by C B Barrie
As he slowly went through all the postcards, sometimes fascinated by the complimentary remarks scribbled on the edge, or the distance they had to travel to get to him, he wondered how many would think him worth nominating for the Nobel Prize in physics. Although Nobel had asserted in his will that the Prize for physics shall be awarded "to the person who shall have made the most important 'discovery' or 'invention' within the field of physics in the last year" it wasn’t usually given until sufficient time had passed for the ‘discovery’ or ‘invention’ to become well established.
Caplin was aware that he could be in for a long wait, but was as yet optimistic. It was something that needed very little time and effort to verify or prove and he could not see how its value to science and technology could be overlooked, not if the response he had received was anything to go by.
Felton came by mid afternoon, very apologetic and doing his best not to be treated as one of the enemy.
‘Hello Michael, you’ll be pleased to know that the disciplinary charges have been dropped, you’ve been exonerated.’
Caplin shook his head. ‘I could have told you that Charles, there was no way they could have disciplined me without having to pay a high price for it. I imagine it came as a shock to them to find they had nothing to shoot me with. Anyway, it’s water under the bridge, and glad I am of it.’
Felton took a chair and sat down in front of Caplin’s desk.
‘The thing is Michael, how on earth did you contrive all of it, was Nathaniel Ellis part of your strategy? I know he did a lot of work with you.’
For a moment Caplin froze, Nathaniel Ellis was a name he’d almost forgotten and it wasn’t one he wanted resurrected.
‘Not really Charles, I kept Nathaniel on the periphery of things. The less he knew the better. After all, he was just starting his career, I didn’t want him risking things that might lead to him getting a black mark on his copy book.’
Felton nodded in agreement. ‘Well, understood. Incidentally Michael, now you’re in the clear what plans have you got. I imagine you could easily find a senior post in academia somewhere, I’m sure they’d all do battle to get you on their staff, you could name your price.’
Caplin gave a grateful smile. ‘Perhaps, but I’m at home here in Metlab and I would be sorry to go. I’m going to play it by ear. If someone comes along with an offer I can’t refuse then we’ll see. Otherwise, I’m nice and cosy here so you won’t be getting rid of me that easily.’
Felton looked flustered. ‘God’s sake Michael, I never wanted you to be dismissed, on the contrary…’
Caplin stood and walked Felton to the office door. ‘It’s all right Charles, just my weird sense of humour. I know full well who’s on my side so don’t worry, I’m not offended. I’ll catch up with you soon.’
As he saw Felton off his thoughts turned again to what he had actually planned - to take the first senior university appointment that came along and to ensure that all the other plaudits and awards followed.
But most of all his plan required patience, for patience was necessary in being nominated for the Nobel Prize, and he was still convinced that it was his for the taking; sooner rather than later.
24
The Nobel Prize winner for Physics is chosen from nominations provided by a select group of individuals considered qualified and competent to do so. The nominations are by invitation.
Certain others are at liberty to nominate a potential prize winner and are usually those tenured professors of physical sciences at certain universities and institutions, and the holders of corresponding chairs in a number of other universities and university colleges, selected by the Swedish Academy of Sciences. Likewise, other reputable scientists whom the Academy sees fit to invite proposals. In September of any one year the Committee sends out confidential forms to anything up to 3000 selected individuals asking for nominations.
Caplin knew that he had to wait at least another eighteen months at the earliest to know the outcome of the Nobel Committee’s deliberations on screening the nominations for the award. No one can nominate himself or herself and it requires names standing out in the nominations before a selection process can begin. As noted, these nominations are invited in the September, and by February of the following year there is a deadline for submissions; January the 31st being the cut off for nomination forms. From nominations received the Committee selects the preliminary 300 names, which between March and May are sent to especially appointed experts for assessment. They decide the outstanding candidates.
The Committee then begins the final selection procedure so that in October the Academy selects the Nobel Laureates by virtue of a majority vote. The names are then announced and the award ceremony takes place on the 10th of December in Stockholm, the date being auspicious as Nobel’s birthday.
For the time being Caplin had to bury himself in extending his technology, to add to, and enlarge, on the amazing results he had already published.
He needed to extend his reputation even further before the Nobel Committee invited the September nominations. He had no delusions about how easily short memories hampered modern science, especially with the sheer weight of fresh publications. Indeed, to ensure that some other scientist, announcing an awe-inspiring breakthrough, didn’t submerge his work, he had to keep going. There were likely to be umpteen research groups repeating his work and inevitably some brilliant mind, that on the day saw further than him, could supersede all that he had done.
As the months past he played the game, cheerfully carrying out the physical tests that Nick Gordon asked for and in parallel extending the refinement of the amalgam procedure. As time passed he began to faintly regret not snatching at the offers he was receiving for senior University posts. How uplifting it would have been to at last embrace and wallow in some of the status he had long-awaited and yearned for – but he held back. He knew it was a risk gambling his whole future on being awarded the Nobel Prize, but everything he had done was contrived to compete for it. Should he fail then the academic crumbs still within his reach would have to do – but he expected even the crumbs to offer him a high degree of consolation.
For every offer he had had, he had been careful to imply that were he to accept the generous offer, it would have to be delayed for a time. This was to allow him to complete a research programme and to meet his contract of employment that required sufficient notice for a replacement to be found to fill his vacant post. His contingency plan was simply to keep the door open and await those circumstances that forced a decision.
He was soon to find that his technology was paying dividends, in June he received a portion of monies negotiated by MIMC for licenses on his technology and as he banked the cheque he was informed that he was to be promoted to the top scientific rank in Metlab with a concomitant rise in his salary grade. It was a small instance of recognition, but gratifying for all that, and likely to be a continuous source of revenue as his technology was applied to rocket motors, jet engines, heat shields for re-entry of space vehicles, machine tools and even surgical instruments.
And yet, for all his success, his apprehension began to rise as the oncoming October promised the announcement of the new Nobel Laureates. As the month proceeded he found himself constantly preoccupied with the chance of failure, arming himself with the determination not to be crushed by discovering he had not been nominated. As the third week in October started he reported for work and got to his office in a black mood. Not knowing one way or another was worse than actually being ineligible or defeated over the prize. He began to imagine that all he had done, all the terrible things he had been forced to do in order to achieve his ambitions, had been futile.
On the third Monday of the month he arrived early in the Metlab complex and decided not to go directly to his office but to head for the lab and distract himself with more work on his recent amalgam boil off experiments.
As he opened the laboratory door it was dimly lit by the blue white emergency fluorescents, but otherwise
in virtual darkness. He reached for the light switch, and as the strip lights flickered into full illumination his ears were assaulted by a wave of cheering and hand clapping. In front of him stood most of the Metlab scientific team along with the senior admin people. He stood completely shocked by the reception, what on earth was this?
It was Alec Grieves who stepped forward, his hand outstretched and a beaming smile on his face.
‘You obviously don’t know Michael, that’s clear. Well, we do, it was on the early BBC news. You are the new Nobel Laureate in Physics, congratulations. Everyone here is delighted and so is M.I.M.C. What more could you want, what more could all of us here want.’
He had no reply, he simply felt like weeping.
The elation seemed to last a long time, he was feted every time he made contact with any of his Metlab colleagues who now, rather than keeping a cold distance between them, were very quick to attempt to inculcate themselves into his good graces.
He was careful to reciprocate, making sure he left all and sundry with a good opinion of Dr. Michael Caplin, with not one staff member jealous or resentful.
Nevertheless, he made immediate contact with all those who had in the recent past made him offers for an academic post. When he found out that Trinity College at University Oxford were still prepared to create the new chair they had dangled in front of him a short while back, he made arrangements to meet up with their academic staff. It was a foregone conclusion that they would honour the offer and it took only a short time for him to be formally offered the position.
Leaving Metlab was surprisingly emotional, not least when he stood in the silent emptiness of his Treen house and, looking through the open back door, could view the stretch of scrubland where he knew Nathaniel Ellis rested.
His mind slipped back to all the narrow escapes and perilous events he had been forced to contrive to make his current triumphs possible. Ellis of course had almost tripped him up, but Ellis’ naivety had let him down. Anyone with even a modicum of experience would have been on their toes when faced with the situation he’d encountered. Ellis should have been eternally grateful for all the protection he got, but he never wanted to suspect that Holden, CM’s spy, had been liquidated. On that score, Caplin never saw Holden’s fate, but he knew exactly what would have happened. Much more dramatic was the elimination of the policeman Meredith; in his minds eye he could hear the screaming clamour as Meredith’s car divided top to bottom and then, completely out of control, slewed across the road to disappear over the cliff edge.
Likewise, he could still see the smouldering pile of wreckage that had eliminated the threat from Gregson and Neilson. Sadly, and more vivid, was the day he been forced to dispatch Ellis; of how his sense of shame in killing his colleague had only been suppressed by his resolute and unflinching ambition.
Now it was all done –everything he had hoped for was coming to pass and it had all been through a kind of divine intervention, though he half suspected that the Divinity in question wasn’t too pleased with him.
25
He’d been in post for almost eight months now and it had become everything he had ever hoped for.
He was now Professor Michael Caplin, Emeritus Professor of Materials Science at Trinity College, Oxford - Nobel Laureate, Fellow of the Royal Society, member or fellow of at least five foreign scientific academies and institutions, and probably soon to be knighted. He had very little to bother him, his acceptance of the post had been contingent on him being a research fellow and apart from the supervision of a few post graduate students, and the time he spent in his own laboratory, he had little to do.
His lifestyle was deeply comfortable, he wanted for nothing given that his financial circumstances had been generously bolstered by the Nobel Prize money, by the substantial royalties still pouring in from M.I.M.C, and his stipend from the University. He had a beautiful Georgian house in Summertown Oxford and now ran a high performance Aston Martin. He was often at high table with the College fellows and senior common room members, and his life became one of social, rather than scientific, aspiration.
He still had a retreat; an office in the Clarendon Laboratories. It was a refuge where in his private moments he was able to congratulate himself on his scheming and wallow in his achievements.
The knock on his office door wasn’t unexpected, quite often one of his small band of post graduate students would pop in to discuss their research project or pose an interesting question. This time however, it was different.
There were two of them – an elderly man, bearded and soberly dressed, and a woman in her middle years yet still very attractive.
The woman was vaguely familiar, but Caplin could not remember from where. The bearded man came into the office first.
‘Professor Caplin, my name is Professor Gerald Napier, I hold the chair in physics at Brunel University. One of my post-graduate students was a certain Nathaniel Ellis, perhaps you remember him.
For a moment a cold shrill ran down Caplin’s back but he quickly buried it.
‘Well, Professor Napier, I’m glad to meet you. I know you by reputation of course. I think I have enough chairs for you all, please – sit down.’
Napier turned and lifted two chairs placed against the office wall and placed one for the woman and a second for himself in front of Caplin’s desk. Napier’s was deliberately somewhat forward of the woman’s.
‘If I may, Professor Caplin, may I introduce to my right Mrs. Barbara Templeton who hails from St Ives.’
It was then that Caplin recollected his short encounter with Ellis’ landlady – the wonderful Mrs Templeton.
‘I have met Mrs Templeton as I am sure she will recall. She looked after the person just mentioned, a colleague of mine, Dr. Ellis.’
He smiled ingratiatingly at Mrs Templeton. She in turn simply looked at him with cold, unforgiving eyes.
Napier watched the encounter, he too retaining an uncompromising expression.
‘It’s about Nathaniel that we are here today Professor Caplin. We understand that Nathaniel was your co-worker while at Metlab. The people at Metlab have told us that Nathaniel abruptly vanished one day leaving behind only a notice of resignation. It was you that delivered the note to personnel and subsequently disposed of all his effects. Now, try as we might, there is no trace of Nathaniel using any of the conventional methods. No salary taxation, no notification of an employer, nothing in the department of work and pensions or national insurance. Indeed, no registration with a general practitioner, no active bank accounts. In short, he’s vanished.’
Caplin nodded, ‘Yes, I don’t doubt what you say but I can’t help you. The last time I saw Nathaniel Ellis was the day before I found that letter of resignation you’ve just mentioned. Other than that, I have no further information. All I did after he had gone was to clear his office and put everything in store. More than that I can’t help other than to suggest that he’s abroad somewhere.’
The room lapsed into a taut silence. Then Napier reached into his jacket inside pocket and withdrew some papers.
‘You probably weren’t aware of the fact that Ellis was one of my best students, and I was very interested in his career path. We wrote to each other at least once a week and he detailed what was happening to him at Metlab and what kind of research he was involved in. He was at first very complimentary about you and the synergy and rapport you were both developing in your working relationship. It is only a few letters into the opening of our correspondence that he confesses his shame at being compromised by the contractual demands of Consolidated Mines, and the threat from the second agent that CM had inserted into Metlab. Then he informs me that you assured him, and Mrs Templeton here overheard your conversation with Ellis at her house, that Nathaniel should stop being concerned, and that he was not going to have his career sullied by his commitment to CM. And true to your word, the whole problem appears to go away. So, what happened to this agent Holden – how was it that he very conveniently fell into a smelter?’
>
Caplin suddenly saw the way the conversation was developing, and he didn’t like it.
‘Why ask me Professor Napier, I haven’t a clue. All I can say is that I was with Ellis when we confronted Holden about his nefarious activities. We warned him off. After that, we put his disappearance down to the fact that we had intimidated him sufficiently for him to make himself scarce – and that’s it!’
Napier gave a perceptible shake of his head and looked at Mrs. Templeton at his side. She did the same.
‘Professor Caplin, tell me please, why didn’t you acknowledge Ellis’ contribution in the three papers you published in Nature the two years before last?’
‘You presume too much sir, what makes you think Ellis made a contribution?’
‘Simply that I was his PhD supervisor and I recall the appendix dealing with the use of amalgams for cobalt alloys in his thesis - an aspect which I must shamefully say I had no faith in. Given what you reported in your papers, there was no way you could have produced the results that you did without Ellis’ work being central to the results.’
Caplin snorted a rejection. ‘I had already started to use amalgams when Ellis and I first met. All he did was refine what I had already done. His contribution was negligible. Furthermore, Nathaniel told me that his appendix was ignored by his examiners, they hardly looked at it I remember him saying, and he blamed you for not allowing him to include the amalgam work in the main body of his thesis.’
Napier, clearly struck by the final comment yet disbelieved the reply, and simply referred to his notes again.
