Free The Stone That Never Came Down by John Brunner Page A

his face almost aggressively cleanshaven, wore an RAF blazer and matching tie, and was identified merely as Dr Gifford, no explanation being given for his presence.
    There were more nods.
    “Well, gentlemen!” Charkall-Phelps planted his elbows on his desk and set his fingertips together. “While I regret having to call you here on the eve of the Christmas holiday–and would indeed myself far rather be at home with my family!–certain aspects of the case of your late colleague Dr Post’s tragic demise, which have been drawn to my attention, leave me no alternative course.” He looked severely at Kneller and Randolph, his manner that of a headmaster before whom two unruly pupils had been brought up for circulating a petition demanding his dismissal.
    Kneller snorted. “Such as–?” he countered.
    “Such as the fact that apparently you have been experimenting behind locked doors and in secret with a substance of wholly unknown potential!”
    “Where better to keep such a substance than behind locked doors? And what’s the point of announcing it until we’ve studied its properties in detail?”
    Randolph failed to stifle a chuckle; Kneller had scored a fine debating-point on the first exchange.
    Charkall-Phelps was not amused. His narrow lips firmed into a dead straight line for a moment; then he rasped, “But you don’t deny that that’s what you’ve been doing! And what is more–what is far more–according to your own findings Dr Post was himself infected with this substance!”
    “It’s quite true that we found traces of VC in his body at the post-mortem,” Kneller conceded after a brief hesitation.
    “Is it not also true that he abstracted a quantity of the substance from your laboratory?” Charkall-Phelps persisted.
    “If you’re referring to the capsules found near his body, they were very probably not the source of what we found in his tissues,” Kneller snapped. “Our best assumption is that owing to the volatility of the supportive medium in which we keep VC–”
    “Professor!” Charkall-Phelps broke in. “I am not interested in your theorising. I am very interested in the safety of the public at large. It is a fact, and please don’t waste time by contradicting me, that both in Dr Post’s body and in his pocket a quantity of VC was taken from your laboratories and released to the world. There can be no repetition of any such–such oversight, to use the most tactful term. I might justifiably employ a stronger one. I might, for example, say that never before have I encountered such a blend of scientific arrogance and rash incompetence.”
    Kneller turned perfectly white. “So you brought us here to pillory us, did you? I might have guessed, knowing how often at Moral Pollution meetings you’ve referred to people like us as blasphemous meddlers!”
    “Professor, don’t attempt to make this a question of personalities. There’s a matter of principle at stake. While it’s true that ordinarily regulations governing research are administered through the Department of the Environment, they do have the force of law, and since the Home Office is the ministry the police come under, when it’s a crime as grave as murder which brings the facts to light it’s my plain duty to take action. I did not call you here to ‘pillory’ you, but to inform you that you are required to make your records available to Dr Gifford for study and evaluation!”
    Randolph snapped his fingers. “Gifford! I thought you looked familiar! Are you S. G. W. Gifford? Porton Down Microbiological Research Centre?”
    The man in the blazer inclined his head. “Formerly, yes. Currently I’m attached to the Home Office, of course.”
    “But you have no authority to–!” Randolph was on his feet now.
    “Dr Randolph, we have excellent grounds for intervening,” Charkall-Phelps cut in. “If you would cast your mind back to a certain contract you undertook for the Ministry of Defence, which involved techniques for