A Cut Above the Rest Read online

  As he drove down the street he was presented with a range of Victorian and late nineteen fifties houses, some whitewashed while others were brick and render. He found Ellis’ car before he saw the guesthouse – the car parked on one side of the street with the guesthouse standing on the other.

  He parked and walked back, climbing the stepped concrete pathway that led to the front door. He was at the right address, ‘Trethorlan’ was written in brass letters screwed to a varnished wooden back plate. The door had been recently over painted in red and shone with the mirror finish that new gloss paint presented. He pressed a white plastic doorbell and heard chimes ring out behind the door. For a few minutes there was no reaction and he was about to try again when he heard movement behind the door. It opened to reveal a woman in her middle years, but bright eyed, well groomed, with dark hair and still attractive. She was without makeup, except for a hint of lipstick, and had a relatively clear, unwrinkled face.

  He gave her a smile in greeting, ‘Good morning, I’m sorry to trouble you, I’m looking for one of your guests, Nathaniel Ellis, is he with you at present?’

  She shook her head, ‘No, he’s probably down by the sea, taking time to…well, feel better.’

  ‘He’s sick?’

  She seemed reluctant to answer.

  ‘I work with Nathaniel; he’s my laboratory co-worker. If he’s sick I need to know.’

  She shook her head, ‘Not physically, but there’s something troubling him, He won’t eat and I hear him pacing his room at night. He can’t sleep.’

  So his intuition was right, Nathaniel was under some kind of stress.

  ‘When might he be back, do you know?’

  She suddenly turned her head to look down the street.

  Because of the stepped pathway leading to the house they were well elevated above the street and pavement level, and Nathaniel Ellis was plainly in sight as he walked towards the house. Even from fifty yards he was ungainly and appeared stooped and dishevelled.

  They said nothing more as he and the landlady waited for Ellis to climb the pathway and come up to the doorway.

  ‘Hello Nathaniel, how are you?’

  Ellis gave a wan smile and slipped past the two of them standing in the doorway. His woollen jumper hung limply over a pair of well crumpled jeans - even his footwear - a pair of old trainers – had seen better days.

  AS Ellis’ back disappeared into the house the landlady pursed her lips, ‘If you want a little privacy you can use my sitting room – I’ll get some tea. Don’t worry; I’ll call him for you. Come in, it’s the front room, first on the left.’

  He nodded his thanks and as he did so he heard Ellis climbing the stairs directly to the rear of the downstairs hallway.’

  He made his way into the house and, as he opened the ground floor door she had indicated, he heard the landlady call out.

  ‘Nathaniel – come down please. I’m getting some tea. This gentleman here, your work colleague, wants to speak to you, and I think you should listen.’

  For a short time there was silence and then the sound of Ellis descending the stairs made it obvious he was obeying the landlady’s imperative.

  The sitting room was well furnished with a range of quality furniture and had warm, tasteful decoration.

  Ornaments were scattered here and there with a glass display case in one corner filled with crystal glassware and silver. As he surveyed the comfortable surroundings he was momentarily regretful that he had never adopted a domestic existence – he’d remained a bachelor and had assumed, and enjoyed, a bachelor’s hermit like lifestyle. Perhaps a wife would have made him a different man – he didn’t know, but it was rather too late to try to prove it.

  His reflections were interrupted by the door behind him opening and then closing, accompanied by the sound of crockery clinking and rattling. He turned to find Ellis holding a tray with a teapot, sugar bowl and some cups and saucers. Ellis gave a somewhat embarrassed smile.

  ‘Mrs Templeton, my landlady, thought I should do the deliveries today Michael – do you take sugar?’

  ‘Seems you get on very well with your landlady – I think she has a soft spot for you Nathaniel.’

  ‘He gave a wistful smile. ‘Yeah, in the short time I’ve been here she’s become my surrogate mother – truth is I enjoy it. She’s really special.’

  He gave Ellis a knowing look, ‘Oh I see, but not too special I assume. She is very attractive.’

  Ellis returned a thunderous look as he placed the tea tray on a coffee table.

  ‘What do you mean by that? If you must know I have no idea who my biological parents were or are – I was brought up in care and Mrs Templeton has been very kind to me, but certainly not in the way you are implying.’

  ‘I’m sorry Nathaniel – no offence, forgive my unthinking remark, it was meant to be light hearted.’

  ‘Oh, was it…okay then, sugar?’

  He sat down opposite Ellis and sipped his tea. Now he had the chance to study him more closely and there was no doubt, Ellis was beginning to look seedy and worn out.

  ‘Nathaniel, what’s wrong? You needn’t concern yourself about being absent from the lab’ for such a short time, as long as we know why. If you’re ill all you have to do is to phone in to personnel and report it. But it’s not directly physical is it; you don’t need a physician do you? Something is worrying you quite deeply…am I right?’

  Ellis let his shoulders droop and his head tilted forward.

  ‘Yeah, there’s a problem but one I can’t solve – I think I am going to have to resign.’

  ‘Christ Nathaniel, you’ve only just arrived. What on earth is so bad that you can dispose of your career just like that.’ Bloody hell, over the last twenty-four hours I have expanded our experimental work, I’m not kidding when I say we are very close to a Nobel Prize. Nobody has come anywhere near to us in our work and I’m damned if I’m going to see you and me compromised because of some bloody trivial problem that has crept up on you. Between the two of us we will solve it. Then we’ll be made.’

  Ellis looked up and shook his head. ‘You don’t understand, its not trivial and it can’t be sorted out just like that. And as for the Nobel Prize, you must be joking. You know we can’t publish any research papers let alone patent anything, the company won’t allow it. You went to great pains when we first met to enlighten me on that particular subject. Moreover, if the problem I’m struggling with was easy to extricate myself from, don’t you think I would have done so by now, given how well our work was going. You can’t help Michael – it’s beyond your ability.’

  He was irritated by Ellis’ insistence and said so.

  ‘Really, so tell me about it – I’ll be the judge of why it is, or is not, beyond my ability.’

  Ellis stayed silent and then swallowed the rest of his tea. He carefully replaced the cup and saucer on the tray and sat back a little.

  He saw Ellis fixate on his eyes and then take on a pensive look.

  ‘I told you earlier that I was brought up in care – three foster mothers and a number of different fathers. It wasn’t a lot of fun incidentally. By the time I was due to go to University I had a choice, a government loan to pay tuition fees, or simply not go. My last foster parents wouldn’t, or couldn’t, help me financially. I knew that should I get a good job after graduation I would have to repay the government loan over many decades – not something I relished. Then I saw a notice, it was for student sponsorship by a large corporation – they funded you through college and then after you graduated you were committed to working for them for at least five years after graduation. They even promised support if you went on to do postgraduate work. All I had to do was to agree to, and sign, a contract. It committed me to doing what they wanted me to do after all my studies were completed.’

  ‘Ah, I see, I knew that our people, the Metal Industries and Mining Company, did that kind of thing. I missed it I’m afraid.’

  ‘No Michael, it wasn’t M.I.M.C. or anythi
ng to do with them or Metlab. I’m talking about Consolidated Mines.’

  That hit Caplin like a sledgehammer – Consolidated Mines were M.I.M.C’s primary competitors.

  ‘So, you signed up for CM – so what the hell are you doing in Metlab?’

  Ellis shrunk, taking on an even more dejected, and guilty looking posture than before.

  ‘I’m an infiltrator, a spy – industrial espionage is what it’s all about. I’m supposed to report back to CM on everything I can find out about Metlab’s research success, technology and business strategy. At first, when they told me what they had in mind for me after my PhD, I refused. But they are a bloody ruthless lot; they made it clear that I’d signed the agreement and they had expended a lot of money on me. If I failed to follow through on what they wanted I would regret it. They reminded me that a research scientist doesn’t do too well with a pair of crippled legs. So you see, I’m stuck. I want out – I want to stay working with you, but it isn’t that easy. If I stay but refuse to cooperate they’ll catch up with me. If I leave, they’d still find me in the end.’

  He was dumbstruck – what he was hearing he found hard to digest. If what Ellis was saying was true it was serious. But surely not, it was implausible; he couldn’t believe that Consolidated Mines would behave like a lot of gangsters; no, it wasn’t possible in the real world.

  ‘Nathaniel, I think you are making more of this than is reasonable, Consolidated Mines are a genuine business, to big and too well placed to risk using bully boy tactics. After all, they have too much to lose if it became public. Don’t you think most of this threat is emanating from the stress and tiredness we’ve been subject to over the recent few days? I can’t believe you have anything to worry about.’

  Ellis gave him another hard stare.

  ‘Really, then think on this, I’m not the only sleeper in Metlab, CM have another insider who has recently been ordered to keep an eye on me. He’s already made contact and expects me to provide him with a full report on what you and I have been doing lately. It’s been made crystal clear that I had better do as I’m told…otherwise.’

  For a second or two he felt the impact of Ellis’ words - distancing him even further from the award of a Nobel Prize. The more Ellis revealed the situation he was in, the more a certain Dr. Michael Caplin was at risk of having acclaim and fame prised from his fingers. He was enraged by the thought. It was anathema; it was not only offensive, it was outrageous. Okay, commercial ownership was hard to sacrifice but with what he desired more than anything else in the world at risk of being ripped from his grasp, he was not going to allow the morons who might seek it to prevail - not if he could help it.

  ‘Listen to me Nathaniel and listen closely. First, what I said to you earlier is true – our work must be a strong contender for the Nobel Prize, it surpasses anything done in metallurgy over the last forty years and if you think an employment contract from M.I.M.C is going to stop us from disseminating our research, and at some point capitalising on it, they have another think coming. I’ve had years to ponder on this and I’ve settled on a scheme which will succeed - we simply write up a patent specification giving M.I.M.C initial ownership of the intellectual property surrounding our work, but not everything. By filing the patent first, with a filing date on it that predates academic publication, we are then free to publish because we have not preceded the patent with a public disclosure. That would invalidate it. However, the moment the basic patent is filed we write up a series of research papers and get them in to the various important journals – Nature would be the first followed by any of the other top physical sciences journals. M.I.M.C would have no idea we were going to publish until it was too late. And what would they do about it – sue us? Of course not, after all, they would hold the patent. No court could say we had stolen the essential intellectual property from M.I.M.C if ostensibly they actually still own it. As for CM and its strong-arm tactics, well I have a proposition – we fight fire with fire.’

  Ellis looked mystified, ‘Fire with fire, what do you mean?’

  ‘This guy, this CM agent you say is implanted in Metlab, who is he?’

  ‘He’s a technician, works in the ore and foundry section, name of Holden, Eric Holden. Why?’

  ‘Well, I suspect that we could get a very strong message to CM by ensuring this Eric Holden gets the same threat you are under at the moment. We simply make it plain that should he continue his nefarious activities, he pays the price.’

  Ellis looked as though he found the suggestion incomprehensible.

  ‘Threaten him – physically?’

  ‘Of course – and if he won’t listen we ensure he finds out we mean what we say.’

  ‘Christ, Michael, can we?’

  ‘Oh yes, Nathaniel – nobody is going to deny us getting what we deserve. I’ve waited a lifetime for the recognition our work will most certainly attract. Make no mistake, neither the Eric Holdens, or the intimidation from the CMs of this world, will stop it happening, that I swear.’

  Ellis gave a slow and disbelieving shake of his head.

  ‘You’re not kidding are you Michael?’

  ‘No, I’m bloody well not.’

  Ellis made no move at first; remaining frozen and stock-still; then with only a faint smile on his face, he started to nod his head in approval.

  6

  Eric Holden habitually took his lunch in the staff canteen.

  It was a habit that added to his workmates jealousy; they constantly having to remain frugal and eat sandwiches (rather than risk taking money that was crucial for their wife’s groceries, their children’s clothes, household utility bills and monthly mortgage payments). Not only did they resent Holden’s ability to casually spend money they did not have, but his new car, his four bedroomed house in St Ives, and his long ‘year on year’ vacations in the south of Spain, simply added to their envy.

  He knew his workmates were bitter about his apparently well-financed lifestyle, but he could have cared less. His intention was to ensure that his workmates had nothing to recriminate about and that he remained free of any interference, or any threat, that could lose him his job at Metlab. Being the only operator of the overhead lift for the seven ton molten metal converter in the foundry meant that he wasn’t directly supervised, nor did he have to put up with being part of any operational team – he could keep clear of hostile entanglements and he meant to keep it that way. For, while he was ensconced in Metlab he had the advantage of a good salary and a generous supplementary income from Consolidated Mines.

  He had previously been recruited by CM as a mining supervisor; but having cheerfully snitched on colleagues who were agitating for more pay the company had viewed him as potentially valuable, as they would anyone utterly without scruples and thoroughly immoral. When they suggested that he become CM’s agent for some industrial espionage he had readily agreed.

  Now, for well over four years, he had surreptitiously made notes of everything he had sight of, or discovered, within Metlab. He reported anything in fact that could have a technical or business advantage to his paymasters in CM. On the face of it, he had little appreciation of how valuable his reports to CM were, but notwithstanding all the apparently trivial stuff he sent off, he continued to receive a handsome bonus. Lately of course things had changed – the arrival of another CM sponsored individual had lifted the importance of what he was doing immeasurably. Dr. Nathaniel Ellis had already been given his instructions from CM prior to being recruited for Metlab and after only a few days his initial reports about Dr Caplin’s work had made the people at CM very excited. They wanted more - more detail and, if possible, more experimental samples. In fact, the work Caplin and Ellis were doing seemed to override everything – CM wanted him to ensure Ellis disclosed every tiny aspect of the work being carried out in Caplin’s laboratory, and wanted an up-to-the-second account of progress.

  Of course, he’d reminded them that it was not up to him to provide the data they wanted – it was Ellis who was the so
urce of the information and so far Ellis was less than willing to convey what he knew.

  Don’t let Ellis prevaricate or dissemble, CM had told him, ensure he remembers his obligation to CM and what the consequences will be if he reneges on his contract.

  It was all very well them saying that, but they didn’t have to contend with Ellis and his stubborn and belligerent manner.

  He stood in the queue, waiting to be served from the hot plates and food trays in the mixed grill section.

  His appetite was undiminished, regardless of his encounters with Ellis and the irritated response he was getting from his people at CM. As he completed obtaining his fried food portions, fizzy drink and cutlery, and had paid the cashier, he looked for a free table. The canteen was segregated, one smaller section restricted to privileged senior scientists, engineers and top administration staff, the larger area set aside for ancillary staff.

  He was in no way envious of the tables given over to the senior staff; he privately revelled in the fact that he was undoubtedly in a far better financial situation than most of them were. Indeed, it was a comforting realisation, and even more pleasurable, when he considered that nearly everything they did ended up being reported to his paymasters. It was a miracle to him that M.I.M.C was still in a position to keep trading.

  He found a table in one corner of all the geometrically placed tables in the seating area. It was close to the senior dining section and was a useful location, often he would catch a conversation which ordinarily would be confidential; but as usual, the idiots at the senior tables always assumed that what they were conversing about went unheard by anyone else, and even if it was heard, the listener was a company man and disclosure to a business competitor would be a treacherous and a profound betrayal. What idiots they were – he had on occasion reported some real gems to his paymasters, and glad they were too. It made up for the inconsequential stuff that sometimes he sent in.