Operation Lavivrus. John Wiseman
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to bother you, Pete, but when you have finished destroying my map you’ve got to sign yourself in.’
Peter was four years younger than Tony, and apart from a haggard expression he looked remarkably fresh. No matter what he wore or did, he always looked smart and clean. Eventually, satisfied with his footwear, he found his jacket amidst the carnage of the back seat. He climbed out the car to join Tony, who was waiting impatiently, wondering what he had done to deserve having to play nursemaid. As they walked towards the guardroom Pete’s close-cropped hair was unaffected by the wind, and although his leather jacket was crumpled he still looked as smart as a tailor’s dummy. He moved with athletic grace, his well-proportioned body and fine features radiating power and arrogance.
The pair were surprised to see the sergeant still on the phone and were alarmed when he hung up and refocused on the telephone list. He had his glasses on now, and studied the list intently. Tony felt like ripping the list from him but thought better of it. He could almost read the figures from where he stood. Pete sheltered behind Tony, casually leaning on the wall thinking how well a cup of tea would go down.
‘Sorry for the delay. The doctor wasn’t in his office. We finally found him and he’s sending his assistant to fetch you,’ said the sergeant as he polished his specs and held them up to the light for inspection. ‘I’ll open the gates so you can come through.’
Visitor passes were issued and the gates opened. Usually all vehicles were left outside, but this one had special dispensation. A young woman in a crisp white coat came to meet them, and Pete’s face lit up as they introduced themselves. He settled her in the middle seat of the car and spent a lot of time helping her with her seat belt. Her perfume was a welcome addition to the heady atmosphere of the vehicle, and she directed them to a remote area of the camp where three portacabins were sited. Each had a large generator parked outside, feeding the cabin with a mass of cables of various thicknesses.
The portacabins were unique. They had no windows and were lined with wire mesh. This was to ensure that no radio signals could enter or escape . Pete was too busy talking to the girl to notice, but Tony took it all in.
‘Ah, Captain Grey and Staff Sergeant Watkins, so glad you could make it.’ A tall man in his sixties with an unruly mess of thinning white hair and equally untidy eyebrows met them at the door and shook their hands vigorously. The white coat he wore was covered in small burn holes, and his top pocket was stuffed with spectacles and an assortment of pens. His identity pass was pinned on the other side, displaying a picture of a younger man.
‘Tea or coffee, gentlemen? How do you take it?’
Tony ordered for the pair of them. ‘Both tea just with milk, please.’
Dr Jenkins turned to the young assistant, and in his thick Yorkshire accent requested, ‘Two teas, Susan. Standard Nato.’
The interior of the cabin was well lit by an unusual number of ceiling lights. Down each side were benches loaded with display screens, meters and soldering irons. Each bench had a rack containing rolls of multicoloured wires of variable diameters, with little square storage bins containing nuts, bolts and washers stacked at the back.
‘Sorry for the delay at the guardroom, but we cannot have telephones in here. The whole cabin is screened so we get accurate readings, and nothing can influence our delicate electronics.’ He led them past a maze of cables and dexion cabinets, stopping at a large, untidy bench. Kit had been brushed aside to make room for a tube of aluminium twelve inches long and two inches in diameter. The untidy pile of tools, heaped boxes of grub screws and meters formed an amphitheatre around the tube, giving it presence. This is what they had came to see.
Standing close, with blobs of solder and wire snippets underfoot, they looked down expectantly. At first glance they were slightly disappointed at the unassuming-looking object, expecting something more elaborate, thinking, Could this object fulfil our requirements?
‘This, gentlemen, will stop us losing the war.’ The doctor picked up the tube with loving care and started explaining its virtues. Once he got going it was hard to keep pace with him. He went into great detail describing the difficulties that had to be overcome and the amount of work that went into producing the innocent-looking cylinder.
‘The frequencies involved were in the 3 to 4 Hz band . . .’ Peter sat down on the only stool available and Tony leant on the bench, trying to follow the technical jargon. ‘Reducing the circuitry so it would fit inside the dimensions you gave me was the greatest challenge I have had to face in my forty years in this establishment.’ Scarcely pausing for breath, the doctor hurried on. ‘The coaxial condenser needed to be compatible with the zynon 3-mm . . .’ He spoke mainly to the cylinder only, occasionally looking up at the bewildered couple. ‘. . . tredral activator.’
Peter sneaked a look at Tony, searching for evidence of understanding. Their eyes met, forcing them to exchange a huge grin as the doctor continued to baffle them. There was a momentary pause as the tea arrived, and the heap of kit was further rearranged to make way for the mugs and the plate of biscuits.
‘To put it simply, gentlemen, if this device is placed in the correct position it will do everything you have asked me to achieve.’ Even a mouthful of chocolate digestive couldn’t stop the flow of information. A spray of crumbs now accompanied his briefing. ‘It is turned from a solid block of aircraft-grade aluminium. Virtually indestructible. . .’ At last he stopped for a swig of tea. ‘Any questions?’
‘How is it powered, and how long will it last?’ asked Tony.
Thoughtfully the doctor drained his cup before answering, fondling the tube obscenely. ‘To put it simply, it operates like a self-winding watch. Any movement will charge the circuits that lie dormant when motionless. There is an oscillating trembler switch. The whole tube is filled with epoxy resin. This protects the circuits and components, making them virtually indestructible. They’re not affected by vibrations or G force. The end cap has a 3-inch fine thread and is bonded with a heated adhesive when screwed on, making it stronger than a weld. Once sealed it cannot be opened.’
‘What about the effect of climate? What is its operating range?’ asked Tony. Now that Susan had joined them, Pete seemed less interested in the device.
‘The coefficients of all the materials are compatible within a micron. We have heated it in an oven for twenty-four hours and had it in a deep freeze with no adverse effect. The resin has a melting point of 3,000° Celsius and a freezing point that we cannot determine in this laboratory’.
‘If it’s sealed, how do we turn it on?’ queried Tony.
‘In here is a transponder that activates when it receives a signal. It powers up all the circuits. These are duplicated just in case one fails. Two micro-capacitors . . .’ and so it went on.
‘Can I hold it, please?’ The doctor hesitated slightly before handing the tube over. ‘What’s this arrow for?’ queried Tony, pointing to a small engraving at one end.
‘Ah, that’s to ensure that when they are in transit all the arrows face the same way to ensure that they will not become accidentally excited or activated. I will enlarge on this later.’
‘Now for the million-dollar question: How do we fix it?’ asked Tony. Pete still seemed keener to talk to Susan than the doctor. ‘Feel the weight of this, Pete.’ He handed over the device, trying to get him interested and include him in the conversation.
‘Follow me.’ The doctor led the way to the back of the cabin, where a scaffold pole was held in a vice clamped to a bench. Holding the device two feet from the scaffold pole, he continued his briefing. ‘The inside of the cylinder is lined with a multiple layer of ceramic magnets. We borrowed this idea from the space chappies at NASA. Just watch as we get closer.’ He inched the device nearer to the pole, building up the tension like a music-hall entertainer. ‘Look at it now.’ He gripped the device in both hands, and as it got within three inches it started shaking. At less than an inch he let it go; it leapt the gap and firmly clamped onto the pole. ‘There we go: snug as a bug in a rug. Try to prise it off,’ he offered.
Tony