Alex Barclay - The Caller

‘I’m going to cast now,’ said a guy sitting behind Danny. ‘If you want to see that.’ His voice was a painful fraction too quiet.

‘Did someone say something?’ said Valtry.

The guy blushed.

‘This gentleman right here’s ready,’ said Danny, nodding at him. The guy gave a small smile.

‘Ah, Kelvin,’ said Valtry. ‘OK. Show us what you’re doing.’

‘Why don’t you?’ said Joe.

Valtry paused. ‘Pardon me?’

‘Why don’t you talk us through it?’ said Joe.

‘Kelvin is an excellent-’

‘We can tell,’ said Danny, ‘but hey, you’re the guy with all the diplomas on the wall, let’s see you do your thing. After that bit of video footage I saw, I sure as hell…’

‘Fine,’ said Valtry.

He led them to a bench at the back of the lab and two small ovens with fold-down doors. Beside it was a machine he leaned into to wind a large metal centrifuge.

‘What’s that?’ said Joe.

‘A cast-off oven,’ said Valtry. ‘You’ll see what it does in a minute. I’ve just wound the centrifuge there and locked it in place.’

He put on gloves and picked up some tongs, opening the oven and taking out the small plaster cylinder with the tooth-shaped hole at the centre. He placed it on the work bench.

Kelvin walked past and leaned into the cast-off oven.

‘I wound that already,’ said Valtry.

Kelvin frowned. ‘Well, there’s a screw lying down there that’s popped off, so… did you know that, Mr Valtry? I hope you knew that,’ he said, teasing the boss with the backup of two strangers.

Valtry blushed. ‘I did know that. I was testing you.’ He laughed badly. ‘Maybe you could put that back on. And wind it again.’

Kelvin smiled as he did it.

Valtry unhooked a blowtorch from the side of the machine, pulled down the oven door and lit it from the element glowing orange inside. ‘This flame here is not hot enough to melt the gold, but once I mix it with oxygen…’ He turned a valve on a tall green cylinder beside him and a thin blue flame shot from the torch. ‘I now have a flame that is extremely hot. Three thousand degrees hot. So what we’re going to do is shoot the metal through the hole and when it goes in, now you get a crown made of metal, it’s not made of wax any more.’

‘They might need to wear the glasses,’ said Kelvin.

‘Yes,’ said Valtry. ‘Can you get our friends some glasses?’

Kelvin handed them some eye protectors. ‘Look, then look away. Don’t stare too long at it.’

‘He’s using gold today,’ said Valtry, ‘so we put the gold ingots into the crucible here. I take the ring-’

Kelvin pointed to the crucible. ‘Uh, don’t forget to preheat the

…’

‘Thank you, again, Kelvin,’ said Valtry, his voice tight and upbeat. ‘I take my torch and start by preheating the crucible until it’s a nice cherry red. Then I put my ingots into the crucible. With the torch here, I melt the gold until it’s liquid, it takes about sixty seconds. I take the ring out, put it right here in front of the crucible. When I shut the lid, it’s going to start spinning and the centrifugal action shoots the gold right through the hole and into my mould. One, two three…’

He shut the glass lid and a dazzling circle of white light spun with the centrifuge underneath.

‘Maybe we should shut off all the gas and stuff,’ said Kelvin. ‘I can do that.’

‘Thank you,’ said Valtry.

Kelvin shut off the torch, pulled out the tube from the gas supply and turned off the oxygen.

‘Right, this is done,’ said Valtry. He pushed on a lever at the centre of the machine, pressed a red button, opened the lid and used tongs to take out the plaster ring.

‘I’m going to leave that for an hour to let everything go back to room temperature. When I break that open, inside it is a gold tooth. After that, it’s a matter of trimming and polishing. And when that’s done, we start doing all the cosmetic stuff that everybody sees – adding the ceramic or porcelain or whatever. But you need that metal foundation for strength.’

‘So it’s the leftovers of that trimming and polishing that gets sent to the refinery,’ said Joe.

‘Yes,’ said Valtry.

‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘Well thanks for showing us how you work.’

‘Yeah,’ said Danny. ‘Thanks.’

Ushi Gahr smiled at them as they walked past. Out in the hallway, Joe turned to Danny. ‘Gas, blowtorches, flames, molten metal… very nice tools for some psycho to have to play with.’

Shaun Lucchesi was stretched out in front of the television with a bottle of beer in his hand and a packet of tortilla chips in his lap.

‘For crying out loud,’ said Joe. ‘It’s seven o’clock on a Monday night, Shaun. Do you really think having a beer is a good idea?’

‘Uh-huh,’ said Shaun, still looking at the screen. He raised the bottle to his lips.

Joe watched him until he decided he couldn’t take any more.

‘This is all wrong,’ he said, walking over and grabbing the beer out of his hand.

Shaun sat up. ‘What the hell?’

‘I’ve had enough,’ Joe shouted. ‘Your attitude sucks.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘Stop it,’ said Joe. ‘Just shut the fuck up.’

Shaun’s mouth dropped open.

Joe sat down, rubbing his forehead. ‘I apologize,’ he said. He glanced over at Shaun. He looked lost. But his whole family had changed in a year. And he hadn’t spent any of that time dealing with it.

Joe spoke quietly. ‘Look, Shaun. I’m sorry. I’m worried about you. So’s your mom.’

Shaun sighed. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re not,’ said Joe. ‘And I know you know that deep down.’

Shaun shrugged. Joe was looking at the same bored indifference he showed his father at eighteen. He couldn’t work out if it made it easier or pissed him off more.

‘There really is a difference between drinking now and when I was eighteen,’ said Joe.

‘Yes,’ said Shaun. ‘You probably wore bell-bottoms while you were doing it.’

‘Maybe,’ said Joe. ‘But seriously, it was different. We didn’t drink that much, that young.’

‘It’s not like I’ve a major problem.’

‘Famous last words,’ said Joe. Shaun shrugged.

‘Shaun, listen. You’re drinking, heavily, four nights a week. It won’t end well. Why are you drinking so much?’

‘I’m not. No-one else is getting crap from their parents about it.’

‘Maybe no-one else cares this much about their kids.’

Shaun rolled his eyes.

‘Come on,’ said Joe. ‘I’m talking to you about this calmly. There’s no argument going on here. But let me tell you, there will be.’

Shaun stared at the floor.

‘If you’re drinking to forget… things,’ said Joe. ‘That’s when me and your mom get worried. We know what you’ve been through more than anyone. Your friends don’t. You’re just one part of a big group. No-one there is thinking about each individual person and whether or not it’s a good idea for them to get wasted every night. They don’t care.’

‘Yes, they do,’ said Shaun.

‘No they don’t. Has anyone had one conversation with you about what happened in Ireland?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ said Shaun. ‘They know stuff, but not from talking to me.’

‘And they still think it’s a good idea for you to get wasted every night.’

‘It’s not down to them,’ said Shaun. ‘I’m my own person. I make my own decisions.’

‘Well, you’re making some very bad ones. And we’re not gonna stand by and take it. So here’s the deal: you get Saturday nights to go out. Friday, you can catch a movie with Tara or whoever, but no drinking. Every other night of the week, you’re home here. By 10.30.’