The Tailor's Razor

12. Nuclear Secrets

The day after next
Casaccia Research Centre, 301 Via Anguillarese, Roma

Curium was not a readily-available element by any stretch of the imagination.

Since its discovery in 1944 every atom of the stuff had been created in the heart of a nuclear reactor with bald boffins watching nervously as the fuel rods begin to quiver. A nuclear power plant is not exactly a common commodity, even less so in Italy since the disarmament of 1990. By the following decade there were only nine research centres in the whole country capable of fission. Taylor and Madison were willing to bet the cost of a weekend in Rome that the facility closest to the capital, barely forty minutes from the city, was the source of the illicit Curium.

Sitting between sunburnt fields that shimmered in the sunlight, vicious enough to be summer in far western Victoria, Casaccia looked like your typical under-funded government facility. From the vantage point of their motorbike Will and Madison inspected the fences, barely seven feet tall with a pretty feeble attempt to kick-back the top rim. They'd put the effort to line it with barbed wire but personally Will was unimpressed; he'd scaled much tougher fences in his time.

Not that it mattered; they was going to ride in through the front gate, stunning the guards as they came thundering in on the back of their bike with a sidecar attached. It was the big black dog in the capsule, grinning with unbridled glee, that struck the guards completely dumb. They watched in fascination as they pulled up in a parking spot, turned off the engine and climbed out of the saddle with Mahdo in tow. Quick to recover, the guards came rushing over to them as Will put his dog on a leash.

"No Italiano, scusi," Will shrugged as they shouted this and that in the Romantic tongue.

"You can't park here, Signore!"

"Commander Will Taylor," he gestured to the military costume he was renting for fifteen euros a day, "I'm with the CSRIO, nuclear physics department. I work in that flying-saucer-shaped building in Canberra. You know it?"

"I... don't understand, Signore. What are you doing here?"

"Just a surprise inspection," Madison flashed her driver's license, dangling from the end of a lanyard wrapped round her neck, "Even brought the K9 unit along to sniff out anything suspicious. Don't mind us; we won't be long but I need you to take us directly to your..." checking the notes on her phone Madison listed the TAPIRO and TRIGA RC-1 units, "Pronto! You can call ENEA if you need, but this has to get done before two."

With a moment of indecision quickly lifted one of the guards lead the pair, in their ridiculous military outfits, down the driveway while the other guardia returned to his post, calling someone in upper management. Well, at least the first part of the plan worked; it gave them God-only-knew-how-many-minutes before the hammer came down and flipped the lid of the whole scheme. But when they got to the first reactor unmolested they breathed a sigh of relief: they were in!

The scientists, however, were less forgiving, furious that they should be interrupted.

"We didn't hear anything about an inspection!"

"That's why it's a surprise inspection, you silly goose," Madison reassured them.

"I haven't even heard of the CSIRO!" spat one of the researchers.

"Oh yeah?" Taylor was indignant, "You see all those microwaves bouncing around through the air? CSIRO invented WiFi, so suck on that!" the team of scientists were silent, "All right, hear me out: I need to know if this facility produces Curium."

"Small amounts, yes, for ASI," said a short brunette assistant.

"Which is?"

"The, uh, Italian Space Agency," he assured Taylor, who nodded slowly.

"Headquartered in Rome, I'm assuming? Right... who's in charge of production here?"

"Dr Müller, he's in his office."

"Thank you," Madison smiled, "You're all going to get glowing recommendations in my report. C'mon officer, this way."

Walking down the corridor the pair could feel their hearts clubbing against their chests; they needed to get Müller to talk, and fast. Mahdo was awfully excited, though, scratching every door they passed, making enough of a row to pique the attention of most occupants. Poking their heads into the corridor they stared oddly at the intruders' uniforms; in hindsight they probably should have gone with the plain green outfits; the gold knickerbockers and powder-blue grenadier jackets were awfully flamboyant. But damn it: if they couldn't go all out what was the point of the whole set up?

At Müller's office Taylor and Madison asked the guard to wait outside. Not bothering to wait for the reply they stepped in, jamming the nearest chair firmly beneath the doorknob.

Müller, a round-jawed tribesman from Bavaria, was flabbergasted at the display. Readjusting his glasses he demanded to know "Why is there a dog in my office and why are you dressed in the uniforms of Prussian grenadiers?"

"I'm impressed by the order you gave those two importance," Madison winked.

"I'm gonna be honest, mate; we're short on time so it would be a lifesaver if you just admitted that you're selling Curium on the black market."

"I beg your pardon!"

"C'mon mate; all we need are the contact details of your buyer and we can be on my way."

"I assure you, Kapitän!" he added with venom, "I am involved in no such activities! Guardia!" he shouted, "Guardia!" the guard rattled the doorknob, his kicks shaking the frame.

"Well then if you're going to be a prick about it!" geeing up Mahdo, Taylor hung onto his collar as the dog began to bark and writhe like a caught wolf, "I'll feed you to my dog!"

"What are you talking about?" Müller leapt to his feet, retreating to the far side of his office, "Guardia!"

The burly guard burst through the door, splinters flying as Madison grabbed a paperweight off Müller's desk and hurled it into the officer's face. He shrieked in pain and collapsed on the floor.

"Mein Gott! You killed him!"

"Nah he's still groaning," Madison inspected the guard who was cradling his bloody face, "Now tell us who you sell the Curium to or you'll get it a lot worse!"

With Mahdo begging to be let loose on the physicist he cried "Bitte! Please! They'll kill me!"

"Rubbish; you're being dramatic," Taylor giggled when he realised the silliness of it all, "Says the bloke who's threatening to have his dog tear you apart."

"Please, Herr!"

"Are you related to any Torquils?" inquired Madison.

"Was?"

"What?"

"Was is what."

"What is what?"

"Ja! Yes."

"Nevermind!" Taylor snapped, "I'll have the gift of gab by the time I'm through with this trip. Woah Mahdo! I can't hold him for long!"

The wounded guard's radio was saying something in Italian, but Taylor only had ears for Müller's testimony, who explained that 'Apice Globale' had approached him a couple of years ago, striking a deal to buy over half of the Curium they produced for almost double what they sold to the Space Agency.

"No worries mate. Should tell you, though, set your heart back on track; the dog was never gonna hurt you; he'd lick you to death before he'd hurt you."

It was small consolation for the horrified egghead who feared he might have a coronary from the stress. The mad grenadiers were quick to take leave of the situation, sprinting down the hallway with their dog. Leaving witnesses was hardly of much concern at this point; Taylor and Madison just pushed them out of the way as they emerged one-by-one from their offices. It was a pantomime performance suited to the matinee and indeed there were a number of researchers who looked for the hidden cameras. But, alas, no YouTuber emerged to wrap up the stunt; the Prussian infantrymen sprinted out through the front door, back towards their bike as the sirens came screeching; not much use it'd do.

o