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Campion. He swallowed nervously. From the way the Sterling
submachine-guns were slung casually from their shoulders, it looked as
if they knew how to use them.
One of the most beautiful sights man has ever seen is the heavenly blue
glow of Cerenkov radiation which occurs when high-energy particles pass
through water.
Whenever Cox-Spender had witnessed the strange, ethereal light he felt
he was witnessing the hand of God. It was easy to believe that the
hypnotic glow suffusing the water in the fuel-element tank beneath the
high catwalk held the key to the secret of the creation.
But now Cox-Spender's sense of wonder, which marks the true scientist,
was no more. In its place was a sense of deep foreboding that the easy
confidence of the three men at his side did not dispel.
"Gamma radiation is at zero." said Keller politely. "And we're
leaving the rest of the elements in the stand-pipes."
"You're following the decommissioning programme to shut down the
reaction?" asked Cox-Spender.
"Yes, sir. We've continued the staged reducion of boiler pressure so
that the coolant absorbs the neutrons and kills the reaction."
Cox-Spender nodded. "I understand there's a thermocouple
temperature-monitoring computer in the main control room I should like
a print-out, please to check the reactor core temperatures."
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"They're cooling nicely," said Keller respectfully.
"I should still like to see for myself," said Cox-Spender testily. At
least this Keller seemed to know his place.
Keller exchanged a look with Pyne. Pyne nodded.
"And now," said Cox-Spender, when he had finished examining a fan fold
computer print-out, "I wish to see the hostages." He tried to make his
voice sound insulting.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," said Pyne.
"Why not?"
"Because I say so."
Pyne's grey eyes were hard and cold. Cox-Spender decided not to press
the matter. For a moment he could think of nothing to say.
"He's seen the ultimatum," Pyne said to the others.
"That should make our task easier," commented Hugh Patterson.
"Terrorism has never achieved long-term objectives,"
began Cox-Spender. "You've only got to look at--' "I don't think you
were sent here to discuss politics,"
interrupted Pyne caustically.
"You can't possibly hope to succeed," Cox-Spender blustered angrily.
"There's only four of you. Eventually, you will tire -your men will
turn against you."
"Perhaps they will," said Pyne, "but they've served their purpose, so
it doesn't matter. As for tiring, I'll tell you this much, and you can
convey this to the Prime Minister when you go back; we will never tire,
and we will never give in. I'd sooner commit suicide."
"It might just come to that," snapped Cox-Spender.
"And as for long-term objectives," continued Pyne, ignoring
Cox-Spender's outburst, "they've never been effectively attempted by
means of terrorism until now; no one has ever bargained with the lives
of fifty million people, with their eventual well-being as the
objective. And another thing- you could hardly call the half-lives of
some of the isotopes in the silos as "short-term'.
Correct?"
Keller appeared with a sheet of paper which he pushed into
Cox-Spender's hand. Cox-Spender gave it a cursory glance before
thrusting it in his pocket. It was a list of radioactive materials,
beginning with the higher and most dangerous plutonium isotopes.
"The contents of Silo Three," explained Keller.
Cox-Spender looked at his watch. Determined to sound offensive, he
said: "I've little time to waste talking to you thugs, so if you show
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me the arrangements you've made with the high explosive, I'll be on my
way."
Pyne gave Cox-Spender a video cassette. "That's for the Prime
Minister," he said. "Before we go down, Mr Cox-Spender, there's
something you should know if you don't already: the radioactive waste
that's in storage here isn't just a the power station's spent fuel
rods, but waste that's been moved here from all over the country."
"I know that," said Cox-Spender frostily.
"Including some high-grade plutonium waste from Japan... Remember the
cargo ship that the press dubbed the "Flying Dutchman' last month
because no port would accept it?"
"Of course I remember!" At that moment Cox-Spender defiance suddenly
melted. He stared at Pyne. "Are you trying to tell me that that
cargo's here?"
Pyne nodded and smiled bleakly at the scientist's thunderstruck
expression.
The Prime Minister looked up from the large-scale map spread out on his
desk.
"What about an attack from the river?" he demanded.
"It would be most dangerous, sir," replied Cox-Spender.
"Even if the attacking group managed to get on to the apron, they'd be
detected by the IRIS system."
The Prime Minister picked up the Racal infrared sensor that Cox-Spender
had placed on his desk. "How sensitive are these things?"
"The body heat from a mouse can set one off at fifty me tres sir,"
Cox-Spender replied. "They even have automatic daylight compensators
so they don't react to the ambient temperature fluctuations between day
and night."
The Prime Minister wondered what Cox-Spender was talking about, but
remained silent. He replaced the detector and toyed with his amber
paperweight. "How about launching CS gas grenades through the
control-room windows?"
"That too would be most dangerous sir, CS gas or CR gas grenades don't
work instantly. There would still be a few seconds for two of the
terrorists to operate the main detonator control."
"Nerve gas?"
Cox-Spender considered. "It's quicker, but still not quick enough."
"What about stun grenades? They were effective enough during the
Princes Gate siege."
"You're thinking of an SAS-style assault, sir?"
"Isn't everyone?"
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"That would entail a helicopter assault, sir. They've got radar, and
besides- the noise of helicopter engines--' "Yes. Yes," said the Prime
Minister interrupted testily.
"I
had realised that."
For a while neither spoke. The politician exhaled a thin stream of
cigar smoke. It spilled across the map and pooled under the table
lamp.
Cox-Spender broke the silence. "With respect, sir, don't you think it
would be a good idea to call a meeting of the Policy Review Committee
so that the maximum number of brains could be brought to bear on the
problem?"
"No," said the Prime Minister shortly.
"What about the chiefs of staff?"
"The army would want to storm the place, the navy sink it and the R.A.F
bomb it."
Cox-Spender smarted at the brusque dismissal of his suggestion. It was
an unfair generalization, but he was uncomfortably aware of the
coolness, bordering on open hostility, that existed between the Cabinet
Office and the chiefs of staff over the recent and most sweeping
defence cuts. Cox-Spender had even heard rum ours that a number of
army officers were seriously considering taking direct action to assume
power if the threatened talk of a centralised European defence force
became a reality.
Nevertheless, he decided to press the matter- the events of the day had
given him a new-found confidence.
"Even so, sir, there are a number of extremely capable brains on the
staff. I'm sure they would come up with something."
A nerve in the Prime Minister's neck twitched.
Cox-Spender would have recognized the danger signal had he known the
politician better.
"The important thing at the moment, Cox-Spender, is to restrict
knowledge of this business to as few people as possible until we've had
a chance to examine all the options open to us. We don't know yet if [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]