The God Particle (11 page)

He could hear them clearly but, as the conversation between
the two men progressed, he regretted his decision not to make himself known.
What he was listening to made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Suddenly, the exchange stopped mid-sentence.

‘How did you get here?’ Frederick asked Deiter.

‘By golf buggy, of course. It’s parked next to yours.’

‘Then whose is that one over there?’

Ajay looked over to his own buggy, sitting there as
prominent as a single milk tooth in a baby’s smile.

‘We know you’re there,’ Deiter shouted. ‘Come out and we
won’t have to call the guards.’

He thought of the machine gun, but stayed put.

‘You’ve got until the count of three to show yourself,’
continued Deiter. ‘Otherwise we’ll call in the dogs.’

Ajay had seen what those dogs could do to a man’s padded
arm, when he’d watched them practising their training on campus.

‘One… two… three…’

He stepped out of the shadows behind them. Frederick and
Deiter spun round to face the interloper.

‘Ajay! What are you doing here?’ Ajay could see the mixture
of bewilderment and anger on his father’s face.

‘I… I… came to find you,’ he began. ‘I wanted to borrow a
car for this evening. I have a date.’ Even Ajay thought it sounded weak,
especially after everything he’d seen and heard.

‘What?’ shouted Frederick. The bewilderment gave way to pure
anger. ‘How long have you been skulking there?’

‘Not long,’ Ajay said feebly.

‘Certainly long enough to eavesdrop on our conversation,’
Deiter retorted.

‘Leave this to me, Deiter,’ replied Frederick. ‘You go back
to the facility, otherwise people will be wondering where you are.’

‘But he could jeopardise everything.’

‘I said, leave this to me. It’s my problem and I will sort
it out,’ Frederick shouted, his face bright red. Ajay had never seen him that
angry before.

Deiter reluctantly left them to it.

Frederick paced backwards and forwards, trying to control
his temper so that he could think clearer about what to do next. He churned
over in his mind the context of the conversation that Ajay must have overheard,
to ascertain what damage had been done. He’d heard them discussing Shiva, but
he wouldn’t be aware of its significance. He had seen the members, but probably
wouldn’t be able to recognise any of their faces again, so he couldn’t expose
them. He would obviously have picked up there was a hidden agenda, when it came
to the Collider.
Damn
, he thought to himself,
how could we have
become so careless, breaking the golden rule of never discussing anything about
our mission outside the Bunker?

Frederick walked calmly back to where he’d left Ajay. He
hadn’t moved from the spot; his face was ashen, head bowed, staring at his
feet.

‘This is a very serious situation,’ Frederick began. ‘What
you’ve heard and seen here today is part of a grander scheme, which I’m not at
liberty to confide in you. It’s not that I don’t trust you; it’s that I am
bound by a code that has been passed down to me. The consequences of going
against those protocols could put billions of lives at risk. Do you
understand?’

Ajay nodded meekly, not really comprehending the enormity of
the situation.

‘Okay. What I need you to do is agree to a pact. A vow never
to divulge anything that you’ve heard or seen here today to another living
soul. Are you prepared to do that?’

Ajay nodded his assent, still staring at the floor.

‘I need you to say the words,’ his father replied, sternly.

Ajay looked up and met Frederick’s gaze. ‘I swear that I
will never tell another living soul,’ he said quietly.

‘On everything that you hold dear?’

‘Yes.’ Ajay put his hand on his heart. ‘I swear, on
everything that I hold dear, that I will never tell another living soul.’

Frederick let out a heavy sigh, releasing most of his
pent-up anger. He knew that that should be enough to guarantee his son’s
compliance, but he wasn’t prepared to take any chances.

‘You said you had a date this evening,’ he said. ‘Is it
anybody I know?’ His voice was calm now, almost congenial.

‘Just somebody I met in the canteen. Her name’s Jasmine,’
Ajay told him, bashfully.

‘Pretty name,’ replied his father. ‘I’m sure she’s a nice
girl, but I think under the circumstances you should keep a low profile for a
couple of days. I still need to convince Deiter and the others that you will
keep your word and that you’re not a threat.’

Ajay looked crestfallen. ‘But I gave you my word.’

‘And I believe you, but they don’t know you like I do. Why
don’t you tell her you’ll take her out at the weekend, instead? That should
give me enough time to sort things out?’

Ajay reluctantly agreed and left to tell Jasmine that he
wouldn’t be able to make it that night. He just hoped that he hadn’t blown his
chances and she would agree to see him at the weekend.

Frederick watched his son get into the buggy and drive out
of the car park. He reached inside his jacket pocket and retrieved his mobile
phone. Scrolling through his address book, he found the number and pressed the
quick dial button.

‘Bernard? Hi, it’s Frederick. I have a favour to ask.’

***

Jasmine had been very understanding. He told her that he had
to do some work for his father and it couldn’t wait. Not so much a lie as a
half-truth; his father
was
the reason he wouldn’t be able to see her.
When he asked her out on Saturday instead, she had initially played hard to
get, accusing him of standing her up and telling him that she didn’t know if
she would be available; but, seeing the hurt look on his face, she quickly
changed her tune and told him that she didn’t have to work weekends so they
could spend the whole day together.

They had arranged to meet at 10 am at a café on the Rue du
Rhône, one of the main shopping streets in the city. Ajay was there twenty
minutes ahead of schedule to make sure he got a table in the window so he could
see her when she arrived; he covered his bases, as he wasn’t sure if they were
supposed to be meeting inside the premises or outside.

Café Le Monde was a small, bustling, art deco style coffee
shop serving light lunches and exorbitantly priced coffees to the affluent
shoppers who frequented the street’s luxury goods stores. It smelt of its
wares; the aroma of richly-roasted dark coffee beans and sweet pastries
permeated the air. Ajay had never been to the place before, but he had chosen
it for its location; it was directly opposite the Jardin Anglais, where he
planned to start his tour. His itinerary was meticulously planned to take in most
of the sights worth seeing in Geneva, ending the day at the Hôtel d'Angleterre,
on the other side of the lake. On several occasions, he had heard his father
talk about how good the restaurant was and it sounded like the ideal place to
impress his date.

He wore his best designer jeans, white shirt and a black
puffer jacket to protect against the bitter cold of a grey November morning. He
sat in the window warming his hands on the skinny latte with an extra shot and
caramel flavouring. Daunted by the extensive menu, he had ordered the first
coffee on the list; the extras were up-sold by an eager, commission-hungry,
pre-pubescent sales assistant. He watched the people through the window as they
tried to carry their oversized carrier bags stuffed with haute couture to
waiting cars. He checked his watch; it was half past ten. She was running late.

She wouldn’t be so vindictive as to stand him up in
retaliation for the other night, surely? he reasoned. No, she was far too
kind-hearted a person to do that! But he couldn’t wait for her all day.

Why hadn’t he asked her for her mobile number? But then, why
would he have needed it? They’d already arranged to meet. If she wasn’t able to
make it, she could always phone the café.

Give her another thirty minutes, he thought to himself.

He ordered a second latte, this time without the trimmings,
at the counter and took it back to his perch by the window, to continue his
people-watching. Another thirty minutes passed. Just as he was about to leave,
he thought he spotted Jasmine in the milling crowd. His pulse raced and his
mouth went instantly dry as he tried to peer through the throng of people, but
as the scarf-swathed individual drew closer he realised that the woman was too
old to be her.

Disappointed, he left the café and drove back to the
facility.

***

Ajay parked up and made his way to the canteen. He had
worked out on the drive back that she’d probably been asked to work. It wasn’t
unusual for the catering staff to get a call at the last minute to cover a
colleague who was off sick, especially if there was a function on or a visiting
dignitary. He’d also come to the conclusion that the reason she hadn’t been
able to let him know was because she wouldn’t have had time to look up the
café’s phone number if they were that short-staffed.

He pushed open the frosted-glass double doors expecting to
see a hive of activity. However, he was taken aback when he saw that there was
just one person wiping down the tables and refilling the salt and pepper pots.

‘We don’t open until twelve,’ the woman shouted across the
room when she saw Ajay standing in the doorway, staring at her.

‘I’m looking for Jasmine. Is she working today?’

The woman put down her cloth and walked over to him. He
recognised her as the ringleader of the group who teased him. He read the name
on her lapel badge:
Mary
. She was in her mid-forties with a face that
looked older due to too many package holidays and cigarettes. Her teeth were
crooked and yellowing from the effects of the nicotine. Ajay could smell the
smoke on her breath as she stood in front of him.

‘You not heard?’

‘Heard what?’ Ajay replied.

‘She’s been deported.’

‘Deported?’ Ajay repeated. ‘But why? How?’

‘Something to do with her dad’s visa,’ the woman replied.
‘The police said it wasn’t legal. They came yesterday and arrested her.
Apparently, they took her and her family to the airport and put them on the
next plane to India. Can’t say I’m surprised.’

Ajay was speechless. Only two people knew that the real
reason Jasmine’s family had to leave the country was to prevent him forming a
friendship with somebody he could confide in. But Ajay couldn’t work out how
his father had the power or authority to deport people at will.

***

As he sat in his room, the thought crossed his mind again.
It had been over a month since the incident and he was still no nearer to
finding out. He had confronted his father about the extradition, but he had
denied all knowledge or involvement in it. That was the first time in Ajay’s
life that he knew his father wasn’t telling him the whole truth, and the
fragile bond between father and son, that was so dependent on trust, broke.

He had kept his side of the bargain by not telling anybody
about what he’d seen or heard and would continue to do so, not out of any
respect or duty to his father, but because he owed it to himself. However, his
vow didn’t prevent him from passing documents onto somebody else who
could
discover the truth.

A sharp rap on the door interrupted his reverie. He opened
it to find Deiter standing there, a black leather holdall slung over his
shoulder.

‘Mind if I come in?’ Without waiting for a reply, Deiter
barged past him and entered the room. Ajay could smell the alcohol on him.
‘Close the door. I think you and I need to have a little chat. We wouldn’t want
anyone to overhear us, would we?’

Ajay reluctantly complied. He was fearful of Deiter and went
out of his way to avoid him at all costs.

Deiter stood in the centre of the small room and put his bag
down on the table underneath the window. ‘I see you’ve been taking a keen
interest in my handiwork,’ he said noticing the newspaper cuttings on the wall.
‘I didn’t realise I had such a big fan.’

Ajay shot him a quizzical look and was about to ask him what
he meant, when he was silenced by a dismissive wave.

‘We can talk more about that later,’ continued Deiter. ‘But
at the moment there are more pressing things we need to discuss. Please take a
seat.’ He gestured to the single bed.

Ajay perched on the edge of the mattress, his hands folded
in his lap. Deiter pulled the chair from under the table and positioned it
directly in front of Ajay. He sat down and crossed his legs, as if they were
old friends discussing the latest sports results.

‘It has been brought to my attention that you’ve been
spending rather a lot of time in the company of our new Director General. Can I
ask why?’ Deiter’s tone was level, but Ajay could detect a menacing
undercurrent.

‘He was… he was… erm… interested in my grandfather,’ Ajay
replied, thinking back to the first time he’d met the professor.

Disbelief showed on Deiter’s face. ‘Satyendra Bose? Why
would he be interested in
him
?’

‘He said that he was inspirational and had a big influence
on his career.’

Deiter didn’t look convinced.

‘And I showed him my scrapbook,’ Ajay added, retrieving it
from the side of his bed.

He handed the book to Deiter, who gave it a cursory
inspection then tossed it irreverently back onto the bed. ‘What else did you
talk about?’

‘Nothing.’ Ajay had no compunction in lying to this man.

‘I don’t believe you.’ The menace in Deiter’s voice began to
surface.

‘It’s the truth,’ Ajay replied, staring defiantly at him.

Deiter returned his gaze, trying to detect any hint of
dishonesty in his eyes. Ajay was the first to look away.