evacuate the chamber.
He hastily turned to leave, but his passage out of the room was blocked by a figure standing in the doorway – Deiter. The gun he’d taken from the deputy at the hospital was pointed directly at Tom’s chest. He had been so engrossed in trying to get the magnets to operate that he hadn’t heard him sneak up. Tom wondered how long he’d been standing there. His intuition had been right the first time; Deiter was going to see this through to the bitter end, even if it meant he would lose his own life in the process.
‘I have to admire your tenacity, Professor Halligan,’ he said. ‘But it takes a better man to realise when his actions are futile.’
It was obvious to Tom that Deiter believed he’d disabled the control panel permanently.
‘I’ve finally reached that conclusion,’ replied Tom. ‘Looks like you’ve won.’
The gloating expression on Deiter’s face said it all. ‘No hard feelings, I hope?’
Tom looked at the gun in Deiter’s grip, trying to judge whether he could surmount the three-foot gap between them and disarm him before he had a chance to discharge the weapon. It was possibly suicidal; but then again, what option did he have left? He glanced back at the display; its numbers indicated that a third of the time had already been used up.
Deiter noticed the gesture and looked past Tom’s shoulder. ‘What have you done?’ he bellowed. ‘Move away from the controls.’ Deiter waved the gun in the direction he wanted Tom to go.
That was all the distraction Tom needed. He closed the distance between them in a single stride and lunged for the gun. Gripping Deiter’s wrist, he pushed his arm upwards so the muzzle pointed innocuously at the ceiling and held on. Deiter reacted by trying to bring it down so he could get a clear shot at Tom. The two men’s strengths were equally matched as they strained, while the gun’s aim was balanced somewhere between each of their objectives, just above Tom’s head.
As Deiter reached up with his other hand to reinforce his grip, he exposed his flank. Tom wasted no time in delivering a well-trained body blow to Deiter’s ribs. The air was forced out of Deiter’s lungs and he slackened his hold on the gun, giving the advantage to Tom.
But Deiter wasn’t playing by the Queensbury Rules; he took a step back and launched a kick in the direction of Tom’s groin. The foot landed at the top of Tom’s thigh, missing his vital parts by inches. However, the force of the blow knocked him off-balance and he went careering into the podium in the centre of the room, dropping the gun in the process.
Deiter made a move for it, but Tom quickly regained his composure and landed an uppercut on his opponent’s jaw as he bent down to pick up the gun. Deiter reeled backwards. However, as Tom made for the gun, Deiter kicked out, his foot failing to make contact but forcing Tom to take a step back, empty-handed.
They circled the weapon, their eyes locked, never wavering, like two male lions fighting over a kill. Deiter broke rank and darted for the gun, but Tom sprang forward and hit him on the shoulder before he had a chance to grab it. Closer now, they traded blows, each giving as good as he got. Deiter’s nose was bloodied and the stitched cut above Tom’s eye had opened up.
Exhausted, their punches were becoming less effective. Tom threw a right cross at Deiter, who blocked it easily and parried it with a jab to Tom’s stomach. Winded, Tom let down his guard. Deiter seized the opportunity and went for Tom’s throat, clasping both hands around his neck. He tried to squeeze the life out of him, but Tom still had some reserves left.
Reaching up, he clawed at Deiter’s face, managing to hook his fingers in the fleshy part at the corner of his mouth. He pulled down with as much strength as he had left, ripping a tear an inch long in the other man’s cheek. Crying out in agony, Deiter released his strangle-hold and took a step back, blood gushing freely from his extended smile. Tom took a second to catch his breath as Deiter tried to stem the flow.
They were about to go for round two when the siren went, distracting them both. The huge, stainless steel doors behind and to the left of Deiter started to open. Tom, being the closest to the exit, made a run for it, while Deiter went for the weapon. He picked up the gun and aimed it at the centre of Tom’s back. His fingers tightened around the trigger, but he was unable to drop the hammer as a beam of super-charged energy bore through his torso, cauterising the blood vessels instantaneously and leaving a perfectly formed hole the size of a grapefruit.
As Tom made it to the doorway, the stench of burning flesh caught in his t
hroat making him look back at Deiter, who was staring with incredulity at the void in his chest. Tom wanted to avert his eyes, but he was transfixed. As Deiter sank to his knees, the beam travelled up his back towards his head, vaporising skin and bone. Tom already knew that the image, so vividly emblazoned in his mind, would haunt him for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER 40
It was just after two in the morning when the Sherriff’s posse arrived to search the tunnels. Tom explained to them what had just taken place. With a successful beam dump and system shut-down, a Coroner was called who pronounced Deiter dead at the scene – a surprise to no one, given the horrific injuries. What was left of his decapitated body was taken away and deposited at the County morgue.
Tom had made use of the extra man-power to search for the override panel that Deiter had tripped, to deactivate the thermal shields. By 4 am, the officers had found the breaker, reset it and then decamped to their homes for a well-deserved rest, leaving Jed and Tom alone in the control room to restart the collider.
The effects of the adrenalin rush that Tom had experienced during the fight were wearing off, leaving him tired and drained. What was more, he could feel the site of every punch and kick where Deiter had struck his body over the last twenty-four hours. He had patched himself up as best he could using a first aid box and a mirror in the washroom, but his face looked as though it had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. The cut above his eye would need re-stitching; however, for the time being, it would have to make do with a temporary dressing held in place with sticking plasters.
‘Ya look like shite. Are ya sure ya can carry on?’ Jed asked, troubled by his friend’s appearance.
‘I’m fine,’ replied Tom. ‘Besides, I don’t think I’ve got much choice. Somebody has to make sure you don’t overlook anything this time.’ Tom was referring to Jed’s oversight at not checking whether the thermal shields were activated the last time they ran the collider.
‘Bollocks!’ was Jed’s only response.
‘Now boys, play nicely!’
They both turned in their chairs at the sound of Serena’s voice.
‘Serena, what are you doing here? Have they discharged you?’ Tom got up to give her his seat.
‘Not exactly,’ she replied. ‘I discharged myself. I overheard the nurses talking about the fugitive who had murdered their doctor – they said he’d been cornered here. Apparently, there’d been a shootout and he’d been killed. So I came to see if you two were alright and if you needed any help. And, by the look of your face, Tom, it’s a good job I did.’
‘You could have just phoned,’ Tom said reproachfully, concerned for her well-being.
‘And would you have told me the truth?’ Serena gave him a knowing look.
‘Well… probably not,’ Tom had to admit.
‘So, now I’m here, what do you want me to do?’ The determination in her voice put an end to any thoughts Tom may have had about persuading her to go back to the hospital.
Acquiescing, Tom grabbed a spare chair and pulled it up to join the other two. ‘Okay, Jed and I will operate the collider, while you monitor any changes in direction or speed of magnetic north. We’re looking for a decrease in acceleration.’ He pointed to the last column of figures displayed in the table on the laptop. ‘If you see an increase, let us know immediately and we’ll shut the system down.’
‘Then what do we do?’ Serena asked.
‘Pray and head for higher ground. Ideally where there are no volcanoes,’ he smiled ruefully. ‘But I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ he added optimistically, in an attempt to bolster everybody’s spirits, but neither of his two colleagues were convinced.
***
Four hours into the collider’s operation and they were gradually joined by a stream of technicians just starting their day. Word was going around the complex about what they were trying to achieve, drawing a small crowd that formed in a semi-circle behind the three seated individuals. Within the hour the room was packed, spilling out into the corridors, the latecomers being informed of any changes by the people who could see the gigantic image on the wall, projected from Serena’s laptop. Jed had had to set up the connection in response to the ‘How’s it going?’ question invariably asked by new arrivals.
The simple answer was that it wasn’t going anywhere. The collider was running at its maximum capacity within the safety parameters dictated by the thermal shields, but it didn’t seem to be having an effect on the geomagnetic field, which was still accelerating in a southerly direction.
‘Jed, we need more power,’ Tom instructed.
‘I’m giving it all she’s got, Captain,’ Jed replied in a strong, virtually indecipherable Scottish accent.
‘Sorry?’ Tom said, a little taken aback.
‘Ah, you’re obviously not a Trekkie,’ Jed responded, rather embarrassed.
‘Trekkie?’
‘Star Trek,’ Jed clarified.
‘Sorry, I’ve never watched it.’
‘Feck me, you call yourself a man of science and you’ve never seen Star Trek!’ Jed tut-tutted whilst shaking his head.
‘…and the power?’ Tom prompted.
‘If I increase the power, the system will reach critical temperature sooner and will shut down prematurely,’ Jed explained.
‘It might be worth the risk. A short, intense blast of electromagnetic radiation might have more of an effect than a sustained weaker field.’
‘Aye, Aye Captain,’ replied Jed. ‘Switching to warp speed.’
‘More Star Trek?’ Tom ventured.
Jed just smiled and turned back to the control panel, keying in a new set of instructions which increased the speed of the beams circulating the collider. He flicked to a new screen that showed a corresponding rise in the core temperature. He split the screen and had the two sets of figures running side by side. He raised the power further. An increase in beam velocity was followed by an incremental rise in temperature.
‘At this speed, I reckon we’ve got fifteen minutes before the failsafe kicks in and the system shuts down,’ Jed advised.
‘Any change in the field’s acceleration?’ Tom asked Serena.
‘No, it’s still the same.’
‘Can you increase the power anymore?’
‘Marginally, but the running time will be reduced,’ Jed replied.
‘Do it!’ Tom directed.
As Jed returned his attention to the control panel, Tom looked up at the image from the laptop projected onto the wall in front of him, willing the red line to slow down.
‘Five minutes to shut-down,’ Jed announced.
The red line seemed stationary, but the scrolling numeric values indicated otherwise. It was still accelerating.
‘Four minutes,’ Jed continued.
Still no change.
‘Three minutes.’
Tom studied the acceleration figures in the last column of the table. Had he discerned a slight variance?
‘Two minutes.’
Yes, it was definitely there. He stood up to get a better view; his focus never wavered, shutting out everything around him apart from the scrolling figures on the wall.
‘One minute.’
The values were diminishing. It still meant the field was accelerating, but not by as much.
‘Thirty seconds.’
The figures continued to fall towards zero. Someone at the back of the room shouted out that it was stopping; he was silenced by a hundred pairs of eyes turning in his direction, willing him to be quiet, as if his outburst would change the outcome.
‘Ten seconds.’
And then the first green value appeared on the screen, signifying that the field was actually slowing down, followed by another and then another.
‘Beam dump initiated.’
Tom stood staring at the wall in front of him, transfixed by the scrolling green numbers. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Had it worked? Had they really managed to slow the geomagnetic field down?
; The spontaneous cheer from the crowd filling his ears seemed to be all the confirmation he needed, as the room erupted in a jubilant uproar, bringing him back to his senses. Serena was ecstatic by his side, jumping up and down with a huge grin on her face. She flung her arms around his neck and continued her jig. Jed, not prone to outbursts of emotion, was similarly animated; he had grabbed the nearest person to him, an elderly woman with thick glasses and a tight bob, and was swinging her off her feet. She seemed to be enjoying it. He put her down and went over to Tom, slapping him on the back.
‘You did it, wee man. You bloody well did it!’
‘We did it,’ Tom corrected. ‘We did it.’
EPILOGUE
‘When did the doctors say he’ll be allowed to go home?’
Tom and Serena were standing on one side of Ajay’s bed. Frederick, looking suddenly older than his years, was on the other. The patient had lost interest in the conversation and had tuned into a comedy programme on the TV.
‘In a few more days,’ Frederick replied. ‘The bullet lodged in his rib cage. He was lucky it was a ricochet and didn’t have the full force to penetrate his lungs. Otherwise, we may be looking at a different scenario.’
It had been two weeks since Tom, Jed and Serena had fired up the collider at Brookhaven, effectively stopping magnetic north’s transition south. It had localised just off the coast of Greenland, which meant that most of Northern Europe would have to navigate using a compass pointing to magnetic west, whilst those in Canada had magnetic east as a guide. The rest of the world would just have to rely on Satellite Navigation and GPS for their bearings, which was no great hardship to anybody apart from a few million boy scouts.
The God Particle Page 29
