‘I take it Sir Geoffrey has explained why we brought you to this building. There are quite a few people we want to examine you, and it’s a bit more convenient to bring them here than to cart you all over the country. I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but a State of Emergency has been declared. We have to find some answers, very, very quickly.’
She led them into an office and asked them to sit. She perched on the edge of a desk. ‘Now, the first thing. Have either of you eaten this morning?’ She smiled at their shaking heads. ‘Right, we’ll soon fix that. Not much for you, I’m afraid, Mr Holman. We have a few tests to put you through that won’t allow it. However, we’ll give you enough to sustain you. We don’t want you passing out on us, do we?’
Holman felt himself almost mesmerized by her words and began to relax, a combination of his own tiredness, the soft chair he was sitting in and the easy manner in which she was talking to him.
‘While you’re eating, you can tell me all that’s happened to you – and I’d appreciate it if you tried to leave out nothing. The smallest thing could be of the greatest importance.’ She picked up the telephone and pressed a button, then ordered breakfast for them both.
Holman snatched a glance at Barrow who seemed distinctly uneasy in his non-active role.
‘Oh, please call me Jan, by the way,’ she told them as she replaced the receiver. ‘Now, as I’ve already said, we have an extremely busy day ahead of us here. We have every facility we need and the best medical brains are either already here or on their way. I can promise you, we’ve wasted no time in the past couple of hours.
‘Let me tell you briefly who will examine you. I won’t mention all the names because I can’t remember half of them myself, but most of them are from these Units: Cellular Disorders; Infectious and Immune Diseases; Psychiatry and Nervous Disorders; Biochemical Parasitology; Neurobiological Studies; Brain Metabolism; Cell Mutation; Molecular Genetics; Immunochemistry and Cellular Immunology; Molecular Pharmacology; Neurological Prostheses and Neuropsychiatry.’ She smiled at Holman. ‘Two others: Environmental Radiation and I believe the Ministry of Defence is sending us some of their Chemical Defence and Microbiological researchers.’
He sat there stunned and frightened and she hastily tried to reassure him. ‘As you can see a lot of these divisions won’t even come into it, we just have to have them at hand in case they’re necessary.’ She smiled her disarming smile again.
Holman was silent for a moment, a troubled look on his face. Then, he spoke. ‘Two Units stuck in my mind, one I think you tried to hide among the others.’
She still smiled. ‘And they were?’ she asked.
‘The obvious one was Environmental Radiation. The other was Cell Mutation.’
She looked at him keenly and said without any hint of patronization: ‘I can see you’re very sharp, Mr Holman – may I call you John?’
He nodded.
‘Yes, I did bury it among the others, I didn’t want to alarm you. As I said, many of these divisions of investigation will be a waste of time. I think Cell Mutation will be one of these – but we have to be sure. You do see that? We can’t leave anything to chance. As for Environmental Radiation – well, that’s an obvious one in this day and age, isn’t it?’
‘But what exactly can you find out from me? I mean, I’m cured, aren’t I?’
‘First of all, information, John. I’ve already spoken on the phone to the doctors who treated you in Salisbury. Their description of your symptoms was helpful, but I’m afraid very inadequate. By examining you, we can find to what extent your brain was damaged – if it was your brain. I think you are cured, certainly, but we may still find lingering signs of what caused it. Like a blow would leave a bruise, a cut would leave a scar.’
‘But wouldn’t that necessitate surgery?’
She laughed. ‘No, I don’t think so, not in your case.’ She became serious once more. ‘We have plenty of dead bodies we can examine in that way.’
‘And what about Casey?’
‘Miss Simmons? We’ll try to cure her.’
The door opened and their breakfast was wheeled in on a trolley. Janet Halstead reached behind her and switched on a tape recorder.
‘Now, John,’ she said. ‘Take your time and tell us everything you know about this mysterious fog. Start at the beginning and try to leave nothing out.’
The rest of the day was just a blur to Holman. He was probed, tested, examined, interrogated. He was given an electrocardiograph to test his heart; his entire body was X-rayed; a radio-opaque substance was injected into the arterial system of his brain to show up any deformation of the normal pattern in order to trace any space-occupying lesion; electrodes were placed on the surface of his head over the occipital and frontal region to discover any evidence of a tumour; a small amount of cerebrospinal fluid was drained by a needle introduced into the subarachnoid space below the termination of his spinal cord and tested. All these, and many more tests, were carried out on his and Casey’s bodies and by late afternoon he was allowed to fall into an exhausted sleep.
He awoke several hours later to find Barrow slumped in a chair by his bedside, soft snoring noises droning from him. As Holman sat up, the policeman stirred and quickly woke, casting an anxious eye towards the bed. He grinned and rubbed his face.
‘You were out for the count,’ he said to Holman.
‘You weren’t doing too bad yourself,’ Holman answered flatly.
‘Yeah, but I’m a light sleeper.’ He looked at Holman ruefully. ‘Look, what about calling a truce? I know I was a bit rough on you, but it was pretty fantastic, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘Well, I’m sorry.’
‘Okay, let’s forget it. Actually, I’m surprised you’re still around.’
‘Special duty, mate. I’m your bodyguard. You’re an important person. You’ve got another one outside.’
‘Do they think somebody’s going to assassinate me, or – do they think I’m going to run away?’ His face took on an incredulous look as he hoisted himself up further in the bed.
Barrow was slightly flustered. With a sigh, he said, ‘I’ll be honest; they’re playing safe. Don’t forget the effect this gas has had on others; we don’t really know if you’ve recovered yet, do we?’
‘All right, I get it,’ said Holman, resigned. ‘Tell me what’s been happening while I’ve been asleep.’
‘Quite a lot. A couple of hours ago the doctors and researchers went into a confab. I don’t know what it was all about but they were having a go at those blokes from Porton Down, the Microbiological Research scientists. They were being evasive and finally refused to answer any more questions until they’d seen their Minister.’
‘It all seems to point in the same direction, doesn’t it,’ Holman commented.
‘Yeah,’ said Barrow dryly, ‘you could say that. Anyway, they went off to the Ministry of Defence about an hour ago, leaving the others in quite a rage. They’re carrying on with their work, but they’re not very happy about it.’
‘How’s Casey?’
‘I don’t know, but I’ll get the Medical Officer. She wanted to be informed when you woke.’ He walked to the door and gave instructions to the uniformed policeman outside to find Janet Halstead.
‘What’s happened with the fog?’ asked Holman as the Detective Inspector returned to his chair.
‘They found it, you know that, and luckily the winds have died down so it’s drifting along at a very slow rate. It’s an incredible sight, apparently, about a mile wide and a mile high.’
‘It’s grown.’ The fact disturbed Holman. ‘When I saw it last, it was half that size.’
‘Yeah, they know it’s growing. It’s becoming thicker in density, too, a sort of dingy yellow colour. They’ve been spraying it all day to get it to disperse, but I don’t know if they’ve had any success. They’re evacuating Winchester anyway, just to be on the safe side, and the Met Office is keeping a constant check on wind shifts.??
?
‘And how has the public reacted?’
‘As you’d expect. Panic. Fear. Accusations. The press are having a field day.’
‘And what answer have they been given?’
‘Nothing official yet. Just that a grand-scale investigation is taking place and a statement will be made by the Prime Minister later this evening. But they’ve implied a poisonous gas has drifted in from the sea and caused the disaster in Bournemouth.’
‘My God, are people falling for it? What about the eruption?’
‘No connection. At least that’s the answer that’s been given.’
‘The school! What about the school?’
‘Er, news of that hasn’t been released.’
‘But they can’t hush something like that up! What have the parents got to say?’
‘As far as they know, their sons were killed in an accidental fire. In three major disasters concerning the lives of thousands, the school incident has been easily swallowed up.’
‘Three? What are the three?’
‘The eruption, Bournemouth and the crash this morning of the 747 into the GPO Tower.’
‘How many were killed in that?’
‘It hasn’t been ascertained yet. It’s estimated at least a thousand. There were two hundred and eighty-six on the jumbo alone, God knows how many were in the Tower and the offices around it.’
The air hung heavily in the small hospital-like room for several moments as both men tried to grasp the magnitude of the tragic events that had taken place. It was completely beyond their comprehension, somehow unreal. And it was the unreality of the situation that enabled them to cope.
‘Does the public know about the fog?’ It was Holman who broke the silence.
‘Yes, they’re aware. It’s hardly a thing that could be kept a secret – a mile wide, a mile high. They had to be informed anyway, to get them to move out of its path.’
‘And how have they reacted to that?’
‘General hyster—’
The door opened and Janet Halstead entered, interrupting Barrow’s answer.
‘Hello, John, how are you feeling?’ Her smile was a little more strained than it had been that morning.
‘I’m fine. Tell me about Casey.’
‘Her condition is deteriorating, John. I have to be honest with you, there’s been enough evasiveness in this place for one day.’ She sat on the edge of his bed. ‘But there is a chance.’
He looked up at her, hopefully.
‘We are pretty sure we know what is happening. We’ve had some of the finest minds in the country working on it. The autopsies have provided us with the answers. But we need to know the cause, John. We can’t be sure until we know the cause. And that’s what I meant when I mentioned evasiveness.’
‘Tell me exactly what you mean.’
‘We all feel – that is, the members of the Medical Research Council – that the Chemical and Microbiological Researchers from the Ministry of Defence are holding out on us. You see, in their tests, they seemed to know exactly what it was they were looking for, as though they were not looking for an answer but for confirmation of an answer they already had.
‘We began to realize this as their tests progressed. There was no trial and error in their methods – they knew exactly what they were doing. Well, we let them finish and then we confronted them. But they clammed up, wouldn’t say a word. They demanded that they see their Minister as only he had the authority to allow them to reveal their discovery – or affirmation.’
‘The bastards – they’re covering up!’ Holman leapt from the bed. ‘Barrow, you get me Sir Trevor Chambers. He’ll get some answers for us. If he doesn’t, I’m going to blow this thing sky high!’
‘I’ll get him, Holman, but there’s nothing you can do personally. They’ll lock you away,’ said Barrow in a matter-of-fact voice.
‘Just get him! We’ll see!’
‘Okay, okay. But keep calm, eh?’
‘Yes, John,’ said Janet Halstead firmly. ‘It’s no good getting excited, it won’t help anyone. The first thing you must do is eat. I think we’ve found all we need to know from you; some results have still to come in, but I think they’ll only confirm our suspicions. Now, let me order you some food while Inspector Barrow gets in touch with Sir Trevor, then I can put you in the picture as to our findings today.’
14
Two hours later, Holman found himself sitting between Janet Halstead and Sir Trevor Chambers in one of the spacious conference rooms at the Ministry of Defence. Sir Trevor had heeded his call from the Research Centre in Alexander Fleming House and made suitable bellowing noises in the right ears. They were soon to learn that the fuss was unnecessary; the Ministry had adopted a new policy of honesty – to a limited few, anyway. And they hadn’t exactly adopted the policy willingly. They had been instructed to do so by a higher authority.
As he waited for the meeting to begin, Holman looked down the length of the long oak table and studied the faces deep in murmured conversation with their immediate neighbours. He recognized some of them and had been introduced to others on his arrival. He tried to remember the names and titles while he waited: the Home Secretary, Charles Lyall-Smith, looking calm and unruffled as always; the Minister of State for Defence, Lord Gibbon, and his Principal Private Secretary, deep in conversation with the Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Defence for the Army, William Douglas-Glyne and his Principal Private Secretary; the big, bluff Chief of Defence staff, Sir Hugh Dowling, bellowing good humouredly across the table at the Chief of the General Staff, General Sir Michael Reedman, and his Vice-Chief, Lieutenant-General Sir Keith Macklen; the Chief Scientific Adviser, Professor Hermann Ryker, silently studying a document in front of him, underlining certain points with a pencil. There were others seated away from the table whose function was not clear to Holman, but three were dressed in military uniforms.
The Home Secretary rapped the table with his fountain pen to bring the meeting to order. ‘Gentlemen,’ he began, ‘and lady,’ he smiled briefly at Janet Halstead, ‘you all know the facts; this evening’s meeting is to inform you of how it happened and then to discuss a plan of action. I’ve been in constant touch with the Prime Minister who is at this very moment flying back from Russia. He regrets not being with us in this crisis, but does not wish any action we may take to be delayed because of his absence. It’s a great pity his visit to Russia had to be cut short so abruptly – any such trips are of the highest diplomatic importance – but obviously, the safety of the country takes priority over any other matter. He has asked me to inform you that any action we decide upon this evening, he will endorse on his arrival, so there is to be no delay in implementing our plans, whatever they may be.
‘His prime instruction is this: there is to be no information withheld by any Ministry from the people in this room tonight. I have had private talks with Lord Gibbon and Douglas-Glyne and have passed the facts that emerged from our conversations on to the PM. He is quite explicit that there is to be no cover-up between ourselves. Tonight’s meeting will not indulge in accusations or blame-shedding; we are here to find solutions! The safety of millions is at stake – let’s be quite clear on that issue. The catastrophes that have taken place have not been unrelated incidents. You know of the major disasters, but I can assure you there have been many, many small incidents with the same tragic consequences.
‘A few of us in this room now know the cause of these outbreaks; it is my intention that you all know, so that we can combine our various skills to combat this growing – and I mean that literally – threat.’
He looked along the table, allowing his words to take their effect. Then he turned to the Minister of State for Defence, seated on his left, and said, ‘Richard, will you repeat the information you gave me earlier?’
Lord Gibbon leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his thick hands clasped tightly before him. ‘Gentlemen, I’m afraid the Ministry of Defence has to take a large amount of responsibility for—
’
‘We are not here to apportion blame, Richard. Just tell us the facts,’ the Home Secretary snapped irritably.
‘Very well.’ The big man straightened up as though relieved and proceeded in a brisk business-like manner, throwing off his look of guilty admission completely. ‘If we are to start at the beginning we must go back fifteen years, to our Microbiological Research Establishment at Porton Down and a brilliant scientist named Broadmeyer. His speciality was bacteriological warfare.’
Holman felt a coldness grip him. He had been right! The stupid bastards had been responsible.
‘Professor Broadmeyer was a brilliant man in many ways,’ Lord Gibbon continued. ‘Perhaps too brilliant. He discovered – or invented – an organism that could affect the brains of man or animal.’
‘May we be more accurate than that.’ A slightly accented voice interrupted. All eyes swung round towards Professor Hermann Ryker, the Chief Scientific Adviser.
‘Yes, Professor Ryker?’ said the Home Secretary.
‘He did not invent, he did not discover,’ Ryker said gravely. ‘He mutated. He took an organism known as mycoplasma and mutated it.’ He was silent again.
‘Perhaps you would like to continue, Professor. You’re more of an authority on this kind of thing than I am,’ said the Defence Minister.
‘Yes,’ Ryker admitted dryly. He looked around at the assembly. ‘Broadmeyer was a brilliant man – I studied under him for many years – but he was, what shall we say, a little irresponsible. He mutated the mycoplasma so that if it entered the bloodstream it would attack the healthy existing cells and travel as a parasite to the brain. I am sure Mrs Halstead knows of the Rhesus factor,’ – she nodded in acknowledgement – ‘where a mother produces a mental defect because of antigenic incompatibility between the mother and foetus. In analogical theory the same process takes place except that the disease is transmitted to the host’s brain rather than a foetus.