The Tightrope Men / The Enemy. Desmond Bagley
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said Kääriänen. ‘And you want to know something about your father – that’s why you’ve come to me?’
‘I understand you worked with him – before the war.’
‘I did, much to my own profit. Your father was not only a great research worker – he was also a great teacher. But I was not the only one. There were four of us, as I remember. You should remember that.’
‘I was very young before the war,’ said Denison defensively. ‘Not even into my teens.’
‘And you don’t remember me,’ said Kääriänen, his eyes twinkling. His hand patted his plump belly. ‘I’m not surprised; I’ve changed quite a lot. But I remember you. You were a young rascal – you upset one of my experiments.’
Denison smiled. ‘If guilty I plead sorrow.’
‘Yes,’ said Kääriänen reminiscently. ‘There were four of us with your father in those days. We made a good team.’ He frowned. ‘You know; I think I am the only one left.’ He ticked them off with his fingers. ‘Olavi Koivisto joined the army and was killed. Liisa Linnankivi – she was also killed in the bombing of Viipuri; that was just before your father died, of course. Kaj Salojärvi survived the war; he died three years ago – cancer, poor fellow. Yes, there is only me left of the old team.’
‘Did you all work together on the same projects?’
‘Sometimes yes, sometimes no.’ Kääriänen leaned forward. ‘Sometimes we worked on our own projects with Hannu giving advice. As a scientist yourself, Dr Meyrick, you will understand the work of the laboratory.’
Denison nodded. ‘What was the main trend of my father’s thought in those days before the war?’
Kääriänen spread his hands. ‘What else but the atom? We were all thinking about the atom. Those were the great pioneering days, you know; it was very exciting.’ He paused, and added drily, ‘Not long after that, of course, it became too exciting, but by that time no one in Finland had time to think about the atom.’
He clasped his hands across his belly. ‘I well remember the time Hannu showed me a paper written by Meitner and Frisch interpreting Hahn’s experiments. The paper showed clearly that a chain reaction could take place and that the generation of atomic energy was clearly possible. We were all excited – you cannot imagine the excitement – and all our work was put aside to concentrate on this new thing.’ He shrugged heavily. ‘But that was 1939 – the year of the Winter War. No time for frivolities like atoms.’ His tone was sardonic.
‘What was my father working on when this happened?’
‘Ah – here is the coffee,’ said Kääriänen. He fussed about with the coffee, and offered small cakes to Lyn. ‘And what do you do, young lady? Are you a scientist like your father and your grandfather?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Lyn politely. ‘I’m a teacher.’
‘We must have the teachers, too,’ said Kääriänen. ‘What was that you asked, Doctor?’
‘I was wondering what my father was working on at the time he read the paper on atomic fission.’
‘Ah, yes,’ the professor said vaguely, and waved his hand a little helplessly. ‘It was a long time ago, you know; so much has happened since – it is difficult to remember.’ He picked up a cake and was about to bite into it when he said, ‘I remember – it was something to do with some aspects of the properties of X-rays.’
‘Did you work on that project?’
‘No – that would be Liisa – or was it Olavi?’
‘So you don’t know the nature of the work he was doing?’
‘No.’ Kääriänen’s face broke into a smile, and he shook with laughter. ‘But, knowing your father, I can tell you it had no practical application. He was very proud of being a pure research physicist. We were all like that in those days – proud of being uncontaminated by the world.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘A pity we’re not like that now.’
The next hour and a half was spent in reminiscences from Kääriänen interspersed with Denison’s desperate ploys to fend off his inquiries into Meyrick’s work. After allowing what he thought was a decent time he excused himself and he and Lyn took their leave of the professor with assurances that they would keep in professional contact.
They came out into Senate Square and made their way back to the hotel along Aleksanterinkatu, Helsinki’s equivalent of Bond Street. Lyn was thoughtful and quiet, and Denison said, ‘A penny for your thoughts.’
‘I was just thinking,’ she said. ‘It seemed at one time as though you were pumping Professor Kääriänen.’
Did it, by God! thought Denison. You’re too bloody smart by half. Aloud he said, ‘I just wanted to know about my father, the work he did and so on.’
‘You didn’t give much back,’ said Lyn tartly. ‘Every time he asked a question you evaded it.’
‘I had to,’ said Denison. ‘Most of my work is in defence. I can’t babble about that in a foreign country.’
‘Of course,’ said Lyn colourlessly.
They were outside a jeweller’s shop and Denison pointed. ‘What do you think of that?’
She caught her breath. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’
It was a necklace – chunky, rough-hewn gold of an intricate and yet natural shape. He felt reckless and took her arm. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Inside.’
The necklace cost him £215 of Meyrick’s money which he paid by credit card. Apart from the fact that he thought that Meyrick ought to pay more attention to his daughter he thought it would take her mind off other things.
‘Your birthday present,’ he said.
Lyn was breathless with excitement. ‘Oh, thank you, Da … Harry.’ Impulsively she kissed him. ‘But I have nothing to wear with it.’
‘Then you’ll have to buy something, won’t you? Let’s go back to the hotel.’
‘Yes, let’s.’ She slipped her fingers into his. ‘I have a surprise for you, too – at the hotel.’
‘Oh? What is it?’
‘Well, I thought that now you’re back in Finland you ought to become reacquainted with the sauna.’
He laughed, and said cheerfully, ‘I’ve never been to a sauna in my life.’
She stopped dead on the pavement and stared at him. ‘But you must have. When you were a boy.’
‘Oh, yes; I went then.’ He cursed himself for the slip. Carey had given him books to read about Finland; language was one thing but there was a minimum any Finn would know, expatriate or not. The sauna definitely fitted into that category. ‘I tend to regard my years in Finland as another life.’ It was lame but it would have to do.
‘It’s about time you were reintroduced to the sauna,’ she said firmly. ‘I go often in London – it’s great fun. I’ve booked for us both in the hotel sauna for six o’clock.’
‘Great!’ he said hollowly.
In the hotel he escaped to his room and rang the number he had been given. When Carey answered he gave a report on his interview with Kääriänen, and Carey said, ‘So it all comes to this: Merikken was working on X-rays at the time but no one can remember exactly what he was doing. Those who would know are dead. That’s encouraging.’
‘Yes,’ said Denison.
‘You