It had taken three weeks to repair the damage, every single day spent with higher-ups breathing down his neck. Somehow it was his fault. Then again, it was always his fault.
Even though things were going well now, the physicists and the CERN leadership seemed to regard the magnets as the weak link in the system. As a result, Cochrane was held on a short leash and seemed almost to live at the facility.
It made him angry for a moment, but then he shrugged. Soon enough it would be someone else’s problem.
Cochrane continued through the snow to the train station. To some extent the snow was a plus. It would leave tracks. And he wanted there to be tracks tonight.
He climbed up onto the platform and checked the time. Five minutes till the next train. He was right on schedule. The platform was empty. In five minutes or less he’d be on his way to a new life, one he felt certain would be infinitely more rewarding than his current one.
A voice called out to him. “Alex?”
He turned and gazed down the platform. A man had come up the far stairway and was striding toward him, passing beneath the halogen lamps.
“I thought it was you,” the man said, coming closer.
Cochrane recognized him as Philippe Revior, deputy head of security at the LHC. His throat tightened. He hoped nothing was wrong. Not tonight. Not this night.
Cochrane pulled out his phone to make sure he hadn’t been summoned back. No messages. No calls. What the hell was Revior doing here?
“Philippe,” Cochrane said as cheerfully as he could. “I thought you were prepping for tomorrow’s run.”
“We’ve done our work,” Revior said. “The night crew can handle the rest.”
Cochrane felt suddenly nervous. Despite the cold, he began to sweat. He felt Revior’s arrival had to be more than coincidence. Had they found something? Did they know about him?
“Are you catching a train?” he asked.
“Of course,” the security chief said. “Who drives in this?”
Who drives in this? Three inches of snow was a normal winter day in Geneva. Everyone drove in it.
As Revior moved closer, Cochrane’s mind whirled. All he knew for sure was that he could not have the deputy head of security traveling with him. Not here, not now.
He thought of heading back to the LHC, claiming suddenly that he’d left something behind. He checked his watch. There was not enough time. He felt trapped.
“I’ll ride with you,” Revior said, producing a flask. “We can share a drink.”
Cochrane looked down the tracks. He could hear the sound of the train coming. In the far distance he saw the glow from its lights.
“I, um… I…” Cochrane began.
Before he could finish he heard footsteps from behind, someone coming up the stairs. He turned and saw two men. They wore dark overcoats, open to the elements.
For a second Cochrane assumed them to be Philippe’s men, members of security, or even the police, but the truth was laid bare in the look on Revior’s face. He studied them suspiciously, a lifetime of evaluating threats no doubt telling him what Cochrane already knew, that these men were trouble.
Cochrane tried to think, tried to come up with some solution to avoid what was about to happen, but his thoughts formed like molasses in the cold. Before he could speak the men drew weapons, short-barreled automatics. One pointed at Cochrane and one at Philippe Revior.
“Did you think we would trust you?” the leader of the two men said to Cochrane.
“What is this?” Revior said.
“Shut up,” the second man said, jabbing the gun toward Revior.
The leader of the two thugs grabbed Cochrane by the shoulder and yanked him closer. The situation was spiraling out of control.
“You’re coming with us,” the leader said. “We’ll make sure you get off at the right stop.”
As the second thug laughed and glanced toward Cochrane, Revior attacked, slamming a knee into the man’s groin and tackling him.