‘It might help explain her actions. The point is that we must find her. For all her difficulties, she is exceptionally able and the only person who truly understands the deep science behind this. I do not want her going off to a rival, and I don’t want her scaring people with half-baked theories. Also...’ He paused with evident reluctance at having to admit the scale of the disaster the woman had unleashed. ‘Also, she seems to have erased all the data before she left.’
‘What data?’
‘Everything concerning the project, going back six years. All the prime documentation, all the copies, backups. Unless we retrieve it, it will set us back a decade or more, perhaps even kill the project altogether. The machine can be used twice more. Then it will need to be recalibrated, which we cannot now do.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s very sensitive. A prototype which requires constant maintenance, otherwise it becomes dangerously unreliable. Angela was working on how to stabilise it, but that is information that disappeared with her. So unless we get the data back, or Angela back, then it is dead.’
‘Where might she have gone?’
‘Our predictions are ninety-seven per cent that she has gone into hiding, probably amongst renegades. That, I understand, was your area of expertise before you came here.’
Jack nodded. ‘I was in the Social Protection Service. I monitored the activity of Retreats.’
‘There is a 2.94 per cent chance that she did indeed go off her head and use the machine, in which case she will be beyond our reach. The idea that she may have been converted into a thousand trillion particles scattered across multiple universes is appealing, but not necessarily true just because it would give me pleasure.’
Jack did a quick calculation. ‘What about the remaining 0.06 per cent? What’s that?’
‘A generous overstatement. That is the chance that she is right.’
‘About what?’
Hanslip waved his hand dismissively. ‘She couldn’t be. So go and find her.’
Hanslip’s main task was to stem the possibility of any leak and there was one huge, obvious hole in the institute’s defences, wandering around the place with a bland look on his face. This was Lucien Grange, sent by the great Zoffany Oldmanter to negotiate the partnership to exploit Angela’s discovery. Hanslip was uncomfortably aware that the man’s unexpected arrival could well have been what had pushed Angela over the edge. That had badly harmed his negotiating position; thanks to Angela, he no longer had the tight grip on the technology he needed. He had the machine, certainly. But only Angela really understood it.
His first task was to ensure that Grange did not realise this, and that no link could be established between the institute and the cataclysm that had spread over northern Europe. The news kept getting worse; Hanslip stopped looking when the death toll reached nine thousand and the public calls to find the perpetrators became shrill and hysterical. Luckily, everyone’s first instinct was to assume it was the work of terrorists, renegades dedicated to sabotaging the smooth running of society. Punishment was promised, violently backed up by messages from Hanslip, pointing out that the surge had caused considerable damage to delicate instrumentation in his institute and demanding compensation. It would work for a while, but not for long.
He was furious that Grange had shown up now. He had known that Angela would be difficult, but he had been certain that he could bring her round to the idea of collaborating with Oldmanter eventually. Grange’s arrival had been discreet by Oldmanter’s standards — none of the usual helicopters, armed guards, let alone the motorcades that announced the arrival of a scientist of importance — but was still hardly secret. Angela, he knew, was quite likely to have noticed.
The trouble was that she was so impractical. She was into purity, the elegance of the research. She didn’t care that the money was draining away or that it was getting harder and harder to keep supplies flowing in. She wasn’t bothered that in six months’ time they would be out of funds completely. When that happened, he would have no choice but to take whatever terms he could get. So he had delicately courted Oldmanter, tempting him with hints and suggestions, letting him see some of the work, grasp the possibilities. He knew everything — except how it worked.
The worst of it was that Oldmanter was interested and excited, and the greater his interest, the more coy Hanslip had become. He had talked of perhaps not needing a partner. Of talking to others. He had played (in his opinion) a poor hand brilliantly.
His ace was Angela. She alone truly understood the science, and as long as he controlled access to her, he would be indispensable. He had to keep her quiet and out of the way until the deal was done and he had the time to persuade her to accept the situation. Now she had not only ruined his careful plans, she threatened to bring the entire institute down around their heads.
If Grange figured out where the surge had come from, then the security forces would arrive within twenty-four hours. So, first things first. First Grange, then Angela. Then he would have space to manoeuvre.
Two hours later, a furious Grange was brought into Hanslip’s office under escort. There were security guards on his door, he said as he sat down. He had not been allowed out, been forbidden to communicate with the outside world. It was an outrage. Was this the way to build the trust necessary for a working relationship?
Hanslip eyed him carefully as he waited for the expressions of indignation to subside. He was no more impressed now than he had been during their meetings of the past few days. The anger seemed artificial and unnatural, an act put on to intimidate.
‘Terrible error,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine what security thought it was doing. Naturally, I offer my full apologies.’
‘You realise what sort of message this could send?’
Hanslip nodded. ‘Of course. We have a crisis here, as you may have noticed, and the security system got a little jumpy. It concluded that there was too close a coincidence between your arrival and the disappearance of Angela Meerson, and so...’
‘I heard about that.’
‘I know. We are investigating the possibility that you were responsible for her flight. Did you have any encounter with her?’
‘A brief one. She sought me out.’
‘So she remembered you?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘You understand why I am asking? She has an inflated view of her own importance. She considers this technology to be her own; she will not allow anyone to take it, and will never leave it. Maternal protectiveness. You should know; you put it there. I have spent years carefully cosseting her, and then you turn up, and within twelve hours she has become unbalanced and disappeared. Naturally, our main concern is that she may seek protection from one of our rivals.’
‘Then perhaps we should move a little faster? If we can finalise an arrangement quickly, then we can take legal ownership before anyone else does. Another organisation might think it could ignore your claims, but I doubt anyone would be foolish enough to take us on.’
‘Legal ownership?’
‘I have come with a draft proposal. We believe it requires much more investment than you suggest. As the funds for this will come from us, we will naturally require a higher stake.’
‘How much higher?’
‘Eighty-five per cent.’
‘We had agreed a fifty — fifty split,’ Hanslip protested.
‘That was last week,’ Grange said with a smile. ‘Before you had a security breach, before you lost your prime researcher, before you killed nearly ten thousand people and caused nearly seventy billion dollars’ worth of damage, and before you engaged in a criminal conspiracy to conceal your involvement.’
‘I’m sure I do not understand what you are talking about.’