crowd the interesting ones. One of my specialities is simplification. Much of the equipment we produce is far too technical to hand over to you chaps.’
‘We’re a bit thick, I suppose?’ Stratton said, sipping his coffee.
‘I wouldn’t have put it quite that way,’ Binning said, with a grin. ‘You’re soldiers, not scientists. But then again, it’s not always easy or possible to make things user-friendly for everyone. Look how long it took to make the computer compatible with everyday users. We don’t have the facilities, the manpower nor the time for that kind of compliance. Once we’ve built it, we need to get it in the field as soon as we can. Most of the things we put together three years ago are already out of date. A lot of them never even reached the field, at your level, because they were too complicated.’
Stratton found the coffee bitter. ‘So who did?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Who did take them into the field?’
Binning wasn’t expecting the question. ‘I don’t think that’s for me to say, really. Shall we press on?’ He headed back through the door.
Stratton poured the coffee down the sink, placed the cup through the hatch marked ‘plastic rubbish’ and followed the scientist. As they walked, a casually dressed man in his late fifties stepped into the corridor. ‘Hello, Phillips. This is John Stratton from the SBS,’ Binning said.
‘Ah. Right,’ Phillips said, offering a hand while inspecting Stratton through his glasses as if trying to bring him into focus.
Stratton shook it. ‘Hi.’
Binning did not hang around and moved on. Stratton caught him up. The scientist said in a low voice, ‘We’ve got a few old fogies here. Surprisingly youthful team otherwise. That’s all Jervis’s doing. You know Jervis?’
‘Yes.’
‘He takes a lot of interest. Believes technology moves so fast that only younger minds can keep up with it. I’d be inclined to agree but I’m mindful of the fact that it probably means I’ll be turfed out before I think I’m ready.’
They arrived alongside a large room beyond another plate-glass wall. A young woman in a slim-fitting jumpsuit and wearing protective goggles was operating a complex-looking piece of machinery.
Binning stopped to look at her with more than polite interest. ‘Rowena Deboventurer,’ he announced, as if there were a lot more to say about her. He tapped on the glass. She looked around at him, her expression blank as though he wasn’t really there. She glanced at Stratton for less than a second before going back to her work.
‘Whatever your first impression of her is, you’re probably right,’ Binning said, smirking. He walked on. Stratton thought the young woman looked very cute.
Behind yet another glass wall lay a dojo-and-gym combination: on one side of the room was a collection of weights and workout machines, on the other a judo mat. A tall blond-haired man who looked about the same age as Stratton and Binning and was wearing a
Binning watched with interest, nodding in approval occasionally as though acknowledging the accuracy of the strikes. ‘Our intrepid boss. Jason Mansfield. A third dan in karate, brilliant nuclear engineer, and handsome to boot. Quite the perfect male, don’t you think?’
Stratton wondered if Binning seriously expected him to agree. It just wasn’t the sort of thing one bloke said about another where he came from.
‘Rather an extraordinary fellow. Flunked his first degree at Oxford because according to him it was boring and failed to stimulate him. That was when we first met. People put him down even though he was playing with theories that most of them couldn’t fathom. The underprivileged background didn’t help. He did impress some of the professors with his theoretical designs but generally they saw him as a flash in the pan who would amount to little. We all did. Probably what drove him forward. Einstein never completed his first degree either. When Jason left Oxford nearly everyone thought he’d disappeared down some hole in the ground, myself included. But the next time he turned up he shocked all of his contemporaries. It was at CERN, the European nuclear research institute. After a PhD in particle physics he went on to become their youngest senior engineer. That probably means nothing to you but those are the dizzy heights even young geniuses dream about. Two years ago London recruited him to head up this place. Remarkable, don’t you think?’
‘Amazing,’ Stratton said dryly, confirming Binning’s suspicion that it meant little to him.
On the other side of the glass Mansfield came to a controlled finish, feet together, shoulders visibly relaxing. He stood with his eyes closed, slowing his breathing, allowing the tensile energy of his body to release itself. When he came back to normal consciousness he removed a towel from a rail and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He noticed the audience. His face cracked into a grin and he bid them enter.
Binning pushed the door open. ‘That looked pretty crisp,’ he said. ‘I still think you need to turn your hips out a little more on the second thrust.’
‘Oh, really?’ Jason replied, twisting his body suddenly and swinging the sole of his foot towards Binning. Mansfield’s subordinate stepped to the side, tapping the foot down with practised ease. But Jason countered with his other leg, followed by an arm, striking repeatedly. Binning defended coolly, stepping back, to the sides, always under control. Jason’s final punch stopped a fraction of an inch in front of Binning’s nose, the arm not fully extended. ‘Strike!’ he shouted nevertheless.
‘You’re an animal,’ Binning retorted. ‘I wasn’t ready.’
‘You should always be prepared. Isn’t that right, Stratton? You’re the fighting professional here.’
Stratton forced a polite smile.
The man held out his hand. ‘Jason Mansfield. I’ve heard a lot about you. Even Jervis hints highly of you, and he says nothing about anyone, and when he does it’s never polite. So what do you say? Shouldn’t a man be prepared at all times?’
‘Sounds pretty exhausting to me,’ Stratton said.
Jason saw the funny side. ‘Which is your preferred martial art?’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘You mean, no specific one?’
‘I mean none.’
‘What do you people practise down in Poole? A hybrid, I imagine. Mixture of various techniques. Ju- jitsu?’
Stratton shook his head. ‘No.’
Jason looked unconvinced. ‘Come on. You must do
‘I’d shoot them.’
Jason grinned. ‘What if you don’t have a gun?’
‘I’d probably run.’
‘Oh. A dry one, he is, Binning. You’ll get on well here.’ Jason looked Stratton in the eye as though examining his very soul for something. ‘Well. Has Binning shown you around?’
‘Not really,’ Binning said, jumping in. ‘Thought we’d meet the boss first.’
‘Let’s head down to my office, then,’ Jason said, rubbing his face and neck with the towel. ‘We’ll sound out one or two things. Then we’ll show you the rest of the place.’
They headed further into the underground complex, reaching a four-way junction. Another glass wall revealed a conference room. Inside, two men were examining a complicated mathematical calculation on a whiteboard that included diagrams of some kind of device.
Jason put his head round the door. ‘How’s it coming?’
‘We’ve broken it down into a couple of options,’ one of the men replied.
‘Okay. Once you’re certain, bring it back into the theory room and we’ll pick those options to bits.’
‘Will do,’ the man said and went back to the board.
They continued along the corridor. ‘How’s that retractor demonstration coming along?’ Mansfield asked Binning, businesslike. ‘We need that to go without any hitches.’
