Dark Matter (23 page)

George explained about his book, his brother taking a sabbatical and his own sabbatical.  'So really I am just looking for some proper time off to research and write.  Something I can't do easily whilst lecturing.'

'But why this work, surely there must be something else you could do?'

'I'm sure there is.  But I genuinely enjoy war reporting, I couldn’t be stuck in a studio all day photographing models.’

Jane nodded, recognising that part of themselves that they shared. 

‘Anyway,’ George continued, ‘in order to be truly effective in writing my book I need to be as far away from academia as I can be.'

'I guess,' Jane began thinking about her own situation, 'I should have some time out of the job.  Although,’ she looked down at this her voice going quite soft, 'you should know that I have had some time out.  I was… at a clinic.'  These last words she virtually croaked out of her throat.  Her eyes flicked up to George's looking for the judgement she was sure would be there.  She saw none.

'I know.’  George replied, ‘It’s not a well-kept secret, especially not amongst those in the job.  I think more people should have the help they need from time to time.  I had ten years of it myself.'  It was George's turn to look down, to avoid her gaze.

'Your parents.'  Jane said gently, she was aware of the story, but here in front of her was the living consequence of that tragedy.

'Yes, my parents.'  He replied.

Time slowed down.  The voices all around them condensed into a singular background noise.  It became just George and Jane engaged in private conversation.  He recounted the events to her, as dispassionately as he could.

'It was July the tenth.  Eighteen days before my ninth birthday when my parents were kidnapped.  They were attending a conference abroad, my father being the then US ambassador to Great Britain.  They were held for one hundred and sixty eight days before they were executed on camera on Christmas day.  I didn't see it at the time, not for years later.  Then only once, that was enough.  More than enough really, part of me wishes I had never seen it, but it was important for me at that time to accept that they were really gone.  My brother Jack, he's ten years older than me, was amazing, although I didn't realise it at the time.  He was really there for Tania and me; she was sixteen at the time.  I still don't know how but I managed to sit my entrance exams for a scholarship to Eton either side of the funeral.  When I was accepted, Jack bought me a house in Windsor where I still live.  It’s funny really; the kidnapping affected me more than their deaths.  I guess that was because I refused to believe they were really dead.  I just thought, wished really, that they were lost and would one day find their way home.  Other children had their parents pick them up from school.  I never did.'

George stopped there, but Jane didn't say anything, the journalist in her could sense that he hadn't finished, that there was more.  She sipped her wine and waited.

'I still miss them.  I've missed them every day.  When I was growing up, I used to get into trouble, hoping that the school would get in touch with my parents and they would come home to punish me.  Anything just to see them again.  As soon as I could drive, I got into surfing.  It seemed the perfect fit to me, as it was all individuals not a parent in sight.  Then I fell in love with the feeling.  The sheer joy of being out there on my board, just me and nature.  No one judging me or feeling sorry for me.  That's what had been so hard at school.  My friends would invite me to theirs for the holidays.  I was always the visitor, never the visited.  There was only me and Mrs Pettygrew the housekeeper.  Although Jack was my legal guardian, he was serving in the American army until I was fourteen and then he did five years in the British army straight after.  I guess it was hard on him as well.  No, I know it must have been.  Tania was away at school and married not long after leaving.  We've never been that close though I love her dearly.'  George paused again, collecting his thoughts.

'Sorry I digressed there a bit.  Yes, the holidays with my friend's families were the worst.  My friend's parents went to such extraordinary lengths to make me feel welcome and not out of place.  They guarded their language using terms like “responsible adult”, rather than just parent.  It was suffocating.  My friends were good though, they just accepted me for who I was, and they were happy to talk about their parents in front of me.  I used to love that, listening and pretending that what they said applied to me too.  Anyway, after I graduated I took my PhD in Military History ostensibly so I could just continue with my love of surfing.  Then as you know I went into photojournalism, I think this was my way of moving out of my comfort zone.  My first assignment was the first time I had been abroad since I lost my parents.  I had built up a bit of a phobia about going abroad and this helped me overcome it.  After I had done enough to make me feel comfortable with myself I got a job at Oxford lecturing on Military History and that was five years ago.'

Jane could see that he had finally finished and that he seemed relieved to have gotten that all out in the open.  She guessed, correctly, that he wanted her to know but not to have to discuss it.  She could imagine that he had discussed it at great length through the years of therapy he had during his childhood.

Jane recounted her own life, giving texture and flavour to the bland biography he had read on the train into London.  Although she talked about her battles with depression, she didn't explain the reason for it, if she knew.  George guessed that the reason had never been found as he felt that she was, like him, so open and so honest that she would have said.  He wondered to himself what her demon was.

In true journalistic fashion, they eventually finished their lunch after two and a half hours.  Jane left to return to her desk, leaving George to venture into Covent Garden.  He was starting to feel much better about life again.

Jane arrived back at her desk to six messages.  Five she ignored for the moment, the top one she couldn't. 
See me.
  She knew who it was from, her editor.  She started thinking about George more. 
Young, fit, good-looking, intelligent, well-educated but oh so vulnerable.  I'm not so sure it’s such a good idea for us to spend time together.
  She knew her history with men was not a good one.  She had been warned in the clinic about repeating destructive patterns. 
But what if he is the one?
She almost slapped herself at that. 
For an intelligent woman you sure can be dumb! 
She screamed to herself.  She knew that she was in no fit state either to make a good personal decision or to enter into any type of personal relationship. 
Not yet anyhow.  I'd better go and see what the boss wants.

As she walked towards his office, she could hear him shouting on the phone.

'I don't give a shit.  Yes, you heard me right.  A shit.  You wanna what?  You wanna talk to my boss?  Sure why not?  Just give her a ring and tell her what you told me, I'm sure she'll be so happy to hear from you!'

There was the sound of a phone being slammed down as Jane walked across the threshold of her boss’s office.  She stood in the doorway knocking twice on the inside of the open door.

'What!’

'You wanted to see me boss?'

He stood there, breathing hard.  A vein in his right temple trying to jump clear out of his skin.  Light perspiration was condensing on his forehead, the purple colour of his face gently returning to its normal, if not natural, pale colour. 
He spends too much time in pubs and not enough in the gym.
  Jane thought to herself quietly, aware that her boss could almost hear loud thoughts. 
He is scary like that, an almost sixth sense.

'Yes.  Come in Jane.'  His anger dissipating fast.

'What's up?'  Jane asked brightly.

'My blood-pressure.'  He smiled at that, showing that he was back under control.  'I have a two-part assignment for you.'

'OK, shoot.'

'Very droll.'  He replied.

Jane didn't get the joke but let him continue. 

'I want you to report on the combined Russian, US and British military training exercise.  But first I want you to go to the UN, interview the Sec-Gen and someone from the security council, the French are always good for a quote, and then you fly to Russia to see the exercise live.'

'I'm being benched, aren't I?'

'No, this is the assignment I want you on.'

'And you haven't had any conversations about me with the head of Health and Safety?'  Jane asked sarcastically, knowing the truth but seeing if he was going to admit it.

'Of course we have talked.  You were shot, you had a breakdown, not your first either.  Now if you ever want to get back to the action you will do this assignment, excel at it as I know you will and then we can look at something more suited to you afterwards.'

'Good.  'Cause you know I'll leave before I'm benched.'

'You're not benched.  This is your first game after coming back from an injury.  Everyone is treated the same, you know that.' 

She did.  He was a hard, ruthless, cunning bastard, but absolutely fair.  He treated everyone like shit.  Jane loved him for it.

'OK boss, when do I leave?'

'The day after tomorrow and take that freelance photographer with you, it will be a good opportunity for the two of you to get acquainted.'

Jane laughed at that, knowing her boss only sends the minimum number of people on assignment and therefore he needed pictures, good ones.  He looked back down at his desk and opened a folder not saying anything more.  Jane took her cue and left.
He never ends a conversation, he just stops talking.

10:15
              06 November  [10:15  06 November GMT]

Research Laboratory, Cambridge University, Cambridge, England.

The lab, Jack noted, looked very new.  The building was recently painted, the grass around it fresh and lush like a well-maintained lawn.  The interior was even more impressive.  The equipment looked brand new.  He was here to see John Deeth having been reliably informed that John Deeth was performing leading-edge research into the extraction of pure Gold from ore.  Jack knew the basics of the traditional process and was intrigued to see a new process.  He also wanted, needed, his research to be both fully accredited as well as current which meant going to the source of information rather than relying upon accounts that were second hand or out of date.

John Deeth had his back to Jack.  He had been told that a Jack Hamilton was coming to see him, but he had forgotten almost as soon as he had hung up the phone.  He was deep into his research again.  Jack had waited five patient minutes before venturing a polite cough.  John jumped slightly at the noise and jerked his head round to find the cause of the disturbance; this produced a yelp of pain as he pulled a neck muscle.

'Ow!  Fuck!’  John had gone from being deeply engrossed in his work to being deeply pissed off at being disturbed.

'Sorry.'  Offered Jack, half reaching out to John in a feeble attempt to offer assistance.

John sat there for a couple of seconds, rubbing his neck, before continuing.  'Who are you and what do you want?'  He was not in the mood for distractions.

'I'm Jack Hamilton.  I was given to understand that you were expecting me.' 

'Oh,' John collected his thoughts, 'the PhD fellow, yes I remember now.'  John didn't offer any apology for forgetting or for his rudeness; instead he simply hopped off his stool and offered Jack his hand.

'John Deeth, pleased to meet you.'             

'Thanks,' Jack replied, shaking the proffered hand, 'I understand that you are conducting leading-edge research so I'll try not to take up much of your time.'

'Isn't all research leading-edge?  Otherwise, it would just be going over old ground and what would be the point of that?  Anyway, don't worry I'll kick you out when I'm done.'  John stared at Jack, his eyes penetrating deeply.

'Are you OK?’  Jack asked, finding the deep stare familiar but disconcerting at the same time.

'I'm trying to decide whether you are a good use of carbon resources.'  He didn't bat an eyelid saying this.

'You mean am I green or something?'  Jack asked, confused.

'No, no, nothing so trite.  We are carbon based life-forms and I'm trying to decide whether the carbon used to create you was worthwhile.'

Jack stood there, his mouth hanging open slightly.  He hadn't been expecting this, he couldn't decide whether he had been analysed or insulted. 
Probably both,
he thought.  Jack was in unfamiliar territory, he was usually the one who made others uncomfortable. 
So this is how they feel.
  He made a mental note to go easier on people in future.

'I see,' Jack replied evenly, 'and what do you think?'

‘I haven’t decided yet.  What can I do for you?'

Jack explained, at some length it turned out, about his research and his hypothesis that Iron and Coal are better investments than Gold because Gold is just pretty and doesn't do much else, except in very recent times as a great conductor of electricity.