Free The God Particle by Daniel Danser Page A

left, which could only be opened from
this side, led into the underground maze of corridors and service tunnels that
made up the bulk of the CERN complex. Volker had personally overseen the
addition of this section to the architect’s plans and referred to it as the
Bunker. Apart from the people waiting for him in the room, the builders and the
architect himself, nobody else was aware of its existence.
    The others were already seated and chatting amongst
themselves by the time he entered the room.
    ‘What makes you so sure?’ said the woman.
    ‘He’s intellectually capable of understanding our purpose
and compassionate enough to support our motives,’ replied Volker.
    ‘But that’s what you said about Professor Morantz,’ the
gentleman to his immediate left piped in.
    Frederick sighed. ‘I believe that, given time, I could have
persuaded Erik round to our way of thinking. It was just unfortunate that we
didn’t get that opportunity.’
    ‘And if your new recruit doesn’t support our ideals, what do
we do then?’ the woman queried.
    Frederick looked around the room at the blank computer
screens on the walls before resting his gaze back on the woman. ‘We’ll have no
option but to replace him,’ he said with some finality.
    ‘How sure are you that the experiment tomorrow will not be
successful?’ asked a man on his right, changing the subject.
    Frederick looked to the man on his left for the answer. ‘I
have placed a small device on one of the coolant tanks, which is designed to
cause a small leak when the Collider reaches maximum power. I have every
confidence that the maintenance crew will discover the seepage and the
operation will be closed down again, for a number of months, whilst they check
that everything is in working order.’
    The man who had asked the question nodded his approval.
    ‘Now, if there are no more questions, I’d like to reconvene
this meeting in two days’ time.’ Frederick looked at each one of the people
sitting around the table in turn. He had known them for more years than he
cared to recall and, as he looked at the age lines etched in their faces, it
only served to remind him of his own mortality. Getting no response, he bid
them all a goodnight and left the room.
     
     
     

CHAPTER 8
     
     
    Tom was exhausted. He suspected it was a combination of
disrupted sleep, jetlag, excellent food and nearly a full bottle of
Châteauneuf-du-Pape. All he wanted to do was sleep until his body told him it
was time to get up, but he had scheduled a meeting with Serena Mayer for 8 am
the next morning to go through the previous day’s data. Perhaps she’d
understand if he didn’t make it, but then again he didn’t want to give the
wrong impression.
    He made his way to his apartment, past all the other
nondescript doors, following the numbers printed on the walls to ensure he
didn’t get lost. The corridors were soulless and identical – one false turn and
he would find himself walking around in circles in this concrete maze.
    He opened the door with his key and surveyed his living
room; it didn’t look any more homely than he remembered. And then a shiver went
down his spine as he recalled something that Frederick had said over dinner,
which didn’t really register at the time. ‘He must have gone back to his
apartment - your apartment - more disturbed than I realised because
they found him the next morning. He’d taken an overdose of sleeping pills
washed down with a bottle of whisky.’
    He was literally stepping into a dead man’s shoes and
probably sleeping in a dead man’s bed, come to think of it. He closed the door
behind him, wondering where they had found Erik’s body. If he were to take his
own life, where would he do it? The bedroom would be the most comfortable
place, or maybe the sofa. But then again, the kitchen would be more practical.
    The loud knock on the door nearly gave him a coronary,
shocking him out of his reverie.
    ‘Professor, sahib,’ came the