The God Particle (21 page)

Tom was unsure at first what had woken him, and then he
realised it was the urgency in the voice on the TV.

They had spent what seemed like hours wrestling with their
handcuffs in an effort to free themselves, but to no avail. It was only when
their wrists became too bloodied and painful to continue that they had to admit
defeat. Even if they had managed to get out of their constraints, there was
still the locked door to deal with and possibly an armed guard on the other
side.

Resigned to the fact that they would have to look for
another opportunity to escape, either when they were being transported to the
Collider or when they were in it, they started to theorise on how best they
could thwart Deiter’s plans. They had managed to keep a track of time using the
digital clock on the TV, so Tom knew it was some time after four in the morning
before they had formulated the outline of a strategy that could, theoretically,
work. Not being an exact science, there were no guarantees as to the
effectiveness of their postulations. The best they could hope for would be to
slow the polar reversal down enough to give people time to react, either by
mass evacuation of the potentially dangerous areas like coastlines and fault
lines, or preparing themselves for the inevitable. At least they would have a
choice and, possibly, a chance.

To put their theory to the test obviously involved at least
one of them escaping, and that person was nominated as Tom. Frederick had the
most knowledge and Serena was the fittest, but Tom had enough of both to make
him the ideal candidate. The other two said they were prepared to sacrifice
themselves if necessary to ensure that he got away. Tom’s remonstrations at the
thought of this were only half-hearted; he knew, deep down, that it may be the
only way to save millions of lives. He also knew, without question, that if he
were in their position, he would do the same.

He couldn’t remember dozing off, but the sleep he did manage
to get was restless and fitful, not aided by the fact that the nylon cord
binding him to the chair dug into his arms every time he tried to move. He
looked across at his fellow captives, who were reposing in a similar,
uncomfortable position, before turning his attention back to the now almost
hysterical voice on the TV that had woken him up.

The image on the screen was grainy and kept going in and out
of focus; it was evident that the person taking the footage was doing so on
their mobile phone, high up in a building. Regardless of the lack of visual
clarity, Tom could make out a lone figure clambering onto a surfboard. If it
hadn’t been for the tickertape words running along the bottom of the newscast,
he would have sworn he was watching some holidaymaker getting out of his depths
in rough seas. But he did read it:
‘Newsflash – mega tsunami hits Gold Coast
of Australia, thousands presumed dead.’

The running commentary from the person taking the film,
despite being heavily censored for expletives, helped define what the viewers
were watching.

‘
Bleep
me, this guy’s
bleep-
ing nuts. He’s on
the board, he’s on the board, he’s lying on the board, now he’s trying to get
up.
Bleep
me, have you seen the size of that
bleep
-ing wave!
That’s one mother
bleep
of a wave. He’s up, he’s up on the board. No,
he’s down again, he’s kneeling down. He’s trying to steady himself. He’s back
on his feet… steady… steady… he’s up. He’s riding it, he’s riding the mother
bleep
.
Bleep
me, I’ve never seen anything like it! This guy must have
bleeps
of steel.

‘He’s turning, he’s coming back the other way, he’s trying
to keep his speed steady. Go man! You can do it! He’s turning again, he’s about
two hundred yards out, but he’s moving too fast. If he comes in at that speed
he’ll be smashed against the buildings like a squashed
bleep
-ing tomato.
Hundred and fifty yards. He’s turning again. Slow the
bleep
down, man! A
hundred yards. He’s kneeling down again, now he’s lying down, he’s dragging his
feet in the water. Fifty yards… he’s gonna do it! He’s slowing down. He’s past
where the beach was. He’s level with the buildings. Grab the tree, grab the
bleep-
ing
tree. He’s got it. The tree’s snagged him.
Bleep
that’s got to
bleep
-ing
hurt. He’s lost his board, but he’s alright. I can see him climbing up the
branches to the top of the tree. He’s safe. That’s more than I can say for us.
Bleep
me, the water’s up to the third floor. We need to get on the
bleep
-ing
roof!’

‘I see you’ve been keeping up to date with how our little
experiment is going.’ Deiter had entered the room whilst Tom had been
preoccupied with the drama unfolding on TV.

Damn, that’s the second time he’s sneaked up on me.
Tom
made a mental note to keep looking over his shoulder whenever Deiter was in the
vicinity. Not that he was planning to be around him for much longer. But his
heart sank when he saw the two goons who had followed him through the door.
Both sported crew cuts, a thickset jaw and a physique Arnold Schwarzenegger
would be jealous of. They were killing machines and their weapons of choice
appeared to be Kalashnikovs, which hung loosely over their shoulders.

So much for making a run for it on the way to the
Collider,
Tom thought despondently. He glanced over at Serena, who was
stirring from her sleep. Her expression changed from placid to consternation as
she became aware of her situation.

‘Morning, darling. Coffee?’ Tom whispered.

She managed a weak smile, which vanished the minute she saw
Deiter. Frederick was also awake and eyeing his captor warily.

‘I trust you all slept well?’ Deiter enquired. When nobody
answered he continued. ‘As you can see, the experiment is progressing as
planned.’ He turned to the TV, which was showing the devastation caused by the floodwaters
along the Gold Coast. ‘It’s a pity that none of you will be around to see the
final conclusion.’

He watched the scenes intensely, enraptured by the
catastrophic damage caused by the tsunami. He forced himself to turn away.
‘Still, look on the bright side. At least you won’t have to spend years in a
maximum security prison for a crime you didn’t commit. Inspector Gervaux is
convinced that the three of you, along with Ajay, are some sort of scientific
terrorist cell. He suspects you are on the run and has set up road blocks,
closed the airports and train stations and has hundreds of men combing the
countryside looking for you. You’re quite famous, really. All the news stations
are running the story, along with the pictures of you that I kindly provided
Inspector Gervaux with. So, when your bodies are discovered in the Collider, it
can all be explained away as a tragic accident. Unbeknown to anybody, you must
have
holed up
there, waiting for the
heat to die down
before you
made
your getaway
– all very dramatic stuff. The media are going to lap it up.’

‘Leaving you in the clear to wreak havoc on the world,’ Tom
concluded.

‘Precisely,’ Deiter beamed.

‘And what if we don’t go along with your plan?’ Serena
asked.

‘Then I’ll shoot you here and drag your bodies into one of
the service tunnels.’

‘Won’t that look a bit suspicious?’ she countered.

‘Not really. The public have already been warned not to
approach any of you as you are armed and extremely dangerous. So, all we have
to do is tell the authorities that we discovered you whilst doing a routine
inspection of the tunnels and tried to apprehend you. You resisted, shots were
fired, but thankfully you were the only casualties. I don’t think there’s going
to be much sympathy from the general public about your demise. In fact, I can
see myself as being a bit of a hero.’ Deiter seemed to thrive on this idea.
‘Your choice. Shall we go?’

Tom couldn’t see much of a choice. He had never really
considered how he would die. He had always assumed that it was far enough in
the future not to worry about it. But, at the moment, that future was beginning
to look decidedly close. He certainly didn’t want to be shot where he sat, like
a rat in a trap. And, whilst he was still alive, there was always the
possibility that he could escape. No, he
had
to escape. Perhaps there
would still be an opportunity for the three of them to overpower the guards on
the way down to the Collider. It had to be worth a risk.

‘Okay, let’s get on with it,’ Tom instructed, with as much
courage in his voice as he could muster.

‘Good, I’m glad you’ve seen sense. Who wants to go down
first?’

Fuck! So much for plan A.

Inspector Gervaux had commandeered the whole floor above his
office and turned it into an incident room, much to the chagrin of the filing
clerks who had previously occupied it. He had direct communication with all
points of exit from the country. Roadblocks had been set up on all major and
minor roads. Photos of the four terrorists had been widely circulated, the
media doing their bit for once. He had requested and been granted additional
personnel from the Swiss army to strengthen the border crossings. He had over a
hundred officers on the ground conducting door-to-door enquiries. Helicopters
had been deployed to carry out wide-sweeping aerial searches. This was the
biggest manhunt that Switzerland had ever seen.
So why wasn’t there so much
as a single sighting of the fugitives?

‘Are you certain you covered off every single inch of the complex?’
Gervaux must have asked this question of Sergeant Lavelle over a dozen times
during the last twenty-four hours.

‘Yes, I told you. I supervised the search personally,’
Lavelle replied exasperated.

‘Then where are they? Not a single sighting, not even a hoax
call.’ Gervaux turned back to the whiteboard on which the four individuals’
photographs were pinned at the top, the rest of the board being completely
blank.

‘How are we getting on tracking their mobile phone signals?’
He was staring searchingly at the photos in the hope they would give up their
owners’ whereabouts.

Lavelle shifted uncomfortably. ‘Nothing. There hasn’t been a
signal transmitted since around midday yesterday, which was when we saw them
last.’

‘How many officers did you leave at CERN?’

‘Two at each entrance and a four-man dog team patrolling the
perimeter.’

‘Something doesn’t stack up. We follow them into a disused
building and they just vanish off the face of the earth. We’re missing
something.’ Gervaux ran a hand through his receding hair, then seemed to make
up his mind. ‘Get your coat, Lavelle. You and I are going to have another look
at that building.’

As Gervaux and Lavelle were leaving the office for the short
drive to CERN, Serena’s hands were being re-tied above her head to TIM – or
Train Inspection Monorail, to give it its full title. The ‘train’ itself
consisted of three stainless steel wagons, each about the size of four
microwave ovens laid end to end: control, motor and battery. A pan-tilt zoom
surveillance camera, spotlight, anti-collision detector and emergency stop
button were fitted to each end of the train. The rail, which was anchored to
the roof of the tunnel, ran around the entire length of the Collider. The train
was piloted remotely from the safety of the control centre and had a top speed
of 10km/hour. TIM could send back crucial data on environmental conditions
within the tunnel, a task that would otherwise be impossible to achieve
manually due to the extremely high levels of radiation whilst in operation.

Serena’s bodyweight was being supported by the platform she
was standing on, some ten metres above the floor of the tunnel. Her arms were
stretched to capacity and secured to the control section of the small train by
PlastiCuffs, forcing her onto tip-toes to relieve the burning sensation in her
shoulders.

She glanced back and could see Frederick about four feet
behind her; he was bound to the motor carriage and was also finding it
difficult to alleviate the discomfort. A further four feet beyond him and,
hitched to the final wagon, was Tom. Being that much taller than both of them,
he didn’t appear to be having the same issues. He nodded a reassurance to her,
but she could tell from the fear in his eyes that the gesture lacked sincerity
and did little to console her.

‘As you’ve probably worked out, you’ll be going on a little
ride,’ continued Deiter. ‘Unfortunately, I could only get you one-way tickets.’
He stepped back from the passengers, admiring his efforts. The two armed guards
were already making their way down the metal ladder to the safety of the
control room, having performed their duties impeccably.

It had taken nearly thirty minutes to get to where they were
now. They had avoided the most direct route from the Bunker, which would have
taken them less than half that time, through the main tunnel; instead, they had
traversed through a warren of deserted corridors and service shafts, in order
to elude detection.

Whilst waiting for the other two to join him, Tom had
already run through the probable scenario of his demise in his mind. The proton
beams would travel along low magnetic permeability stainless steel tubes for
the majority of their 27-kilometre journey around the Collider and, as such,
present little risk to life. However, at the four points where the two opposing
beams impacted, the composition of the tubes would change to Beryllium, a metal
chosen for its transparency, to radiation.

The detectors here would monitor the aftermath of the
collisions and map the radiation fields generated by the sub-atomic particles.
The detectors themselves were surrounded by reinforced concrete seven metres
thick to prevent any radiation leakage. Deiter would, most likely, remotely
manoeuvre the train along the tunnel to one of these detectors. Once the train
was in position, he would fire up the Collider and it would then be only a
matter of milliseconds before the fallout took its toll, the equivalent of six
atomic bombs exploding in a space no bigger than a church hall. Death would be
instantaneous – no pain, no cognitive awareness, no memory.

‘If you can, try and think of this as your final
experiment,’ Deiter continued, walking down the line of captives, strung up
like carcasses of beef in an abattoir. ‘We have never been able to assess the
aftermath of the Collider on the human body; your contributions will be
invaluable.’ He looked each one of his colleagues in the eye and seemed to feed
off their distress. ‘I’d just like to say that it’s been a pleasure working
with you all. I wouldn’t have been able to achieve my objectives without you.’
With that, he turned his back on them and descended the metal ladder.

‘You’re insane!’ Serena screamed after him. However, the
only response she received was the retreating sound of leather on metal.

***

It had taken Gervaux a lot longer than
normal to reach the main entrance to the complex; the road blocks that he had
set up to trap the fugitives were causing massive delays on all routes. Twice
they had to use their blue lights and sirens to jump to the head of the queues.
It also didn’t help that the roads from the police station to CERN were covered
with impacted snow and, although Lavelle was an expert driver, they were held
up in several sections by less experienced motorists.

Gervaux jumped out of the car and made his
way over to the two officers that were guarding the gate. ‘Where’s
the
Chief Security Officer?’ The inspector had phoned ahead and requested that he
meet him onsite.

‘Keeping warm in his office,’ the younger of the two
replied, gesturing to the small, innocuous-looking concrete hut with his eyes.

Gervaux marched over to the building, closely followed by
his sergeant, and rapped on the door. After several seconds it opened,
revealing the rather sleepy features of the head of security.

‘Not disturbing you, are we?’ Lavelle asked sarcastically.

The Chief Security Officer, ignoring the jibe, turned his
attention to Gervaux. ‘More security videos?’ he asked with a pained
expression.

‘No,’ replied the Inspector. ‘I want to do another search of
the disused building and service tunnels leading to the Collider.’

‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ replied the security
officer. ‘Well, not until this afternoon, anyway.’

‘Why’s that?’ the sergeant asked, his irritation evident.

‘Because we’re testing the Collider this morning, and
protocol dictates that no personnel are allowed below ground during its
operation.’

‘But that doesn’t stop us searching the unoccupied office
building,’ Lavelle retorted.

‘Be my guest,’ replied the officer. ‘I’ve got some paperwork
I need to catch up on, so I’ll give you a ring when I receive the all-clear
from the control room.’ With that, he stepped back into the warmth of his
office and closed the door on the two policemen.

***

‘What are we going to do?’ The defiance and composure that
Serena had exhibited in front of Deiter was now slipping and Tom could detect a
note of desperation in her voice. He had spent the last thirty minutes trying
to loosen his ties, which had resulted in his wrists becoming bloodied and raw,
but there was no give.

‘Can you swing your legs up and hit the emergency stop
button on the front of the train?’ asked Frederick. ‘It may give us a bit more
time.’ He had also been trying to free himself, but soon realised the task was
futile.

‘I could if I was a Russian gymnast,’ replied Serena
sarcastically.

‘Perhaps we can shake it off its rails. On the count of
three we should…’

Tom’s suggestion was interrupted by the gentle hum of the
motor starting up in the carriage above Frederick’s head, followed by a jolt as
the wheels engaged the track. Serena let out a scream as her body was jerked
forward, the sound echoing down the tunnel in front of them. Another jolt,
another scream, but this time the wheels above their heads continued turning,
advancing the carriages and pulling its payload towards the end of the gantry.
Serena had to walk on the balls of her feet in order to prevent herself from
being dragged along. The end of the platform was fast approaching. Three feet…
two feet… one foot.

‘Tom, what do I do?’ Serena cried over her shoulder.

‘Try to stay calm,’ was Tom’s only advice.

She was now at the edge of the gantry, resisting the final
leap off. She looked down and could see the floor of the tunnel some ten metres
below. The train above them carried on its inexorable journey, unfazed by its
free-loading cargo.

‘
Tom!
’ Serena’s shoes could grip the metal grid of
the platform no longer and she was yanked off. She swung out, her arms
stretched straight by the full weight of her body, the plastic handcuffs biting
into the flesh of her wrists. Her body twisted, her legs kicked and then she
was still. Tom thought that she had passed out; but then, over the sound of the
motor, he heard an almost animalistic whimper coming from her direction.

‘Serena? You alright?’ This time, he could make out her
gentle, child-like sobs. He tugged at his restraints, but the pain was
excruciating. He could see Frederick in front of him. He was shuffling along,
keeping pace with the train. It was almost as if he’d resigned himself to his
fate.

When it was his turn for the platform to run out on him, he
didn’t falter; stepping over the edge, he allowed his weight to be transferred
to his bindings. His body went limp and he let out a low moan.

Tom had never been one to pray; but he told himself that, if
he was ever going to start, now would be a good time.

***

Gervaux, Lavelle and one of the four-man dog team had
assembled in the disused building’s underground car park. The dog, a
pitch-black Labrador Retriever with liquid brown eyes, could sense the tension
in the air and was anxious to get on with its work. It had been given the scent
of its quarry from clothes retrieved from Tom’s apartment. Gervaux was well
aware that the trail may have already gone cold. Out in the open, the human
scent would dissipate within a few hours; but, in the enclosed spaces of the
offices, he was more hopeful that the scent would linger longer.

He pressed the button to summon the elevator, which seemed
to take an inordinate amount of time to arrive. Finally, the doors opened and
immediately the dog became more agitated, straining at its leash, barking
excitedly and sniffing the air. The handler gave it some slack and it headed
directly into the lift, tail wagging.

‘Looks like he’s picked up a trail,’ the handler said,
stating the obvious.

They followed the dog into the lift and pressed the button
for the first floor. During the few seconds it took for the lift to stop, the
handler had unleashed the Labrador. As the doors opened, all three waited with
baited breath to see what its reaction would be. The dog darted out into the
office, its nose inches from the ground. It did a full sweep of the empty space
and quickly returned to its master. It was obvious from the dog’s body language
that its prey hadn’t been here.

They repeated the procedure on the second and third floors
with similar results. On the way back down to the basement, Gervaux queried the
handler. ‘What do you make of that?’

‘It’s bizarre,’ he replied. ‘From the dog’s reaction, it was
obvious there was a very strong scent when the lift doors first opened, and I
would have expected him to pick it up on at least one of the floors. The only
way I can explain it is that our guy must have got in the lift, changed his mind
and got out again.’

‘Is it possible the scent is strongest in the lift because
it’s in such a confined space?’

‘Yes, but I’ve never seen him react so positively to a trail
and then just lose it.’

Gervaux inspected the stainless steel panels that made up
the interior of the lift, first visually and then with his hands.

‘What are you looking for? A secret trap door?’ Lavelle
scoffed.

The elevator came to an abrupt stop. The dog and its handler
got out. Lavelle positioned his body to stop the doors closing again, whilst
the inspector carried on with his investigation.

‘How long would you say it took us to get from the third
floor down to here?’ Gervaux asked, scrutinising the button panel.

‘Five, maybe six seconds,’ Lavelle replied, unsure where
this was going.

‘And how long did it take for the lift to arrive when we
first got here?’

The truth was that Lavelle hadn’t been paying much
attention. ‘Longer?’ he ventured.

‘A lot longer,’ Gervaux corrected.

Still baffled by what his boss was intimating, Lavelle fell
silent, trying to join the dots in his head. Then it struck him. His face lit
up and, like an excited schoolboy trying to impress his teacher, he blurted out
the answer. ‘You think there may be another level above the third floor that we
haven’t been able to get access to.’

Gervaux shook his head in exasperation. ‘Don’t you think
we’d be able to see that from the outside of the building?’

Crestfallen, Lavelle turned to the dog handler, who was
trying, and almost succeeding, to suppress a laugh.

‘I want detailed plans and drawings of the entire complex,
above and below ground,’ Gervaux ordered.

Lavelle passed on the command to the only person he could.
‘You heard the Inspector. Don’t just stand there sniggering. Go get the
drawings.’

***

Tom was less than three feet away from the edge of the
platform when his prayers were answered. At first, he thought he had imagined
the voice, like some divine intervention. But, as the words were repeated, he
became aware of a presence behind him.

‘Sahib? Professor Sahib?’

He strained to look over his shoulder to see the svelte-like
frame of Ajay climbing over the top of the metal ladder.

‘Ajay! How..? What..? It doesn’t matter – we haven’t got
much time. I need you to stop this thing. There’s a red button on the end of this
carriage. Press it!’

Ajay ran over and stretched up to the emergency stop button.
However, even at his full height, he was a foot too short.

‘I can’t,’ he called out. ‘It’s too high up.’

‘Okay,’ said Tom. ‘You need to get on my shoulders and then
you should be able to hit it. But hurry!’