Professor Owen Gwillim arrived at the security gate of the Pickles Organisation scientific development centre on the dot of nine o'clock on a cool drizzly Lancashire morning. After the last week in the sun of Florida, fine rain caused a shiver to charge unbidden up his spine. The building was a modern nondescript construct of three floors, with only a small plastic sign on the gatehouse to indicate who whom it belonged, the sign merely stated, Pickles International. Every window along its sixty meter length was silvered against prying eyes.
As the LIMO stopped at the barrier a security guard walked smartly from the gatehouse and immediately recognised the Professor, "Good morning Professor Gwillam, welcome to Preston Sir," the guard said, "please follow the orange line to you parking slot, you will find your name on it, the Chairman will meet you there, have a good day Sir."
The LIMO resumed its low hover mode and Owen steered the vehicle along the orange line, as he rounded the building he got his first indication of the size of the site, that was hidden from public view. The front building was built in the shape of a square bracket with the back facing the public road, the main entrance was situated in the centre of this side of the block with parking slots arrayed along each side. As Owen cruised along the road he spotted an orange flashing light in one of the bays, which on closer inspection bore his name. The professor guided the LIMO easily into the bay and powered down, rising from the pilot's seat her moved to collect his brief case and by the time he opened the door, Rick Pickles, was there with a hand outstretched in welcome.
"Let me be the first to welcome you to our little boffin centre Professor," said Pickles.
"I am afraid that your security guard beat you to it on that score Boss," laughed Owen.
"OK Professor, but don't call me 'Boss' we have a partnership here, I supply the facilities and you supply the know-how."
"Right, that's a deal then, I call you Rick and you call me Owen, I'm only Professor when I'm at the University," agreed Owen.
"Done, come on, let's get a coffee and then I'll show you around our establishment."
The two headed for the main entrance, which opened into a foe-marble reception that cut through all three floors, the centre piece seemed to be the biggest and tallest Swiss-cheese plant he had ever seen, the plant actually touched the roof. To the left was a reception desk manned by an attractive receptionist and another security guard, who operated the security barrier between the entrance and the elevators in the back wall. The guard saluted Rick Pickles as he and activated the barrier release, the elevators were the continuous conveyor type that one needed to jump into as the car passed. Both Rick and Owen jumped together into the first available car and were whisked upward to the top floor, where the executive suites were situated.
Pickles' office was much less grand than Owen had expected, functional rather than anything palatial. Rick noticed the look on Owen's face and explained, "Not what you expected? I don't waste money on status offices, yours is identical to this. Please take a seat Owen."
As Owen seated himself in one of the four easy-chairs arranged around a low table, the door opened and an imposing female figure entered carrying a tray with a coffee pot and three cups, "Ah, coffee," said Rick, "Owen meet your P.A. this is Joan, one of this organisation's most valuable assets, so you had better look after her."
Joan Simmons was about six feet two and looked about mid forties, she was dressed in a smart business suit in a very dark red that contrasted with her dusky blond hair, which was worn in plat that reached the middle of her back. "Joan has degrees in business management, a well as two MSc's," Rick said by way of introduction, "How long now Joan" Rick asked as he indicated her to a chair.
"Just coming up to fourteen years Mr Pickles," she answered in a cultured voice that bore just a hint of the Lancashire accent.
"Anything you want to know, Joan's the person to ask," concluded Pickles.
Owen rose from his chair to shake Joan's hand, "Very pleased to meet you Joan."
The talk around the table was general chat, mainly Owen and Joan getting to know each other, then Joan said, "Professor, I think I remember you, from when I did my second MSc, Mechanical Engineering, at Manchester Uni."
"What year was that Joan," asked Owen.
"Twenty twenty-one was my final year, Professor," answered Joan.
"I can't say I remember you Joan, but yes, I was there at that time, I hope I didn't bore you too much," said Owen with a chuckle.
"You two can reminisce later," interrupted Rick, "if you've finished your coffee, we had best get on with the tour, will you come with us Joan?"
"Yes, if you wish Mr. Pickles."
The first stop was at Owen's new office, which, as Rick had suggested was a duplicate of his own office, a desk and high-back swivel chair, a low table with four soft chairs, two filing cabinets, one of which was a high security type, white boards along one wall and a computer/com station. Owen left his case in his office and followed Rick and Joan back down the corridor to the elevators, the floor below was almost totally devoted to laboratories. Some laboratories were chemical and others were biological, with their own bio-hazard areas. One of the laboratories was an electronics area with a positive cleaned atmosphere. The ground floor was the administrative offices, procurement, finance, health and safety, and so on. The small group left the main building via a door in the north wing, and they crossed a garden area and headed toward a line of tall evergreen trees, behind this screen of trees was a high fence that would not have looked out of place surrounding a prison. They passed through another security barrier and entered into another universe.
Before them, laid out like a small town, was the nucleus of the facility, workshops, test beds, an experimental nuclear fusion reactor under the huge dome that formed the centre of the complex. Owen was shown through different areas where dedicated operations took place, "It was here that the EMP pulse canon was developed Owen, I hear you had reason to be thankful for that one when you were back in Israel," explained Rick.
"Yes indeed, young Jo Markson and he father had direct experience of how effective they are," replied Owen.
"At the moment we are working on an Air-pulse Canon," continued Rick, "very effective, invisible, undetectable, and basically harmless, it just renders targets unconscious, sort of knocks the wind out of their sails by winding them." The trio headed toward another building, which bore the designation 'Building E3'. "This is where your designs will be built and tested, the designation 'E' on a building simply means 'electronics', and the '3' tells us it's used for small or portable devices."
"What have you done with my prototype that I gave you, " asked Owen.
"Its in here, but my engineer hasn't been able to make head nor tail of it," Rick said, "come on I'll introduce you."
"Here he is," called Rick, and strode off towards a white-coated figure on the other side of the workshop, "Owen, meet John Harrison, your principle engineer." "Good to meet you John, what have you done with the prototype energy suppressor, tried to back-engineer it, have you?"
Harrison shook hands warmly, "I am so honoured to meet you at last Professor," he said, "I have to say you have been an inspiration to me, I really look forward to working with you."
"Well for a start you can knock off the Professor stuff, I'm Owen from now on, OK," Owen told him.
"Here is your security pass Owen, now I think we will leave you two together," interrupted Rick, "John will show you where the restaurant is, you know where to find us, we'll see you later."
Rick and Joan, left the workshop as Owen and John started discussing things that neither Rich or Joan could understand, Owen didn't even notice them leave.