Cold Fusion (9 page)

“No. But the upshot is…”

“Heat. Limitless free heat. I’ve rigged the boiler here to run off it, and the steam pushes a turbine for all the electricity we need.”

“This whole village is running off one little tank?”

“Yes. I was just having trouble getting it all wired in.”

I stepped back. An idea had leapt into my mind, perfectly beautiful and beneficial to all. “Listen. You’re a great guy. And you’re clearly a genius, but because of that you’re not seeing what this means. You’ve no idea.”

“I think I do.”

“You don’t, or you’d be in London right now showing this off to a bunch of wide-eyed boffins at the Royal Society. And I do get it. You like to be in control, and you’re scared of this being rushed out of your hands. But it won’t be like that. I worked for years with Peace Warrior. They know all about the pressures the oil industry can bring to bear on new science like this. They’ll know exactly what to do to protect you and your work.”

I pulled my mobile out of my pocket. I half-expected Viv to try and take it from me, but he just stood there, his expression an absolute blank. I was deeply sorry to do this to him. The person who had to line up his shoes and mine before he could sit down and rest was going to be shocked by the irruption of this much chaos into his life. But I couldn’t let such a chance go because of his autistic rules, or we’d never get anywhere. The secret of cold fusion would live or die with him.

Damn. There was no signal. I should have remembered. It was one of the attractions of the place—once I’d come past the junction with Alfred Macready’s road, nobody could touch me. My ma couldn’t call to ask me to go and persuade the old man out of the pub. If Alice’s parents changed their minds about wanting to speak to me, I’d know nothing about it. I’d been safe.

I had to get back to the junction, the place where the signal began. “I won’t be long,” I told Viv, who remained motionless. He could have stopped me if he’d wanted to. He was taller than I was, and probably could have taken me in a fight because I could never have borne to hurt him. I decided to take his stillness for assent. Maybe this was what he’d wanted all along—somebody to take over, lift the burden off him. “Wait here,” I said, backing out through the door. “Everything will be all right.”

Chapter Six

That night there was no shared cold chicken by the stove. When I’d got back, the lab had been empty, and I’d been worried until I saw that the doors down to the chambers were open again. I’d felt much less inclined to dash down there after him, and I’d spent the afternoon on the beach, wandering aimlessly.

The electric hob was working, so I heated up a tin of beans, but I couldn’t get Vivian to eat. He was absorbed and silent, dismantling some equipment at a bench in the far corner of the café. He hadn’t asked me about the results of my phone call, and I hadn’t volunteered them. I wondered if he’d notice if I grabbed my rucksack and left.

“Mallory.”

I jumped hard. He’d crossed the lab silently and was sitting opposite me in front of the dead stove. He had a screwdriver in one hand and a piece of circuit board in the other. He passed me the board. I took it on reflex and held it while he went to work on the screws. “Not cross with me anymore, then?”

“Cross with you?” He spared me an unfathomable glance. “What for?”

“For making that call.”

He took back the board, turning it between his fingers. “You did something I specifically asked you not to do. I wish I could feel whatever it is that normal men are supposed to feel on occasions like that, but I don’t.”

I should have been relieved. The trouble was, if he couldn’t get mad at me, he couldn’t forgive me either. We’d both remain trapped in the ice of his indifference forever. Still, I could try. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s done. Whatever’s been set in motion will happen now.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” At some point during my desolate afternoon’s ramble on the sands—no pilot whales or poetry this time, as if both had decided to desert me—I’d come to a painful conclusion. Sharing it would be more painful still, but I owed him. “When I made the call, it was partly for the reasons that I said—I thought PW would know what to do. But it was mostly because I thought I had a watertight way of getting back into their good graces. Kier Mallory, the man who brought them the secrets of cold fusion. Even if he did kill off a couple of their crew. I thought they’d welcome me back with open arms.”

“Did it work out that way?”

“No. They said they’d send someone out to take a look, but I could have been any old crackpot calling in. And when I gave my name, the girl I was speaking to…turned to stone. So I wouldn’t worry about anything having been set in motion. She hung up on me, more or less.”

I had a gift for turning people to stone at the moment. Viv too sat unmoving in the harsh neon light. Well, what had I expected of him? Condolences and a hug? Tears of rage and self-pity dried up in me, and a good thing too. I’d been an idiot to go running to Peace Warrior with this news, like a puppy who’d learned to fetch his owner’s slippers. I felt sick with humiliation now. But PW had become a kind of home to me, the first place on earth where I’d felt I belonged. I’d wanted back in.

“Tell you what,” I said harshly, standing up. “I think I’ll turn in now. And tomorrow I’ll get out of here and leave you alone. You’re all set up now, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

God, he really was a block of marble, the last work of some master sculptor’s hands. I could have told him I was about to burst into flames, let alone pack up my rucksack and go. There was no point in being delicate with him, so I launched one last question to satisfy the curiosity that had nagged at me since I’d first looked into his eyes. “Vivian, have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“No.”

I could be wrong about him, I supposed. Normally my instincts didn’t let me down, but he wasn’t like anyone else I’d ever met. “A…a girlfriend?”

“No. As you were clearly reflecting a moment ago, I don’t have any of the right feelings at the right times. I’m impossible.”

He sounded sad. I didn’t want to leave him on a bad note, even if he didn’t give a flying fuck whether I stayed or went, lived or died. “Not impossible,” I said, pushing my hands into my pockets and looking down at him. “Tricky, yeah. But not impossible one day for somebody, I’m sure. Try and get some sleep.”

* * * * *

My third and last morning at Spindrift dawned cold. I must have slept but couldn’t remember closing my eyes—only opening them, gritty with fatigue, at the distant sound of a motor.

Maybe it was Alfred bringing buck’s fizz and eggs Benedict for breakfast. I stumbled out into the light. No cries from the main building had disturbed me. I hoped Viv had spent a peaceful night. Maybe his bad dreams were only sporadic and he’d never need help from a passing stranger again. I was lonely and tired. Whoever was visiting us, I’d try to hitch a lift back out with them to Kerra, or better yet the main road, and after that I’d just see which way the wind blew. My rucksack was packed.

Not even Alfred’s Range Rover could cope with the track down to the chalets. There was a truck parked in the distance, though, at the point where the turf diminished to a footpath, as if someone had come as close as they possibly could. The truck was a majestic four-by-four, its paintwork catching fugitive lights from the overcast sky. When its driver got out and stood staring down towards the village, his hair gleamed, pale as milk. A tall, strapping man in an expensive windcheater…

Impossible, but nevertheless I set out towards him. I broke into a run once I was clear of the fallen silver flowers. He was leaping down the side of the dune in my direction. Within twenty seconds there could be no more doubt of his identity, and I ran faster, ran and ran until my heart was pounding hard enough to match the heaving storm in my chest. We met hip-deep in marram grass halfway down the slope. I crashed to a halt two yards away from him. “Alan. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing? You called for me. Peace Warrior sent me.”

“Bollocks. I’m the devil incarnate as far as PW’s concerned. They weren’t gonna send anybody.”

“Ah, you spoke to Claire. She was one of Alice’s buddies. She still had to log the call, though, and when Jensen saw it, he was more than interested. He packed me off straightaway.”

I shivered. Jensen Haas was chairman of the PW Trust in Scotland. His name had been printed on the letter giving me my marching orders. “I only called yesterday. You must have travelled overnight.”

“Snow’s forecast. Jensen didn’t want me to miss my chance.”

“Snow? This early in September?”

“Climate’s going crazy, Mal. Gulf Stream’s grinding to a halt. Still, from what I hear, you might’ve found a way of changing all that.”

“I don’t know. I’m not a scientist.”

“Well, I am, amongst my many other gifts. That’s why Jensen sent me.”

“I thought you were a farmer.”

“What, I can’t be both? I took my undergrad degree in physics, so I can certainly suss out what you’ve got going on here. And…” He shrugged and looked as handsome and at home as the Vikings who had raided this shore and left their language and place names behind them. “Another reason Jensen chose me. I told him how I’d reacted after that business with Alice Maguire and Oskar. I think he wanted me to come here and tell you how sorry I am.”

“Sorry?” I echoed stupidly. “What for?”

“Being such a bastard. I was way, way too hard on you. It was such a shock, you know? I was upset.”

In my bunk room in the Stavanger hostel, I’d had feverish wish-fulfilment dreams every night in which he’d come to me and said just that. This was a dream come true. I stood paralysed for a time I couldn’t measure, the wind beating words like
too little, too late
into my skull, and then I gave it all up and ran to him.

He caught me hard. I was sobbing, unable to help it, mortified but shaking with relief. He wrapped his arms around me. “Mal,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “Poor Mal. You listen to me, lovely boy. We’ll find out what’s going on here with your mad scientist and his cold fusion, and then I’ll get my family to fund another outing with the
Sea Hawk
. We’ll go out again. Everything will be the way it was before. Okay?”

Nothing could ever be the way it was before. I knew that, and still I clung to him. “Okay.”

“Let’s get going, then. You’re cold.”

He was going to have to let me finish my meltdown first. Tears always irritated the fuck out of Dave Mallory, magnifying a slap into a full-on beating, so I’d soon learned not to cry. And now I’d forgotten how to stop. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!” I choked. “The boats were good, and the weather… I don’t know how I could have misjudged the fucking weather. Oh, Alan—I see their faces all the time. I hear their voices. And her
parents
—”

“I know, I know. I bet they’ve been mean to you here.” He rocked me. “You don’t belong in a shithole like this, Mal. You never did. Let’s have a look at this miracle of yours, and then we can go home.”

He led me back down to the chalets. His arm around my waist felt like part of the answered dream too. I’d managed to rein back the humiliating sobs and was grabbing ragged lungfuls of the salt air instead, my head spinning. God, how I’d missed human contact! I slung an arm around his waist in return—my gorgeous Alan, who’d come here to forgive me and make everything right.

“Listen,” I said, when I had control over my voice. “I’m pretty sure this is the real deal here. But the guy who’s come up with it—he’s a little odd. Be gentle with him, okay?”

“When am I ever anything else?”

You have to be kidding, you merciless git.
That was what yesterday’s Mal would have said, or even the one who’d got out of bed, cold and desolate, half an hour before. That guy was gone now, melted in his lover’s vigorous body heat. “I don’t know if he’ll be up yet. Probably. He doesn’t seem to sleep much.”

“Who is he?”

“The son of the local aristocrat, believe it or not. His name’s Vivian Calder.”

“Calder? Okay. Who else knows about this, Mal? Does he have any colleagues here? Family?”

Alan was being cautious too. I was glad. Viv’s secret had become a burden on my mind without my realising it, and after my wild excitement yesterday had been doused by PW Claire, I’d got a firm grasp on why he hadn’t wanted me to make the call. I’d been right, though. Here was Alan Frost, who always knew what to do.

“No,” I said. “He’s been working here all by himself. And he’s pretty short on family too—his dad died last year, and I don’t think there’s anyone else.”

“Wow. Poor guy must have been lonely.”

“I don’t know. He’s very self-sufficient. I’m not sure he likes… Oh, there he is.”

He was sitting on the ground outside the main door, his back to the mosaic of blue glass and shells. I’d have said he was sunning himself if there’d been any sunshine, but maybe he could see things mere mortals couldn’t.

“Viv,” I called, and he sprang to his feet and stood with his hands loosely clenched by his sides. He was already in his overalls. The building behind him was lit up and vibrant. It was clearly a good morning for LENR. “Viv, this is Alan Frost. He’s come out from Peace Warrior.” Technically that would do as far as explaining him went, but his arm was still around my waist, and I had to manage more. “Alan and I were… Er, we met on the
Sea Hawk
, and…”

Alan came to my rescue. “And until we had a stupid quarrel, which was entirely my fault, I was Mal’s boyfriend. I hope it’s all right to introduce myself again that way now.”

Of course it was all right. It was wonderful. Being Alan’s boyfriend was a huge source of pride for me, and if the news cast a sudden strange shadow over Viv, that wasn’t my problem. I’d told him I was attached. Even if I hadn’t, what could it mean to him either way? “Alan, this is the gentleman I told you about. Vivian Calder.”

Alan put out his hand. Damn, I’d forgotten to warn him. But to my surprise Vivian reached back readily. “Pleased to meet you, Alan. It’s good of you to travel all this way. Won’t you come in?”

Alan let me go. Viv held the door, and I followed him through it, trying not to gawp. The mad scientist had gone, replaced by the gracious young laird—hereditary title or no—about to do the honours of his home. He gestured Alan into the cafeteria. “Can I take your coat? Would you like some coffee or tea?”

Blindly Alan put down his rucksack. His attention was fixed on the tank by the far wall. He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to Viv. “Thank you. I’ll save the coffee until I’ve had a look around, if that’s all right. I want to believe Mal’s news, but—”

“But it all seems rather far-fetched. I know. That’s the reactor tank over there, if you’d like to start with that.”

As soon as Alan was out of earshot—staring hypnotised into the tank as I had, as if it might hold a genie’s lantern or the philosopher’s stone—I gave Viv’s overall sleeve a tug. “Hoi. Why didn’t I get the handshake and the offer of coffee?”

Vivian turned to me. The trace of the welcoming smile he’d produced for Alan faded, leaving him passive and blank. “You’ve been crying, Mallory.”

“What? No. It was windy out there. I got sand in my eyes.”

“I see. I’ve learned over the years that it isn’t all right for me to be as I am. My father taught me some ways of hiding it. They’re not hard. It just never occurred to me to use them with you.”

My throat closed on any reply I might have made. Alan was straightening up from his inspection of the tank. “Is this wired into your boiler?” he asked, a faint rasp in his voice. “And the electrical systems in here?”

“That’s right. Then out into the chalets to provide heat and light. I’ll give you the tour, if you like. Mallory, are you coming along?”

“I’ll stay here, if that’s okay. I’ve seen it before.”

“Typical Mal,” Alan said, giving me an affectionate, teasing glance. “Probably wants to sit and write some poetry about all this. He was the same aboard the
Hawk
.” He came up to Viv, actually clapped him on the back. “I tell you what, Viv—this looks good. But if you knew what a fairy tale cold fusion is to an organisation like Peace Warrior… Well, before I take any further action, I need proof.”

“Of course. I’ll provide it as far as I can.”

* * * * *