Master of Starlight

by Keith Short

  ‘Let me see. This particular dataset is a month old and I can tell it hasn’t been copied.’ A glaze of sadness appeared in Schroeder’s eyes.

  ‘That means the Americans don’t have the data from our most recent test run,’ Leon said, trying to rid himself of the thought of Pawel Kaminsky’s demise. ‘Go back about six months, will you?’

  ‘This one has been downloaded on to a zip,’ Schroeder said, sounding dismayed.

  Kuzmin was beginning to look alarmed. ‘Can you tell who requested the download?’

  ‘No, there’s no electronic signature as such,’ Leon replied. ‘But we could perhaps infer who it was from the date. Who had access to the central computer system that day, which system technologist had clearance? It would require someone to trawl through the security records and it would take time. A job for your boys, Kuzmin.’

  ‘Let me know what we need to do and I’ll arrange it at once. What I don’t understand is if the Americans have the data from a recent stellerator run, that’s all they need, isn’t it? They could use that to carry out their own research and continue to design a commercial reactor in parallel with us.’

  ‘I can put you at ease there,’ Leon said. ‘The data in the file whose status we’ve just checked are incremental. In other words, only the changes since the previous run are recorded, not the absolute values. The Americans will be clever enough to back-extrapolate, of course. But if they don’t have the stellerator settings from the breakthrough runs, they can’t relate the data to the actual plant configuration at the time.’

  ‘Do you want us to continue?’ Schroeder asked.

  ‘Yes, for a while. But as far as I can see, we’re already in a position to start our security investigations.’

  The binary digits scrolled slowly upwards. Leon only took his eyes off the video-wall for a few seconds at a time between datasets. It looked as if Kuzmin was struggling to stay awake. After fifteen minutes, the display froze. Schroeder turned towards Leon and stared with the hollow eyes of someone who’d just seen a gory murder. Leon shook his head, say nothing. ‘Well, I reckon we have enough information to make our report to Chekhov next week,’ he said, trying to mask the concern in his voice. ‘What do you say, Gunther?’ He turned towards Kuzmin. ‘We need to go somewhere private to hold a detailed technical discussion. Can I suggest Dr Schroeder’s latest prison cell?’

  Kuzmin frowned at Leon’s sarcasm. ‘I’m glad to see your enthusiasm for continuing with the project but don’t forget, security matters come first with Mr Chekhov.’

  Leon shook his head cynically. That’s not what you told me in Krakow.

  The three men rose from their seats. The seat lights extinguished and a pale white light flooded the data viewing room.

  They descended to Level G in the secondary elevator. Kuzmin left them with the two security guards posted outside Schroeder’s ground-floor apartment. Leon showed the guards his pass and one of them opened the door.

  ‘What do you reckon, Gunther? They downloaded those critical datasets only six weeks ago. That means someone has managed to bypass or decipher the crypto-key.’

  ‘It’s a tricky one. If the Americans have the data from those runs, they’re in a strong position. Best of luck to them, I’d say. If we’re going to provide the world with unlimited energy, we should have been collaborating with them in the first place.’

  ‘I see where you’re coming from but you haven’t thought this through. We are just the scientists who solve the problems. If we don’t keep it under wraps until it’s fully developed, this technology could get into the hands of politicians, ruthless business magnates, megalomaniacs even – who knows what they’d do with it? At least we know where we stand with Chekhov. He’s out to make money, as simple as that. Look, Gunther, I’m going to have to ask you this – and it will be once only.’ Leon steeled himself. ‘Are you stealing the data?’

  Gunther clenched and unlocked his fists. ‘No! It isn’t me.’

  They locked eyes for a while. ‘That’s good enough for me. We’ll say no more about it.’ But Leon could tell that Gunther wasn’t going to leave it there.

  ‘Leon, you know my views on Chekhov depriving the rest of the world of this technology. But they’ll get it one day, even if they have to pay the devil in royalties. The real problem arises if a third party gets hold of our data now. That could result in years of litigation on intellectual property rights and we could end up with a debilitating drag on technical progress. Like you, I’m on Chekhov’s side.’

  ‘OK, I apologise. But someone is pilfering our key foundation data.’

  ‘But do they appreciate the significance of their last download? And even if the Americans worked out what we’d done, they’d still have to find someone capable of fabricating the high precision super-conducting magnets, like we did. Then what would they do? Because what they haven’t got is you. Your technical insight is so brilliant that it opens up enormous possibilities for whoever has that technology. Without you, they’re going to take years to complete the task. Even I fail to understand how you manage to determine the parameter changes between our test runs. You provide us with a clear set of instructions, but there’s no documented logic.’

  ‘Just put it down to maverick intuition, Gunther. Like the chess grand master who holds a hundred scenarios in his head before he moves a single piece.’ He smiled. ‘Well, perhaps a bit more complex than that. And a lot of pieces to be moved.’

  Schroeder returned a resigned laugh. ‘I suppose you haven’t made any serious mistakes so far. But you do realise that because we aren’t allowed to publish our work, you’re not even an internationally renowned scientist. If the Americans knew of your personal contribution to this project, it would be you they’d be stealing, never mind the data. I can see why Chekhov was keen to track you down. Anyway, as things stand, we’re going to have to inform him of the significance of what the Americans now have in their back pocket.’

  ‘Might have in their back pocket. We don’t know whether they’ve done the deal yet. Listen, Gunther, I have a pretty good idea who is dealing with the Americans. But what I don’t know is how they’re getting hold of the data in the first place. We need to find out and stop this.’

  ‘I may be able to help. What I didn’t say in front of Kuzmin is that the data status files we looked at show some strange activity. Old data have been recently reviewed – as opposed to copied. Why would anyone want to do that? I’m going to take it up with the sys-techs.’

  ‘OK, it’s worth a shot. Keep me informed.’ Leon rubbed his cupped hands down his face then ruefully shook his head. ‘Fix us both a drink, will you? I’m going to give myself a tour of your new premises. Not a bad gaff, I have to admit.’

  ‘Better than my last apartment,’ Schroeder said, with a broad grin.

  The accommodation was palatial and there was comfort in the fact that Chekhov must have sanctioned Gunther’s relocation. But a disturbing thought took hold. What if today was just a ruse to get him to come here, what if he was now a prisoner too? He forced it to the back of his mind. Kuzmin had to be trustworthy, didn’t he?

  He wandered into the conservatory and was drawn towards the massive building façade he could see through the semi-opaque glass. The blurred view of the red brick wall to the side of the garden sent an icy prickle up his spine and a cold sweat enveloped him. He pictured Magda, talking to him about her ideas for photographing and analysing the building’s exterior – her sole view of the outside world in her time as a captive. But that could only mean . . . he slipped away from the living area, back into the apartment’s private lobby. Kitchen, bathroom, that door had to be . . . he entered the bedroom. The king-size bed was unmade and hand-scribbled notes were scattered everywhere. He stood, mesmerised, in a sea of excruciating thoughts. This could even be where . . .

  Schroeder came back from the kitchen with two steaming cups, just as Leon arrived
back from his nosing about. ‘You OK, Leon? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I have seen.’

  CHAPTER 42

  The first rays of dawn were filtering into the bedroom when Leon woke up from his shallow sleep. He’d hardly slept overnight – too much on his mind. Despite the mountain of work that confronted them in London and Greifswald, he needed this weekend break in Poland. Gunther’s investigations were completed within days and the outcome was shocking. And he still had to work out what to tell Chekhov in a week’s time. For a few moments he studied Magda, sleeping peacefully next to him, then slipped out of bed and crept into the kitchen. When the door behind him slid shut he ordered coffee.

  ‘One black coffee ready, Leon,’ said the Melomet.

  He listened at the kitchen door. Satisfied that the Melomet’s melodic-metallic voice hadn’t stirred Magda, he crept into the lounge and sat down with his morning drink.

  ‘You’re up early,’ Magda said, surprising him. She pecked him on his cheek then yawned and ruffled her hair as if this was her way of shaking the tiredness from her head.

  ‘Good morning, my love. I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘You’re not feeling troubled, are you?’

  ‘Well, actually, there was just one final matter I wanted to discuss with you. About Sergei.’

  ‘Leon! I really am getting tired of this. It’s a misplaced jealousy.’ She was fully awake by now. ‘How many times have I told you, I didn’t love him, I didn’t enjoy sex with him, I didn’t want to do it, full stop. There was nothing else I could do, I saw it as my only way out. Sometimes I could—’

  Leon put his arm around her. ‘You’re wrong, Magda. I don’t hold anything against you. Or him, for that matter. I accept that what you did was for us. But I need to ask you one more question. It’s the last one, I promise.’

  She sat down, fury in her eyes. ‘OK, what is it?’

  ‘I don’t mean to goad you. Trust me and just try to answer the question.’ He paused and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Did you see Sergei every day?’

  ‘Leon, you’re at it again. You—’

  ‘Magda, please.’ He was speaking in a soft voice. ‘Did he take you training all day every day?’

  ‘No, he didn’t actually. There were days when he’d disappear after lunch and I’d be left in my room for the rest of the day. Sometimes he didn’t come for me for days. Why do you ask?’

  Leon walked to the rear window and breathed a deep sigh. He looked pensively towards the Krakow ghetto then walked back to the sofa and sat next to Magda.

  ‘Leon, what is it?’

  ‘Do you remember the long philosophical discussions we used to have when we were students?’

  ‘I remember them well,’ she replied, looking relieved. ‘It was up with maths, down with physics. I used to love our debates, especially as I always won them.’

  ‘Yes, you probably did.’ He laughed. ‘And I always had to concede that you mathematicians came up with solutions that were perfect. QED, as you would say. We physicists, on the other hand, would come up with some staggering theories that explained everything. Yet we could never be absolutely sure they were right. There was always some new phenomenon that would spring from nowhere and punch a hole in your theory. No theory is perfect, as they say.’

  Magda smiled and hugged him. ‘I do love you, Leon.’

  ‘Which is why,’ he continued, without responding to her cosseting, ‘I’ve had to revisit my theory about your abduction and the smuggling of stellerator data to the Americans.’

  ‘What are you talking about? I thought you and Gunther decided that Slavic was providing the data to Rodin. So, what exactly are you revisiting?’

  ‘It’s the loose ends that bother me, Magda. I need to fill the gaps in the theory.’ He stood up and paced in front of her. ‘You remember how you told me you were surprised they hadn’t had you killed? Well, that means someone was reluctant to do that. And from what I’ve learned about Rodin, it wouldn’t have been her. She would have snuffed you out as soon as look at you. Next dilemma, how did Slavic get the data past Fusion’s security scanners? He may have had the highest security clearance and direct access to the data, but even he wouldn’t have been able to stroll past the scanners with a wafer-zip full of top-secret data in his back pocket.’

  ‘Do you have any ideas?’

  ‘As it happens, I do.’ Once again, he took his seat next to Magda. ‘Since Chekhov added Slavic’s former role to my own, I’ve had clearance to go anywhere on the Goldhurst site, unchallenged. And you’d be amazed at what I’ve found.’

  Magda sat up straight.

  ‘At the far end of the entrance hall, there’s a corridor off to the left. At the end of that corridor there’s a hidden entrance to a ground-floor complex that was under the control of Oleg Malkin. The complex is out of bounds for Fusion staff and it includes both Malkin’s and Rodin’s personal quarters and a control base for their respective security teams. As these security teams serve both Fusion and Eight Over Nine, this common control base is physically linked to both operations. And, as I’ve discovered, Fusion’s security scanning system doesn’t apply to the link between their main offices and the security control centre. They rely entirely on manual intervention to prevent unauthorised personnel access. You can see their logic in designing the place like that. It allows rapid deployment of security personnel in the event of an emergency.’

  ‘That means there’s a hole in Fusion’s security boundary which in principle would let a wafer-zip pass through,’ Magda said.

  ‘Exactly. But Malkin recognised this at some point and had scanners fitted between the living quarters and his security control centre. The rest of his private complex had no physical links to Fusion.’

  ‘Except, of course the security centre.’

  ‘Right again. Then we have the administrative security barrier. Let me show you.’ Leon grabbed his wafer-board and started to sketch.

  Magda pointed to the obvious flaw in Fusion’s security system on Leon’s scribbled map. ‘The security personnel would come and go to work via that corridor, which forms part of the living quarters in which Malkin had electronic detectors installed. But for health and safety reasons, they have their own separate emergency exit here,’ she dotted her finger on to the diagram, ‘leading straight into Fusion’s entrance hall and bypassing the scanners. God, how did he miss that?’

  ‘I agree, it’s a howler. Unless of course he left Rodin to design the details. After all, Rodin did design Eight Over Nine itself.’

  ‘You mean Rodin set this up so she could have simply gone into Fusion, collected the wafer-zip from Slavic and walked out with it, undetected?’

  ‘Aha! You’re getting there. But it’s not quite as simple as that. Rodin didn’t have security clearance to go inside Fusion. I presume that’s because it would have been too contentious for a Russian diplomat to be seen wandering around a highly sensitive nuclear power company. Although the two security teams shared the same control base, they in fact operated as independent units with mutually exclusive personnel. Except, that is, for Rodin’s mole.’

  Magda looked at Leon. Her face went white as if she’d come over sick.

  ‘I can see it in your eyes, Magda. You now realise what’s been going on. Yes, it was Sergei. He was the mole who carried the data through for Rodin. Sergei Vitaliev was initially employed as a Fusion security officer to work under Oleg Malkin. When Rodin incarcerated you, she persuaded Malkin to assign Vitaliev to special duties inside Eight Over Nine – as your trainer. Rodin now has a man with a foot in both camps. Vitaliev could keep an eye on you while he flitted between his two jobs as he saw fit. That’s why I pressed you about his schedule. It was nothing to do with jealousy.’ Leon could see the effect this was having on Magda; she was shocked and angry with herself.

  ‘OK, your logic seems
sound. But tell me this, physics boy. How could Slavic have been persuaded to pass over the data and why would Sergei have been willing to carry the zip through? They’d have both been acutely aware of the consequences of being found out. How did Rodin persuade them to do it?’

  ‘Well, the first part of your question is easy. As you discovered yourself, Sergei Vitaliev was in the navy. I’ve since found out that he was known to Rodin when he took on the Fusion security job. That’s because between his military service and his job at Fusion he was used by Rodin as a hitman. It’s almost certain that he was responsible for Kaminsky’s murder. As a trained killer, it was easy for Vitaliev to persuade Slavic to part with the data. He probably just threatened to cut his gonads off. Slavic would have been completely out of his depth and no doubt petrified. As for Vitaliev, he simply did whatever Rodin asked of him.’

  ‘You mean I’ve been sleeping with an assassin? You seem to delight in telling me this, Leon. If you’re so sure, what was Sergei’s incentive? How can someone be persuaded to do something as vile as kill another person? And if Sergei was that evil, why didn’t he just kill me and have done with it?’

  ‘I don’t know the answer to that last question. You must have had a guardian angel who prevented him from doing it. As for the incentive, Rodin coerced Vitaliev using the most powerful force she had at her disposal – the power of love. Rodin and Vitaliev are lovers.’

  Magda’s pallid face turned red. She stood up and prodded Leon in the chest. ‘We’re going to get the bastards,’ she said, then stormed off to the bedroom. Leon heard the anticipated slamming of the door. He hated himself for doing this but there would have to be no lingering secrets between them before their wedding. Sergei Vitaliev may have disappeared, but they both had to know the truth about him so they could move on from beneath his shadow. And in his own case, this was now becoming personal in more than one way. I could be his next target.