Chapter 8

Lester felt uncomfortably claustrophobic. He always did at times like these: surrounded by various experts all trying to explain points it would probably take him years to understand as they did.

"So if we just oscillate the polarity of our magnet at exactly the same strength and speed as the anomaly," Connor was saying, "but at the opposite timing: we could cancel out the anomaly altogether!"

"Then why is my gut telling me," Lester began, "and I know I shall regret using the phrase, that this seems just a little too simple?"

"Ah, well," Cutter interrupted. "You see we have three main problems."

"Only three?" Lester smirked.

"Firstly," Cutter began, counting the items off on his fingers and ignoring Lester, "we need something at least twice the size of a normal MRI scanner to fit the anomaly inside. Secondly, we need to completely surround the anomaly, so the closer we get, the smaller the machine can be, but then we actually need to get that close to it."

"And thirdly?"

"Thirdly," Cutter sighed and threw up his hands. "This is almost entirely theoretical physics. It's not my area of expertise so I have no idea if Connor's theory is even close to what we need."

"When you say almost entirely, what exactly do you mean?" Lester queried, leaning forwards and turning his attention back to Connor.

"It's something called 'magnetic pinching'," Connor began, holding up his hands to form a hollow ball shape. "You surround the thing you want to squeeze with a repelling magnetic force, and the magnetic repulsion does the job for you. Only because the anomaly's polarity keeps changing, we've got to change with it."

"And has anything like this been done before?"

"Well, Doc Oc used something similar in Spiderman 2..."

"In the real world, Connor!"

"The closest would probably be a system they've used over in New Mexico. It's called the Sandia system. It's used to confine plasmas, I think. Like gases that have been ionised, given an electrical charge. I remember looking into it back when Spiderman 2 first came out."

"How does that compare with what we're trying to do here?"

"Well, the basic physics is the same, but the scale is hugely different."

"And how does your theory suggest this will work?"

"Well, the magnetic fields will repel each other, so whichever is the stronger one will push the other away. If they're both the same strength, they should hold steady. If the anomaly is stronger, though, it will push the machine away from it. On the other hand, right: if our machine is stronger, then it'll push the anomaly back in on itself until it closes. Or forms a black hole of course, but that's just a minor possibility..."

"Forgive my ignorance, Connor," Lester interrupted, "but am I not right in thinking that a 'black hole' is not the ideal thing to have in the middle of the North Sea?"

"Regardless of the outcome," Cutter snapped, "it's all academic if we can't figure out a way to get the equipment we need and then get it to the anomaly!"

"So what do you suggest we do professor?"

"For now, we let Connor work on his magnetic squeezing machine..."

"An imploder," Connor interrupted, testily. "It's called an imploder."

"His imploder, then. And while he's doing that, we try to figure out how many of these invisible fish we've got on our hands!"

"Any suggestion on how to spot something that's invisible, then?" Lester turned his attention back to Cutter.

"Technically it's not invisible," Abby cut in, from her place on the far side of the office where the army medic who had dealt with Jenny's wrist was now attempting to clean and bandage the wound in Abby's hand. "You just can't see it very easily."

"How is that different?" Lester sighed.

"It's like a black cat in a coal cellar," Abby explained, "the fish's scales mirror its surroundings, so that it blends into the background. When you're completely surrounded by water, as far as can be seen, or by seaweed of some kind, that's a pretty effective defence."

"I thought there was no light that far down?" Becker mused from his corner.

"No sunlight," Cutter corrected him, "but there is light. Many plants and animals from the deeper parts of our oceans make their own light. We know very little about how the ability evolved, but then we know very little about anything below diving or submarine levels."

"'We know less about the bottom of our oceans than we do about the surface of our moon.'" Lester quoted, thoughtfully. "So what else do we know about these 'mirror fish' then?"

"Their body shape and the angle of their scales means that they're not the type of mirror you could easily see your face in. The light you see will be reflected from the side, not above, kind of like in a periscope, but the other way round. Their teeth are exceptionally sharp and their jaws are very muscular and strong. They resemble South American piranhas in many ways and I would definitely put them, at least for the moment, in the same family: the 'Serrasalminae'. They seem to react to blood, not movement or light, and don't seem choosy in their choice of meals."

Lester nodded, taking in all the information and filing it away for future reference.

"So we currently have an anomaly that we cannot close spewing tones of invisible piranha infested water on our doorstep and indeed that of every country bordering the North Sea, Baltic Sea, Arctic Ocean and eventually Atlantic Ocean and beyond." Lester nodded. "I don't suppose you have any idea what era these creatures are from?"

"None." Cutter shook his head. "Sorry."

The room fell into an uneasy silence that was broken only a moment later by a sharp knock at the door.

"Come in!" Lester called.

A young man in military uniform walked into the room and saluted. Connor recognised him as one of the military personnel from the boat he had seen on the plasma screen upstairs.

"Ah, Sergeant Collins," Lester addressed the newcomer, "please tell me you have some good news for me. Professor Cutter has never seemed quite able to get the hang of that."

"The anomaly has closed, sir." Collins replied. "Initial findings also indicate that although the water level is still rising, the rate at which is doing so has slowed to normal."

"There, you see!" Lester waved a hand at the sergeant and looked over to Cutter, who rolled his eyes and turned away. "That's good news! Watch and learn, Professor. Watch and learn."

"We have also begun evacuating all personnel to the upper floors, sir." Collins continued, glancing sideways at Cutter. "You're new office has been prepared and is ready for you."

"Excellent work, sergeant," Lester said. "We shall follow you up as soon as we are done here."

Thus dismissed, Sergeant Collins left the room. All eyes looked over to the medic.

"How is it?" Becker asked, as Connor took a step forward to say the same thing.

"I'd rather stitch it than use this stuff, but we'd need something to sterilise the needle in: alcohol, a gas flame. Preferably both."

"There should be both in the kitchens," Jenny said. "They always have those blowtorches for things like crème brûlée."

"I'll go," Connor cut in, moving towards the door before Becker could say anything.

XXXX

It was quiet now that the kitchen staff, along with almost everyone else, had been moved upstairs. The atmosphere in the deserted room was eerie. Almost like when those kids get stuck in that kitchen in Jurassic Park, thought Connor. He crept through the aisles of stainless steel surfaces, turning suddenly to check each one for imaginary velociraptors.

Finally, he spotted the blowtorch, hanging up next to some ladles. There was a first aid kit nearby, so he took that too, stuffing it into the single pocket that stretched across the front of his hooded jersey. After cautiously checking the cupboards and drawers, he found a bottle of brandy. It was half full. It would do.

Connor smiled happily and shifted the weight of the bottle in his hand. He was at the opposite end of the kitchen from where he had started, just beyond the old fashioned serving hatch he had leaned through hours ago when he came down to order some pizza for his new team upstairs.

He turned to go...

...and came face to face with the Cleaner.

The bottle of brandy fell to the floor and smashed.

XXXX

"With all due respect, Sir James," Becker interrupted the flow of animated conversation between Cutter and Lester, "we are nearly at high tide. The walls have held so far, but with the increasing pressure, they are starting to show signs of weakening. They could fail at any moment. We should move now and Connor can catch up with us."

"You can't just leave him hunting around in the kitchens for stuff while we all pile upstairs out of the way!" Abby shouted.

"I'll go and get him," Becker said placatingly, "but right now, I need to get the majority of people still on this level, and that is simply everyone in this room, to move upstairs!"

"I agree," Jenny added, "There's no point in us just sitting here waiting for Connor to get back. We'll go upstairs now and Becker will go and get Connor."

Abby sighed. She looked around the room for support but, finding none, nodded and rose to her feet. Jenny led the way, followed by Abby , the medic and Cutter. Lester and Becker brought up the rear of the small group.

"I don't care whether he's got the stuff or not," Lester said quietly to Becker as the group moved across the hall, "get him out of there. It may not seem like much, but right now he's our best chance at controlling these things. He can play the hero some other day."

Becker nodded and headed in the direction of the kitchens.

XXXX

Connor swallowed nervously. Right in front of him was a man who should be dead and whose appearances in the past had never boded well. What was more: he had a gun, and it was pointed directly at Connor's forehead.

"I believe you have something I want," the Cleaner rasped.

"Do I?" Connor fought to keep his voice steady.

"A program. It's on the memory stick in your pocket."

Connor frowned. The Cleaner explained.

"I set up a little observation post in your bar," he said. "Quite literally, in fact. It sees, it listens, it records, it transmits, and it's only the size of the head of a nail. Amazing what the future holds, isn't it?"

"Hang on: if you've got access to future technology, then why don't you just get this program from the future?" Connor asked.

"Well for a start you're assuming that we only want it to use it ourselves," the Cleaner reasoned. "Whereas actually, we just don't want you lot to have it."

"But I can always rewrite it..."

"Not if you're dead."

"All right, so why haven't you killed me yet then?" Connor was getting confused now, but it was clear that the longer he kept the man talking, the more likely it was that someone would come looking for him. "If I don't give you the program, I'm dead, but you're going to kill me when I hand it over anyway?"

"Not necessarily."

"Oh?"

"We have an offer for you."

XXXX

Abby allowed herself to be led up the stairs and into the second floor library. The library had been turned into Lester's new office and he immediately began rearranging things to his satisfaction. Abby sighed and walked over to the window. She was soon followed by Cutter.

"What do you think?" Cutter asked her. "Past or future?"

"You're the expert!"

"Not in this, I'm not." Cutter shook his head. "I don't think anyone is really. We know so little about abyssal ecosystems."

"What does the fossil record say?" Abby turned her gaze on the professor.

"Serrasalminae fossils first appeared around about the Miocene era, twenty three million years ago. That's much closer to our time than anything we've handled before, at least from the past. Around about that time, the Earth was covered in plains and grassland and grazing mammals were plentiful. Not even the early hominids had evolved, but forty two million years had passed since the end of the dinosaurs."

Abby looked back at the view from the window.

"Cutter," she said.

"Hmm?"

"The wall's coming down!"

XXXX

"Somehow, I don't think you're about to make me an offer I can't refuse," Connor quipped.

"Like I said," the Cleaner nodded, "you have a choice."

"I'm not switching sides," Connor shifted the weight of the blowtorch in his hand and wondered how quickly he could ignite it.

"Ah well," the Cleaner released the safety catch on his gun, "the pen drive is easier to carry back anyway."

Connor held his breath, waiting for the moment to arrive. He heard a crack from the serving hatch and watched a look of shock grow on the Cleaner's face. He ducked.

XXXX

Becker pushed himself out of the way as the water piled through the main doors and lower windows of the hotel. So far he had narrowly avoided three desks, five chairs and a deadly looking shard of glass from one of the windows. The kitchen door was now in sight.

Forcing himself through the growing swell, he dragged his way to the door and pushed himself through it. The water was above the level of the worktops now. He climbed up on one for a better view, and to escape the eddying currents swirling through the doorway.

From his new vantage point, he could see a body lying across the windows at the far end of the room. It wasn't Connor, though. He made his way towards it. It was the body of a large man, apparently one of the kitchen staff. The scarf around his neck was stained red with blood where a wooden spar had gone straight through it.

Becker looked around him. The windows at that end of the kitchen were gone completely and, trapped between the body and their broken frame, was Connor's hat.