5 : Dr Kirby
Dr Kirby remembered when he’d been asked to the Hannover Club. It had been the first and only time he’d been to the club so far. A man fond of his food, the private feast that had been held in his honour had been a perfect welcome into Hannover. His mind took him back to the meal, how he’d leaned back in his seat and congratulated his hosts on the fine steak he’d eaten. He could taste and smell it again now.
Following a well-established custom, the welcome dinner had been arranged shortly after the ceremony marking him out as an initiate member of Hannover. The small number of men around him included only those who had either sponsored him to join or then voted in favour of him joining.
As far as he knew, none had voted against him — but on that point he hadn’t cared. He was in, and that’s what had mattered.
When approached about joining Hannover, he’d sensed he was being let into a secret inner circle, an overdue recognition of his talent as a chemist in the energy field. A rather brilliant one at that, at least in his own estimation. Being very well connected in the business hadn’t hurt either.
However, as time went on, he’d come to realise he was only partly right about joining an inner circle — in truth, it was more of a very outer circle. Hannover was not some gentleman’s club, despite the naming of the place he was about to visit for a second time. He’d come to learn that Hannover was part of the establishment, maybe even was the establishment from what he’d heard since joining.
Despite the disappointment of being a small fish in a very big pond, he’d felt he’d proved himself in the last year and was now wondering if this summons to the Hannover Club marked his time to be allowed further into the circle.
“Doctor Kirby,” the stranger said as a greeting from across the room.
Kirby looked across at someone he guessed to be in his early 40s, slim without being thin and sporting a tan the likes of which Kirby had always felt only the wealthy and leisured could maintain. The well-to-do look was completed by a dark blue tailored suit and mop of oiled hair, finger-combed to one side. He smiled broadly from in front of one of two lounge chairs around a small table, positioned in the far corner of the room, opposite a lit fireplace — a setup in the Hannover Club that Dr Kirby guessed was the staging for all the really important conversations.
“Do come and sit down, terrible weather outside. Well, I see you’re wet!” the man said as Dr Kirby approached. “The driver was supposed to have an umbrella,” he continued, in part to Dr Kirby and in part as a statement to the aide showing him into the room.
“Really no bother, the UK is always wet and windy in autumn,” Dr Kirby replied, offering his hand to the stranger.
“Ah yes, I do apologise.” The man shook Kirby’s hand and gave him a smile. “I’m Steven,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Steven. I haven’t been in this room before, very snug,” Dr Kirby commented while taking a seat.
The aide had already placed Kirby’s hat and coat on a stand and had returned to the two men.
“May I get you anything, sirs?” the man asked.
“Something warming, I suggest. Are you a brandy man, doctor?” Steven asked.
“Not usually before dinner, but I think I can make an exception.”
“Great choice, two brandies, then,” Steven directed as an order to the aide, who walked off to fulfil the request.
“How have you been getting along this…what is it now, nearly two years since you joined us?” Steven asked.
“Almost exactly,” Kirby confirmed.
“Is your Calling going well? Any problems with the things you’re asked to help with?”
Kirby thought for a second, trying to assess if this was a general catch-up or if it was leading somewhere. He stuck with his view that the unusual nature of the meeting meant it was probably leading somewhere. Anyway, even if it wasn’t the case right now, all conversations in Hannover led somewhere eventually.
Over the last couple of years, he’d been involved in minor activities with other Hannover members, who had been slowly revealed to him as opportunities arose. Most of the time, however, he’d politely refused to get involved with their activities if there was no obvious benefit to him.
“All just fine, thank you for asking, Steven. But, if I may be direct, I doubt we’re here for a friendly catch-up. Get to the point, would you?”
With perfect timing, the aide brought over the drinks, deposited them on the table, gave a slight bow, turned and left the men alone in the room.
Steven had noted the comment. It was a perfect example of the breaks in etiquette Kirby had been making since joining. Despite attempts to help him adjust to the Hannover way of doing things, to include him in his level-group, as Hannover called the peer groups they built, Kirby had been consistently uninvolved and consistently had not adjusted to the Hannover way. Steven raised his glass, then swirled it around while inspecting the moving contents.
“To your health,” he offered, taking a sip of the warmed brandy and sitting back in his chair to look directly at Dr Kirby.
Kirby responded by doing the same and waited for Steven to carry on talking, clearly comfortable with the silence.
“We’ve been approached by one of our members to help with a problem they have and I believe you may be able to resolve it,” Steven said after a moment’s pause. “I’m sure you know we have a very special interest in problem solving for our friends here at Hannover. However, do you know the way we go about problem solving, doctor?” Steven asked.
“I’ve started to get the idea, but do explain,” Kirby said, choosing to keep his words brief.
“Very well. We devise what we refer to as a Project. We define the objectives and outcome, set the timescales, find the team and execute a plan. We even have a project sponsor and someone who handles the team. Nothing particularly unusual in all of this, just as you’d expect any organisation to run things,” Steven explained, waving his hand in the air to ensure his words came across in a dismissive way.
“What is unusual, however, are…let’s call them the project drivers and expected outcomes,” Steven continued, now looking directly at Kirby to emphasise this was the bit he needed to carefully listen to. “There is always a significant issue driving someone to request a project. There is always a significant outcome expected. An outcome intended to reshape some other organisation, perhaps a portion of society, perhaps even the world,” Steven stated in a flat and serious tone that made the hairs on the back of Kirby’s neck stand up.
“I see,” Kirby replied, trying to appear relaxed and not entirely sure he was doing a good job of it or of grasping the gravity of what had just been said.
“Do you, doctor?” Steven asked, continuing with his tone. “I ask because it hasn’t appeared to me that you really understand you are part of an organisation, that really is, and has been for hundreds of years, changing and shaping the world.”
Kirby took another sip of his brandy. There was a directness to Steven’s statement that he didn’t like the sound of.
“What I mean, Steven, is that I accept what you say, I’ve no reason to doubt you. Of course, I have no idea how this is done or what my role in it is,” he said.
That’s the problem, Steven thought to himself. He seized on the admission. “Of course you don’t! You’ve shown that in your behaviour,” he replied, causing Kirby to catch his breath in surprise at the pronounced change of tone. Steven continued, “So, let’s talk about that, shall we?” Kirby nodded and said nothing. “Doctor, everyone in your industry knows that you’re a world-class chemist and well connected. That’s useful to us and the challenges our members face. However, one of our members has approached you about joining their company to help solve a problem, and sadly you refused.”
Steven paused to let the point sink in and give Kirby a moment to reflect.
Kirby felt a mild panic rising. He’d tried to be too smart with his relationships in Hannover and it looked like the one-way benefit he’d been enjoying had caught up with him. His mind raced, thinking of who it could be. He hadn’t been seriously approached in a few months, but there were often enquiries and offers of one type or another. Write papers, give talks, provide mentoring. He barely even thought about what people emailed or asked about before making his excuses. Then, suddenly, a face came to mind and he recalled the conversation, a Hannover conversation. When his face lit up, Steven continued.
“Yes, doctor, let’s not name names but we’re talking about Terminal Fuels. I’m sure your peers would have explained themselves well enough to get your engagement and avoid them having to come back to us to intervene. It seems however you weren’t that interested in supporting that member of your level-group.”
“Now I think I know who you mean and what you want to talk about. But let’s not worry about my initial rejection and misunderstanding. That can be set aside. Do continue, Steven.”
Steven nodded. “Whoever gets access to and can market your new bio-fuel formula is going to reshape the way the world looks at oil. The implications for the world are far-reaching indeed. Reduced carbon emissions, higher energy output, lower costs to process and a change in the geo-politics of the world. The list goes on, as they say. You surely understand the commercial and political effects, don’t you, doctor?”
Kirby looked at Steven and for the second time his mind was racing. How had the man known about the new bio-fuel? Now it was apparent that his Hannover peers and Hannover in general knew about what was top-secret research.
As for Steven’s question, the political implications weren’t lost on him at all. To comply with the law, he’d contacted the Department of Energy and Climate Change — or just DECC as they were referred to — as soon as it looked like the research would succeed. They’d cautioned him to keep it secret and had remained in occasional contact, awaiting for him to confirm when the bio-fuel formula would be viable for production.
“I see, so someone at Terminal is a member of Hannover and so is someone at DECC — or maybe someone in DECC has been sneaking secrets to Terminal. Though I suspect the former, given how we operate,” Kirby offered as a summary, attempting to both check his understanding and to show he had a better grip of the situation than he felt he had.
Whatever the case, he now knew what the purpose of this conversation was.
Kirby continued, “Given that, Hannover would like me to move from Cosgrove and take my know-how to Terminal?” he asked outright.
“Of course someone in the government could be a member of Hannover and simply have some other connection with Terminal,” Steven responded, playing the logic game back with Kirby. “But,” he continued, “you are generally correct. The request is to move from where you are now at Cosgrove Research and join Terminal Fuels, accepting their offer, which will be equally as generous despite the fact we’ve had to become directly involved.”
Kirby thought for a moment. Saying no wasn’t really an option, he was clearly being told, not asked. Refusing, apparently a second time, would have consequences he didn’t want to explore.
“I’ll need to see the offer and what the research budget will be. And as I have now, I need my own facility and a team of two researchers dedicated to my lab,” he replied, in an attempt to appear somewhat in charge of the outcome of the conversation.
“Excellent! I knew you’d do what was needed,” Steven said.
“Naturally. Now, before we go further, you should know there is just one problem with my research,” said Dr Kirby.
Steven tipped his head and looked at the doctor, awaiting his explanation of the problem.
“It isn’t stable. The mix turns into a gel, it doesn’t break down fast enough to convert to a useful fuel.” Kirby hesitated, nervous of how Steven would respond, but the man just waited for him to continue. “I haven’t spoken about this to anyone. What we need is an enzyme to further process the fuel and move it to a stable state.”
“I see, this is unfortunate news. Have you done any research around this or do you have any ideas about how to acquire the enzyme?” Steven asked.
“The research hasn’t been successful, as you can no doubt guess, or I wouldn’t be sitting here in embarrassment. However, enzymes are the Holy Grail of bio-fuel production; this is not a new problem.”
“I assume you’re saying an enzyme is already out there, doctor? One you could use?”
“Yes, it was invented years ago, by a brilliant Scandinavian chemist. Do you know the ship called the MV Braer?”
“Of course, doctor, it’s now a wreck off the coast of Scotland somewhere, but wasn’t that just carrying conventional fuel?”
“Yes indeed, light crude was its main cargo, but it had something else. An enzyme that could convert the heavier fuels. Half the reason the oil spill cleared so quickly was that the enzyme was active in the water, breaking the oil down and dispersing it. It’s a long shot, but it may be that there are containers of the enzyme that didn’t get mixed into the fuel, lying at the bottom of the ocean.”
Steven looked thoughtfully across the room and then said, “This is unexpected, but may not be insurmountable. Let me see what I can do. Everything else must proceed as planned,” Steven said. Before Kirby could interrupt, he continued. “From my side, Dr Kirby, there is just one other small detail: your research and any samples currently at the Cosgrove refinery where you are now are not to survive your leaving. It wouldn’t do to have any record of the bio-fuel remain and your new friends embarrassed if they brought it to market.”
Kirby took a few moments to realise what this new twist meant.
“How is that to be done?” Kirby asked. “There are vats and vats of the bio-fuel mix, ready-made for trials. The data is backed up on hard disks within the on-site data centre that I have no access to and papers of the research are likely on several desks. I can’t run around and get rid of it all, can I?”
The doctor looked back at Steven, clearly confused as to what he wanted from him.
“Ah, you’re right, of course. But don’t worry about that, doctor — you just need to make sure you extract enough data and samples to take a complete set of your research with you. In the next few weeks, the project I spoke about will do the rest.”
“You want me to steal the files and samples? Me?” Kirby asked with growing confusion and concern.
“The research is secret, doctor, and complex. Only you know fully what needs to be taken. You have access to it and no one will suspect you’re working with it. We can hardly send some random team of IT experts in to hack systems and hopefully collect the right files from the right places, along with collecting samples and expect no one to notice. We’re not magicians, doctor!”
Steven sat back and calmed himself. This was Kirby through and through. The thing he didn’t get was that he was Hannover: Hannover was the people in it. When Hannover needed something doing it was Hannover people that did it, not some mythical other team. Kirby needed to do his bit.
“When?” Kirby asked.
“Our engineers are already in position to address the data centre. Let’s say the day after tomorrow.”
“Right, that’s quick,” Kirby replied, realising for certain now there was only one expected outcome from this meeting.
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