Master of Starlight

by Keith Short

  CHAPTER 43

  The big fish glided silently past. Sharks were lone predators unless they gathered at a feeding frenzy. Here they had no choice. Fascinating. This meeting was going to be about sorting out their differences, working together and getting Fusion up and running again. Kuzmin was right – Chekhov was never going to punish him.

  ‘Good morning, Dabrowski. I wasn’t aware that your scientific interests extended to marine biology.’ Vladimir Chekhov and Ivan Kuzmin marched into the room.

  Their handshakes were warm and genuine. Chekhov kept hold of Leon’s hand for what seemed like a full minute. ‘Intriguing place to hold a meeting,’ Leon said.

  ‘Playing on home territory, as the English would say. We have much to discuss. Please take a seat and I’ll have coffee sent down. I hope you don’t mind Mr Kuzmin joining us. As you know, he’s my security specialist.’

  This was a good start. The table’s circular shape represented strength and symmetry; it avoided the us and them syndrome. In this together and safe from the sharks.

  ‘Why do you think I’ve brought you over, Dabrowski? Tell me.’

  Interesting opening gambit. ‘You want to know whether I think someone is trying to reconstruct our reactor design using our proprietary data,’ Leon replied.

  ‘You are right, of course. Data security is one of the items on my agenda. Hence Kuzmin’s presence. More importantly, I’ve brought you here to meet you face to face. You’ve worked for my company for almost four years and during that time you’ve led my technical team through one of mankind’s most significant scientific steps forward. Work which I have funded. Yet only now do we appear in the same room together.’

  ‘Not my fault. You never came over to Germany to observe our work. You haven’t even visited the London design office that you set up – your own company HQ. Until recently, of course.’

  ‘And you were always too busy to travel to Monte Carlo. We always had to communicate by video link. Well, things have changed during your absence. I now hold meetings with my directors here, at my home. And you are one of my directors, Dabrowski. Think of it as a project progress meeting, if you like. An extremely important one on this occasion, I might say.’

  ‘You have my full attention. Where’s the agenda?’

  Chekhov gave a mocking laugh. ‘How many other directors would speak to their president like that? They would be sacked on the spot for insolence. However, in your case your intellect saves you. You are vital to the future of my company. Hence, I must continue to tolerate your tantrums. Because that is what I see you as, Dabrowski – a spoilt child. Did your father have to put up with such behaviour?’

  Leon was boiling inside but he wasn’t going to let the steam escape. ‘I didn’t know my father, he died when I was a baby. But in answer to your question, I had a perfectly good relationship with my stepfather. The man who brought me up as a child was a fine father to me.’ He felt regret as soon as the words left his mouth. Chekhov was clearly offended by his remark. And why did Kuzmin look so uncomfortable? Not such a good start, after all.

  ‘Back to business,’ Chekhov said, restoring order to the meeting. ‘We have evidence of Wendelstein-7X design information being available to scientists at the Los Alamos laboratory. I was hoping you would have some idea of who provided them with this information and how they managed to extract it from computers that are supposed to be protected with the highest levels of data security.’

  ‘I have proof that Dr Slavic was responsible. He managed to get hold of software that ports our system’s artificial intelligence-based protection interface to a zip at the time of the illegal download. Sorry, Kuzmin, I’ve only just confirmed this for myself.’

  ‘Slavic?’ Chekhov said with surprise.

  ‘Yes. But you need to know he wasn’t stealing data for financial gain or even for altruism’s sake, so the rest of the world could have this technology. He was doing it because his life was being threatened – by Alexei Rodin.’

  Chekhov and Kuzmin sat up straight.

  Now they were really shocked. ‘Yes, Rodin is your real culprit and she disappeared before you could sack her. I suggest we don’t waste any more time discussing how and why and start to look at the significance of the data the Americans have already obtained.’

  Chekhov nodded. Leon could see that Kuzmin was smiling his approval across the table. I’m beginning to like this guy. ‘Kuzmin and I have sat down with Gunther Schroeder and the three of us have identified the data files that have been copied. I have to say, it’s pretty serious. The latest datasets they copied contain the key foundation data. If the Americans get hold of the data from those particular runs, they effectively have our fundamental design.’

  Chekhov went rigid. ‘What do you mean if they get hold of the data? You’ve just told me they have a copy.’

  ‘I told you someone has a copy. But we can’t be sure the Americans have it yet.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t they?’

  ‘The crypto-keys for the foundation datasets are significantly more complex than those of the latest runs. This is because our artificial intelligence software progressively increases the complexity of the protection algorithms with time. Slavic would have had to explain that to Rodin to make sure she didn’t embarrass herself with the Americans. On one hand the Americans would be close to their pot of gold. On the other hand, they’d have to overcome a significant barrier to get to it. My guess is that Rodin, wherever she is at the moment, is engaged in a complex set of negotiations with Los Alamos.’

  ‘We have to recover their latest pirated wafer-zip,’ Kuzmin said. ‘Let’s hope Rodin is still in the UK.’

  Chekhov turned towards Kuzmin. ‘You must start your enquiries at once. Find out where Rodin is hiding and retrieve the vital data. And bring back Rodin – I wish to speak with her. Dabrowski, come with me. I have other matters to discuss.’

  ‘Why have we moved? I was enjoying your shark aquarium.’

  ‘Here in my private quarters, I discuss only the most sensitive aspects of my business, Leon. Only the most senior members of my service staff and security team ever see the inside of these rooms. Consider yourself to be privileged. Please be seated, I have a few more questions for you.’

  Leon was intrigued. Not only about the privilege he’d been afforded but the fact that Chekhov addressed him by his first name.

  ‘If you are right about Rodin, and I believe you are, why did she do it? If her colleagues at the embassy planted her at Goldhurst specifically to steal this information for the Russian State, why would she become a traitor to her country?’

  ‘Money – as simple as that. Once she discovered the true fiscal value of the data, she decided to defect and run off with any money she could bleed out of the Americans.’

  ‘I agree to the release of Dr Schroeder.’

  Leon was taken aback. After all his pleading, Gunther would at last be set free – just like that.

  Chekhov fired in the next question. ‘If we can’t stop Rodin, what are the ultimate consequences of the Americans having access to our fundamental fusion reactor design?’

  Leon felt like he was in an interview to preserve his own job. ‘Commercially, they’d be snapping at our heels. But I’m afraid that would be your problem, not mine. Your lawyers against theirs, patents and intellectual property rights, proof of ownership, that sort of thing. I can’t help you.’

  ‘So, it would be winner take all?’ Chekhov smiled. ‘I assure you, we don’t have a problem on that account. However, once the Americans have this pot of gold you refer to, what is to stop them from developing the technology in an alternative direction and offering certain unscrupulous states around the globe a better and cheaper energy option than ours?’

  ‘There’s nothing to stop them.’ It was now Leon’s turn to smile. ‘But technically they’d never be ahead of us – as long as you have me and Gunther on y
our side.’ The smile left Leon’s face. Or unless they took us out of the equation.

  ‘I was hoping you would say that. Your relationship with Professor Tomala. Are you expecting to become married in the near future? If so, is it likely to affect your focus on the job in hand?’

  My God, he’s so hard to keep up with. ‘The answer to your first question is yes. I intend to marry her. But there are personal issues to resolve before that can happen. Regarding my performance in the job you’ve just given me, I won’t let you down. Magda has always been interested in my work from a theoretical point of view. I occasionally find it helpful to seek her opinion on the mathematical aspects.’

  ‘Perhaps we could use her as a consultant? Do you think she would be of benefit to us as a company employee?’

  Leon laughed. ‘Nice try. I’ve even suggested that myself. But she just switches off at the hint of any suggestion she should move into the commercial world. She’s a dyed-in-the-wool academic and wild horses can’t change that.’ He looked Chekhov in the eye. ‘If we’re going to consider personal relationships in this discussion, may I ask you a question?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘You reinstated me in my job. In fact, you promoted me to the top job in the company. Yet you had concerns over my potential involvement in data smuggling. What gave you the confidence to reappoint me?’

  ‘You are quite right, I wasn’t one hundred per cent convinced by your story before today. But I always realised that you were. I saw it in your eyes, even though I was looking at a video screen. The way you appealed for the release of your friend. Your whole demeanour was one of sincerity.’

  ‘I could always tell that you were studying me – watching me more than listening to me.’

  Chekhov smiled. ‘How perceptive you are. And the moment I met you face to face I knew you were honest.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve always considered myself to be a fine judge of character. It serves me well in my business dealings. Take Oleg Malkin, for example. I gave him complete freedom over my father’s former business empire, yet I knew from day one he was swindling me and even mocking me behind my back. The British have a vulgar expression for it, something to do with the removal of urine. But I refuse to imitate their gutter-level behaviour with the use of such terms.’

  ‘Why did you tolerate him?’

  Chekhov smiled sardonically. ‘Oh, I have my reasons for that. Think of the sharks in my tank. In their simple minds they think they’re in charge of their own destinies. But in reality, they’re helpless. I have them trapped where I can see what they are up to. I can even decide whether they live or die. And that is where I had Oleg Malkin – in an inescapable tank. You see, Malkin’s treachery came as no surprise to me. My initial character judgement was vindicated. He was a fool but he was useful to me, he was generating a valuable income stream. And even though he was helping himself to the lion’s share of the rewards, all the time I was taking back what was rightfully mine.

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘Simple, I hacked into his bank accounts.’ Chekhov looked down at the framed photograph on his desk. ‘But I have made mistakes. There is one significant misjudgement of character I made many years ago. And it proved to be a costly one. Although it had little effect on my business at the time, it had devastating implications for me personally.’

  Leon looked at the photograph. ‘I did hear about your late wife. I understand she died in childbirth. And I can see it still affects you. Would it help to tell me about it?’ He winced. He shouldn’t have asked such a personal question about the death of Chekhov’s wife and child. He felt as if he’d just undone all the positives they’d cultivated over this past hour. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Don’t be sorry, young man. You may just be right. I’ve not spoken of this since I was a young man myself. Yet it haunts me every day of my life.’ He picked up the frame and rubbed his thumbs down its edges as he studied the fading photograph of Natalia Chekhov. ‘She left me with a beautiful young son after her death. He was to be my sole heir and the world would have been his oyster.’

  The child didn’t die?

  Chekhov continued. ‘But he was taken from me when he was only a few months old. Kidnapped. And to this day, I’ve failed to discover what their demands were to be. I hunted them for ten years and I still don’t know why they did it. But I do know who was at the heart of this plot.’ He squeezed the frame with shaking hands. ‘It was Abram’s nanny. Would you believe that? I will never forget that evil woman. Her name was Jean Douglas.’

  Leon felt as if a sledgehammer had smashed into his chest. He fought for breath, praying that Chekhov wouldn’t look up and see his distress. He was no longer listening. He could see Mary Douglas sitting in the chair at the other side of the desk, her sad eyes pleading for the truth about the whereabouts of her mother, beseeching him to admit that it was her mother in the photograph. Her image evaporated. Still in shock, he found himself listening once more to Vladimir Chekhov.

  ‘I have to accept that Abram is dead. They would no doubt have killed him many years ago. But I will continue to hunt down the nanny until I find her.’ He was still looking at Natalia Chekhov’s photograph. ‘I don’t even have a photograph of Abram. Nothing whatsoever to remember him by.’

  The room filled with an unnerving silence.

  ‘Oh, but you do,’ Leon said at last. He took off his security pass and slowly pushed it across the desk towards Chekhov.

  ‘What is this?’ Chekhov snapped as he inspected Leon’s photographic ID.

  ‘It’s a photograph of your son.’

  ‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’

  ‘It’s no joke. Look at me. Then look again at the photograph on your desk. Can you have any doubt? She’s my mother.’ He swallowed hard to prevent himself from bursting into tears. ‘And I’ve only just found out.’

  Leon faced his biological father in stony silence. They met for the first time today – in every sense. Who would ask the first question? How would they feel about each other?

  The knock at the door wasn’t enough to wrench them from their tense contemplations. A few moments later, Ivan Kuzmin let himself into the private office.

  ‘Sorry to intrude, sir. I propose to travel back to London this afternoon and continue my investigations from there. I’ve already been in touch with the Metropolitan Police.’

  Chekhov snapped out of his trance. ‘Just get on with it, Kuzmin. Get the duty helicopter pilot to take you to the airport.’

  ‘Would Dr Dabrowski like to accompany me? Have you finished your business?’

  Leon could see that Chekhov was about to say no – but changed his mind.

  ‘Yes, I think we have,’ Chekhov said, giving Leon a stern look, ‘for now.’ He turned to Kuzmin. ‘On your way out, would you please take Dr Dabrowski to my surgery and ask the phlebotomist to take a sample of his blood. I want the results from his DNA analysis reported to me by this evening.’

  Leon felt numb. It was going to take the rest of his lifetime for this to sink in. And why was Kuzmin looking so pleased? Of course – his report.

  CHAPTER 44

  Leon and Kuzmin arrived in London early evening and went straight to Goldhurst.

  ‘Rodin must be aware of the value of those datasets,’ Leon said, as Kuzmin finished installing the schedule of risks on the video screen. ‘She’ll hang in for millions.’ They were in the private annexe of the security complex, getting ready to brainstorm for all they were worth.

  ‘But she’s had the data for weeks. How can we be sure it’s not already too late?’

  ‘We can’t. But if you want the data back, you have to be optimistic and assume that Rodin is still bartering.’

  ‘She is still bartering,’ said Chekhov.

  Leon and Kuzmin looked at each other in surprise, then turned tow
ards the video-wall.

  ‘I’ve listened to everything you’ve said over these past few minutes. And I can reliably inform you that the Americans don’t yet have the breakthrough data.’

  Leon smiled to himself. No Melomet, the crafty old sod.

  ‘Sir, how do we know that, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Kuzmin said.

  ‘I thought you could have worked that out for yourself, Kuzmin? We have our own mole inside the Los Alamos centre. Remember?’

  ‘Ah yes, Karl Fenner.’

  This was fascinating. ‘The name sounds familiar. I recall Gunther telling me of an outstanding candidate he’d interviewed during our recruitment drive. We need to get him back. He could be a significant asset. You also need to let me meet the designer of the shark tank I can see behind you. He’s made huge advances in holographic imaging technology. He could help us with—’

  ‘Later,’ growled Chekhov. ‘For now, all you need to know is that Rodin is still negotiating. Press on with your endeavours. In the meantime, I have my own contacts to pursue. Be assured I’m working as hard as you are on these matters. Chekhov out.’

  ‘How did you know the aquarium was a hologram?’ asked Kuzmin.

  ‘I agree, it looks real. But there’s no obvious video screen in that room. I decided he had to switch one segment of the tank between functions when his meetings included external members.’

  ‘You’re such a clever—’

  Kuzmin was interrupted by the Melomet. ‘Call for you, Mr Kuzmin. It’s Mr Chekhov.’

  Leon raised his eyebrows to Kuzmin. That was quick.

  ‘We’ve found Rodin!’ There was an excitement in Chekhov’s voice that Leon hadn’t heard before. ‘I should have told you – my enquiries inside the Russian Embassy uncovered more details of Rodin’s henchman, Sergei Vitaliev. I contacted the Metropolitan Police and convinced them he was their prime suspect in the murder of Pawel Kaminsky. They’ve been searching for him for days and at last they have a sighting at the Paddington Hilton Hotel. And would you believe it, Rodin is with him? We have them trapped in their hotel room. I want you to get over there right away, Kuzmin. The police are expecting you. You’ll have to let them take Rodin into custody but make sure you retrieve the wafer-zip before they do. Vitaliev may be armed so take a couple of your best men with you.’