Svetlana knocked back a shot of vodka and went to pour herself another. “It seems you can take the woman out of Nekrasovka but you can’t take Nekrasovka out of the woman! Here, let me pour you another drink. It might be the last you have for some time. Today has been a disaster,” roared Viktor Volkov as he brought his giant fist down on the cocktail bar.
“We cannot be blamed Viktor. We have done everything those swine have asked of us and it has cost us a small fortune. Why won’t they let us go?”
Viktor paced up and down the presidential suite and screamed: “I’ll tell you why Svetlana, because they have my balls in a vice, that’s why! We’ve left ourselves exposed and if we don’t deliver that boy, they will tie up the business with a tax investigation which will financially destroy us”.
Again Svetlana cried: “But why, Viktor, why that boy? What is so special about him?”
Viktor heaved his giant shoulders and shook his head. "I’ve no idea. The twins say he has a good brain and an amazing voice but he’s otherwise invisible, his parents are dead and his grandfather is a nobody; but whatever it is, the FSB has an interest and if he has attracted the attention of the chiefs in Lubyanka Square, then you can rest assured this goes all the way to the Kremlin. I can handle most things but even I am out of my depth with this.
“I can’t reach Mama or Grandmama. I swear if anyone has harmed one hair on Babushka’s head, I will kill them. Tomorrow, after the concert, whatever happens, I may want you and the twins back on the jet to Scotland with or without the choir. I’ve put some measures in place, nobody but nobody can do this to me and get away with it.”
Equally baffled by all the drama was Gordon Buie and he also had a growing premonition of unease about the whole trip. While the boys were in the adjoining rooms eating burgers ordered via room service, he picked up the gift box from the plane and examined it thoughtfully for some time. The phone was still inside, powered up but otherwise untouched. He picked it up, tapped in a number and waited for a response: “Ah, Mr Petrie, it’s Gordon Buie here. How are you? I hope this is not an inconvenient time.” Mr Petrie was relaxing at home with a book and was surprised to hear from Duncan’s grandfather.
“I’m not sure what you can do but I want to share my concerns with you because strange things are happening out here and they simply do not add up. May be I’ve watched too many old movies on Russian espionage but one thing I do not possess is an overactive imagination. I have a logical mind and some events simply do not add up.”
Mr Petrie listened carefully to the old man’s concerns and, after more than twenty minutes, he responded: “You were right to call me and of course everything you have relayed to me is in confidence. Let me ponder on this and I’ll get back to you.”
Mr Petrie sat back for a few minutes and then jumped from his seat. Gordon Buie’s instincts had served him well, he thought, and he set off for help from the Council of Anam Cara. Down through the secret passages of his home, he headed for a meeting with Salar.
He relayed the conversation he had with Gordon Buie and expressed his own concerns and fears.
Salar nodded and gave an intriguing smile. “You’re fond of the boy, aren’t you? All this time and you’ve not allowed anyone to come near you but that young man has opened your heart, has he not?” Mr Petrie shrugged and admitted there was something ‘endearing’ about Duncan Dewar and then added: “You know fine well we go back a long way, Salar, for it was you who sent me to Melivich, the night of the so-called accident. I never knew why and I’m still uncertain. Are you ready to tell me?”
Salar smiled and said: “He carries a secret and perhaps now is the time to tell you why you were sent there. Duncan Dewar is in possession of an unusual electronic key to a safe which we believe contains the work of the boy’s parents, Moira and Douglas Dewar.”
Mr Petrie grimaced and then said: “But when I handed the child to the police and said he’d been found wandering around the roadside, he was wearing just a romper suit. There was no baggage or anything with him, not even a toy.”
Salar said: "Like all secrets, the truth eventually comes out and some very powerful people in powerful places have done terrible things to get their hands on the work of the Dewars. Nations, dictatorships and international crime syndicates have come together – and on occasions clashed against each other – to unlock the secret work of the Dewars. I’ve instructed Merrick to give you the long view and equip you for this mission.
“Life is a jigsaw, Mr Petrie, and you have been given some pieces but not the whole picture. The time has now come to reveal the whole canvas and bring this to a conclusion.”
Mr Petrie retraced his steps through the tunnel until he was standing at the entrance to the doorway marked ‘Merrick’. On entering, he walked in to a rather gloomy, oak-panelled room with several oil paintings hanging on the wall. There was little furniture and compared to Salar’s opulent space, this was rather dull and spartan.
‘Merrick’ emerged from behind a fading red velvet-curtained entrance. “Time is of the essence. Follow me. You have a tricky assignment and will need the full protection the council has to offer,” instructed Merrick in a very deep but smooth, sensual voice. Tall, ebony, bald and very toned, Merrick was almost Amazonian in stature.
She wore a grey, sleeveless cat suit which highlighted her powerful, muscular but slender arms while a wide dark-jewelled leather belt exaggerated a tiny waistline.
They sat down in a circular room with two large cinema seats and a shiny black coffee table. Merrick’s right arm glided towards the domed ceiling where an intriguing sculpted chandelier hung and she clicked her long, elegant fingers. The lights went out and a large section of the curved wall illuminated. As his eyes became accustomed to the dark and focussed, he saw a 3D view of what looked like a windowless laboratory. A white-coated couple came into view and were identified as Moira and Douglas Dewar. Douglas was holding a baby in his arms in a protective manner and said in an alarmed voice: “There has to be another way, Moira. We cannot do this. It brings a whole new meaning to the word child abuse.”
Moira was armed with some sort of heavy metal hypodermic syringe and, as she moved towards the baby, said: "There’s no other way. If what you suspect is right, then we are in danger of losing this altogether. Until we know exactly who we can trust, the Infinity Cell must remain secret.
"I don’t know who we can trust and I am not boarding that helicopter flight tomorrow with the others. If our suspicions are right, then someone inside Whitehall is leaking information and it’s exposing us all. We can’t go ahead with the demonstration in Caithness; somehow we have to stall.
“I’ve destroyed all the files and corrupted the ones left in backup. The prototype is secured in a place I know you’ll approve but let’s keep this on a need-to-know basis. The only evidence of our work on the Infinity Cell is safely stored and cannot be accessed without this Radio frequency identification or RFID. Let me slip it into Duncan’s hand because it is the last place anyone would think to look.”
The protective father tried to resist but Moira was too quick for him and, in an instant, she nipped a piece of skin in the nape of his neck and inserted a tiny chip carrying a unique radio frequency. The child winced and emitted a yelp as Moira stood back: “There, it’s done. We can trust no one, Douglas, and now only our son holds the key.”
Just fifteen months old, Duncan was quickly calmed and resumed to gurgling and spluttering like any other contented baby. “I’m sorry, little one,” said Moira as she reached out to hold him and used an antiseptic wipe to remove the small bloodstain on his neck. “There, you see. Barely a pimple.”
The laboratory door opened and an imposing man in a pinstripe suit walked in. “So it is true, Moira!” he declared. Professor John Dawson looked severe as he said accusingly: “You are turning my laboratories into a nursery, Moira.” She looked slightly flustered until her superior’s face broke into a warm smile.
“If having the baby nearby keeps you happy and doesn’t distract you from your work, then why should anyone care, Moira? You two are my golden couple, my secret weapon in Whitehall.”
Moira relaxed and said: “I’m surprised to see you. I thought you had already left for the conference.”
As she placed Duncan in his Moses basket, Professor Dawson responded: "I will be part of the advance party to Caithness but I just wanted to make sure you have everything in order for the presentation. Scotland will be a rehearsal before the really big unveiling in London next month.
"There are quite a few sceptics in Whitehall and in these cost-cutting times, they want to know they’re getting value for money. If this Infinity Cell is all you claim, then all manner of allies and enemies are going to be interested, the world and its dog really!
“The fact we are stealing a march on the Americans in terms of research and development will raise eyebrows. The Americans will want in, that is certain, and no doubt they will want to bring in their own people. No more reliance on Middle East oil or Russian gas for energy consumption will certainly change absolutely everything, especially on the geopolitical landscape.”
Moira smiled, adding: “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves on this. We’ve completed the theory and have some models to put into practice. Dounreay will be the perfect backdrop since decommissioning is well underway. I have to commend you on your perfect choice of location, Professor Dawson. The Infinity Cell could certainly herald the final curtain on the nuclear age and all the bad that comes with it.”
The timeline crackled and the video ended and then reopened on the same day, in Professor Dawson’s office in Wiltshire. He had just taken a phone call and responded: “They say they have all they need for the demonstration, so one has to assume the prototype will be on the Chinook as well. We can’t let the demonstration go ahead. It’s as simple as that.”
There was a slight pause in the conversation as he listened to the caller and then responded: “Just do what you have to do.”
The video crackled again and this time, the panicked voice of a pilot could be heard talking to his co-pilot: “We’ve lost contact with base and something has electronically jammed the controls. Someone or something else appears to be in control. I’m no longer flying this machine. We are no longer in control. What the…” Mr Petrie watched in horror as the Chinook helicopter spiralled out of control through the swirling mists of the Grampians as it crashed into a craggy rock face. As smoke and flames rose into the descending mist, half a dozen commando-style soldiers wearing aspirators appeared on top of the crag and abseiled to the wreckage below. They then began checking the bodies. There were no survivors. One of the soldiers said on his radio mouthpiece: “They’re not here. The bodies are not here. Check the flight details again. They can’t have boarded.”
A few minutes later, he again spoke in to his headset: “We have thoroughly searched the ground zone for passengers of interest and cargo. Neither is in evidence. We can only conclude the POI and cargo were never on board in the first place.”
Merrick turned to Mr Petrie and said: “And this is where it really gets interesting.” The screen’s sizzling horizontal lines disappeared to show a car being driven by Moira coming in to focus. Douglas, sitting in the passenger seat, was talking. “Your instincts were right, Moira. Thank God we did not fly with the others. The Chinook down, the research team gone…who the hell is behind this? The Russians? The Americans? The Chinese? I thought when we set out on this research, we would be doing some good.”
Moira agreed, adding: "But if we invent an alternative to fracking, gas, oil and other fossils fuels, then a lot of wealthy and powerful people suddenly lose their source of money, power and influence overnight. What we have discovered will completely devalue the Middle-East dynasties. It could bankrupt the energy producers and suppliers in Russia, China and America.
“All we imagined was a world that produced clean energy with little or no cost. We thought we were creating a safer planet for the benefit of billions. No more famine and wars would come to an end. I can’t believe we were so naive. Instead, we’ve created a perfect storm of evil and made ourselves the bloody targets!”
Mr Petrie turned to Merrick: “This is the road from Melivich, right?”
Still focussing on the blank screen, she said: “Yes, you are right. You don’t need to see the rest unless you really want to…” He nodded slowly: “I need to see this.”
As the Dewar family car turned a bend on the narrow road with Moira Dewar at the wheel, they were confronted by an emergency checkpoint and forced to stop. There was no way out and as masked commandos moved forward, the Dewars sat there helplessly until they were dragged out of the car to a panoramic viewpoint twenty yards away.
Professor Dawson emerged from the mists and looked at the two: "I’m sorry it has come to this. For the record, you are the two most brilliant minds I have ever had the pleasure of working with, but I’m afraid your misplaced idealist outlook was always going to hamper this operation.
“You thought the Infinity Cell would save the world but whoever holds its secrets will control the world. Now let’s make things easy. Hand over the hard drive and tell me where the prototype is hidden and you will be spared. Resist and I am afraid what you are experiencing right now are your final minutes on this good earth.”
Moira grabbed hold of her husband’s hand and said defiantly: “Whatever you think you are looking for is not here. Nor are there any traces of our work in the car. I suspected your motives last week, professor, when I saw you in the company of a member of the FSB. As soon as I saw the Russian connection, I realised what you were planning.”
Professor Dawson laughed and said: "My dear Moira. You do possess one of the brightest minds I’ve encountered in four decades of serving my country. Since this is our final conversation, I will afford you the luxury of seeing the bigger picture. Yes, that man you saw was from Russian intelligence. However, he was a double cross who actually worked for the Americans. He was going to report back to his CIA handler the outcome of our conversation. Sadly, he died in a mysterious climbing accident… I think the local Kendal newspaper revealed another story of another Lake District tragedy, another climber and another fall.
“I’ve no doubt your story will also make headlines. Another tragic car accident, another Highland Road, another tragedy. But rest assured, life will go on much the same. Goodbye, dear Moira. It’s been a real pleasure,” and as the professor moved forward to give Moira a farewell kiss on her cheek, she stared contemptuously into his eyes. Suddenly her own eyes widened and her pupils dilated as she looked down to her left just in time to see a large needle being withdrawn from her chest. Seconds later, she fell to the ground, dead.
Douglas knelt down by his wife’s body and looked up angrily, with hate in his eyes, at the professor and said: “You will pay for this.” He then physically lurched at his boss but was restrained by the commandos and while a violent struggle ensued, a familiar figure crept stealthily unseen towards the car twenty yards away and opened the rear passenger door. The struggle only lasted thirty or so seconds, before Douglas was also given a lethal injection, but it was time enough for the stranger to remove Duncan Dewar from his baby seat and vanish into the night.
“Put them back in the car, roll it over and set it alight. Our work here is done,” said Dawson who then walked away.
The screen went blank and Merrick said: “You did well to save the boy. But now it seems he has inadvertently re-awakened interest in the Infinity Cell. You need to get to St Petersburg and bring him back safely. Here is the time coder and locator. The skelwarks will give you travel documents, money and anything else you need. Any questions?”
The pair rose to their feet. Merrick towered over Mr Petrie who looked up and said: “It’s all falling into place now and that poor boy simply has no idea.”
As Merrick walked away, she replied: “Probably better he never finds out.”