The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) (32 page)

‘That was no reason to try and
kill yourself,’ Ian said angrily. He could not understand why his friend had
done such a stupid and selfish thing. Yet at the same time he also blamed
himself. He had not been there for Lancelot.

‘Put it down to hubris and
ego,’ said Lancelot humbly. ‘That all?’ Ian badly needed to understand what had
driven his friend to attempt suicide.

Lancelot folded down his top
sheet and smoothed it carefully. ‘Not entirely.’

‘Want to talk about it?’

Did he? How much did he want
to tell Ian? He decided on a partial explanation, without going into details.
‘You were the one who said it first.’ ‘Said what?’

‘That I didn’t know what I was
doing. That I was not responsible for my actions.’

‘Forgive me, Lance.’ He should
never have said such a thing. ‘That was grossly clumsy of me. I didn’t mean
that at all.’

‘Yes, you did,’ insisted
Lancelot. ‘And you were right. I was out of control. That’s the one thing that
has always scared me – ever since that business at University. I wanted to kill
that man. I nearly did.’

Ian was beginning to
understand. ‘Absolute nonsense! That was a freak accident.’

‘It’s not what I did,’ said
Lancelot, ‘it’s what was in my mind that scares me.’

‘You never touched him. That’s
all that matters,’ said Ian reassuringly.

‘I wish it was.’

‘You are the sanest person I know.’

In that moment Lancelot
realised that Ian understood him far better than he had ever given him credit
for. ‘Thank you for that.’

As he stood up to go, Ian
patted his friend on the shoulder. The gesture was minimal but it said
everything there was to say about their relationship. ‘The world wouldn’t be
the same without you,’ he said warmly. ‘Not for me, not for a lot of people. I
wish you would remember that.’

‘Bless you, Ian.’

Ian had been in the right
place at the right time. A happy coincidence? Was that all there was to it? The
more Lancelot thought about it, the more convinced he became that it was more
than just coincidence. He had wanted to end his life, but for some reason he
had not been allowed to. Could it be that that some divine power had
intervened, using his friend as its instrument?

 Have i ever shown you around the
facilities?’

Arthur’s heart beat faster.
Facilities – a neutral word – but for him it still conjured up the secret world
that all those years ago had been so tantalisingly off-bounds to boys and staff
alike. When he was a boy at Glastonbury school, Arthur and his friends had
often tried to locate Merlin’s famous “facilities”. They knew exactly where
they ought to be – somewhere behind the sports hall – but somehow, when they
went to look for them, there was nothing there but fields. Their carefully
planned midnight expeditions had proved equally frustrating, for they
invariably ended up back where they started, as if their legs were playing
tricks on them.

‘I don’t believe you have.’

‘You don’t mean it!’ Merlin’s
eyebrows lifted in mock astonishment, the feathers on Virgil’s head standing
erect in sympathy. ‘How very remiss of me.’ He strode ahead of Arthur,
tut-tutting and scolding himself all the while.

It was shameless play-acting,
as Arthur well knew. He had never seen Merlin’s facilities, not because Merlin
was absent- minded but because he had not wanted him to see them. Now suddenly,
out of the blue, he had received from the magus an apparently casual invitation
that he knew he could not refuse. Merlin sped along somewhere behind the sports
hall heading who knew where, his white robes flowing behind him in the breeze,
Virgil perching precariously on his shoulder. It seemed that, for some reason
known only to himself, Merlin had finally decided that Arthur should see his
secret place. But why now, after all these years? How they got there, Arthur
had no idea, but suddenly a door opened and shut and ‘here we are,’ said
Merlin, a touch of drama in his voice.

At first Arthur was
disappointed. He had no clear idea what he was expecting but whatever it was,
it was more than this. One dreary laboratory led to another, each crammed, it
seemed, with the kind of experiments Arthur used to conduct when he was a lad –
row upon row of bottles and test tubes filled with liquids all colours of the
rainbow. True, there were inexplicable eruptions of smoke from cupboards and
dark corners, and mysterious winking lights, and strange looking engines – one
with such a high-pitched scream that it made poor Virgil squawk loudly and hide
his head under his wing. But on the whole it was pretty disappointing. Where
were the inventions of the once world-renowned inventor? Where was the magic of
the magus?

As the tour progressed (with
no commentary from Merlin), it became apparent to Arthur that the impression
created by the first few laboratories was a false one, quite possibly
deliberately so. He understood enough of science and technology to know that
some serious research was going on. But what exactly? It was time for Merlin to
come up with some explanations. ‘What are you up to?’ Merlin contrived to look
innocent. ‘Don’t be coy, Merlin. You brought me here for a reason.’

Merlin grinned, happy that his
protégé was intrigued. ‘Well now,’ he said, ‘in this laboratory we are
conducting experiments into some rather advanced forms of communication.
Another lab through that door there is dedicated to surveillance techniques. We
are also playing around with a few weapons of different categories and uses.’

Playing around
was
good, thought Arthur, and so typical

of Merlin.

‘I should mention,’ added
Merlin, ‘that there are a couple of laboratories you cannot see – for various
reasons.’

Did the magus not trust him, Arthur was
wondering.

Merlin read his thoughts. ‘It’s not that,
Arthur. I trust you completely.’

‘Why can’t I see those laboratories, then?’

‘Take the lab devoted to
nano-technology,’ said Merlin. ‘The air has to be permanently controlled. Human
intrusion would contaminate it.’

Arthur was highly intrigued.
‘Why are you experimenting with nano-technology?’

‘Our goal is to insert
nano-chips into some rather small devices,’ Merlin explained.

‘Small? How small?’

‘Two or three microns.’ A
sharp look. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’

‘Not a lot,’ admitted Arthur.

‘A human hair is a hundred
microns thick. Does that give you some idea?’ Arthur nodded mutely. What could
he say? It was all too incredible for words. ‘These little fellows,’ continued
Merlin, ‘can be injected into the blood, or sprayed into the air to be inhaled.
Once they are in place, they could be activated from thousands of miles away.’

Arthur hardly dared ask. ‘To do what?’

‘To kill – amongst other
things,’ said Merlin almost casually.

‘My God.’ Arthur was now
seriously concerned. He knew that scientists in the R and D special unit in
Beaconsfield where Merlin had once worked were continually developing advanced
weapons and technology. But Merlin was no longer working for the British
Government. Who was he working for now? Had the magus sold himself to the highest
bidder? And if so, for what? Money? Knowing Merlin as he did, that seemed to
Arthur highly unlikely.

Merlin tried to reassure
Arthur. ‘It need not always be that absolute. Micro-organisms have many
different uses. In medicine, for example, they have enormous potential to cure
disease. In warfare their controlled use could greatly limit the number of
deaths and life-threatening injuries. They could slow down or speed up
reactions. They could contaminate or decontaminate. They could confuse. They
could put a man to sleep. They could be used to send or receive messages, or
simply as spies.’

Arthur’s head felt like cotton
wool. It was hard to take all this in. ‘Spies?’

Merlin was enjoying himself.
‘Imagine a microscopic spy in your bloodstream sending messages via satellite
on your vital functions and on your every movement – or your every thought, for
that matter – though I must admit we are not quite there yet.’

‘Why are you doing all this?’
Arthur had to ask the question, though knowing Merlin he very much doubted he
would get a straight answer.

‘For one thing, we know that
some very dangerous terrorists may one day have access to nano-technology,’
said Merlin grimly. ‘It pays to stay ahead of the game.’

“We” know, Merlin had said.
Who was “we”? Again there was an implicit acknowledgement that Merlin was not
working alone. Obviously he had helpers. Not even the magus could do all this
himself. So who was helping him?

Yet again Merlin read Arthur’s
thoughts. ‘The answer to your question is yes, I do have helpers, men and women
who will one day be actively involved . . . somewhere else. They are people who
share my beliefs and are dedicated to the cause.’

Cause? What cause was Merlin talking about?

‘Before I answer that,’ said
Merlin, as if Arthur had spoken, ‘I want to show you an important experiment,
perhaps the most important of all. Come.’

Merlin led Arthur to a
laboratory at the heart of the whole complex and was immediately challenged by
the door monitor to give the codeword of the day. Much to Arthur’s astonishment,
the codeword was Arthur. Obviously Merlin had planned the visit. Next Merlin
was asked for his palm print. Finally he was told to look directly at the
screen. ‘They don’t trust even you?’

‘The computer trusts no one,
or not until it has identified them.’

‘What about me?’

‘It accepts you because you
are with me. Without me you would not get through this door.’

The door slid smoothly open
and they walked in. Arthur paused while his eyes adjusted to the dim light.
Gradually he became aware of a silver globe that seemed to float in the air at
the far end of the room. As he watched, fascinated, the globe was suddenly
illuminated so that it shone as brightly as a miniature moon. He could see now
that it stood on a thin metal rod.

‘That globe is made of
titanium-hardened steel,’ said Merlin, ‘about as strong a metal as it is
possible to produce with the resources of modern technology. By the way, it is
thirty centimetres in diameter. Now look over there.’

About ten feet away, at the
other end of the table, was a black box no more than ten centimetres square. In
the side of the box facing the silver globe was a small hole.

‘Let’s go into the next lab,’
said Merlin. ‘No, wait. I want you to feel the globe first.’

Arthur ran his fingers over
it, then clasped it in both hands testing its weight; it was very heavy. As
Merlin said, it was about thirty centimetres in diameter, and solid as solid
could be.

‘Let’s go,’ said Merlin briskly.

The adjoining room was in
darkness. The whole of one wall was a window.

‘Sit here, facing the window.’
Arthur did as he was told.

Merlin tapped the glass. ‘Anti-UV and
shatter-proof.’

On the table in front of them
was a panel with illuminated dials, switches and knobs. ‘Watch carefully,’ said
Merlin as he flipped two switches, waited a few seconds, then, one by one,
slowly turned three dials a half circle clockwise, and one a half circle
anti-clockwise. The dials registered what Arthur assumed was some kind of power
surge. He had no idea what to expect but felt the tension of anticipation. The
palms of his hands were sweating, his heart pounded against his ribs.

‘What am I watching?’ ‘The
globe. The black box.’

For a few seconds nothing
happened. Then, quite suddenly, the hole in the black box glowed white, and the
silver globe at the end of the table was no longer there. Merlin turned to
Arthur with a grin. ‘What do you think of that?’

‘Some kind of illusion.’

‘What if I told you that your eyes did not
deceive you?’

It was one of the magus’s
illusions. It had to be. ‘No, Merlin, you can’t fool me. The globe could have
melted I suppose, but then I would have seen something.’

‘It did not melt, I assure you,’ said Merlin.

Then what else could it have
been but some kind of magic trick? ‘You are saying it was not an illusion, and
it didn’t melt?’ Arthur was determined to pin the magus down.

‘Correct.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Arthur,
shaking his head, ‘but that’s impossible.’

‘There are more things in
heaven and earth . . . ’ ‘So I’ve heard.’

Merlin waved through the
window at the laboratory they had just left. ‘Go and see for yourself. I’ll
stay here.’

The metal stand was there.
Arthur reached for the globe that rested on it, the globe he knew must still be
there, even though he could not see it. But where it had been less than a
minute ago there was nothing. Again and again his hands passed though thin air.
But what his hands had already accepted, his brain could not. Painstakingly,
inch by inch, he scoured the whole laboratory, every surface, every nook and
cranny, even dropping to his knees to examine the floor. Nothing. He tried to
think but his brain was numb. It was impossible but it had happened. It was no
illusion. The silver globe had not simply disappeared. It had ceased to exist.

Merlin’s voice boomed on the intercom: ‘Come
back, Arthur.

The experiment is not over yet.’

Merlin’s fingers moved quickly
over the panel, once again adjusting switches and dials.

‘Watch.’

‘What am I looking at now?’

‘The black box. And where the globe was.’

Once more the hole in the box
glowed white, only now it seemed a hundred times brighter than before. So
intense was the light that even with the window’s special protection, Arthur
was momentarily blinded.

‘Open your eyes, Arthur.’

He looked, looked again in
disbelief, closed his eyes, and looked a third time. The silver globe had
reappeared. This time he needed no invitation. He ran into the lab next door,
but could only stand and stare at the globe, fearing to touch it.

Merlin’s voice echoed jovially
over the intercom. ‘It won’t bite you.’ Reaching out, Arthur ran his hands over
the cold steel. The globe was thirty centimetres in diameter, and as solid as
solid could be.

‘Explain,’ Arthur demanded later over a cup of
tea.

‘What you have just seen, the
greatest scientific minds in the world have been trying to accomplish for
years,’ claimed Merlin, with his customary lack of modesty. ‘Billions of
dollars have been poured into research. But no one has ever succeeded in doing
it.’

‘Doing what?’ asked Arthur.
‘Dematerialising matter.’

‘I thought that was just a
theoretical concept, something that only happens in science-fiction movies.’

‘It’s a great deal more than that,’ said
Merlin. ‘Scientists at CERN in Geneva actually succeeded in producing a single
atom of matter more than thirty years ago. But that’s as far as it got.’

‘Why?’

‘Because even to materialise
that single atom cost billions of dollars. The world economy could not possibly
sustain such a programme.’

When would the magus cease to
amaze him? ‘So you have done what no one else has done, or perhaps ever will
do.’

‘Not for many years to come,
quite possibly for centuries, perhaps never. Clever of me, don’t you think?’
Merlin looked unashamedly smug, and Virgil puffed up his feathers proudly so
that he looked twice his normal size.

Now that Arthur had recovered
from the initial shock, his mind focused on what to him was the most
inexplicable aspect of the demonstration. ‘That globe, like every other
material thing, is composed of matter. But if matter is destroyed, how can it
reappear again?’

‘It can’t,’ said Merlin.

‘But it did. I saw it. I touched it.’

‘That is because the globe was
not destroyed,’ said Merlin. ‘It was deconstructed, which meant it could be
reassembled again. The two modes are linked. I call them Demat and Remat. There
is also a third mode.’

The hairs tingled on the back
of Arthur’s neck. ‘What is that?’