All work was carried out using remote-controlled equipment and monitored on closed-circuit television screens.
‘After the quarantine period’s over,’ he went on, with an air of simplifying an impossibly complex process, ‘the containers are transferred into the decanning cave through a series of sub-ponds leading off from the main storage pond. Once inside the cave, which is constructed of concrete walls seven feet thick, the fuel element can be observed both on closed-circuit television and through specially designed windows built into the walls. Each window is filled with a solution of zinc bromide which, although transparent, is able to absorb the short wavelengths of gamma radiation. The element is first placed on the stripping machine where the contaminated cladding is cut away, then dropped on to a conveyor belt to be stored under water in concrete storage silos. The bare fuel rods are then loaded into a transfer magazine, which can hold up to thirty-eight rods at any given time, and dissolved in nitric acid. The nitric acid solution is then mixed with an organic solvent and the uranium and plutonium are separated from the waste products. The waste products, which contain radioactive fission products, iron from the plant machinery and chemical impurities from the fuel, are then reduced by evaporation and stored near the plant in tanks at temperatures of 50°C. The acid solution enters another section of the plant where it passes through a second organic solvent to remove any lingering waste products, then, on coming into contact with a water-based solution, the uranium and plutonium separate, the plutonium returning to the water solution and the uranium remaining in the solvent. They emerge as uranyl nitrate and plutonium nitrate, ready to be used in the fuel cycle again.’
It was two hours later when they returned to Leitzig’s office. He had his secretary order some coffee, then closed the door and sat down behind his desk.
‘What’s the percentage of uranium to plutonium after the elements have been reprocessed?’ Whitlock asked.
‘The normal breakdown of recovered uranium’s ninety-nine per cent to point five per cent of plutonium. The other half per cent is made up of radioactive waste. It may vary by point one or point two but never more than that.’
‘And those statistics are transferred on to the computer?’
‘Of course, but I fail to see where this question is leading.’
Whitlock smiled. ‘Sorry, it’s just my journalistic training getting the better of me. Can we talk about you now?’
‘Ask away,’ Leitzig replied, folding his hands on the desk.
‘A little background on yourself?’
‘It’s all very commonplace I’m afraid. I was born in a small town called Tettnang which is fairly close to the Austrian border. It’s only got a population of about fifteen thousand and it’s situated in the heart of asparagus country. I remember how happy I was when I was accepted at Hamburg University, because I could at last get away from my mother’s asparagus dishes.’
He chuckled to himself then reached for his cigarettes and lit one. ‘I went to England to work after my graduation. First at Calder Hall, then at Sellafield. I left the industry in the early seventies and came back here to work at the Max Planck Institute of Chemistry. I spent several years at the Institute before returning to the industry. I’ve never regretted the decision.’
‘So how long have you been the plant’s senior technician?’
‘Two and a half years now.’
‘And what do you do in your spare time?’
‘Fishing mainly. There’s nothing more relaxing than to drive the Land Rover into the country for a day’s fishing.’
‘Married?’
‘No,’ Leitzig retorted defensively then held up his hands apologetically. ‘I’m a widower.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘My wife’s death was the main reason for my returning to the industry. I was able to throw myself into my work, which helped to take my mind off the fact that she was gone. I used to dread going home at night; the silence and solitude were almost too much to bear.’
‘Why didn’t you move?’
Leitzig looked surprised by the question. ‘I could never turn my back on our home. It contains so many memories.’
‘Sure,’ Whitlock replied sympathetically. ‘Any children?’
‘Neither of us wanted any. I regret that now.’
Whitlock thought about his own situation. What if something were to happen to Carmen? Would he end up as desolate and lonely as Leitzig?
The secretary entered with the coffee tray and made room for it on the desk. Leitzig poured out two cups and offered Whitlock milk and sugar.
A blue light flashed on the control panel on the desk. Leitzig acknowledged it, then stood up.
‘You must excuse me, I am needed down in the plant.’
‘Nothing serious, I hope?’
‘They wish to consult me about something, that is all.’ He pointed to a red button on the control panel. ‘That is the danger light. It would come on if ever there were a criticality incident somewhere in the plant. Apparently it emits a deafening siren at the same time. Fortunately I have never heard it. Please stay and finish your coffee. Hopefully we will be able to finish our conversation later today.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Fine. I shall ask my secretary to call Karen for you as it is very easy to get lost in these labyrinths if you don’t know your way around.’
Karen arrived a few minutes later and they walked in silence to the lift.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,’ she said as the lift doors closed. ‘We have to work together, it’s the only way we’re going to get to the bottom of this.’
The doors parted and a secretary stepped into the lift. She exchanged a polite smile with them and a silence descended until the doors parted again and Karen gestured for Whitlock to follow her.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
‘The computer suite,’ she replied, then held up the folder she was carrying. ‘These are photostats of the inventory stocksheets for the last two years. I’ve been through the figures with a fine toothcomb but I can’t find any discrepancies. Perhaps you’ll be able to pick up on something I’ve overlooked.’
She pushed open a pair of swing doors and they entered the room. It reminded him of the computer room at UNACO headquarters, with the rattling of telex machines and the incessant whirring of printers. They crossed to the bank of VDUs and sat down in front of one of them.
She instinctively shielded her fingers from him as she fed in her personal security code. It was accepted and a menu of eight options appeared on the screen. She chose a number which further sub-divided into another menu. Again it asked for a security code. Once she had fed it in the screen displayed lists of figures. She pressed the ‘print’ button. There were seventeen pages of figures and she printed them all before collecting the paper and tucking it into her folder.
‘You can go through this in my office although I doubt you’ll find any discrepancies. As I said, I’ve already been through it entry by entry.’
He took her arm and led her to one side, out of earshot of the nearest analysts. ‘You still haven’t told me about your suspicions.’
‘Several times when I’ve been working late I’ve seen Leitzig with a powerfully built man with jet-black hair. He was always dressed in a white overall, like those worn by the company drivers. Only he doesn’t work here.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘I hire the drivers. Anyway, I followed him one night.’
‘And?’
‘He drove to a warehouse in Rampenstrasse on the banks of the Rhine. I couldn’t see what happened inside but when he finally came out he was with two other men I’d never seen before. They left in a Citroën. I even tried to get into the warehouse but it was padlocked.’ She shrugged in desperation. ‘I know it’s not much to go on.’