Doctor Who_ The King of Terror - Keith Topping [4]
‘Mr Elphistone, yes? We met in Oslo two years ago.’
‘I remember,’ answered Elphistone. ‘And the observation still stands.’
‘DNA-extraction is not an exact science,’ noted Chung as the space beyond the window began to glow with a brilliant white light. ‘Science requires linear certainty from random doubt.’
‘What’s happening?’ asked Bois as the hum of equipment increased.
‘The power is building up,’ answered Chung. ‘Followed by . . . ’ He paused as the hum became a drone and then a vibration that built and built until it threatened to shake the entire platform to pieces. The light within the white room pulsed, strobed, then exploded in a dazzling sensory rush. The observers, despite the protection they all wore, instantly covered their eyes.
8
‘Disintegration,’ concluded Chung, throwing his arms up dramatically as the light faded away.
For several seconds the room continued to vibrate, but gradually the shaking ceased. Chung noticed that he was now holding on to the rail at the edge of the observation platform, and that his knuckles were white. He released his grip, and saw a slight tremor in his deformed hand.
Inside the room, the aluminium straps on the empty chair hung limply in their place.
The boy was gone.
‘Particle bombardment,’ said Chung with the barest trace of emotion in his voice as he turned back to face the men in suits. ‘Atom by atom. Molecule by molecule. The very essence of being condensed into electrons, protons and neutrons flowing through this . . . ’ Chung paused, triumphantly. ‘This breakthrough!’
The room was silent, until Kyla looked up from her monitor and shook her head, sadly. ‘There’s no residual trace of any of the nonhumanoid elements we’re looking for.’
‘Which means?’ asked Bois contemptuously.
‘Failure,’ suggested Elphistone.
Chung Sen looked shattered. The change in his demeanour was almost instantaneous, as if someone had flicked a switch. It was as though too many sleepless nights had suddenly caught up with him. He slumped, dejectedly, into a chair close to the observation window and stared into space. As the others stood around wondering what to say next, Kyla came forward with a clipboard which she pressed into Chung’s hands.
‘The analysis, Professor. We need to make our conclusions.’
‘It should have worked,’ replied Chung angrily.
‘I know,’ acknowledged Kyla. ‘But it didn’t.’
Chung stared down at the sheet of notes, the foundations of his world falling in rubble around him. It hadn’t worked. Snatches of conversation filtered through the haze of shock into which he was sinking.
‘I knew this was a mistake. We’re wasting our time here,’ said Bois.
‘But the alternatives,’ countered another of the group. ‘They are not worth thinking about.’
‘At the end of the day, this still represents our only hope,’ added Elphistone.
Chung Sen looked up from his notes. ‘Time is all I need,’ he pleaded. There was a trace of desperation in his voice.
‘Time is, ironically, the one thing you don’t have,’ noted Bois. ‘I still doubt that this project is viable.’
‘Of course it is,’ argued Chung, throwing his notes to the floor. ‘It has to be.’
9
‘You have no idea if the process is anything other than a theory,’ Bois continued.
‘I have a question.’
All heads turned to the small man with a French accent who was closest to the observation window. He looked pale and unremarkable in the multinational group, a slightly wan figure with close-set eyes and a very Gallic nose and mouth. But it was noticeable that all of the other members of the group, without exception, deferred to him immediately. As did the scientist. Chung Sen nodded, eagerly, like a dog trying to please its human master.
‘Yes, Alain?’
‘Have any of the British been questioned?’
Chung snorted, contemptuously. ‘The British,’ he spat, looking directly at Elphistone, ‘are useless.’
‘We’ve talked to