The Black Cloud

Multifarious Activities

The U.S. Government was the first official body to learn of the approach of the Black Cloud.

It took Herrick some days to get through to the higher strata of the U.S. Administration, but when he did the results were far from disappointing. On the evening of 24 January, he received instructions to present himself at nine-thirty the following morning at the President’s office.

“A very queer state of affairs you’ve come up with, Dr Herrick, very queer,” said the President. “But you and your team at Mount Wilson stand so high that I won’t waste any time doubting what you’ve told us. Instead I’ve called these several gentlemen together so that we can get down to settling what’s to be done about it.”

Two hours’ discussion was aptly summed up by the Secretary of the Treasury:

“Our conclusions seem to me quite clear, Mr President. Any really serious economic dislocation is likely to be prevented by the two favourable factors in the situation. Dr Herrick assures us that this — er, visitation is not expected to be prolonged much beyond a month. This is so short a time that, even if the fuel consumption rate rises enormously, the overall quantity required to maintain ourselves against the period of extreme cold remains very moderate. There is accordingly no serious problem in building up adequate fuel stocks — it is even possible that our present stocks might be sufficient. A more serious issue is whether we can transfer supplies fast enough from stock to the domestic and industrial consumer; whether we can pump gas and oil fast enough. This is something that must be looked into, but with nearly a year and a half in which to prepare there will surely be no difficulties that cannot be overcome.

“The second favourable factor is the date of the visitation. We should have much of our harvest in by mid-July, which Dr Herrick gives as the likely beginning of the emergency. The same favourable situation applies the world over, so that food loss, which would have been really serious had the period of cold occurred in May or June, should also be quite moderate.”

“Then I think we are all agreed on what immediate steps are to be taken,” added the President. “When we have decided on our own dispositions we shall have to consider the more awkward problem of what help we can offer to peoples throughout the world. But for the moment let us put our own house in order. Now I take it that you gentlemen will all be wishing to get back to various important matters, and there are a few questions that I would personally like to put to Dr Herrick.”

When the meeting had broken up, and they were alone together, the President went on:

“Now, Dr Herrick, you will understand that for the time being this is a matter that must be treated with the closest security. I see that, in addition to your own, there are three other names on your report. These gentlemen, I take it, are members of your staff? Can you also let me have the names of any others who may be aware of its contents?”

Herrick in reply gave the President a short account of the circumstances that led up to the discovery, pointing out that it was inevitable that the information should have become common knowledge throughout the Observatory before its importance was realized.

“Of course, that is natural enough,” remarked the President. “We must be thankful that the matter has not gone beyond the confines of the Observatory. I trust, I earnestly trust, Dr Herrick, that you can assure me of that.”

Herrick remarked that as far as he was aware there were four men outside the Observatory with a full knowledge of the Black Cloud, Barnett and Weichart of the California Institute of Technology — but that was practically the same thing — and two English scientists, Dr Christopher Kingsley of Cambridge and the Astronomer Royal himself. The names of the last two appeared on the report. The President’s manner sharpened.

“Two Englishmen!’ he exclaimed. “This is not at all good. How did it come about?”

Herrick, realizing that the President could only have read a synopsis of his report, explained how Kingsley and the Astronomer Royal had independently deduced the existence of the Cloud, how Kingsley’s telegram had been received in Pasadena, and how the two Englishmen had been invited to California. The President softened.

“Ah, they’re both in California, are they? You did well to send that invitation, perhaps better than you realized, Dr Herrick.”

It was then that Herrick first realized the significance of Kingsley’s sudden decision to return to England.

Some hours later, flying back to the West Coast, Herrick was still pondering his visit to Washington. He had hardly expected to receive the President’s quiet but firm censure, nor had he expected to be sent home so soon. Curiously the unmistakable censure worried him far less than he would have supposed. In his own eyes he had done his duty, and the critic that Herrick feared most was himself.

It also took the Astronomer Royal some days to reach the fountainhead of government. The route to the summit lay through the First Lord of the Admiralty. The ascent would have been made sooner had he been willing to declare his purpose. But the Astronomer Royal would say nothing but that he desired an interview with the Prime Minister. Eventually he obtained an interview with the Prime Minister’s private secretary, a young man of the name of Francis Parkinson. Parkinson was frank: the Prime Minister was extremely busy. As the Astronomer Royal must know, quite apart from all the usual business of state, there was a delicate international conference in the offing, there was Mr Nehru’s visit to London in the spring, and the Prime Minister’s own coming visit to Washington. If the Astronomer Royal would not state his business, then quite certainly there would be no interview. Indeed the business would need to be of exceptional importance, otherwise with regret he must decline to be of any assistance whatever. The Astronomer Royal capitulated by giving Parkinson a very brief account of the affair of the Black Cloud. Two hours later he was explaining the whole matter, this time in full detail, to the Prime Minister.

The following day the Prime Minister held an emergency meeting of the Inner Cabinet, to which the Home Secretary was also invited. Parkinson was there, acting as secretary. After giving a quite accurate précis of Herrick’s report, the Prime Minister looked round the table and said:

“My purpose in calling this meeting was to acquaint you with the facts of a case that may possibly become serious, rather than to discuss any immediate action. Our first step must obviously be to satisfy ourselves of the correctness or otherwise of this report.”

“And how may we do that?’ asked the Foreign Secretary.

“Well, my first step was to ask Parkinson to make discreet inquiries concerning the — er, scientific reputations of the gentlemen who have signed this report. Perhaps you would like to hear what he has to say?”

The meeting signified that it would. Parkinson was slightly apologetic.

“It wasn’t altogether easy to get really reliable information, especially about the two Americans. But the best I could get from my friends in the Royal Society was that any report bearing the signature of the Astronomer Royal or of the Mount Wilson Observatory will be absolutely sound from an observational point of view. They were, however, far less certain about the deductive powers of the four signatories. I gather that only Kingsley of the four might claim to be an expert on that side.”

“What do you mean by “might claim to be”?’ asked the Chancellor.

“Well, that Kingsley is known to be an ingenious scientist, but not everyone regards him as thoroughly sound.”

“So what it amounts to is that the deductive parts of this report depend on only one man, and at that on a man who is brilliant but unsound?’ said the Prime Minister.

“What I gleaned could be construed in that way, although it would be a somewhat extreme way of putting it,” answered Parkinson.

“Possibly,” went on the Prime Minister, “but at any rate it gives us fair grounds for a measure of scepticism. Evidently we must look further into it. What I want to discuss with you all is the means we should now adopt for gaining further information. One possibility would be to ask the Council of the Royal Society to appoint a committee who would carry out a thorough probe of the whole matter. The only other line of attack that recommends itself to me is a direct approach to the U.S. Government, who must surely also be much concerned with the veracity, or perhaps I should say the accuracy, of Professor Kingsley and others.”

After several hours’ discussion it was decided to communicate immediately with the U.S. Government. This decision was reached largely through the powerful advocacy of the Foreign Secretary, who was not short of arguments to support an alternative that would place the matter in the hands of his own department.

“The decisive point,” he said, “is that an approach to the Royal Society, however desirable from other points of view, must of necessity place quite a number of people in possession of facts that would at the present stage best be left secret. I think we can all agree on this.”

They all did. Indeed the Minister of Defence wanted to know: ‘What steps can be taken to ensure that neither the Astronomer Royal nor Dr Kingsley shall be allowed to disseminate their alarmist interpretation of the presumed facts?”

“This is a delicate and important point,” answered the Prime Minister. “It is one that I have already given some thought to. That is actually the reason why I asked the Home Secretary to attend this meeting. I had intended raising the question with him later.”

It was generally agreed that the point be left to the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary, and the meeting broke up. The Chancellor was thoughtful as he made back to his offices. Of all those at the meeting he was the only one to be very seriously perturbed, for he alone appreciated how very rickety the nation’s economy was, and how very little would be needed to topple it in ruins. The Foreign Secretary on the other hand was rather pleased with himself. He felt he had shown up rather well. The Minister of Defence thought that the whole business was rather a storm in a tea-cup and that in any case it was quite definitely nothing to do with his department. He wondered why he had been called to the meeting.

The Home Secretary, on the other hand, was very pleased to have been called to the meeting, and he was very pleased to be staying on to discuss further business with the Prime Minister.

“I am quite sure,” said he, “that we can dig up some regulation that will enable us to detain the two of them, the Astronomer Royal and the man from Cambridge.”

“I am quite sure of it too,” answered the Prime Minister. “The Statute Book doesn’t go back so many centuries for nothing. But it would be much better if we can manage things tactfully. I have already had the opportunity of a conversation with the Astronomer Royal. I put the point to him and from what he said I feel we can be quite sure of his discretion. But from certain hints that he let drop I gather that it may be rather different with Dr Kingsley. At all events it is clear that Dr Kingsley must be contacted without delay.”

“I will send someone up to Cambridge immediately.”

“Not someone, you must go yourself. Dr Kingsley will be — er — shall I say flattered if you go to see him in person. Ring him up saying that you will be in Cambridge tomorrow morning and would like to consult him on an important matter. That I think should be quite effective, and it will be much simpler that way.”

Kingsley was extremely busy from the moment he returned to Cambridge. He made good use of the few days that elapsed before the political wheels began to turn. A number of letters, all carefully registered, were sent abroad. An observer would probably have made special note of the two addressed to Greta Johannsen of Oslo and to Mlle Yvette Hedelfort of the University of Clermont-Ferrand, these being Kingsley’s only female correspondents. Nor could a letter to Alexis Ivan Alexandrov have passed notice. Kingsley hoped that it would reach its intended destination, but one could never be certain of anything sent to Russia. True, Russian and Western scientists, when they met together at international conferences, worked out ways and means whereby letters could pass between them. True, the secret of those ways and means was extremely well kept, even though it was known to many people. True, many letters did pass successfully through all censorships. But one could never be quite sure. Kingsley hoped for the best.

His main concern however was with the radio astronomy department. He chivvied John Marlborough and his colleagues into intensive observations of the approaching Cloud, south of Orion. It required a good deal of persuasion to get them started. The Cambridge equipment (for 21 cm work) had only just recently come into operation and there were many other observations that Marlborough wanted to make. But Kingsley eventually managed to get his own way without revealing his real purposes. And once the radio astronomers were fairly started on the Cloud the results that came in were so startling that Marlborough needed no persuasion to continue. Soon his team were working twenty-four hours continuously round the clock. Kingsley found himself hard put to it to keep up in reducing the results and in distilling significance out of them.

Marlborough was elated and excited when he lunched with Kingsley on the fourth day. Judging the time to be ripe, Kingsley remarked:

“It’s clear that we ought to aim at publishing this new stuff pretty soon. But I think it might be desirable to get someone to confirm. I’ve been wondering about whether one or other of us shouldn’t write to Leicester.”

Marlborough swallowed the bait.

“A good idea,” he said. “I’ll write. I owe him a letter, and there are some other things I want to tell him about.”

What Marlborough really meant, as Kingsley well knew, was that Leicester had got in first on one or two matters recently and Marlborough wanted the opportunity to show him that he, Leicester, wasn’t the only fish in the sea.

Marlborough did in fact write to Leicester at the University of Sydney, Australia, and so for good measure (and unknown to Marlborough) did Kingsley. The two letters contained much the same factual material but Kingsley’s also had several oblique references, references that would have meant much to anyone who knew of the threat of the Black Cloud, which of course Leicester did not.

When Kingsley returned to College after his lecture next morning an excited porter shouted after him:

“Dr Kingsley, sir, there’s an important message for you.”

It was from the Home Secretary to the effect that he would be glad to be favoured by an interview with Professor Kingsley at three that afternoon. “Too late for lunch, too early for tea, but he probably expects to make a good meal for all that,” thought Kingsley.

The Home Secretary was punctual, extremely punctual. Trinity clock was striking three when the self-same porter, still excited, showed him into Kingsley’s rooms.

“The Home Secretary, sir,” he announced with a touch of grandeur.

The Home Secretary was both brusque and tactfully subtle at the same time. He came to the point straight away. The Government had naturally been surprised and perhaps a little alarmed at the report they had received from the Astronomer Royal. It was widely appreciated how much the report owed to Professor Kingsley’s subtle powers of deduction. He, the Home Secretary, had come specially to Cambridge with a two-fold purpose: to compliment Professor Kingsley on the swiftness of his analysis of the strange phenomena that had been brought to his notice, and to say that the Government would much appreciate being in constant touch with Professor Kingsley so that they might have the full benefit of his advice.

Kingsley felt he could do little but demur at the eulogy and offer with the best grace he could muster to give the best help that he could.

The Home Secretary expressed his delight, and then added, almost as an afterthought, that the Prime Minister himself had given close thought to what Professor Kingsley might think a small point, but which he, the Home Secretary, felt nevertheless to be a point of some delicacy: that for the immediate present awareness of the situation should be closely confined to a very select few, in fact to Professor Kingsley, to the Astronomer Royal, the Prime Minister, and to the Inner Cabinet, of which for this purpose he, the Home Secretary, was considered a member.

“Cunning devil,” thought Kingsley, “he’s put me just where I don’t want to be. I can only get out of it by being damnably rude, and in my own rooms too. I’d better try to warm things up by degrees.”

Aloud he said:

“You may take it that I understand and fully appreciate the naturalness of your wish for secrecy. But there are difficulties that I think ought to be appreciated. First, time is short: sixteen months is not a long time. Secondly, there are quite a number of things that we urgently need to know about the Cloud. Thirdly, those things will not be found out by maintaining secrecy. The Astronomer Royal and I could not possibly do everything alone. Fourthly, secrecy can in any case only be temporary. Others may follow the lines of reasoning that are contained in the Astronomer Royal’s report. At most you can expect only a month or two’s grace. In any case by the late autumn the situation will be plain to anyone who cares to glance up at the sky.”

“You misunderstand me, Professor Kingsley. I explicitly referred to the immediate present just now. Once our policy is formulated we intend to go ahead full steam. Everyone whom it is necessary to inform of the Cloud will be informed. There will be no unnecessary silence. All we ask for is a strict security in the interim period until our plans are ready. We naturally do not wish the matter to become public gossip before we have marshalled our forces, if I may use such a military term in this connexion.”

“I very much regret, sir, that all this does not sound to me very well considered. You speak of formulating a policy and of then pressing ahead. This is very much a matter of the cart getting before the horse. It is impossible, I assure you, to formulate any worthwhile policy until further data become available. We do not know for instance whether the Cloud will strike the Earth at all. We do not know whether the material of the Cloud is poisonous. The immediate tendency is to think that it will get very cold when the Cloud arrives, but it is just possible that the reverse may happen. It may get too hot. Until all these factors become known, policy in any social sense is meaningless. The only possible policy is to collect all relevant data with the least delay, and this, I repeat, cannot be done while a really strict secrecy is maintained.”

Kingsley wondered how long this eighteenth-century sort of conversation would continue. Should he put the kettle on for tea?

The climax was rapidly approaching, however. The two men were mentally too dissimilar for more than a half hour of conversation between them to be possible. When the Home Secretary talked, it was his aim to make those to whom he was talking react according to some pre-arranged plan. It was irrelevant to him how he succeeded in this, so long as he succeeded. Anything was grist to the mill: flattery, the application of common-sense psychology, social pressure, the feeding of ambition, or even plain threats. For the most part, like other administrators, he found that arguments containing some deep-rooted emotional appeal, but couched in seemingly logical terms, were usually successful. For strict logic he had no use whatever. To Kingsley on the other hand strict logic was everything, or nearly everything.

Now the Home Secretary made a mistake.

“My dear Professor Kingsley, I fear you underestimate us. You may rest assured that when we make our plans we shall prepare for the very worst that can possibly overtake us.”

Kingsley leaped.

“Then I fear you will be preparing for a situation in which every man, woman, and child will meet their death, in which not an animal, nor any plant will remain alive. May I ask just what form such a policy will take?”

The Home Secretary was not a man to offer a staunch defence to a losing argument. When an argument led him to an awkward impasse he simply changed the subject and never referred to the old topic again. He judged the time ripe to change his style, and in this he made a second, and bigger, mistake.

“Professor Kingsley, I have been trying to put things to you in a fair-minded way, but I feel you are making it rather awkward for me. So it becomes necessary to deal plainly. I need hardly tell you that if this story of yours becomes public there will be very grave repercussions indeed.”

Kingsley groaned.

“My dear fellow,” said he, “how very dreadful. Grave repercussions indeed! I should think there will be grave repercussions, especially on the day that the Sun is blotted out. What is your Government’s plan for stopping that?”

The Home Secretary kept his temper with difficulty.

“You are proceeding on the assumption that the Sun will be blotted out, as you call it. Let me tell you with frankness that the Government has made inquiries and we are not at all satisfied with the accuracy of your report.”

Kingsley was wrong-footed.

“What!”

The Home Secretary followed up his advantage.

“Perhaps that possibility had not occurred to you, Professor Kingsley. Let us suppose, I say let us suppose, that the whole matter comes to nothing, that it turns out to be a storm in a tea-cup, a chimera. Can you imagine what your position would be, Professor Kingsley, if you were responsible for public alarm over what turned out to be a mere mare’s nest? I can assure you very solemnly that the matter could only have one ending, a very serious ending.”

Kingsley recovered slightly. He felt the explosion growing within him.

“I cannot say how grateful I am at your concern for me. I am also not a little surprised at the Government’s evident penetration into our report. Indeed, to be frank, I am astonished. It seems a pity that you cannot display an equal penetration into matters with which you might more properly claim a less amateur acquaintance.”

The Home Secretary saw no reason to mince matters. He rose from his chair, took up his hat and stick, and said:

“Any revelations you make, Professor Kingsley, will be regarded by the Government as a serious contravention of the Official Secrets Act. In recent years we have had a number of cases in which scientists have set themselves above the law and above public interest. You will be aware of what happened to them. I will wish you good-day.”

For the first time Kingsley’s voice became commanding and sharp. “And may I point out, Mr Home Secretary, that any attempt by the Government to interfere with my freedom of movement will quite certainly destroy any chance you may have of maintaining secrecy? So long as this matter is not known to the general public you are in my hands.”

When the Home Secretary had gone Kingsley grinned at himself in the mirror.

“I played that part rather well, I think, but I wish it hadn’t had to happen in my own rooms.”

Events now moved quickly. By evening a group of M.I.5 men arrived in Cambridge. Kingsley’s rooms were raided while he was dining in the College Hall. A long list of his correspondents was discovered and copied. A record of letters posted by Kingsley since his return from the U.S. was obtained from the Post Office. This was easy because the letters had been registered. It was found that of these only one was still likely to be in transit, the letter to Dr H. C. Leicester of the University of Sydney. Urgent cables were sent out from London. This led within a few hours to the letter being intercepted at Darwin, Australia. Its contents were telegraphed to London, in code.

At ten o’clock sharp the following morning a meeting was held at 10 Downing Street. It was attended by the Home Secretary, by Sir Harold Standard, head of M.I.5, Francis Parkinson, and the Prime Minister.

“Well, gentlemen,” began the Prime Minister, “you have all had ample opportunity to study the facts of the case, and I think that we can all agree that something must be done about this man Kingsley. The letter sent to the U.S.S.R. and the contents of the intercepted letter give us no alternative but to act promptly.”

The others nodded without comment.

“The question we are here to decide,” went on the Prime Minister, “is the form that such action shall take.”

The Home Secretary was in no doubt of his own opinion. He favoured immediate incarceration.

“I do not think we should take Kingsley’s threat of public exposure too seriously. We can seal up all the obvious leaks. And although we might suffer some damage, the amount of damage will be limited and will probably be far less than if we try any form of compromise.”

“I agree that we can seal up the obvious leaks,” said Parkinson. “What I am not satisfied about is that we can seal up the leaks that are not obvious. May I speak frankly, sir?”

“Why not?’ queried the Prime Minister.

“Well, I was a little uneasy at our last meeting about my report on Kingsley. I said that many scientists regard him as clever but not altogether sound, and in that I was reporting them correctly. What I didn’t say was that no profession is more consumed by jealousy than the scientific profession, and jealousy will not allow that anyone can be both brilliant and sound. Frankly, sir, I do not think there is much chance of the Astronomer Royal’s report being in error in any substantial particular.”

“And where is all this leading?”

“Well, sir, I have studied the report pretty closely and I think I have picked up some idea of the characters and abilities of the men who signed it. And I simply do not believe that anyone of Kingsley’s intelligence would have the slightest difficulty in exposing the situation if he really wanted to. If we could draw a net round him very slowly over a period of several weeks, so slowly that he suspected nothing, then perhaps we might succeed. But he surely must have anticipated that we might make a grab. I’d like to ask Sir Harold about this. Would it be possible for Kingsley to spring a leak if we put him under sudden arrest?”

“I fear what Mr Parkinson says is pretty well correct,” began Sir Harold. “We could stop all the usual things, leakages in the press, on the radio, our radio. But could we stop a leakage on Radio Luxembourg, or any one of the scores of other possibilities? Undoubtedly yes, if we had time, but not overnight, I’m afraid. And another point,” he went on, “is that this business would spread like wildfire if it once got out even without the help of newspapers or radio. It’d go like one of these chain reactions we hear so much about nowadays. It’d be very difficult to guard against such ordinary leaks, because they could occur anywhere. Kingsley may have deposited some document in any of a thousand possible places, with an arrangement that the document be read on a certain date unless he gave instructions to the contrary. You know, the usual sort of thing. Or of course he may have done something not so usual.”

“Which seems to concur with Parkinson’s view,” broke in the Prime Minister. “Now, Francis, I can see you have some idea up your sleeve. Let’s hear it.”

Parkinson explained a scheme that he thought might work. After some discussion it was agreed to give it a trial, since if it would work at all it would work quickly. And if it did not work there was always the Home Secretary’s plan to fall back on. The meeting then broke up. A telephone call to Cambridge followed immediately. Would Professor Kingsley see Mr Francis Parkinson, Secretary to the Prime Minister, at three that afternoon? Professor Kingsley would. So Parkinson travelled to Cambridge. He was punctual and was shown into Kingsley’s rooms as the Trinity clock was striking three.

“Ah,” murmured Kingsley as they shook hands, “too late for lunch and too early for tea.”

“Surely you’re not going to throw me out as quickly as all that, Professor Kingsley?’ countered Parkinson with a smile.

Kingsley was quite a lot younger than Parkinson had expected, perhaps thirty-seven or thirty-eight. Parkinson had visualized him as a tallish, slim man. In this he was right, but Parkinson had not expected the remarkable combination of thick dark hair with astonishingly blue eyes, astonishing enough in a woman. Kingsley was decidedly not the sort of person one would forget.

Parkinson drew a chair up to the fire, settled himself comfortably, and said:

“I have heard all about yesterday’s conversation between you and the Home Secretary, and may I say that I thoroughly disapprove of you both?”

“There was no other way in which it could end,” answered Kingsley.

“That may be, but I still deplore it. I disapprove of all discussions in which both parties take up positions of no compromise.”

“It would not be difficult to divine your profession, Mr Parkinson.”

“That may well be so. But quite frankly I am amazed that a person of your position should have taken up such an intransigent attitude.”

“I should be glad to learn what compromise was open to me.”

“That is exactly what I came here to tell you. Let me compromise first, just to show how it’s done. By the way, you mentioned tea a little while ago. Shall we put the kettle on? This reminds me of my Oxford days and all matters nostalgic. You fellows in the University don’t know how lucky you are.”

“Are you hinting at the financial support afforded by the Government to the Universities?’ grunted Kingsley as he resumed his seat.

“Far be it from me to be so indelicate, although the Home Secretary did mention it this morning as a matter of fact.”

“I’ll bet he did. But I’m still waiting to hear how I should have compromised. Are you sure that “compromise” and “capitulate” are not synonymous in your vocabulary?”

“By no means. Let me prove my point by showing how we’re prepared to compromise.”

“You, or the Home Secretary?”

“The Prime Minister.”

“I see.”

Kingsley busied himself with the tea things. When he had finished, Parkinson began:

“Well, in the first place I apologize for any reflections that the Home Secretary may have cast on your report. Secondly, I agree that our first step must be the accumulation of scientific data. I agree that we must go ahead as quickly as possible and that all those scientists who are required to make some contribution should be fully apprised of the situation. What I do not agree with is that any others should be taken into our confidence at the present stage. That is the compromise I ask from you.”

“Mr Parkinson, I admire your candour but not your logic. I defy you to produce one single person who has learned from me of the menacing threat of the Black Cloud. How many persons have learned from you, Mr Parkinson, and from the Prime Minister? I was always against the Astronomer Royal in his wish to inform you, because I knew you couldn’t keep anything really secret. By now I am wishing most heartily that I had overridden him.”

Parkinson was wrong-footed.

“But surely you don’t deny writing an extremely revealing letter to Dr Leicester of the University of Sydney?”

“Of course I don’t deny it. Why should I? Leicester knows nothing about the Cloud.”

“But he would have done if the letter had reached him.”

“Ifs and buts are the stuff of politics, Mr Parkinson. As a scientist I am concerned with facts, not with motives, suspicions, and airy-fairy nothingness. The fact is, I must insist, that no one has learned anything of importance from me in this affair. The real gossip is the Prime Minister. I told the Astronomer Royal that that’s the way it would be, but he wouldn’t believe me.”

“You haven’t very much respect for my profession, have you, Professor Kingsley?”

“Since it is you who wish for frankness, I will tell you that I have not. I regard politicians rather as I regard the instruments on the dashboard of my car. They tell me what is going on in the engine of state, but they don’t control it.”

Quite suddenly it flashed on Parkinson that Kingsley was pulling his leg and pulling it hard at that. He burst out laughing. Kingsley joined in. Relations were never again difficult between the two of them.

After a second cup of tea and some more general conversation Parkinson returned to the matter in hand.

“Let me make my point, and I am not to be fobbed off this time. The way you are going about collecting scientific information is not the quickest way, nor is it the way that gives us the best security, interpreting security in a wide sense.”

“There is no better way open to me, Mr Parkinson, and time, I need not remind you, is precious.”

“There may be no better way open to you at the moment, but a better way can be found.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What the Government wants to do is to bring together all the scientists who ought to be fully cognisant of the facts. I understand you have recently been working with a Mr Marlborough of the radio astronomy group here. I accept your assurance that you have given away no essential information to Mr Marlborough, but wouldn’t it be far better if arrangements to give him the information could be made?”

Kingsley remembered his initial difficulties with the radio astronomy group.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then that’s agreed. Our second point is that Cambridge, or indeed any university, is hardly the right place to conduct these investigations. You are part of an integrated community here and you cannot expect to combine both secrecy and freedom of speech at the same time. You cannot form a group within a group. The correct procedure is to form an entirely new establishment, a new community specially designed to meet the emergency, and one that would be given every facility.”

“Like Los Alamos for instance.”

“Exactly so. If you will think fairly about it I think you must agree that no other way is really feasible.”

“Perhaps I should remind you that Los Alamos is situated in the desert.”

“There would be no question of your being put in a desert.”

“And where would we be put? Put, you know, is a charming verb.”

“I think you would have no cause for complaint. The Government is just finishing the conversion of an extremely pleasant eighteenth-century manor house at Nortonstowe.”

“Where is that?”

“Cotswolds, on high ground to the north-west of Cirencester.”

“Why and how was it being converted?”

“It was intended to be an Agricultural Research College. A mile from the house we have built an entirely new estate for housing the staff — gardeners, workpeople, typists, and so on. I said you would be given every facility and I can assure you most sincerely that I meant it.”

“Won’t the Agriculture people have something to say if they’re shot out and we’re moved in?”

“There’s no difficulty in that. Not everyone views the Government with quite the same disrespect that you do.”

“No, more’s the pity. I suppose the next honours list will take care of that. But there are difficulties you haven’t thought of. Scientific instruments would be needed — a radio telescope for instance. It’s taken a year to erect the one here. How long would it take you to move it?”

“How many men were employed to erect it?”

“Perhaps a couple of dozen.”

“We would use a thousand, ten thousand if need be. We would guarantee to move and re-erect any instruments you think necessary within some reasonable stated period, say within a fortnight. Are there any other large instruments?”

“We should need a good optical telescope, although not necessarily a very large one. The new Schmidt here in Cambridge would be the most suitable, although how you’d persuade Adams to give it up I can’t think. It’s taken him years to get.”

“I don’t think there would be any real difficulty. He won’t mind waiting six months for a bigger and better telescope.”

Kingsley put more logs on the fire, and settled back in his chair.

“Let’s stop fencing around this proposition,” he said. “You want me to allow myself to be fastened up in a cage, albeit a gilded cage. That’s the compromise you want from me, a pretty big compromise too. Now we ought to give some thought to the compromise that I shall want from you.”

“But I thought that’s just what we’ve been doing.”

“It was, but only in a vague sort of way. I want everything quite clear-cut. First, that I be empowered to recruit the staff to this Nortonstowe place, that I be empowered to offer what salaries seem reasonable, and to use any argument that may seem appropriate other than divulging the real state of things. Second, that there shall be no, I repeat no, civil servants at Nortonstowe, and that there shall be no political liaison except through yourself.”

“To what do I owe this exceptional distinction?”

“To the fact that, although we think differently and serve different masters, we do have sufficient common ground to be able to talk together. This is a rarity not likely to be repeated.”

“I am indeed flattered.”

“You mistake me then. I am being as serious as I know how to be. I tell you most solemnly that if I and my gang find any gentlemen of the proscribed variety at Nortonstowe we shall quite literally throw them out of the place. If this be prevented by police action or if the proscribed variety are so dense on the ground that we cannot throw them out, then I warn you with equal solemnity that you will not get one single groat of co-operation from us. If you think I am overstressing this point, then I would say that I am only doing so because I know how extremely foolish politicians can be.”

“Thank you.”

“Not at all. Perhaps we can now come to the third stage. We need pencil and paper for this. I want you to note in detail, so that there can be no possibility of any mistake, every item of equipment that must be in place before I move in to Nortonstowe. Again I repeat that the equipment must reach Nortonstowe before I do. I shall not accept the excuse that there has been an unavoidable delay and that something or other will be coming along in a few days’ time. Here, take this paper and start writing.”

Parkinson took long lists back to London with him. The following morning he had an important discussion with the Prime Minister.

“Well?’ said the Prime Minister.

“Yes, and no,” was Parkinson’s answer. “I’ve had to promise to fit the place up as a regular scientific establishment.”

“That’s no disadvantage. Kingsley was quite right in saying that we need more facts, and the sooner we get them the better.”

“I don’t doubt that, sir. But I would have preferred it if Kingsley were not likely to be quite so important a figure in the new establishment.”

“Isn’t he a good man? Could we have got someone better?”

“Oh, as a scientist he’s good enough. It’s not that which worries me.”

“I know it would have been far better if we had had to work with a more amenable type of person. But his interests seem to be pretty much the same as ours. So long as he doesn’t sulk when he finds he can’t get out of Nortonstowe.”

“Oh, he’s quite realistic about that. He used the point as a strong bargaining counter.”

“What were the conditions?”

“For one thing that there are to be no civil servants, and no political liaison except through me.”

The Prime Minister laughed.

“Poor Francis. Now I see what the trouble is. Ah well, as for the civil servants that’s not so serious, and as for the liaison, well we shall see what we shall see. Any tendency to make salaries — er — astronomical in magnitude?”

“None at all, except that Kingsley wants to use salaries as a bargaining counter to get people to Nortonstowe, until he can explain the real reason.”

“Then what is the trouble?”

“Nothing explicit that I can put my finger on, but I’ve got a sort of general sense of uneasiness. There are lots of small points, insignificant severally, but worrying when put together.”

“Come on, Francis, out with it!”

“Put in its most general terms, I’ve a feeling that it’s we who are being manoeuvred, not we who are doing the manoeuvring.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I really. On the face of it everything looks all right, but is it? Considering the level of Kingsley’s intelligence, wasn’t it just a bit too convenient that he took the trouble to register those letters?”

“It might have been a college porter who posted them for him.”

“It might have been, but if it was, Kingsley ought to have realized that the porter would register them. Then the letter to Leicester. It almost looked to me as if Kingsley expected us to intercept it, as if he wanted to force our hand. And didn’t he rough-house poor old Harry [the Home Secretary] just a bit too much? Then look at these lists. They’re incredibly detailed, as if everything had been thought out in advance. The food and fuel requirements I can understand, but why this enormous quantity of earth-moving equipment?”

“I haven’t the least idea.”

“But Kingsley has, because he’s already given a great deal of thought to it.”

“My dear Francis, what does it matter how much thought he has given to it? What we want to do is to get a highly competent team of scientists together, to isolate them, and to keep them happy. If Kingsley can be kept happy with these lists, then let him have the stuff. Why should we worry?”

“Well, there’s a lot of electronic equipment down here, an awful lot of it. It could be used for radio transmission purposes.”

“Then you strike that out here and now. That he can’t have!”

“Just a moment, sir, that isn’t the whole story. I was suspicious about this stuff, so I got some advice on it, good advice, I think. The position is this. Every radio transmission takes place in some form of code, which has to be unscrambled at the receiving end. In this country the normal form of coding goes by the technical name of amplitude modulation, although the B.B.C. has recently also been using a somewhat different form of coding known as frequency modulation.”

“Ah, that’s what frequency modulation is, is it? I’ve often heard people talking about it.”

“Yes, sir. Well, here’s the point. The type of transmission that this equipment here of Kingsley’s could give would be in a quite new form of code, a code that could not be unscrambled except by a specially designed receiving instrument. So although he might wish to send some message nobody could receive it.”

“Short of having this special receiver?”

“Exactly. Well now, do we allow Kingsley his electronic equipment or not?”

“What reason does he give for wanting it?”

“For radio astronomy. For observing this Cloud by radio.”

“Could it be used for that purpose?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then what is the trouble, Francis?”

“It’s just that there’s an awful lot of it. Admittedly I’m not a scientist, but I can’t swallow that this mass of stuff is really necessary. Well, do we let him have it or not?”

The Prime Minister thought for a few minutes.

“Check this advice of yours carefully. If what you’ve said about the coding turns out to be right, let him have it. In fact this transmission business may turn out to be an advantage. Francis, so far you’ve been thinking of all this from a national point of view — national as opposed to international, I mean?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve been giving some attention to the wider aspects. The Americans must be finding themselves in much the same boat as ourselves. Almost certainly they will be thinking of forming a similar establishment to Nortonstowe. I think I shall try to persuade them of the advantage of a single co-operative effort.”

“But won’t that mean that we shall go there, not them come here?’ said Parkinson, somewhat ungrammatically. “They will consider their men to be better than ours.”

“Perhaps not in this field of — er — radio astronomy, in which I gather that both we and the Australians rank very highly. Since radio astronomy seems to be of rather key importance in this business I shall use radio astronomy as a strong bargaining point.”

“Security,” groaned Parkinson. “Americans think we have no security, and sometimes I think they are not far wrong.”

“Overweighed by the consideration that our population is more phlegmatic than theirs. I suspect that the American Administration may see an advantage in having all working scientists in this matter as far away from them as possible. Otherwise they will be sitting on a powder keg the whole time. Communication was my difficulty until a few moments ago. But if we could provide a radio link direct from Nortonstowe to Washington, using this new code of yours, that might solve the problem. I shall urge all this most strenuously.”

“You referred to international aspects a few moments ago. Did you really mean international or Anglo-American?”

“I meant international, the Australian radio astronomers for one thing. And I can’t see things remaining between us and the Americans for very long. The heads of other Governments will have to be told, even the Soviets. Then I shall see that a few hints are dropped, to the effect that Dr this and Dr that have received letters from one Kingsley discussing details of the business and that we have since been obliged to confine Kingsley in a place called Nortonstowe. I shall also say that if Dr this and Dr that are sent to Nortonstowe we shall be glad to see that they cause no trouble to their respective Governments.”

“But the Soviets wouldn’t fall for that!”

“Why not? We’ve seen ourselves how acutely embarrassing knowledge outside the Government can be. What wouldn’t we have given yesterday to have been rid of Kingsley? Perhaps you’d still like to be rid of him. They’ll rush their people over here as fast as aeroplanes can travel.”

“Possibly so. But why go to all this trouble, sir?”

“Well, has it struck you that Kingsley may all along have been picking the team? That those registered letters were his way of doing it? I think it’s going to be important to us to have the strongest possible team. I have a hunch that in the days to come Nortonstowe may possibly become more important than the United Nations.”