The Midas Legacy (Wilde/Chase 12) (22 page)

‘I assume you had us come in by the side door so you could give us a tour of your pride and joy,’ said Olivia.

Mikkelsson rose to his full imposing height and faced her. ‘Of course. What other reason would there be?’

‘So that you get to meet Nina before the others and try to make a good first impression, perhaps? Just like when you
happened
to bump into her at the UN.’

The Icelander gave a mocking smile. ‘You are becoming cynical in your old age, Olivia. Not everyone is as devious as you.’ Her own smile in return was distinctly icy. ‘Dr Wilde – may I call you Nina?’

‘Sure,’ Nina replied.

‘Thank you. Nina, I really do wish to show off my hotel to you. I am quite proud of it.’

‘I wouldn’t have expected the boss of the UN’s nuke-counters to be Basil Fawlty as a sideline,’ said Eddie.

Mikkelsson was evidently not familiar with classic British sitcoms, but he got the gist of the comment. ‘It is owned by my family’s company, of which I am also the chairman.’

‘You must be busy,’ Nina said.

‘Those who say there are not enough hours in the day are simply spending too much time asleep. Now, if you will allow me to get dressed, I shall give you a tour.’

A few minutes later, he emerged from a side room wearing a tailored suit, its chequered pattern more forceful than the one he had worn in New York. ‘Shall we?’ He gestured towards the doors. De Klerx opened them, and the group followed Mikkelsson through the lobby.

The hotel’s interior was as neatly minimalist in design as outside, simple and elegant without seeming stark. ‘One of my other business interests is renewable energy,’ Mikkelsson continued. ‘Iceland is the world leader in geothermal power. This site was originally used to test a new design of steam turbine – our island is formed by volcanoes, so it is very easy to drill down to a depth where the rock is hot enough to boil water. But we also have a beautiful landscape, so I thought: why not build more than a power station, so others may also enjoy it? Neither the government nor the elves objected, so I went ahead.’

‘Elves?’ Eddie said, surprised.

‘Icelandic folklore. Many believe it is unwise to alter their land without appeasing the “hidden people”; it brings bad luck.’ A small smile. ‘So far, in life, I have stayed on their good side.’

‘Kind of ironic that a nuclear expert would be so into renewable energy,’ Nina observed.

‘Few countries are as fortunate as we are to be able to take advantage of geothermal power. Nuclear energy is also vital if the world is to meet the needs of an ever-growing population. Ideally, we would use thorium rather than uranium in new reactors, as it is a more common element and produces less waste. Unfortunately, it cannot be used to make nuclear weapons.’

‘
Un
fortunately?’ exclaimed Eddie.

‘From the point of view of governments. Because there is no weapons potential, nations are less keen to invest in developing it.’ They reached the end of the hall, entering another, larger lobby at the hotel’s main entrance. Banks of elevators flanked the reception desk, at which stood a man in dark clothing. Mikkelsson brought them behind it to a door that he unlocked with a contactless keycard. ‘This is the turbine hall.’

Beyond was a large, high-ceilinged room, every surface painted a pristine white. A complex network of gleaming stainless-steel pipes ran through the space to a pair of great metal tanks attached to humming electrical generators. The constant low whooshing thrum of pumps echoed through the hall. ‘A mixture of superheated water and steam is brought up from below the ground,’ explained Mikkelsson, indicating the large conduits before them. Signs in Icelandic and English beside some of the valves warned that the contents were extremely hot. ‘The water is redirected and cooled so it can be reused, and the steam sent to the turbines. This was only built as a test facility, so the turbines produce just two megawatts. That is more than enough to power the entire hotel, though.’

‘So it’s self-sufficient?’ Nina asked.

The Icelander nodded. ‘We have backup diesel generators, but they have never been needed. The only waste product,’ he indicated another set of pipes, these bearing warning stickers with the symbols for both flammable and explosive substances, ‘is hydrogen sulphide.’

‘Isn’t that poisonous?’

‘And kind of smelly,’ Eddie added.

‘It is not a pleasant smell, no,’ Mikkelsson told him. ‘But the gas is condensed in the next room and stored in tanks so it can be treated with a catalyst and broken down. We actually sell the sulphur that is produced as fertiliser.’

Nina grinned. ‘Recycling in action.’

‘It turns it into something much more valuable. Which,’ he continued as he directed his visitors back to the door, ‘is in a way why you are here.’ He had until now seemed almost to have deliberately avoided looking at the box Eddie was carrying, but now he gave it his full attention. ‘The Crucible, I assume?’

The Englishman nodded. ‘So is this where we finally get to find out what you know about it?’

‘It is,’ replied Mikkelsson. ‘I shall introduce you to the others.’

He took them back through the lobby into the hotel’s other wing, a mirror image of the first. At the far end was another large room with a stunning view, this a luxurious lounge. A well-stocked bar ran along the rear wall. Before the windows stood a circular table, several chairs arranged around it.

Some were occupied, but rather than go to meet those already in the room, Mikkelsson instead crouched to speak to Macy again. ‘Would you like to see something very cool?’ he asked.

She looked up at Nina before answering; her mother nodded. ‘Okay.’

He led her to a raised round pool to one side. Rising from its centre was a stylised sculpture of a volcano. Faint wisps of steam rose off the water surrounding it. ‘Do you know what a volcano is, Macy?’

‘Of course I do!’ she told him proudly. ‘It’s a mountain, but it’s full of lava! It’s very hot because the rock is all melted.’

‘You are a most knowledgeable young lady,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘But this volcano is a little different. Would you like to see why?’ She nodded. ‘Watch this.’

He straightened and moved to one of several metal pedals set around the pool’s base. As Macy watched with anticipation, he slowly moved his foot over it, then pressed. With a loud hiss, a geyser of steaming water burst from the volcano’s mouth and splashed down around it. She flinched back before laughing in delight.

‘That is water from the power plant,’ Mikkelsson explained. ‘We also use it for all the hotel’s hot water and heating. No, no,’ he added gently as Macy stamped on another pedal. ‘It takes a little while to recharge. A deliberate feature,’ he told the adults, ‘otherwise nobody in here would ever hear anything except the volcano erupting.’

‘I guess you have kids,’ said Eddie.

‘I have. In fact, you are about to meet her.’ Mikkelsson crossed to the table, where a tall blonde woman in her early twenties stood to greet him. He kissed her cheek, the woman returning it before embracing him. ‘This is my daughter, Anastasia Fenrirsdottir.’

‘We Icelanders don’t have surnames like you do in Europe and America,’ said Anastasia, seeing Eddie’s quizzical expression. Her English was as good as her father’s, but much more easy and informal. ‘Mine means Fenrir’s daughter; his means Mikkel’s son.’ She glanced past Nina at De Klerx, the redhead noticing that she couldn’t quite contain a smile at the sight of him.

Mikkelsson beckoned to an older woman, also blonde but smaller and more willowy than Anastasia. ‘And this is my wife, Sarah.’

‘Hi,’ said Sarah. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Her quiet accent seemed to Nina to be French Canadian, but it sounded as though she had lived in Iceland for a long time. She smiled at Macy. ‘Oh, what a beautiful little girl! I remember when Ana was that age. You’ve got so much to look forward to.’

‘Thank you,’ said Nina, pleased and proud.

There were two other people in the room, who bustled over as if afraid of being left out. They were a slender, well-groomed man in his mid fifties, and a curvaceous woman at least twenty years younger, with long dark hair and a low-cut dress. ‘Dr Wilde!’ said the man; he was American, more specifically a New Englander. ‘A great pleasure to meet you. We were looking for the same thing, but you were, ha ha, rather more successful.’ The laugh was slightly awkward, his discomfort growing when all he got in return was a look of confusion. He faced Olivia. ‘I take it you haven’t told her about our search for Atlantis.’

Olivia treated him to a wry smile. ‘I hadn’t gotten around to it.’

‘Ah. So much for my opening conversational gambit.’ Another hesitant laugh, then he thrust his hand at Nina. ‘Spencer Lonmore. It genuinely is a pleasure to meet you. And your husband.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, shaking his hand. Eddie followed suit.

‘My wife,’ Lonmore went on, introducing the brunette. ‘Petra.’

‘Great to see you, hi,’ said Petra, her voice more valley girl than Pioneer Valley. Nina couldn’t help but sense an air of disdain towards her from both Mikkelsson’s family and Olivia.

‘So,’ said her grandmother, ‘now you’ve met the Midas Legacy. I told you it sounds far more mysterious and conspiratorial than it actually is. It’s just three families with a shared history.’

‘There is more to it than that,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘But now that you are here, Nina, it is time that we told you about it.’ He went to the table, Sarah and Anastasia following. The Lonmores quickly took their seats, Olivia finding hers in a more leisurely manner.

Nina regarded the chairs. ‘Are we missing someone?’ The Icelanders, the Lonmores and Olivia made six; there was an extra place.

‘Not at all,’ said her grandmother, gesturing at the empty chair beside her. ‘This one? It’s yours.’

20

Nina regarded the six seated people in bewilderment. ‘What do you mean, it’s mine?’

‘I mean,’ said Olivia, ‘I want to give you a seat in the Legacy.’

Lonmore broke off from sipping a glass of whisky to raise a finger. ‘Ah, now strictly speaking you want to
offer
her a seat in the Legacy, Olivia,’ he said. ‘Her acceptance is still subject to approval by at least one of the other families. As you well know.’

The elderly lady fixed him with an unblinking stare. ‘Well, of
course
I know, Spencer. After all, you needed
my
approval when you wanted to give your new wife a seat after your son . . . departed.’ A disapproving look from Anastasia suggested that said approval had not been unanimous. ‘And far be it from me to take any unilateral actions without consulting the other members.’

‘Such as giving Laura’s notes to her daughter so that she might find the Midas Cave for you?’ said Mikkelsson, his own gaze on Olivia equally steely.

‘Okay, Laura’s daughter is standing right here,’ Nina said loudly. ‘I haven’t accepted any offers, and I sure as hell didn’t go looking for the Midas Cave for anyone except my mother. The only reason I’m here is because I want to find out what’s going on!’

Eddie quickly passed the Crucible to Nina, then took Macy’s hand and ushered her towards the pool. ‘Hey, love, shall we go and play with the water volcano? Mummy’s getting a bit red-haired again.’

‘I heard that,’ Nina snapped after him, before turning back to the table. ‘What
is
this thing?’ she demanded, holding up the box. ‘People have died because of it, and I was nearly one of them. So was my husband. I’m here because I want answers. If I don’t get them, I’m leaving – and I’m taking this with me and giving it to the IHA.’

Lonmore’s face flashed with alarm, but Mikkelsson’s response was more measured. ‘We will tell you everything you want to know. But first, may I beg your indulgence?’

‘For what?’

‘May we see the Crucible?’

Nina surveyed the faces at the table, her gaze sweeping clockwise from the empty chair: Anastasia, Mikkelsson, Sarah, Lonmore, Petra and finally Olivia. Having already seen the crystal, her grandmother was the only one not filled with visible anticipation, instead watching her intently.

Beneath their expectancy, the others betrayed other feelings. Lonmore was still nervous, as if afraid that she might walk out, taking the Crucible with her. Petra was also concerned, but on a less personal level, more that she was taking a cue from her husband. Both Sarah and Anastasia appeared impatient to see the artefact, the daughter far more overtly. Only Mikkelsson was unreadable, calmly awaiting her answer.

‘Okay,’ Nina finally said, deciding she had let them hang for long enough. ‘Here’s your damn Crucible.’ She opened the box.

All eyes fixed upon the crystal as she held it up. ‘Exactly as they described it,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘It really exists. And you found it, Nina.’

‘Yeah, I found it,’ she replied testily. ‘So you got your answer. Now I’d like mine.’

‘Then please, take a seat.’ He gestured at the chair beside Olivia.

‘That’s
a
seat,’ Lonmore hastily clarified. ‘Not
your
seat. Just wanted to make that clear.’

‘Whatever,’ said Nina dismissively. She returned the Crucible to the box, then sat. ‘Okay. Start at the beginning. My ancestor was in Nepal in the nineteenth century, I’m guessing with your ancestors. What happened?’

Olivia started the tale. ‘Tobias and the others, Valmar Patreksson and Aldus Lonmore,’ she nodded towards Mikkelsson, then Lonmore, ‘were explorers, but they were also traders. The aftermath of the war with Britain had opened up Nepal, and they wanted to take advantage of it.’

‘They were in the north-west of the country when they realised there was a lot of gold doing the rounds,’ Lonmore continued. ‘They went looking for the source, and ended up at a monastery. In return for goods and supplies they needed, the monks agreed to pay them in gold – and to show them the Midas Cave.’

‘Which they tried to keep secret by hiding the route from them,’ said Nina. ‘I read that in my mother’s notes.’

Olivia nodded. ‘What wasn’t in Laura’s notes was that the amount of gold they were paid was substantial. Enough to set them all up for life.’

Mikkelsson took up the tale. ‘It made all three of our families very wealthy, and influential. They could have simply divided it equally, but they realised the returns would be higher if it were pooled. So they established the Midas Legacy.’ He spread his hands to encompass those at the circular table. ‘Which still exists today.’

‘Decisions about the Legacy were made democratically,’ explained Lonmore. ‘Each family had two seats, and a chairman was chosen on a rotating basis, with a proxy taking their place while they held the position.’

‘I am the present chairperson,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘Sarah is currently acting as my replacement. She slots in very efficiently.’ He gave his wife a small smile, receiving a still fainter one in return. ‘Decisions are reached by simple majority rules, with the chair voting only as a tiebreaker.’

Nina looked around the table. ‘I’m seeing kind of a numerical disparity here.’

‘Indeed,’ Olivia said tartly. ‘Our family used to be represented by myself and Laura, when she was old enough.’

‘Mom was a part of this?’ Nina tried to hide her shock.

‘She was. However, she didn’t keep her seat for very long, because once she met your father, she not only wanted nothing more to do with me, she also left the Legacy.’

‘What happened to Laura was a terrible tragedy,’ Mikkelsson said to Nina. ‘She is greatly missed. Not only as a member of the Legacy, but personally. She was a very good friend.’

‘Thank you,’ Nina replied, recognising his sincerity. The others around the table offered more muted regrets. She turned back to Olivia. ‘Is that why you wanted me here? So you wouldn’t be outvoted?’

‘You really are extraordinarily cynical, Nina,’ said her grandmother.

‘Shoot at me once, shame on you. Shoot at me, I dunno, the three hundred and seventy-six times in my life someone’s tried to kill me . . .’

‘Nobody’s trying to kill you here. I’m offering you something that by right should already be yours: a seat in and a share of the Legacy. And before you tell me you’re not interested in money,’ Olivia added, ‘remember that it isn’t only about you. It’s also about your family.’ She smiled at Macy, who was playing at the fountain with her father. ‘Yes, you’ve made some money from your book, and I’m sure this new movie will earn you some more, Hollywood accounting notwithstanding, but will that be enough to last you for the rest of your life? To provide Macy with everything she needs – including a good education?’

‘I’m sure we’ll manage,’ said Nina, though she was forced to admit she had already had those exact concerns about the future.

‘But there’s no need for you to
manage
. You can be secure.’

‘It is not a full-time job, Nina,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘We usually meet only two or three times a year, whether here or in America.’

‘Kind of a stockholders’ meeting,’ Lonmore added. ‘We get an update on how the Legacy is performing, and vote on any proposals. Which we still need to do, by the way.’

Olivia waved a hand to shoo away the suggestion. ‘It can wait. This is more important than some fool idea to invest the Legacy in a hedge fund.’ Her frown at Lonmore told Nina who had put forward that idea.

Mikkelsson gave her a wry look. ‘I think we know which way you will be voting, Olivia.’

‘I’ve been very clear about this for years. Putting the Legacy in the hands of the piranha pool that calls itself Wall Street is a sure-fire way to see it vanish before our eyes.’

‘It’s already vanishing!’ Anastasia said. ‘Especially after so much was
wasted
.’ She glared at Lonmore.

‘What my family does with its share of the Legacy isn’t your concern,’ he replied, more flustered than angry.

‘It is when it goes
beyond
your share—’

Mikkelsson tapped on the table. The noise was not loud, but it still silenced the argument. ‘That is enough,’ he said. ‘Perhaps Olivia is right that this can wait. After all, Nina still wants answers. For a start, I imagine she is curious to know how the Crucible can possibly turn mercury into gold.’

‘The monks didn’t go into specifics, beyond it being some kind of nuclear transmutation,’ said Nina, glancing at the strange crystal sphere. ‘They didn’t
need
to, I suppose; they already knew the process worked, so the “how” part didn’t matter to them.’

‘It matters to us, though,’ Anastasia said. ‘Fortunately, we have a nuclear physicist who’s worked it all out.’ She gave her father an admiring look.

‘I am not merely a diplomat,’ Mikkelsson told Nina, seeing her surprise. ‘To be an effective negotiator in a matter as complicated as nuclear proliferation, it is necessary to understand all aspects. Governments are by their nature devious and secretive, especially about their nuclear capabilities. But by knowing as much about the technical aspects as their scientists – and certainly more than their politicians – I can determine if they are trying to deceive us.’

‘So you know how the Crucible works?’ Nina asked.

He nodded. ‘Much of it is theoretical, as I have not seen the process for myself. I based it upon the accounts of our ancestors when they visited the Midas Cave. But the physics are sound. Did the monks know anything about the process by which the natural reactor functioned?’

‘Yes, they told me that much. Rising water starts a chain reaction in the uranium deposits. The neutrons it produces hit mercury atoms in the Crucible and cause them to transmute into gold. When the uranium gets too hot, the water boils off and the reaction stops.’

‘Was the reaction as violent as Valmar described?’

Eddie had been half listening from the pool. ‘Enough to shoot down a helicopter, so yeah.’

Mikkelsson appeared impressed. ‘A very rapid process, then. Much faster than Oklo . . .’ He mentally filed away the new information, then continued: ‘The water acts as a neutron moderator, initiating a chain reaction. Under normal circumstances, it would also absorb the neutrons that are released.’ He stood and rounded the table to Nina’s position, peering into the Crucible’s gem-like interior. ‘However, I believe that this acts as a neutron
reflector
. Neutrons can penetrate its outer shell, but once inside, the majority are trapped.’ He reached for the crystal. ‘May I?’

Nina hesitated before replying, overcoming an unsettling feeling that allowing anyone else to touch the Crucible would somehow end her control over it. ‘Sure.’

He carefully lifted the artefact. Holding it up to the daylight, he turned it to examine the reflections within. ‘Intriguing,’ he remarked at last, returning it to its container. Nina felt surprisingly relieved to have it back.

‘So does it match your theory?’ Olivia asked Mikkelsson as he sat again.

‘It does,’ he replied. ‘The internal facets somehow reflect the neutrons back inwards. When the Crucible is filled with mercury, this greatly increases the odds that a neutron will collide with an atom of mercury-196. This isotope occurs naturally in liquid mercury,’ he explained to Nina, though she noticed that Petra was also listening intently, as if taking notes. ‘Since it is only present in very small quantities, an attempt to transmute mercury in a nuclear reactor would not produce much gold, because most of the neutrons would not strike any mercury-196.’

‘But because they’re reflected back into the Crucible and pinging around in a small space . . .’ said Nina.

‘Precisely. As the chain reaction continues, more and more neutrons enter the Crucible, but then find it hard to escape. At a certain point, they reach a critical state of their own – causing a neutron burst of such intensity that it cannot be contained. Any remaining atoms of mercury-196 that have not already been transmuted now do so, even if they are not inside the Crucible itself.’

‘So that’s why the cave walls were covered in gold?’ said Lonmore.

‘The mercury vapour inside the cave is also partially composed of mercury-196,’ Mikkelsson confirmed. ‘It too is transmuted by the neutron burst. Those atoms in contact with a surface become bonded to it.’

‘That’s what happened to Midas’s daughter,’ said Nina, remembering the faceless figure in the cave. ‘She was in there when the reaction happened. Fried by radiation, boiled like a lobster or coated in gold and suffocated: however she died, it wasn’t in any good way.’

‘Are there any good ways?’ asked Sarah quietly.

‘If you have lived a good life, you can die a good death,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘But I hope none of us will have to worry about this for some time.’ He glanced at Olivia, who as the oldest in the room by some margin was not enthused by the thought. ‘The question now is what to do about the Crucible.’

An animated discussion broke out around the table, the members of the Legacy clearly having strong – and differing – ideas. Mikkelsson tapped on the table again. ‘One at a time, please. Spencer?’

‘The answer’s obvious,’ said Lonmore. ‘We go ahead with my hedge fund proposal, and let Wall Street work its magic with the full remaining value of the Legacy. Only now, we have security. If we need more gold, we can have it. We can
make
it.’

‘Using what?’ demanded Olivia. ‘This place is a geothermal plant, remember, not a nuclear reactor.’

‘And the Midas Cave is on the other side of the world,’ Anastasia reminded him. ‘We can’t just drop by whenever we need more gold.’ She leaned towards the crystal. ‘There is another option. We
sell
the Crucible.’

Both Olivia and Lonmore regarded her in disbelief. ‘What?’ he gasped.

‘You can’t be serious,’ said Olivia.

‘I’m entirely serious. How much would a nation state, or even some ultra-wealthy individual, pay for the ability to produce unlimited gold? We could name our price. The Legacy would be secured for ever.’

Olivia shook her head. ‘That is unbelievably naive, Ana.’