Black Wattle Creek (Charlie Berlin #2)(59)
‘Something of a mushroom cloud with a silver lining, you could say?’
Jessop smiled, missing the cold edge in Berlin’s voice. ‘Indeed. Over the next several years we can monitor the levels of strontium-90 in people as it rapidly degrades in the atmosphere and eventually disappears. The distance between Maralinga and Melbourne is approximately the same as that between London and Edinburgh, so I’m sure you can see the potential value of this study to us, in terms of post-nuclear-war medical planning.’
‘And why exactly are you chopping the legs off corpses right now? Where does that fit into your scheme?’
Jessop gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘Really, OS Berlin, must you couch things in such simplistic terms? Strontium-90 is the isotope of primary interest to us and it becomes concentrated in the bones, in trace levels, should exposure occur. Over the past several months our people have been gathering samples of bone from deceased persons of known age. These are then tested in order to produce what we call a baseline. From this baseline we will be able to track the levels of absorption of the isotope across the broader population over a known time frame.’
“‘Our people” being the Ninetymen?’
Jessop seemed almost pleased at Berlin’s question. ‘That is exactly correct. The men who do the rather grim task of gathering our samples, and the select group of funeral directors and hospital pathologists who provide access to suitable subjects, feel the need to consider themselves part of a special group, a club or a team. Officially they are part of something called Operation Sawdust, a rather prosaic name, it has to be said. Unofficially they began calling themselves the Ninetymen, for obvious reasons.’
‘Do they have a team song and a monthly newsletter to go along with the badges?’
Jessop frowned. ‘Your sarcasm is inappropriate, DS Berlin. This is important research, vital work, for which these men will never get recognition. The Ninetymen name has produced a lift in morale, and as long as it’s kept out of the public spotlight, we see nothing wrong with allowing it to continue.’
‘And our government is happy with all this? The covering up of the accident and the collection of bone samples from dead bodies without permission? I have to say I find that a little hard to believe.’
‘I really don’t see why. Our two countries have a common interest in the outcome of the research being done into atomic weapons, DS Berlin. During this research an accident happened, which is lamentable and inexcusable, but we have made every redress possible given the obvious security concerns.’
Berlin had been wondering how long before security concerns would be dropped into the conversation.
‘And now we are attempting to make good come of it, in the form of gathering information that may save lives in the future. It was a happy coincidence that this hospital was in the process of closing and was made available for our use. It has medical facilities ideal for the procedures we need to undertake. With the bonus of a furnace to incinerate extraneous biological materials, so as to avoid any risks to health.’
Poor bloody Len, Berlin thought. Put on night shift with the smell of burning flesh from the incinerator bringing back some very bad memories of Tarakan and Jap bunkers and flamethrowers. Bad enough for him to want to end it all, perhaps. Except Berlin was damned sure that he hadn’t. There had to be more to this thing than he was hearing from Jessop.
‘You don’t think the man in the street might have a different opinion about all this, Dr Jessop? What happens if the newspapers do get hold of the story? Clouds of radioactive dust from a botched atomic test blowing over our cities.’
‘Your summary of the situation might appeal to the more sensationalist arms of the press or the Daily Worker, I suppose, but it is a gross misrepresentation of the situation. And in reality there is no story, DS Berlin. Nothing will ever be published on this subject in the press.’
‘Really? Not a peep? That doesn’t seem possible.’
‘I don’t see why not. Everything I have just told you is classified Top Secret, and obviously a D Notice is in effect.’
‘A what?’
‘For the sake of the national interest, newspaper publishers have voluntarily agreed to withhold publication on a number of subjects, under a system called D Notices.’
‘Voluntarily?’
‘There are sanctions available that can be put in place of course, but in the main, newspaper owners are patriotic, and they understand when the public interest is best served by following government guidelines.’
Berlin wondered if Lazlo might be right about free societies and secrets.
‘So now you know the truth, DS Berlin, but officially you are none the wiser. No doubt you are regretting your decision to get involved in this affair in the first place.’
‘It wasn’t a decision, Dr Jessop, it was a dark hole I fell into by accident. And like a lot of dark holes there are some really nasty creatures lurking at the bottom.’
‘I sincerely hope you don’t mean me, DS Berlin. And how lucky for you that you will be unable to turn on the lights.’
Berlin didn’t feel lucky, he felt scared. It was the same feeling he’d had on those long trips into enemy territory. Somewhere out in the darkness, night fighters were always waiting, sweeping the sky with their radar, hunting him. Back then he’d had a crew to help him, to keep watch for him, to scream a warning over the intercom into his headphones. But his crew were all dead now and he was on his own.