by Simon Mayo
Itch started walking over towards the explosion site, his father and sister following. ‘I wasn’t planning it really, but the store in town was selling the potassium nitrate and I just thought now would be a good time to try it out. Better than at home, anyway.’
They all stared at the small crater that had been left by the ‘stump removal’.
‘Better than at home is about right,’ said Nicholas, ‘but I promised your mother I’d make sure nothing “bad” happened. I assume she meant nothing explosive.’
There was silence then as the three Loftes kicked around in the dust. Jude Lofte hadn’t been mentioned by their father since they came to South Africa. After discovering Nicholas’s secret life working for an undercover energy research organization, their mother had walked out. She had returned on Christmas Eve, but it had been a tense, unhappy time. When Nicholas offered to take Itch and Chloe on a mine examination in South Africa, she had reluctantly agreed, saying that she’d spend the New Year with their eldest son, Gabriel, and his girlfriend before he went back to university in January.
Itch and Chloe glanced at each other. Itch thought his sister seemed upset and tried to look reassuring. ‘I won’t tell her if you don’t,’ he said.
His father nodded. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘But that’s it, Itch, OK? You plan any more experiments, you tell me beforehand – don’t wait for me to hear a ground-shaking explosion before I know anything. Agreed?’
Itch nodded, and another small cloud of dirt fell out of his hair.
2
Itch, Chloe and their father had flown to Cape Town three days after Christmas. Their destination was the small town of Vanrhynsdorp in the Western Cape. Picking up a Land Rover at the airport, they had driven all day to the deserted mine. This was the ‘Old Copper Way’, a part of the country with as rich a mining tradition as their native Cornwall. In the semi-desert, they had set up camp in one of the old mine buildings. It had been abandoned in the 1960s when the price of thorium had dropped, but Nicholas and some of his colleagues were convinced that there was more to be found.
‘We are really excited about this, Itch!’ he’d explained as they drove north. ‘The only reason more hasn’t been made of thorium as a nuclear fuel is because you can’t make weapons from it. But there’s loads of the stuff in the ground – almost as much as there is lead. No one wanted this old mine, but Jacob thinks we should have a look at it.’
Dr Jacob Alexander was the director of the West Ridge School of Mining and had been the only one to analyse the rocks of element 126 that Itch had found; he still treasured the printouts proving that he had actually tested the mysterious element. Spectacularly radioactive, it was dangerous beyond measure. He had seen its potential as a new energy source; it was a nuclear start-up kit in a bag. When Itch first hid the eight pieces of rock, Alexander had tried to persuade him to divulge their whereabouts, but to no avail. Now they had been destroyed, and Jacob Alexander had to resume his search for new energy sources without them.
‘I’m looking for some europium, Dad – don’t they have some of those rare earth elements in these mines?’
‘Right, stop,’ said Chloe. ‘Excuse me? Europium? Rare earth elements?’
Nicholas laughed. ‘You want to take that, Itch?’
‘This is pretty basic, Chloe – don’t you know anything?’ Itch reached for his rucksack.
‘No!’ said Chloe. ‘Nothing from there! No rocks, no gases, no nothing! Just tell me, Itch. In words.’
Itch sat back in his seat, leaving his rucksack by his feet. It boasted 118 pockets, one for each element on the Periodic Table; Itch used it to house his collection. Many of the pockets were for show – a joke from the MI5 agents who had watched over Itch – as so many of the elements were either unobtainable or too dangerous to keep in a nylon bag.
‘All right, calm down,’ he said. ‘I had to leave most of the stuff at home; didn’t think customs would appreciate it. All I was going to show you was the chart – so you can see where the rare earths are.’
‘Not interested,’ said Chloe. ‘You’ve got two sentences. Then I’m back to Rihanna.’ She waved her headphones at her brother.
‘OK. Mainly, they’re the ones down the bottom of the Periodic Table – the bottom two lines. They’re all very similar to each other and they’re used in laptops, mobile phones—’
‘That’s enough,’ interrupted Chloe, and she pushed the small white ear buds into her ears.
‘And probably your iPod . . .’ Itch trailed off.
‘Nice try,’ said Nicholas, laughing again. Itch sighed. ‘And to answer your question, Itch: yes, there may well be some europium there, along with a host of other rare earths. Why the interest in europium?’
‘It’s what a lot of the 126 would have decayed into when I blasted it at the ISIS labs. I’m glad we destroyed it. And when I get the europium, I want to display it. To show what we managed to do.’
His father nodded. ‘You guys were quite some team. Have you heard from Jack or Lucy? What are they up to?’
‘I think Jack said that Lucy had invited her to a New Year’s do in town,’ said Itch.
‘Wish you were there?’ asked Nicholas.
‘What do you think?!’ Itch grinned. ‘No way! I’m element-hunting! And you’re here. And we’re making Chloe come too; that beats some party which is bound to be a fail.’
Nicholas was checking the fuel gauge. ‘Let’s fill up.’ And he pulled into a petrol station. ‘I’ve also brought you both a present. You need it before we get to the mines.’ Sitting in the warmth of the afternoon sun – a welcome change from the grim winter at home – Nicholas produced two identical packages, handing one to Itch and one to Chloe.
Wiping hamburger grease off his hands onto his jeans, Itch weighed the parcel in his hand. Paperback-book sized, it felt heavier, and he felt movement in the box under the Christmas wrapping. It was strange to be unwrapping presents with Santa Claus decorations in twenty-two-degree heat, with farm trucks thundering along the R301 to Stellenbosch. Itch and Chloe stared at the boxes, then at their father. Itch grinned, while Chloe looked puzzled.
‘They’re radiation detectors,’ said Nicholas. ‘State of the art. And we’ve set them to look for certain X-rays and signatures which you need to be aware of. They’ll click like fury if there’s a big surge in radiation. You both need to be careful – but, Itch, you know the dangers. After your bone-marrow transplant, you might not get a second chance.’
Itch opened the box and took out a black and yellow metal case with a yellow cord attached. At the top was a circular window showing a needle and a colour-coded display going from blue to red.
‘I’ve had them made. Smart, huh? Made from cerium tribromide, the latest hi-spec compound, if you’re serious about detecting radiation. While we’re near the mines, you wear them all the time. There’ll be low-level radiation everywhere, of course – you’ll hear it click when it registers a decaying particle. It measures roentgens per hour—’
‘Dad,’ interrupted Itch, ‘we know this stuff. The 126 sent Geiger counters crazy.’
Nicholas nodded. ‘Of course. I’m just reminding Chloe that if the clicks coming out of the speaker start to get anything close to rapid, it’s time to move. And tell me.’
‘Why are we even going there if there’s a danger?’ asked Chloe quietly, not opening her box; uneasy at this reminder of the dangers of radiation poisoning.
‘There isn’t a danger where we are staying, Chloe,’ said her father. ‘We are some way from the mine itself, which is where the radiation is. It’s just an extra precaution. And they’re waterproof too – Jacob made them, look.’ Nicholas pointed to Itch’s name, etched into the silver reverse of the counter: Itchingham Lofte. Keep those clicks low! Your friend Jacob.
‘Wow. The world’s only personalized radiation detectors. Didn’t need the message, but I’ve always wanted one of these things.’ Itch strung the counter round his neck. ‘Whaddya think, Chloe?’
/> She shrugged. ‘Suits you, I suppose.’ She gathered up her detector and its wrapping, stuffing it all into her bag. ‘Can we go now?’ she said.
They had arrived in Vanrhynsdorp in the early evening, the sun already disappearing over the low, rocky hills. They had driven through the town, all neat hedgerows and bed-and-breakfasts, and Nicholas took the last few kilometres slowly.
‘Glad we’re not staying there!’ said Itch as they left the trim, tidy lawns behind. ‘Looked like the dullest place ever. Come on, Dad, let’s get there before it gets dark.’
They were all excited to be arriving at last, the tiredness of the day disappearing as the car climbed the dusty, pothole-filled road. Their windows down, Itch and Chloe leaned out, ignoring the clouds of dust thrown up by the four-wheel drive.
‘Palmeitkraal mine. Danger. Keep out,’ Itch read from a small sign by the side of the road. ‘This’ll be it, then!’
‘Four-star or five-star hotel, do you think?’ said Chloe.
They were still laughing when Itch and Chloe jumped down from the Land Rover, detectors swinging from their necks. They stood looking at the dilapidated, once-white house, the buzz of the crickets interrupted by occasional clicks from the two detectors’ tiny speakers.
‘The white bosses stayed here,’ explained Nicholas as they carried their suitcases inside. ‘There were a number of houses where the mine owners lived. The black workers lived in crummy little huts nearer the mine. Then, in the sixties, everything got shut down, and nothing’s really happened since then.’
The main living space had been cleared and swept, but that was as far as the luxuries went. At one end a battered sofa and two sagging armchairs were arranged round an old television; at the other, three camp beds leaned against the far wall, bedding bulging out of an old carrier bag.
Chloe checked her phone. ‘This is weird,’ she said. ‘Like camping indoors. No wi-fi, no signal. Nothing.’
They found a basic kitchen and usable bathroom, but the upstairs rooms seemed to have been home to too many birds and small animals.
‘Think we’ll be mostly downstairs,’ she said.
3
The morning after the stump-removal explosion, the Loftes were back in the car and in high spirits. This was their first trip to the mines, and even Chloe seemed to be looking forward to it.
‘This is a weird way to spend New Year’s Eve. I don’t suppose you’ve planned a party, Dad . . . There’s plenty of room in that house!’
‘We could invite all the neighbours,’ said Itch. ‘Which based on the upstairs rooms would be all the local wild dogs and a few springbok.’
Their father laughed. ‘You’re right, it does stink a bit up there,’ he said as they bounced along the track, away from the house. ‘Maybe we’ll have a quiet one on our own. We could have a braai!’
‘You what?’ asked Chloe.
‘A barbecue,’ said Nicholas. ‘We can’t leave without tasting some local Boerewors sausage or ostrich. We could get some tips from this guy we’re meeting; he’s one of Jacob Alexander’s guys from the local university. His father used to be the foreman here when the mines were cranking out small amounts of thorium. He’s going to show us around. There are a number of old shafts here which are best avoided – they’re sealed off anyway – but he’s told me there’s one that might be explorable. Might pick up some europium, you never know!’
‘So does Dr Alexander own these mines, then?’ asked Itch. ‘Is that why we can just drive where we want around here?’
They drove in silence while Nicholas thought of his answer. Eventually he said, ‘Well, you know, this is all supposed to be secret – but I’ve probably kept enough from you guys, so . . .’ He sighed. ‘Essentially we’ve more or less bought the mines for study by the local university. There’s a few paperwork issues to sort out, but I think the deal is pretty much done. There’s a lot of buzz around the gold and platinum mines, but not much here. No one is interested because they’re – officially – clapped out and dangerous. But our man here reckons otherwise. And there he is!’
Their father pointed to the T-junction ahead, then waved at a man standing by a flatbed truck. A boy sitting in the back stood and waved as Nicholas pulled up just behind them.
‘Themba, good morning! Thanks for meeting us!’ called Nicholas as he climbed out.
The other man smiled warmly. ‘Nicholas! Good to see you again!’ He was thin and slightly stooped, with tightly curled black hair that was going grey at the temples. ‘This is my son Sammy.’ The boy jumped down and stood, hands by his side, grinning. ‘Well, say something, Sammy – this is the Mr Lofte from England who I was telling you about.’
‘Hello, Mr Lofte,’ said Sammy, still smiling. ‘It is nice to meet you.’
They shook hands formally, and then Itch and Chloe came over.
‘Itch, Chloe, this is Themba Motsei and his son Sammy. Themba’s going to head up our work at the mines here.’
They all shook hands and nodded politely.
‘How old are you both?’ asked Themba.
‘I’m twelve and Itch is fifteen,’ said Chloe. ‘How about you, Sammy?’
The boy squirmed and smiled some more. ‘I’m thirteen,’ he said softly. Then, ‘Do you like Manchester City?’ He pointed to his pale blue football shirt.
Nicholas and Themba started laughing, but Itch and Chloe looked baffled.
‘I don’t really follow football,’ Itch said awkwardly. Sammy looked disappointed. ‘I don’t dislike it,’ he added quickly. ‘I just don’t really have an opinion one way or another. Some boys at school like them, I think. And Manchester United. And Chelsea . . .’
‘Itch, don’t try and talk football,’ said Chloe. ‘We’ll find other stuff to talk about.’
They all climbed into the truck – Nicholas and Themba in the cab at the front; Sammy, Itch and Chloe in the open box at the back. An assortment of packing cases was strapped down at the far end.
The truck’s progress was slow; the holes in the road made any speed above five mph extremely dangerous. Itch and Chloe clung to the sides of the truck.
Sammy smiled again. ‘You ridden like this before?’
Itch and Chloe both shook their heads.
‘It’s the best way. Even if the whole mine area is full of holes and very bad roads.’
‘Do you know where we are going?’ said Itch.
‘My father says we are going to the Hewitt B mine. That’s OK – at least you don’t need the radiation suits there.’
Itch and Chloe glanced at each other. ‘Is there a Hewitt A mine?’
The smile again. ‘Yes. An A, C and D. We don’t go there too much. But B is fun. You’ll see. Why are you wearing those Geiger counters?’
‘You know about these things?’ said Itch, holding up his yellow, clicking metal box.
‘Sure,’ said Sammy. ‘Dad brings that stuff home all the time. We’ve played around with them, but you’re wearing them like necklaces.’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Chloe, tucking hers away down the front of her T-shirt.
Sammy took the hint and didn’t question them further.
The truck pulled up, and they turned to see Themba unlocking a huge padlock and unwinding a chain that linked the two large iron gates. A large sign screwed to the bars said, HEWITT B MINE. CONTROLLED AREA. NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY. Nicholas joined him to push the gates open, and when both men had returned to the truck, they trundled slowly into a rock-strewn field.
Itch and Chloe knew a deserted mine when they saw one – they had plenty back home in Cornwall. There were the telltale spoil heaps of earth and stone that had been dug up and left, unwanted, in loose hills by each shaft. Rusty and decaying winding towers stood by a series of ugly concrete buildings. However, the sheer scale of the operation was new to them – it extended for miles, mostly downhill from where they stood. Areas of dense dark-green shrub were littered with patches of brown, broken rocks. A number of burned-out houses stood a few hundred
metres away.
‘That where the miners lived?’ asked Chloe.
Sammy shook his head. ‘Whites only. The miners were in shacks.’ He pointed to heaps of corrugated iron and wood nearby. ‘They all fell down. Even my grandpa’s.’
The road, such as it was, circled round to a concreted area which looked new. Clean and swept, it too was surrounded by barbed wire, iron posts and NO ENTRY signs. An irregular double click from under Chloe’s T-shirt made her jump and she caught Itch’s eye.
‘That won’t be anything, Chloe – we aren’t near enough any rock—’
‘I’m still telling Dad,’ she said, and as the truck slowed to a stop, she was the first to jump down.
Nicholas and Themba listened as Chloe told them about the extra clicks from the radiation detector.
Themba nodded. ‘The thorium-rich mines are on the other side of the hill, Chloe. Many, many years ago there were tiny amounts of thorium here, but now the mine has been cleansed and tested and given the all-clear. The old buildings are being torn down and buried under clay because of their radioactivity. I’ve taken my Geiger counter right down this mine and there were no surprising readings. The shaft is completely restored. I wouldn’t bring Sammy if it wasn’t safe.’
Chloe looked reassured. ‘OK. What happens now?’
‘Themba and I are going to do some tests on some of the rock about fifty metres into the mine here,’ said Nicholas.
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Itch.
‘It’s monazite,’ Themba told him. ‘Looks like this.’ He produced a small reddish-brown pebble from his pocket. ‘I got this from here. Should contain some lanthanum and almost all the rare earths.’
‘And thorium? That would make it radioactive, wouldn’t it?’ Chloe stepped back. ‘That’s where my extra click came from!’
‘Give me your radiation counter,’ said Nicholas, and she pulled it out from under her T-shirt. It swung on the end of her hand and he caught it. Themba held out the monazite as Nicholas closed in with the detector.
