Warsecret

By Michela Arturina Betta

There are good secrets, bad secrets, and mysteries. Two dramatic incidents happen on the same day. First, a hacker attack is carried out in England, then the old Farm Hall tapes are stolen from the National Government Communications Head Quarters (NGCHQ) – England’s most secure archive. Achilles, the main protagonist of Warsecret, sees a sinister and dangerous connection between the two events. As the top negotiator of Organisation Number One (ONO) and director of the Global Agency for Informed Consent (GAIG), he must find out why and how they are linked. A series of suspenseful and dramatic actions take place in Berlin, Cambridge, London, and New York. During this sensational adventure, Achilles relies on the help of his young, stoic assistant, Lucillo, and the advice of two enlightened colonels, James Neill and Dag Olsen. The final act plays out at a global negotiation about nuclear weapons and the quantum computer, where the deep-rooted danger of scientific inventions of this type will become apparent. As will the terrifying system of secrecy that screens them from scrutiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Dec 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035815692

Michela Arturina Betta

Michela Arturina Betta is interested in exploring emotions and feelings generated by grand topics such as science, technology, unpredictable events and historical episodes with far-reaching impacts on today’s life. She has crafted a personal literary style that allows her to blend facts and fiction in surprising ways. She has published three novels, Stories for Posthuman Readers, The Gatekeeper’s, The Vault of Svalbard.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Theft of the Farm Hall Tapes

Be mindful, you people, of what you put out there in the world, for there are certain things you will never be able to remove afterwards.

When it spoke, the figure looked composed and its remarkably mild gaze could have tricked you into believing that it was here to talk about peace; if it had not been for its pupils dilated by the horrors they had seen, and the fresh wounds resulting from recent blows and the scars earned in old battles, and for its hands swollen by brutal wrestling. Not to mention its bent shoulders and its thin hair, which had once been thick like beautiful human wool. The figure was now looking at Achilles, intently.

Achilles felt attracted and repelled at the same time, and confused by his feelings, only said, Nothing is forever.

The figure replied, Don’t believe a word of what people say about change, don’t listen to their suggestion that things change, that nothing stays the same. That useless propaganda of change! I assure you my friend that bad things don’t change, that once such things have been introduced, they become unchangeable.

Achilles looked over the figure’s shoulders and saw a thick fog moving slowly towards the table at which they were sitting; the oppressive effect of that slow movement made him feel sick. Music suddenly filled the room, a fracas that sent chills down his spine, interrupted by intervals of mourning during which a soft, deep moan rose above all other sounds; it was a terrifying cry, which had the force to pierce an unguarded heart.

Tell me more about those unchangeable things and how they are going to threaten us, Achilles said, surprised at his unsteady voice.

The figure was startled. The future is not my domain. It then made a slight gesture, as if intending to leave, when after a sudden spasm, it added, I’m angry with you. Why haven’t you yet stopped those guys who produce the perils and dangers that make people’s lives, and mine too, so bloody difficult?

Who are they? Evil guys of the past? Achilles replied while watching anxiously how the fog was marching nearer. It too seemed unstoppable.

Only fools look to the past for answers. History can only warn, never explain. Perhaps you are not made for this world. Leave this place, join me, free yourself from your responsibilities and move to this side of life.

In a flash, the figure seized Achilles’ arms and the iron grip of its hands nearly paralysed him. While this attack was taking place, the moaning voice turned into a storm of screams that froze his blood and petrified his thinking. In the meantime, the fog had reached the figure and enwrapped it in a gaseous and cold vapour. The figure suddenly rose from its seat and burst into a cruel, frightening laughter after which everything seemed lost. In a last effort to free himself from those clutching hands, Achilles rotated his arms, a wrestling trick that caught the figure by surprise and succeeded in slipping out of his jacket. He began to walk backwards as fast as he could. He had his eyes firmly set on the gloomy figure and the rubble of history that surrounded it when the fog unexpectedly leaped ahead, a move that shocked him and made him scream in horror.

The contraction of his lungs woke him up and in opening his eyes, he found himself in a hotel room. That terrible dream had returned to disturb his night’s rest. But he was not going to let it win, no, this time he was going to try to fall asleep again. After several unsuccessful attempts, though, he decided to get up. The jacket of his pyjamas was missing and while he was wondering about its disappearance, he could still feel the painful effects of those seizing hands. Red marks were visible all over his forearms, something that deeply distressed him. He walked across his large hotel room, reached the balcony door and opened it hurriedly, for he must get rid of that fog still vividly present in his memory. Just as he was about to step outside, he was struck by the outdoor silence. No cars were driving through the streets and no loud crowd was visiting the nearby nightclub. The quietness made him long for the reassuring sounds of everyday life. A distant bird finally put an end to the stillness, and although its singing was tentative in these early hours of the morning, it slowly grew into a full melodic whistling that comforted his spirit. He strode out onto the balcony and instantly recognised the neighbourhood. The day before, having arrived early in the afternoon, he had explored the locality around the Hotel Grunewald, where he was staying. Known for being Berlin’s most formidable borough, the area was also famous for its grand villas and infamous for its Gleis 17.

He was about to return to his room when he noticed a large envelope lying on the balcony floor. Somebody must have thrown it there either from the street or from a neighbouring balcony. He picked it up and pulled out a book by Noble Simplicissimus, an author interested in World War Two. Achilles quickly read the introduction in which Simplicissimus described an event dating back to the summer of 1945. In July of that year, England had arrested ten German scientists and transferred them to a place called Farm Hall, an isolated country estate in Godmanchester. The scientists’ conversations were secretly taped in the hope that they might say something about the atomic bomb. But the scientists never mentioned the bomb or any other controversial topic, and therefore the tape recordings, which were later referred to as the Farm Hall tapes, never acquired any strategic value for the Allies. Aware of their historical importance, though, scholars and the media would repeatedly ask the English authorities to declassify the tapes. Eventually, they were released to the public – except for one tape, according to Simplicissimus. The author suggested that this particular tape contained secret information about a huge quantity of uranium that German physicists had concealed from the Nazis and hidden somewhere in Berlin. In concluding his introduction, Simplicissimus criticised the English authorities for withholding this tape warning that such secrecy might put lives at risk. After reading the first few pages of the book, Achilles wondered if Simplicissimus had taken upon himself the task of finding that uranium. As he was thinking about the author, Achilles also realised that whoever had thrown the book onto his hotel balcony had wanted to alert him to something. But to what? And how did they know he was in Berlin?

Achilles decided to make himself ready for breakfast and was pleased that the hotel opened its morning buffet already at five o’clock. As he was quite impatient to do some work before the meetings he had scheduled for the day, he only gave himself half an hour for the meal. He had just returned to his room and sat down at his desk when he received a video call from his Uncle William.

Uncle!

Bad news, Achilles! England is being attacked! Hackers are hitting major agencies, hospitals, government institutions, banks, companies!

Any idea who the hackers might be?

We are at a loss!

Are any agencies being spared?

Not sure.

Do you know where the authorities keep the old Farm Hall tapes? Achilles enquired.

Not expecting such a question, his uncle gave him a blank look but recovered quickly and answered: Well, as far as I know, they are kept in the archive of the NGCHQ, the National Government Communications Head-Quarters, and copies can be found in the historical archive of the CLM, The City of London Museum. Oh, actually I should tell you that a few days ago my office was informed that the Farm Hall tapes were going to be relocated from the NGCHQ to the foreign ministry, and if I am not mistaken, the move was to take place exactly today. Strange, eh?

Who was it that wanted them to be transferred from the National Archives to an ordinary governmental archive?

Not sure, his uncle offered. Why?

Achilles fetched Simplicissimus’ book and showed it to his uncle, who indicated with a nod that he was familiar with it.

Somebody threw the book onto my balcony where I found it this morning, said Achilles. Oh, I forgot to mention that I’m currently in Berlin to meet representatives of the German government.

A short silence ensued. There was urgency in Achilles’ voice when he resumed talking. I suggest that you ask the minister to send reinforcements to the NGCHQ and The City of London Museum as quickly as possible, and let’s hope it’s not too late!

His Uncle William struggled to conceal his scepticism but he would not contradict his nephew for he knew Achilles’ ability to anticipate events based on scanty data. Still, he felt hesitant. First, he thought that Achilles was too hasty in linking the cyberattack to the Farm Hall tapes. Second, he knew that his nephew had the power to initiate an investigation into the cyberattack.

He said, I will contact the minister immediately, Achilles, and get back to you as soon as I have some news.

Achilles was the top negotiator of Organisation Number One, also known as ONO. The organisation had the authority to ask member states to hand over cases involving global security or emergencies. According to its founding statute, which England had ratified and was bound by ONO also had the power to override national sovereignty in these matters. Informed consent was the official doctrine of ONO and negotiation was the method adopted by the organisation to reach consensus on issues of global importance. Disagreements and disputes between global partners had to be resolved in the negotiation chamber. Informed consent was the essence of all negotiations, the basis of all consensuses. No agreement could, therefore, translate into any official policy without it. Informed consent also influenced all cooperation initiatives between ONO and its member states.

In addition to being ONO’s top negotiator, Achilles was also the director of GAIC, the Global Agency for Informed Consent, which was the most powerful agency within the organisation. It was the task of GAIC to achieve informed consent and monitor its enforcement. To this effect, this agency had created two new professions, the negotiators and the rhetoricians. The negotiators were responsible for organising and presiding over the negotiations, and the rhetoricians for leading the debates and creating the conditions for attaining informed consent. The negotiators and rhetoricians played an important role within ONO and, by working closely with GAIC, they ultimately reported to Achilles.

The director general of Organisation Number One was Adam Featherstone. Trained as a physicist and mathematician, as were his parents, Adam came from American technology nobility. This nobility included those who had superior technological and scientific understanding. Achilles was formally second-in-command, but everybody knew that the ONO Director General mainly held a representational role. Adam, however, did not mind this arrangement because it gave him time to use his expertise in other ways. Adam essentially equipped Achilles and ONO staff with sophisticated programs and electronic devices, some of which he had developed himself. In this role, he seemed to have infinite powers.

Achilles sent a message to Adam to inform him about the ongoing cyberattack on England, to which he replied via a video link.

I had expected some attacks, Adam said, but I didn’t expect England to be the target.

How come? Achilles asked.

Just now I am at the MIAI, the Massachusetts Institute for Artificial Intelligence. I have been working with some former colleagues on a new digital membrane, designed to protect our ONO communications and data from external interference. When we were testing the program, perhaps five hours ago, we noticed some disturbances across the networks which, I guess, is when the cyberattack must have started.

Correct! Achilles replied. He then mentioned Noble Simplicissimus. This morning, I found his new book on my hotel balcony, just thrown there by somebody. Are you familiar with it?

I’ve read the book, Adam replied but did not elaborate.

Is his writing of any interest to AI experts?

His theories are known in the technology and scientific community, but—

Yes?

He would need to prove his case to be credible, Adam said.

A missing tape about some hidden uranium?

Perhaps he’s a bit naïve.

Meaning?

"The missing tape, if there is such a thing, Adam said, could be about something else."

Well, what else could those German physicists and chemists at Farm Hall have spoken about?

Perhaps about a new way of splitting the atom, perhaps about new theories.

That sounds very abstract to me, Achilles said. After a brief pause, he asked, Would you call building the atomic bomb a new form of thinking?

Hm, in my view, the atomic bomb was something that interrupted scientific thinking rather than developed it. In those days, the bomb was very much seen as a way to end the war. But my knowledge of the work of those scientists makes me think that they were perhaps also dealing with other issues. Don’t forget that this was the most brilliant scientific generation of all time.

Indeed!

Let’s talk about this when you are back, Adam said, suddenly sounding nervous. Achilles wondered if he was worrying about the safety of their communication, given that the hackers’ attack was still ongoing. But if our devices aren’t safe then no one’s are, Achilles thought to himself.

A few minutes later, his uncle reappeared on screen.

You were correct in your suspicions, Achilles, and I must apologise if I gave you the impression that I was questioning your intuitions. His uncle looked visibly troubled. We’ve just been informed that both the NGCHQ and the CLM have been burglarised and that some material has been removed from their archives.

What exactly?

We are missing an entire NGCHQ filing cabinet that contained the original Farm Hall tapes, the transcripts of the tapes and the original tape recorder. Unfortunately, the copies of the tapes and the tape recorder especially built to listen to them have also vanished from the CLM.

Hm.

This is very bad, Achilles, very bad stuff.

Is the cyberattack under control yet?

Yes, it has come to an end, but the hackers succeeded in inflicting some serious damage.

To Achilles, the whole situation involving a modern hacker attack and the theft of some old tapes from World War Two looked really strange. He was standing at the window lost in his thoughts when he found himself admiring a magnificent white villa that stood opposite the hotel. It had a beautiful garden that stretched all the way across to an artificial lake. He realised, though, that despite its attractiveness this villa would not have appeared so striking had not the neighbouring house looked quite miserable in comparison. It was in total ruins and showing clear signs of vandalism. While he was walking in the area the day before he had also noticed that it had an odd address: Winklerstrasse 10¹/².

He asked the hotel staff about the reasons for such an unusual number, but no one could give him a satisfactory explanation. The prevailing opinion was that the number ten was allocated twice and that after discovering the error the municipal office decided to assign the number ten and a half to the building standing between houses ten and eleven. But why was the house in such poor condition? Again, the hotel staff could only repeat what they had heard. In the summer of 1938, a strong wind had howled for several days and nights until one evening it had grown into such a violent thunderstorm that its flashes of lighting, in hitting the walls repeatedly, had turned them black, and the incessant rain had destroyed parts of the roof and the interior of the house. Yet, despite the massive damages inflicted by the elements, the building had withstood the torment of that night proving that it was a solid house.

That house has stood empty ever since. It’s a cursed place and no one likes it! the hotel owner said to Achilles.

These ominous words were still reverberating in his mind when his junior assistant informed him that Noble Simplicissimus had called and wished to speak with him.

Chapter 2

Noble Simplicissimus and

the Missing Uranium

I was wondering if you’d ever contact me, Simplicissimus said to Achilles. Have you heard what happened?

You tell me, Achilles replied.

He saw that Simplicissimus was fashionably dressed, quite young and had an easy-on-the-eyes style. Only his expression betrayed apprehension, and his voice sounded tired.

Well, Simplicissimus said, England is under a cyberattack which is probably carried out by people who are after something that I think is hidden somewhere in this country, and, by this, I mean a tape full of secrets. He paused to look intently at the screen of a device placed next to the one he was using to communicate with Achilles.

Returning his attention to the ONO top negotiator, he continued, As I was saying, I believe somebody is on the hunt for a tape that might reveal the whereabouts of some Nazi uranium that was originally intended for an atomic bomb but was never used because it disappeared. He again fixed his eyes on the screen of his second device. Ha! There you go, the cyberattack has just stopped!

Wasn’t it warded off an hour or so ago? Achilles asked.

Simplicissimus replied that government security agencies had indeed succeed in stopping the attack an hour ago, but some minor attacks against kindergartens and schools in the north of England, and in poor neighbourhoods, had continued undisturbed for some time and had just ended. The counteroffensive did not rush to their defence, preferring to prioritise London, as always.

Achilles felt bad about the failure to protect the young and the poor.

What else do you know about today’s event? Achilles asked.

The Farm Hall tapes have been stolen!

Not many people know about the theft… Achilles left the sentence hanging to show his surprise.

I’m one of them, Simplicissimus replied, smiling.

How come? Realising, however, that he would ignore his question, Achilles switched to another issue.

As far as I know, the Farm Hall tapes contain no information about the atomic bomb or some lost uranium.

True, true, Simplicissimus said in a friendly tone to avoid giving the impression he was dismissing Achilles’ comment. I don’t think these are the tapes the thieves are interested in. What they want is a tape which was never declassified, and which might contain information about the disappeared uranium.

Why bother with the Farm Hall tapes then?

Perhaps the thieves don’t know where to look for the uranium and, therefore, the Farm Hall tapes might have seemed a good starting point.

Hm.

In my book, I have suggested that by 1945 Nazi Germany possessed a vast quantity of uranium but since only a small quantity was found after the war, the rest must still be hidden in Berlin.

Why Berlin?

Because the uranium project was included in the research activities of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Theoretical Physics at the Berliner Dahlem campus.

There were other research centres, I believe, for example in Leipzig, and from 1943 near Munich, Achilles said.

"Yes, yes! But