The Titan Project: Atomic Trilogy, #1

By Vicky Cash

2033.
Sceptical of the reports about the accident at the Titan Nuclear Station, Journalist Casey Clarke sets out to investigate a story of corruption, murder, blackmail and corner cutting. As she begins to probe, she finds herself with a bounty on her head, on a desperate and deadly journey that takes her from the UK to the Ukraine and Chechnya in a race against time to expose the truth. The clock is ticking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vicky Cash
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301574384

Vicky Cash

Vicky Cash is a Freelance Editor and Creative Writer by trade. She is a proofreader, Editor and writer specialising in English language. She has successfully completed the Creative Writing course with the Writers Bureau and more recently passed with 66% a summer university course in Creative Writing and Research at Teesside University. She has also completed a number of career development courses with Future Learn by the Open University. She started writing at the age of seven and loved it. She specializes in writing thrillers and crime stories, although she has recently taken a step out of her comfort zone to write Forbidden Love, a romance set in the Cold War. She has completed a competence course in proofreading and copy editing with Chapterhouse and is currently running her own business as a Freelance Editor and Creative Writer.

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THE TITAN PROJECT

BY VICKY CASH

The Titan Project

Published by Vicky Cash at Smashwords.

Copyright © 2014 Vicky Cash

All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Second Edition.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

PROLOGUE

1st May 2030

Britain is officially in recession. Our sources can confirm that the government is in talks with economic experts from the independent organisation, Sector 12.

1st July 2030

Today saw the unveiling of plans which aim to ease the recession. The plans consist of building a new nuclear superstation. The first of its kind in the United Kingdom, the plant will house eight nuclear reactors.

1st December 2030

Work on the new superstation began early this morning. Economic experts are expecting the economy to pick up in the coming months. Talks are also due to take place concerning the decommissioning of the United Kingdom’s fossil fuel plants.

24th December 2032

Today the superstation went online for the first time. Since production began two years ago, the economy has seen significant growth with a rapid drop in unemployment. Suffice to say, the future looks bright for the United Kingdom.

24th January 2033

Tragedy at the Titan Station. Unconfirmed reports indicate that one of the eight reactor units has exploded, causing damage to its containment structure. An evacuation of the nearby towns of Sheffield and Rotherham has begun. The emergency level has been raised.

25th January 2033

Today the emergency level has been lowered. Sector 12 has confirmed that there was a minor incident at the plant but assures that the situation is under control. The area surrounding has been temporarily evacuated and cordoned off as a precaution. There is no cause for alarm. All previous statements have been retracted.

CHAPTER ONE

LOCATION: Doncaster, UK. 29th January 2033

Casey Clarke investigative journalist for the popular newspaper, The Elite, had just closed down her computer after finishing her article. Casey sat back and sipped her coffee – deep in thought. Why does he always give me the boring jobs?

Casey is thirty four years old with eyes as brown as her hair – eyes that can see through any fake. Her experience as a journalist is as sharp as any of her older counterparts - if not better. When Casey first started in journalism, she was freelance. In only five years, she’d gotten herself a reputation for being the woman who wasn’t afraid to say no. A woman, who gave as good as any man. However, since joining The Elite, she’s found herself relegated to – what she calls - the boring stuff. Her boss rarely gives her a juicy story to cover. He doesn’t like the way she works – despite the fact that her way, gets things done.

Casey was brought back to reality as he dragged his crippled, dying self into her office. Coughing and wrapped in a thick grey trench coat that held his mutilated body in place, he struggled towards the desk. Casey jumped to her feet and gasped at the sight of him. His hands and face were covered in black sores, oozing with pus and blood. She went to approach but he held up his hands.

No, stay back, he croaked.

Can I get you an ambulance?

No. No doctor can help me now.

But...

Please Miss Clarke. I have a tale to tell you and there isn’t much time to tell it.

She watched as he sat before sitting opposite him.

My name is James Knightsbridge. Three years ago, I was a member of the organisation Sector 12.

Sector 12? Casey queried. She had heard the name before, but couldn’t remember in which context.

Yes, Sector 12. In a few moments I am going to tell you a tale that will be hard to swallow. A tale that will shake you to the core... But before I begin, I want to tell you about us. To show you that we are not all corrupted by power and money. To show that some of us, actually have a conscience. We began as a good organisation. With no thought of greed or self preservation. We were equals. We were set up by the people to help the people. We were created to draw up economic strategies to save people from suffering in times of crisis, created way back in 2010. We were good men and women. Then a man called Paul Richardson took over. He warped the organisation beyond recognition. He believes in only money and power. That man is top of the chain. Women to him are simply play things. Unimportant. Second class – along with anyone who doesn’t have wealth or power. And then the recession came. Stock markets crashing. People struggling to make ends meet. And then we became something.... terrible. I should say, more terrible than we’d already become under his command.

Paul Richardson? I’ve heard that name before.

Yes you will have. He’s a chauvinistic, greedy, power hungry.... Two and a half years ago he was responsible for starting a chain reaction that soon got out of hand. Before that he was a radical scientist, a brilliant historian and one very clever economist. Richardson is a man who knows what he wants and will do anything to get it. No matter to him whether that be by killing someone or by bribing someone. He can manipulate and control people at a click of his fingers.

Where are you going with this, Mr Knightsbridge? Casey asked.

What do you know about the accident at the super plant just outside Sheffield?

The same as everyone else. A minor accident. Level 2 on the scale. Nothing too serious.

They’re lies, Miss Clarke. He – Richardson – controls the press. He is covering up the seriousness of the accident because he cut corners in the building process. Dangerous corners. He made fatal errors of judgment by his own volition, he explained. Those reactors are not what they seem. They’re not what they are supposed to be.

With all due respect, Mr Knightsbridge, no Prime Minister or members of the International Atomic Energy Agency would be fooled by a man like Paul Richardson – if what you say is true.

Except they were and I speak the truth. I used to think like you – once. Richardson is clever. He knows how to convince trouble makers and if he can’t convince them, he eliminates them. He has ways of making things look very different from what they actually are. He can talk the talk.

Casey sighed, sitting back in her chair, deep in thought. I must admit, I was rather sceptical about the reports in the papers. The retractions. I wanted to go down there but my boss ordered me to forget it... do you have any proof?

I am the proof. I was there through the whole process. In the shadows for a long time. You see, I made a mistake, about a year into the project. And he had me killed. Or so he thought. He had my house set on fire with me inside. I barely escaped. So I went undercover. Disappeared. Even tried to warn the IAEA. But I saw it all.... Christmas day, I couldn’t even see my own family. He tried to kill me and then he took my family from me.

That explains the burns, but I’m afraid it doesn’t help me expose this scale of cover up, she muttered.

No. You’ll need more than just a story.... And they’re not from the fire. The burns. I went to the plant after the accident and now I’m dying of something worse... Radiation – it’s not an easy way to die. That is why when I’m done here, I’m going to put this gun to my head. To Casey’s horror, he pulled out a revolver and placed it on the desk in front of him. Unsure of what to do or say, Casey jumped to her feet. He continued. It’s better that way. You see, radiation isn’t something you’d want to die of. It warps your DNA. Leaves you in constant agony as your body gradually breaks down. I don’t know what’s worse, the initial vomiting or the final, painful stage. Where you lose all control, as your cells succumb and are ripped apart... I came to you because you have a reputation. Your bosses don’t like you because you stand up for the little people. You have the guts to stand up and say no... I want you to go to the plant. You can see for yourself. There is a man there. A scientist from the IAEA. He was once like me, controlled by Richardson. He’s expecting you and he can tell you how to stop this. Before it is too late... But first, it’s time for me to tell the tale. The tale of how we got to this stage. The tale of how fiction, soon became reality, his eyes locked on hers. He took a breath. You should be aware - there were things I was not privy to, some not many. There will be blanks in my story. Blanks you’ll have find the answers to, connect the dots. I can only give you, what I saw. What I was a part of. The rest will be up to you. If of course, I’m right about you and you choose to act.

She thought for a moment – her eyes locked on his. She swallowed hard at the image of the gun and sat. Ok. Tell me your story.

Three years before. June 2030.

The country is at breaking point. Consumed by record unemployment, homelessness and crime. A solution is on the table, but all is not as it seems.

Midnight – London backstreets. Four black clad men drag a young, brown haired male from a pub and escort him to the waiting limousine. The four men push him into the back before climbing in themselves. Inside a bald headed male waits.

You... Look Mr Richardson..., the brown haired male starts.

Have you talked to anyone? Richardson – the bald headed male - interrupts.

Not yet. But first thing tomorrow, I’m going to the Prime Minister, the press and the International Atomic Energy Agency, to warn them about you. I won’t stand back and watch you con this country into implementing those plans.

Why not? Richardson asks, taking a puff of his cigar.

The man laughs sarcastically. You’re joking, right? If something went wrong, this country, its people... the consequences would be dire. Amounting to genocide – because it could have been avoided. And let’s face it, with your plan – it would only be a matter of time.

Oh, you won’t be telling anyone.

Richardson smiles at him as the limousine rolls to a stop beside the river. The door opens and the man is shoved from the vehicle. As Richardson smiles at him, a revolver is aimed at the man’s head and the trigger pulled. A shot rings out and the body falls into the black waters below. The window is rolled up and the limousine pulls away towards the light of town.

Twelve hours later, Paul Richardson – a five foot nine, bald headed, grey eyed figure – marches down the corridor to the Prime Minister’s office. It’s a small room, with a fireplace and comfortable chairs – just how the PM likes it. Once inside, Richardson sits down and helps himself to a cigar from the desk.

The Prime Minister – William Taylor - himself is surprisingly young for the leader of a country. Early thirties at best. A former Royal Marine – he left to pursue politics after serving numerous tours of Northern Ireland, Afghanistan and Korea. He’s fresh and keen to help his people. His blue eyes enchant his audience at every occasion. And his strong opinions have made him extremely popular among his public, but rather unpopular in Europe. However passionate, his inexperience causes him to be sometimes naive in his choices.

Country after country has fallen victim to this dreaded recession. We seem to have been hit very hard... A month ago, I asked you if your organisation – Sector 12 – could help. I pray you have the answer I’m looking for today.

Prime Minister, I assure you, I can help this country. We have looked at a series of possibilities and I believe we’ve found something that will work. It guarantees jobs and revenue. This will free up money for you to invest elsewhere.

Go on.

We have designs for a new power station. A super nuclear power station. It will consist of approximately eight nuclear reactor units. This scale of plant of course, will require a lot of staff. Preliminary numbers suggest multiple crews of at least a few hundred plus. I mean, we’ll need admin, the control room and reactor staff. Maintenance, medical and cooks. Then we’ll need adequate security given the state of world affairs so, there are more jobs to be filled. Not to mention, legally, we’ll have to have fire crews on site at all times. I strongly believe this is a way out of the recession. It will bring in the revenue you so desperately need. Plus on the green side, it will have the potential to power the whole country - therefore your fossil fuel stations can be gradually discontinued. Plus, no more fracking. It's a win win Prime Minister.

I’m not so sure the results would be..., the PM starts.

With all due respect sir, to cure the problem, you need to increase consumer spending. You don't want to make the same mistakes we made in 2010, do you? If we hand the people a job and pay them, they will spend. Richardson interrupts.

I’m not disputing that fact. But a plant on this scale will cost millions if not billions. Surely?

Surely it would be worth the risk. Besides, that side of things would be controlled by my team, obviously, as the owners. I have a lot of friends in the industry who owe me favours. I may be able to get a few... deals.

I’m still not convinced. It could take years to build this. We may not have years.

It would take us approximately two years, yes. But your economy will start to pick up as soon as the project began because people would be back into work right from the start. There’s the building work then the training of the staff. We can be ready to start this project by December this year, realistically.

Prime Minister Taylor sighs, breathing in the smoke from the cigar and trying desperately not to cough. He sits back in his chair, rubbing his chin. After a moment, he rises and walks to his window. He looks up at the grey, rain filled sky before turning back to Richardson.

I’m still unsure. If I’m honest, there are two voices in my head. One, very quiet voice is telling me yes. Go ahead with the project. What have you got to lose? Then a very loud voice is screaming no. There’s too much at stake. I’ve never been fond of nuclear power. It’s not foolproof Mr Richardson. There can be very devastating accidents. I agree it will get people back in to work. It will free up other funds so we can invest in other areas of employment but I... I have a lot of reservations.

I have a meeting the day after tomorrow, with the International Atomic Energy Agency at their headquarters in Vienna. The full plans have to be discussed between them as the regulating body. Come with me. I’m certain they’ll be able to alleviate your fears.

The Prime Minister thinks for a moment, turning back to the window.

Ok. I will. But I warn you now, if by the time that meeting is over, I’m still not satisfied, your project will not go ahead in my country. Do you understand me?

Perfectly Prime Minister. Richardson smirks, shaking his hand.

Richardson turns – the smile dissipating from his face, replaced by an expression of annoyance - and exits. Stepping out into the daylight, he slides dark glasses onto his face before climbing into his limousine.

Well? A young female asks. She is short and plain. No makeup. Blue eyes and blonde hair cut into a bob. Her lips are full and red.

Don’t ask. He wasn’t convinced. He’s accompanying me to the IAEA. It seems he’s not as naive as we thought. Still, it shouldn’t be a problem. If the IAEA approve the project, that should sway him. Besides, it’s not like they have any other choice.

Yes sir. The team is assembled at HQ. They’re waiting to go through the plans with you.

Good, he smirks seductively at her.

One hour later at Sector 12’s headquarters in the centre of London’s prestigious Canary Wharf - Richardson is sat with a team of six sharp suited men. They are his most trusted colleagues. His right hands. They sit in silence, watching and listening to their leader. The female stands behind him.

The Prime Minister was not convinced by our plans. He will accompany me to the IAEA headquarters the day after tomorrow. Their decision should convince him to accept our proposal. I don’t really see this minor setback as a problem. The IAEA will approve the plan and then the PM won’t be able to resist.

What about the IAEA sir? I mean, they could see right through the plan, one of the males asks.

That is why there are two plans. Plan A, the IAEA already have. This plan outlines the building of a superstation using the standard West European advanced gas-cooled reactors - the AGR’s. But of course, it will be plan B which will be implemented. Plan B consists of removing irrelevant costly systems - systems that are only there to minimise human error, so as I see it, they’re not needed. And of course the training will be much simpler. We’ll still be using the graphite moderator, only with the cheaper graphite tipped control rods, and the coolant will be water instead of CO2. This is a cheaper design all round, which with this recession growing deeper by the minute, is vital.

The female steps forward. Sir, can I just ask? If we get the go ahead to build, what happens if there’s an accident?

The men go silent and glare at her.

Clair, there won’t be an accident.

With all due respect, look at America in ’79 and the Ukraine in ’86 and 2020. I know they were a long time ago but.... They never thought those accidents would happen. And what we’re talking about doing is similar to what caused those accidents in the first place – cutting corners for money.

His voice takes a dangerous edge as he addresses her. Clair, with all due respect, when I want your input, I’ll ask for it. What could you – a mere woman – possibly know? If there are any problems, we can blame the workers. I’m very clever. You keep your mouth shut and follow orders. Do you understand?

Yes sir. I wasn’t questioning you. I just worry, if there was an accident, it would be difficult to cover up. It could damage your reputation, your career. After all you’ve been through to get to your position. It concerns me.

His tone softens. Your concerns about me are welcome. But really there’s no need to worry. Nothing will come back on any of us. I’ll make sure of that. Ok?

Yes sir.

Good, he turns back to the others. We have our location. We have our workforce, and of course they’ll do what we tell them if they want to get paid, he chuckles. Not that they’ll know what we’re doing. I doubt any of them are nuclear physicists. I don’t have to tell you what will happen if any of you open your mouths to the press or the government – you’ll join our friend at the bottom of the river. He looks pointedly around the room. I want the details ironed out tonight, gentlemen. I fully expect to get the go ahead and when we do, I want this off the ground by December.

Sir, what if government stick their noses in?

They won’t. The building and costs fall on the shoulders of the owners. That’s us. Besides if they did, I’m sure I can handle it. The PM might be cautious, but he is inexperienced, which makes him naive and weak. I’m certain I can manipulate him easily enough given time.

What about the manufacturers we’ve shortlisted?

Cover our tracks with them. Different parts of the units created by different companies.

We need a name for this. Make it legit, one of the men suggests.

Richardson rubs his chin, deep in thought. How about... the Titan Project. Because are we not Titans going forward to rule? To pave the way to the future. Gods of mankind.

His colleagues chuckle as they rise and begin to disperse. Clair moves closer to Richardson as he watches them.

You seem so sure we’re going to get this contract.

How can we not? The plan I’ve shown the IAEA is perfect. Plus I have a contact in the IAEA, who owes me a favour. He turns to look her in the eye. Perhaps when we get back, you’ll join me for diner? As a... celebration.

If you’re lucky. She smiles seductively as she brushes past him to leave.

He watches her go – a lecherous smile hanging on his lips. After a moment he pulls out a mobile phone and waits.

John, how are you? You know that favour you owe me? I’m calling it in. I want my plans approved and the Prime Minister convinced. We’ll be there in..., he looks at his watch thirty eight hours.

Thirty eight hours later, Richardson along with Clair and Prime Minister William Taylor step off the plane in Vienna, Austria. They breathe in the fresh air and place sunglasses onto their faces before climbing into the waiting car. The car has been sent from the IAEA headquarters and carries the golden crest. Its windows are blacked out to hide the identities of the VIP occupants from the general public. As they head towards their destination, the occupants take in the view around them. People strolling through the town. The beautiful countryside. Although in such a peaceful setting, they remain silent the whole journey. As they arrive at the headquarters, Richardson sees his contact – John Newbury – waiting for him. As they step out of the car, Richardson turns to Clair and the PM.

You two go on ahead. I want to talk to this gentleman. He’s an old friend. We haven’t seen each other in years. He smiles, watching as they head into the building before turning to John. Well?

I can’t, Paul. You’re on your own, he goes to walk away.

You owe me, John. You wouldn’t still have this job if it wasn’t for me.

Look, if your plans are genuine, you won’t have a problem anyway.

Fifty thousand. Paul calls after him.

John turns abruptly and marches up to him. He grabs his arm and pulls him away from the entrance.

What?

Fifty thousand pounds if you ensure the safe passage of my plan. That includes convincing the Prime Minister. Think about it John. Your gambling debt would be wiped. And you’d still have plenty left for a comfortable life. He smirks, watching the expression on John’s face. Refuse though, and I might have to have a little chat with your boss.

John sighs, pacing on the pavement. Ok, you have a deal. But I want that money in my account by the end of tonight.

Shouldn’t be a problem. Now, shall we go in?

Inside the headquarters, John takes Richardson into the meeting room, where Clair and the PM are already waiting. John joins his colleagues at their table. The room is large. At the back of the room is a large table where the members of the committee sit. On the wall above them is a large golden emblem. The official emblem of the International Atomic Energy Agency. The head of the Nuclear Installation safety division – Michael Walker - reads through the plans before speaking.

These seem to be in order. A standard design using the approved AGR units. That’s Advanced Gas-cooled reactors, Prime Minister. Using a graphite moderator with carbon dioxide as the coolant. An advancement of the Magnox Reactors. They are a safe design, used commonly throughout the United Kingdom. They are a tried and tested design and approved by us and our colleagues in the United Kingdom Atomic Energy Authority. So in terms of the design, I see no reason to block the building of the plant. He pauses to take a sip of water and a breath. However, regardless of your plans, I and my colleagues do have concerns, Mr Richardson. This is Sector 12’s first run with nuclear power. To undertake such a proposal as yours – to build a superstation – is not an easy task. Particularly for an inexperienced organisation. As I say, you haven’t dealt with nuclear power before. I am a little concerned, that you and your colleagues are a little – how should I say - out of your depth.

I assure you sir, we are capable of undertaking such a task. I myself have a degree in nuclear physics which I am sure your colleague – Mr Newbury - will confirm.

John takes a moment before swallowing hard and answering. Yes he does have a degree and as far as I can tell, he is capable and dedicated to the task at hand. His team consists of the best in the fields of nuclear and safety. I would feel quite confident with Mr Richardson in control of the operation.

Mr Walker shakes his head. His background is not in dispute here. Nor is Sector 12’s. I have heard and seen some promising work from his organisation, he turns to Richardson. Are you prepared to take such a leap? There are many precautions that must be accounted for. We cannot afford to be complacent when it comes to this form of power. There have been disastrous accidents in the past – accidents that could have been avoided.

Sir, I can assure you, all your concerns have already been discussed among my team and actions taken. We have spent many hours, meticulously planning for every possible scenario. We have the perfect site just outside Sheffield – slightly to the west. We have handpicked the most dedicated workers and manufacturing companies. Realistically, this project can be off the ground by December this year and completed by December 2032. He pauses to allow the IAEA members to mutter among themselves. We have already put aside a budget. As you’ll be aware, the UK is deep in recession. The Government will of course contribute funds but taking into account these hard times, the members of my organisation have agreed to contribute personally to alleviate the cost to the government and to the United Kingdom.

What about the staff. These people need to be taught how to run a nuclear installation safely.

John stands. Sir, if I can just vouch for Mr Richardson. I’ve already seen his training programme. He has already appointed trainers - approved by our sources in the United Kingdom Atomic Energy Authority. They have the full two years to train up the staff.

Is this true Mr Richardson?

Of course sir. We want the best and most reliable. After all – like you said earlier - we don’t want any more nasty accidents, do we?

Michael Walker takes a deep breath before conferring with his colleagues for a few moments. Finally he addresses the Prime Minister.

What do you think about the plans, Prime Minister Taylor?

Well..., he clears his throat. At first I was unsure. I have always been sceptical of nuclear power. But after hearing the plans today in full bloom as it were, I have to admit, it is starting to sound like a tempting opportunity. I was suspicious of Sector 12, but it would seem they are more in tune than I’d give them credit for. As they are prepared to take a lot of the cost off my shoulders and the shoulders of my subjects, I have to admit, they seem genuine. And it would get us out of the black hole we seem to have found ourselves in.

Yes. Walker scratches his chin. This past month has been one of much debate. When Mr Richardson first approached us, we were split on the issue. You have to understand, Mr Richardson, we have a duty to ensure that safety is of the highest priority and not money. Putting profit before safety leads to catastrophe. Nuclear technology is a very complex thing. Something that mustn’t be taken for granted. He pauses once more to sip at his water. Rising from his seat, he clears his throat. Taking into account what has been said here today and the plans – which we can find nothing wrong with, the standard AGR design – we are inclined to allow Sector 12 to build the first superstation in the United Kingdom. Assuming of course, you get approval from the British government. But I warn you, Mr Richardson, it won’t be easy. There will be many stressful days and sleepless nights. I sincerely hope you are truly prepared for the task ahead. Mr Newbury will be detailed to this project. Thank you ladies and gentlemen.

Thank you sir. Richardson stands – a wide smirk across his face. He smiles at John like a fox that’s caught its prey napping. John Newbury swallows hard and looks away.

Richardson approaches the table to shake the hands of the committee before striding out, followed by Clair. The PM also shakes the hands of the committee before following Richardson. As Richardson and Clair wait for him outside, she moves close to whisper to him.

So, do you think the government will accept our proposal now?

Oh yes. I think we’ve sealed the deal quite well today. Nothing can stop us now. He brushes her hair from her eyes. So will you join me for that meal?

Why not? After all, we’ve just pulled off the perfect coup.

CHAPTER TWO

LOCATION: Doncaster 2033

As James paused to catch his breath, Casey slumped back in her chair, running her hands through her hair.

I... can’t believe..., she rubbed her tired eyes and stood to pace the room.

It’s the truth. You see now, how clever Richardson is - how devious. How manipulative. He can bribe at a click of his fingers and he knows how to use technology to his advantage.

She sighed, sitting once again. If this got out, it would change the face of the nuclear industry. There must be something wrong with the system if...

He interrupted her. It’s not the system Miss Clarke. It’s the man. As I said, he can manipulate and blackmail with the best of them, just to get his own way. His mind is meticulous. He had every possibility covered. He convinced everyone – brainwashed them. That’s what makes him so dangerous.

Surely someone must have suspected something?

Yes, John Newbury did, but he had a weakness - which Richardson could use to control him.

John Newbury - this is the man you said would help me? Casey scoffed.

After the accident, his debt didn’t matter – doesn’t matter. He owes no favours to Richardson anymore. Let’s just say, John’s life expectancy has been cut rather short.

What do you mean? Casey asked.

He is at that plant, as we speak, trying his best to prevent a second explosion. Trying his best to... contain it. Breathing in the reactors poison.

But the Prime Minister....

Miss Clarke, Prime Minister Taylor is young and naive. His inexperience made him an easy target for blackmail and manipulation. Richardson could read him like a book.

Yes, but still.

He promised his people he would help them. Give them back their jobs and their dignity. Yes he was suspicious, but under the circumstances and after that meeting....

Casey stared hard at him and sighed. Ok. Continue your story. I want to hear the rest.

July 1st 2030 – Downing Street.

Paul Richardson is sat before Prime Minister Taylor – who sits, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. Richardson patiently waits for him – his hands clasped together across the desk. After a while, he clears his throat. This makes the Prime Minister stare directly at him.

Given the meeting with the International Atomic Energy Agency, I don’t see how I can refuse your project. I have discussed this with my ministers and after many arguments, futile debates and sleepless nights - we came to the decision to approve this project. But I am however, still personally sceptical. As I told you before, I’m not a fan of nuclear technology. I think we are too.... young to understand its full power. To control it. It gives me a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach if I’m honest. However, I must do the best for my country and my people. And it is for that reason and that reason alone, that we – I - am authorising this project.

The right choice, Prime Minister, I assure you.

I hope so, Mr Richardson, he stares at him for a moment. Now, about the funding...

Prime Minister, as I said, Sector 12 will take the brunt of the costs – given the circumstances we find ourselves in. We have already agreed the amount your government will hand over. This has all been taken care of.

That may be so, but I don’t think it’s healthy to place that kind of burden on an independent....

Richardson interrupts. Prime Minister, in this economic climate, you have little other choice. There is little point in repeating ourselves. We are running out of time. Your country is on the verge of bankruptcy. We – you – must act now. All I need is your signature – your approval - and we can start this project and get this country back on its feet. Your people need you, William.

I’m not happy with this, I’ll be honest. This project is a lot of money. Even with the available funding.

Richardson rubs his eyes. He’s growing tired of this. "William, your ministers are happy. The IAEA is happy. Don't be like your predecessors. For once in your career, do the right thing. Make the right choice, before it is too late. We are fast approaching the