Back The Sandpit Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Nicholas Shakespeare
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. PART ONE
  8. Chapter One
  9. Chapter Two
  10. Chapter Three
  11. Chapter Four
  12. Chapter Five
  13. Chapter Six
  14. Chapter Seven
  15. Chapter Eight
  16. Chapter Nine
  17. Chapter Ten
  18. Chapter Eleven
  19. Chapter Twelve
  20. Chapter Thirteen
  21. Chapter Fourteen
  22. Chapter Fifteen
  23. Chapter Sixteen
  24. Chapter Seventeen
  25. Chapter Eighteen
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. PART TWO
  29. Chapter Twenty-one
  30. Chapter Twenty-two
  31. Chapter Twenty-three
  32. Chapter Twenty-four
  33. Chapter Twenty-five
  34. Chapter Twenty-six
  35. Chapter Twenty-seven
  36. Chapter Twenty-eight
  37. Chapter Twenty-nine
  38. Chapter Thirty
  39. PART THREE
  40. Chapter Thirty-one
  41. Chapter Thirty-two
  42. Chapter Thirty-three
  43. Chapter Thirty-four
  44. Chapter Thirty-five
  45. Chapter Thirty-six
  46. PART FOUR
  47. Chapter Thirty-seven
  48. Chapter Thirty-eight
  49. Chapter Thirty-nine
  50. Chapter Forty
  51. Chapter Forty-one
  52. Chapter Forty-two
  53. Chapter Forty-three
  54. Chapter Forty-four
  55. Acknowledgements

Hissop said: ‘He has no affiliation with any college. He doesn’t have students. He’s basically just a junior researcher, part of a group of eight PHD students with a professor in charge.’

‘What does his professor say?’ asked Dyer.

Hissop coughed. ‘Marvar wasn’t terribly well connected to the head of the group.’

‘Professor Bruce Whitton,’ Updark expanded acidly, stretching out his leg, ‘is a great believer in the doctrine of economy of effort. He is more interested in another branch of plasma research, and is far too busy raising money for that, plus going to All Souls for dinner. He professes incomprehension at the idea of Marvar’s so-called breakthrough. Roly?’ He picked up his mug, waiting for Hissop to locate the note.

Hissop read out: ‘“Plodding, erratic, paddling his own canoe up a dead-end tributary of plasma focus.” Whitton finds it beyond inconceivable that this man should have stumbled on the answer to nuclear fusion. “What did he use as fuel? He didn’t have access to tritium.” Also, Whitton is in a rush to remind us that a lot of the claims in the past have turned out to be bogus. They appear viable at first, but scratch – and the evidence doesn’t exist. There was that German scientist in Argentina in the 1950s. All that palaver about cold fusion in the 1980s. Then the false dawns with ZETA and TFTR and JET. One after another, each of these so-called discoveries has been dissed.’

‘Then why not listen to Whitton?’ said Dyer, marvelling at how easy it had been to lead them into full disclosure.

‘As a matter of fact, Whitton’s not our main source on this,’ said Hissop, flushing.

‘The thing that’s changed,’ said Updark, as if Dyer’s question had been answered, ‘is that a single entrepreneur sitting in a room now has the tools and the lack of bureaucratic encumbrance to outdevelop and outsmart governments. You don’t need big labs. All you need is a very small team on a very small budget.’

‘What about others in the group?’ persisted Dyer. ‘Wouldn’t they have an idea?’

‘Roly, you’ve spoken to them,’ said Updark. ‘They had little or no contact with him, am I correct?’

‘He seems not to have collaborated with anyone else on the team,’ Hissop confirmed. ‘Whitton ran a pretty open lab. Not much security. Marvar was free to come and go.’

‘What we are saying,’ said Updark, ‘is that he’s not a high-value asset. He doesn’t count, he doesn’t move the needle, he’s small fry. But then again – and it doesn’t really sound logical – if anyone is going to break through the fusion barrier, it’s likely to be someone who has been ignored. Discoverers are dull. Look at Fritz Zwicky.’

‘Who’s Fritz Zwicky?’ asked Dyer.