A Cut Above the Rest

  Copyright © 2019 by CB Barrie

  All rights reserved.

  Published in 2019 by:

  Britain’s Next Bestseller

  An imprint of Live It Ventures Ltd

  www.bnbsbooks.co.uk

  The moral right of CB Barrie to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Except as permitted under current legislation, no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.

  All enquiries should be addressed to:

  Live It Ventures Ltd, 126 Kirkleatham Lane, Redcar. Cleveland.

  TS10 5DD

  Cover design by Miacello

  Printed in the U.K

  For my Family

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  About the Author

  Prologue

  He was beginning to form the opinion that he was insane for trying to get to the laboratory under the current foul weather conditions.

  If anything, his situation was comparable to a 19th century tea-clipper, under full sail and trying to outrun an oncoming storm front - only in his case the storm had caught up. The road he was driving on was the B3306, a narrow secondary road which ran along the north Cornwall coast. This particular stretch, running from Morvah to Treen, the latter some eight miles south west of St Ives, was notorious for its ferocious weather, often forcing drivers to stop entirely and abandon their winter journeys. At best they had to pull in to wait for the habitual onset of gale force winds, coupled to driving rain, to abate sufficiently for the journey to be continued.

  Tonight was, if anything, worse - and he concluded that no one in their right mind should have been on the road, certainly not attempting to navigate against the kind of violent anti-cyclonic weather system that ordinarily would have kept sensible people dry and snug indoors.

  But he had things to do, important things - and as usual he had only the weekend to accomplish them. He was determined to get to his place of work, the Metlab Research Laboratory just beyond Morvah, regardless of the danger the journey posed. He was becoming more and more certain that the research he had been surreptitiously carrying out over the last year and a half was no longer simply promising – indeed it was beginning to succeed, and with luck all he needed was a few more weeks to finalise things.

  He was a good metallurgist, and if what he had been doing came to fruition, he might even become a famous, if not wealthy, metallurgist. But that depended on a number of factors; first, that the research and technology was actually successful, second, that his principals and supervisors remained ignorant of that success, and third he was able to personally patent the technology and license it for commercial applications. The last factor incurred a distinct risk of being sued by his employers, the Metal Industries and Mining Company or M.I.M.C, but he took the view that being in possession of the intellectual property would actually mean holding an ace at the card table against M.I.M.C’s particularly poor hand.

  For all that to happen he needed to make progress over the coming few days and to ensure his activities in the laboratory, as in the past, remained a covert activity.

  As his headlights and spotlights tried to illuminate the road to his front, it was becoming more a case of the hail and rain blanketing and obscuring his windscreen rather than any distinct sign of the tarmac surface he was trying to follow. The headlights reflected back against the blizzard of hail as though he was looking at a brightly speckled white sheet in front of him. Furthermore, the noise in the car was deafening as the hail and rain hit the car roof, windows and windscreen like machine gun rounds. The car swayed and buffeted as the gale force wind raced over the sea and then whipped over the cliff edge, making landfall no more than a few hundred yards away from the road. He was now on the worst part of the 3066 - closer to the cliff edge and sea and much more exposed. It appeared as though the angry, furious and implacable weather treated anything on the road as if it were an enemy to be destroyed.

  Now he was drowning in hailstones, and they continued to blot out all vision ahead except for a short and somewhat indefinite section of the road directly in front of him. He had no choice but to change to second gear and crawl along at fifteen miles an hour, all the while cursing the difficulties he was facing. As he stared hard out of the windscreen, he tried to ensure he remained on the tarmac, and didn’t mistakenly slip into the coastal, cliff side verge of rain soaked gorse and bracken.

  As he gingerly negotiated his way forward, he reckoned he was just over half way through his journey to the research lab’. As the car crept its way forward, his mind wandered back through the events that had led him to a research position with Metlab and then to risk life and limb in order to pursue his unofficial activities.

  The Metlab Centre, a contraction of The Metals Research Laboratories Centre, was a central part of the Metal Industries and Mining Company, a massive world wide conglomerate of mining and metal processing companies all directed to finding, excavating and processing the less abundant metals employed in the world’s industries. It was Nickel, Chromium, Tungsten, Cobalt, Molybdenum and a range of other rare earth metals that supported their massive profits. The Metlab Centre was the principle research establishment for M.I.M.C and was not only extremely well funded, but populated by a picked scientific staff who were equally well financed and paid. This largesse wasn’t an act of generosity on the part of M.I.M.C – their financial executives had so arranged matters that M.I.M.C received a substantial tax concession for running a research operation which prima facia was non-profit making and thus could be deemed by the accountants to be running at a loss. He of course, like many of his colleagues, had no objections to this arrangement at all. And why should he object, he was 34, single and pleased to be able to afford a few of life’s luxuries. He had no wife, no dependents and up to a point he felt satisfied in his career.

  He missed and regretted only one aspect of his life – a lack of recognition, acclamation and admiration. True, he had gained some seniority in commercial research; after that was he’d left Cambridge in his twenties with a doctorate founded on a rather well acknowledged doctoral thesis in physical chemistry. But it was metallurgy that had sparked his interest, and it had ignited not only a consuming interest but also a burgeoning expertise. But the one thing that gnawed at his soul was his failure to be properly recognised, celebrated or renowned – the failure, that was, to have his name on a well respected pile of research papers, and the chance to find himself so well known as to be invited to fellowship of one of the major scientific institutions. To a certain extent it was his choice of career that limited his reputation – commercial research did not have the academic expectations or requirements for its staff that a university might have. As such, he was deficient in well received research papers published in the academic and technical journals. That error he intended to alter at the earliest opportunity;
not least as a prelude to all his ambitions.

  The staccato drumming on the car was lessening as the hail started to give way to heavy rain.

  As it did so his headlights probed further down the road and he was able to see some way ahead. He changed up to third gear and increased speed, now more confident that he was starting to move away from the hailstorm and into less ferocious cloudbursts. He began to recognise the road landscape and realised that he was moving from the Morvah plain into the outskirts of the village of Morvah itself. Soon he passed the Anglican Church and some village housing. On the other side of the village along a newly created access road lay the Metlab laboratory complex.

  In a few more minutes he would be back in his laboratory and with optimism and expectations high, be able to complete his long investigation into super hard materials.

  1

  His car sloshed through the pooled and rain saturated driveway as he headed uphill towards the red and white spiralled security barrier.

  One side of the barrier was flanked by a brick built security guard house, this in turn, along with the other side of the barrier, was joined to eight foot security fencing, all of which was topped with razor wire. The fencing encircled the whole four-acre site, but in the rain-saturated darkness, even its thick silvery wire mesh rapidly faded from view. The top of the low grey outline of the two storey laboratory main building came into view as he approached the barrier, and as his car nosed forward the storm gave a final outburst of cascading rain, perfectly timed just as he came abreast of the security housing.

  He ran down the top of his window, keeping out the rain and waiting for the security guardroom door to open and for it to eject the late shift security guard. It was usually Nigel Pascoe, a man he had come to know well, and was on very friendly terms. Pascoe usually just waved him through without formally logging his arrival, but tonight he appeared with an umbrella and instead of giving the customary wave of acknowledgement, and then operating the barrier lift mechanism, he ran forward to the car, bent his head and shoulders down under the umbrella and leaned in towards the car window.

  ‘Doctor Caplin – there is someone else in the building, Doctor Ellis arrived about forty five minutes ago – I thought you should know. By the way – I’m on duty all night, I won’t be relieved until early tomorrow morning, my replacement is sick.’

  That came as a pleasant surprise; he had never known anyone else to work as late as Pascoe intended. It suited his purposes not to be logged in and for staff to fail to know who was in the centre and who was out as the security shifts changed.

  His own appearance at the laboratory was a risk he was unwilling to take without justified collaboration. His presence being reported by an over gossipy staff member was not something he wanted to explain to the personnel officer, and thereafter have to confront, and answer, unwanted questions from the laboratory director. At least Pascoe, now on duty overnight, had no reason to report him even if he didn’t reappear until late morning or until the Monday following the week end – Pascoe, fortunately, was extremely tight lipped. However, Ellis might not be.

  For a brief moment he considered returning home. But then, Ellis had only recently been appointed to the staff, and it could well be that he was only in the building to catch up on his work schedule. If so, no doubt he wanted to appear diligent and hard working in his probationary period. Ellis certainly wouldn’t want to imperil his probation by alienating a senior staff member who might have Ellis’s ongoing career in his hands.

  He nodded an acknowledgement of Pascoe’s note and gave an appreciative smile.

  ‘Is Ed’ Rowe on duty tonight?’

  Rowe was the roving security guard located inside the laboratory complex and was tasked with periodically checking the whole building and its associated workshops. He too was used to turning a blind eye to the appearance of the one staff member he considered an incurable workaholic - a certain Doctor Michael Caplin. Tonight, however, he had an additional body to contend with in the form of Ellis, and perhaps this time he might be tempted not to ignore the two late night residents. This time he might log their attendance.

  And yet, taken as a whole, it didn’t matter that much – even were he noted in the log as being in the complex overnight, it wasn’t as if there was a long record of him being in the laboratories every weekend, so just this once was hardly of any significance. Even were he to be confronted by someone in authority, he could easily shrug it off as a one-off appearance to complete some work. Of course, the fact that he intended to stay for the whole weekend might not be so easy to explain if it was uncovered, but that was a problem he could solve at a later time.

  He gave Pascoe a wave of thanks as Pascoe gave a ‘He’s in’ confirming Rowe’s presence.

  ‘Okay, thanks, I’ll check with Ed’ and see what’s going on with Ellis.’

  Pascoe stepped back and turned towards the barrier control.

  As the barrier lifted he pressed the car’s accelerator and began the climb to the flatter part of the road that accessed the parking area to the south of the laboratory building. The track was dimly lit with low upright bowl topped luminaries but as he approached the parking area automatic overhead floodlights came on creating a wide pool of subdued light, pushing back the darkness and allowing an extensive field of view.

  Force of habit meant that he drove into his usual parking bay, three bays back from the building. He could have parked closer to the reception area but his conditioned pattern of behaviour now meant a short walk to the building entrance. As he locked the doors of his BMW 325i he turned about and noted three other cars parked around him. He could account for two – the Fords of Pascoe and Rowe, the security people, but there was a third, a small Mazda MX5, a car he assumed belonged to Ellis.

  As he made his way forward his footsteps echoed softly back from the building. He was amazed that the car park surface was virtually dry – but he put it down to the quirky microclimate the area experienced. This far up on the hill strange things took place. He wondered how people had survived this part of the world in the distant past; Neolithic man, 3,500 years ago, had certainly populated the area and, had it been daylight, and had he turned about, he could have viewed the distant Morvah iron-age hill fort. He was reminded that the whole area had once been a copper mine having started work in the 1850’s. Strange it was that after so long a time it had once more become a metal working area.

  He walked on, turned the left hand corner of the building and made his way along the footpath to the glass fronted entrance and reception foyer. As he did so he glanced upwards, noting the subdued blue tinged lighting creeping out from all of the second storey office windows and corridors. At night the building was kept in illumination by a low ambient lighting system – good enough for people to navigate through the various parts, but nothing like the cost of keeping the full strip lighting functioning. Someone needing full lighting could override this in any office or laboratory and as he looked up he was astonished to see one office fully lit. Not only that, as far as he could judge it was his own office that had all its lights on!

  He stood back on the footpath as far as he could without stepping into the soft, still rain soaked border turf, waiting to see if there was any obvious activity in his office. But without daring to stand back further, he could detect nothing. Suddenly the light extinguished, leaving the window in semi- darkness; now he was certain someone had been in his office.

  He pushed open the glass doors of the entrance and half ran across the half lit foyer to the left ascending staircase. As he reached the upper level he slowed and made his way forward along the access corridor as silently as possible. He reached his office door in twenty seconds and pushed against the handle. The door opened as expected , it was always unlocked for fire access, and as it came ajar he felt for the light switch on the left hand wall. The lights instantly flared into life and as he stood in the doorway, looking into his office for an intruder, he was disappointed; there was nothing.

&n
bsp; He stepped forward putting his briefcase on his desk and made for the window – he mentally counted the office windows prior to his and there was no doubt, it was his office that had been lit. He stood bemused, surely it had to be the night duty security man Ed’ Rowe who had switched on the lights, if not the only other…’

  “Dr. Caplin, I’m…’

  He flinched as the voice behind him broke the silence.

  He turned - apparently looking stunned and angry.

  It was Ellis, Nathaniel Ellis, and he had an embarrassed smile on his face.

  ‘It says Dr. Michael Caplin on the door doesn’t it?’

  ‘Er yes… it does, I’m sorry to trouble you, I...’

  He took a pace forward towards Ellis.

  ‘What were you doing in my office Ellis?’

  Ellis looked stunned, ‘How do you…I came to leave something on your desk, I swear that was all it was, I never touched any of your…’

  ‘I don’t bloody care what innocent reason you had for entering my office late in the evening when I’m not here but I warn you - never again, is that clear?’

  Ellis, for all his six foot stature took on a cowed look and seemed to shrink. He shook his tousled head in remorse and dismay, letting some of the long blond hair fall across his forehead and face.

  ‘I’m unable to convey my feelings Dr. Caplin - all I did…’

  ‘All you did Ellis was to break a cardinal laboratory rule, personnel never enter a staff members lab’ or office without authority or permission – it’s not done.’