The Lazarus Strain

THREE

‘Gentlemen, the Home Secretary has asked me to convene this first meeting of the Earlybird sub-committee of the Joint Intelligence Committee in response to information received. As you are all aware, the JIC set up Earlybird in the wake of the Butler Inquiry and in accordance with its mandate to set up committees and sub-committees as it sees fit. Earlybird is seen as an appropriate vehicle for the early discussion of security alerts to those not directly concerned with the security of our nation but who, nevertheless, might be regarded as interested parties and who might have an input to make — thus broadening interpretation of such alerts.’

The Home Office minister turned to a man wearing army uniform and said. ‘Colonel Rose, as the current information emanates from Defence Intelligence Services, perhaps you would care to take over?’

‘Thank you, Minister, and good morning, ladies and gentlemen. In recent weeks DIS have correlated from a number of impeccable sources information that leads us to believe that al-Qaeda are becoming increasingly active in the UK.’

‘Would these be the same ‘impeccable’ sources that gave us weapons of mass destruction and 45 minute deployment?’ asked John Macmillan, head of the Sci-Med Inspectorate. The comment attracted glares from several of the others round the table.

‘I think that was uncalled for, John,’ said the Home Office minister.

Macmillan acquiesced with a slight hand gesture, which did not quite amount to an apology.

‘Please continue, Colonel.’

‘On the face of it, we appear to have been successful in diverting a 9/11 style attack on Canary Wharf and a planned second offensive on Heathrow Airport.’

‘You’ve made arrests?’

‘We have had a number of suspects undergoing interrogation for the past two weeks,’ replied Rose. ‘As a result of these interrogations we were able to reach certain conclusions.’

‘Then congratulations appear to be in order.’

‘Unfortunately, we think not,’ said Rose. ‘In fact, we think we’ve been had.’

‘How so?’

‘None of the people we picked up are, in our view, capable of planning or executing such attacks. Without exception, they were all low-level operatives, foot soldiers who knew very little… except for the targets.’

‘And that makes you suspicious?’

‘It makes us think that we have been fed false information. We now believe that al-Qaeda have sacrificed a number of foot soldiers, fresh from their training camps, in an effort to create a diversion. But the million dollar question is for what? What are they going to do while we sit congratulating ourselves on smashing a planned attack that never was?’

‘Are you absolutely sure that you’re reading the situation correctly, Colonel?’ asked a commander in the Metropolitan Police. ‘I mean, can you afford to ignore any threat to Canary Wharf and Heathrow?’

‘That is not up to me,’ replied Rose. ‘I can only offer DIS’s reading of the situation.’

‘And that is why we would like your input, ladies and gentlemen?’ said the Home Office minister. ‘To a certain extent, al-Qaeda’s success on September 11 2001 has played against them. You can’t really follow up something like that with a few car bombs and a couple of home videos. To maintain credibility they have to top 9/11 in terms of impact on public consciousness. Or at least equal it. Now that President Bush has been re-elected the pressure is really on them to do something sooner rather than later. Are they really going to try for a second 9/11 or do they have something else in mind… equally big?’

‘We need more information. Do we have any?’

‘No,’ said Rose. ‘The people we’re holding know nothing.’

‘You’re sure of that?’

‘We’re sure.’

‘Well, I don’t think we can completely ignore the threat even if DIS does think it’s a bluff,’ said the London Fire Brigade representative.

‘Deciding what to ignore is of course, a perennial problem,’ said the Home Office minister. ‘But with so many threats coming in on an almost daily basis… difficult decisions have to be made. We can’t give priority to all of them.’

‘We can still heighten security at Westminster, airports, military establishments…’ said the police commander.

‘We’re just covering our backsides by doing that,’ said John Macmillan. ‘If Colonel Rose is right about the threat being a diversion — and I for one believe that he is — it will do nothing at all to help determine what al-Qaeda really has in mind.’

‘But of course, a general heightening of security would…’ began the Home Office minister.

‘With respect sir, every time we hear about any kind of threat we get declarations of ‘heightened security’. Maybe I’m missing something here but shouldn’t it already be at a very high level? In fact, shouldn’t it already be at the highest level possible?’

‘As I see it, it’s a question of manpower,’ said the police commissioner. ‘Given enough resources we can increase presence in all key areas and if my recommendations for changes to Westminster security arrangements were to be accepted instead of being obstructed at every…’

‘They just might be able to stop any Tom, Dick or Harry climbing Big Ben whenever he feels like it or waving to the crowd from the balcony at the palace. No, I was thinking more about the limitations of our security measures rather than contemplating more of the same,’ said Macmillan.

The room went deathly quiet.

‘Maybe you should say what’s on your mind, John?’

Macmillan took a deep breath as if knowing he was about to go into battle against insurmountable odds. ‘When all’s said and done, security measures are really all about trying to stop what already happened yesterday,’ he said. He paused to allow the expected snorts of disapproval fill the air and then subside.

‘Go on,’ said the Home Office minister.

‘Cockpit doors are locked on September the twelfth not the tenth — which would have been a damned sight more useful — shoes are examined at airports the day after the shoe bomber appears on the scene. It’s a depressing fact but security is all about locking stable doors the day after the horse has bolted.’

‘Well, none of us has a crystal ball,’ said the Home Secretary.

‘No, but perhaps we should recognise that ‘security measures’ as we know them have their limitations. At best, they might stop the same thing happening again but are the opposition really only intent on repeating past glories? I think not. Does anyone really believe that Bin Laden has been sitting in a cave planning a carbon copy of the 9/11 operation? Of course not. They will have moved on. They will be dreaming up new, imaginative ways of causing mayhem while we content ourselves with ‘heightening security’. And from what Colonel Rose has said, it very much sounds as if they are about to embark on one of them if they haven’t already done so.’

‘So what do you suggest?’ asked the Home Secretary.

‘We must think like the opposition,’ said Macmillan. ‘In addition to rings of steel and gun-toting policemen we need people with imagination and vision who can put themselves in the terrorists’ position, people who can look at a given situation and imagine the worst possible scenario arising from it.’

‘I think the intelligence services already cover this,’ said Colonel Rose.

‘I don’t think they do’ said Macmillan. ‘JIC certainly appoints people with good analytical brains who, in conjunction with the intelligence services of our allies, analyse and correlate information gathered on the ground and from the airwaves and appraise it… but only if it is considered relevant in the first place.’

‘Of course,’ said Rose. ‘Where’s the problem?’

Macmillan sighed and took a moment to get his thoughts in order before saying, ‘There’s no problem with that except that it’s applied research. Someone has already decided where the starting point is and what the end product should be.’

‘Sorry, I’m not with you,’ said Rose. There were nods of agreement.

‘I suppose what I am highlighting is the difference between applied research and blue-sky research.’

‘I take it by “blue sky” you mean, research for the sake of research and nothing else?’ said the Home Office minister.

‘Exactly. It may sound self-indulgent in these focused times but throughout history that is exactly where most of man’s advances in knowledge have come from: simple human curiosity being given its head: an intelligent person notices something interesting or unusual and picks away at it until an explanation is found. If we’d always been restricted to applied research we’d be sitting here wearing nylon bearskins and carrying very sharp axes.’

The Home Office minister smiled and said, ‘So we should all adopt the Sci-Med approach to investigation; is that what you’re suggesting John?’

‘Not exactly, Minister, it’s really a different way of looking at things I’m advocating.’ replied Macmillan.

‘You’ve lost me,’ said the police commander.

‘And me,’ agreed several others.

The Home Office minister explained. ‘The Sci-Med computers are programmed to collect and collate information from the world of science and medicine in this country and pick up on any unusual trends or traits. Once identified, John’s team of investigators take over and pick away until they see if there’s anything to worry about. Is that right, John?’

‘In a nutshell, yes, Minister,’ said Macmillan, deferring to the man who officially represented his boss, the Home Secretary. The Sci-Med Inspectorate came within the jurisdiction of the Home Office although permitted to act independently when it came to investigations.

‘Well, we’ve certainly had cause to be grateful in the past to Sci-Med for what they’ve come up with out of the blue — if you’ll pardon the pun,’ continued the Home Secretary. ‘So you are suggesting a similar approach for the security services, is that correct?’

‘Yes, Home Secretary, I suppose I am, in addition to their normal modes of operation they should broaden their horizons — think laterally — give rein to their imagination.’

‘Interesting concept.’

‘And doomed to failure,’ said Colonel Rose.

‘Why so?’

‘Sci-Med only looks at things pertinent to science and medicine and only in this country. The intelligence community operates on a global scale. Any attempt to use the Sci-Med system would founder on the sheer volume of information we collect, sir — the same problem that overwhelmed the Nimrod air reconnaissance programme, if you remember: it collected too much information to analyse.’

‘It was logging every car on the M1, as I remember,’ smiled the Home Office minister.

‘That’s where people come in,’ said Macmillan. ‘Human intuition: computers don’t have that: they can’t decide what’s interesting and what’s not. Everything is given equal billing. You need people with imagination to pick out the cherries from the stones.’

‘That’s what JIC people do,’ said Rose.

‘With blinkers on,’ said Macmillan. ‘They’re told what to look for.’

‘Blinkers have their place if they stop a horse from being distracted by irrelevance.’

‘But you’ve already decided what is irrelevant before anything appears,’ said Macmillan.

‘Gentlemen, I think if we spend any more time arguing along these lines we’ll end up discussing Zen Buddhism and the meaning of life,’ said the Home Office minister. ‘I think what John’s been saying is very interesting but perhaps it should be considered again in less fraught times. What we have to consider right now is how we should be reacting to a possible but undetermined threat if the DIS interpretation of recent events is correct.’

‘The Met of course will be put on heightened alert,’ said the police commissioner.

‘As will my people,’ added the fire chief.

Macmillan just shrugged.

‘Well, I think that is about as much as any of us can do at this stage, ladies and gentlemen,’ said the Home Secretary. You will of course be kept informed of any developments as and when they occur.’

‘And when the unexpected comes to call, God help us all,’ murmured Macmillan.

Macmillan left Downing Street and returned to the Home Office where he closed his office door and slumped down into the chair behind his desk to stare up at the ceiling for a few moments. He knew he should have been more circumspect about criticising traditional security measures but frustration had got the better of him as it did every time he saw the armed police wandering around the concourse at Heathrow. Just what the hell did they think they were going to do with automatic weapons in a crowded hall? The intercom buzzer interrupted his train of thought and his secretary, Jean Roberts, said, ‘Steven Dunbar is here.’

‘Send him in.’

‘Sounds like a bear with a sore head,’ whispered Jean Roberts to the tall man in the dark blue suit and Parachute Regiment tie. ‘Careful as you go.’

Dr Steven Dunbar, medical investigator with the Sci-Med Inspectorate, smiled and walked into Macmillan’s room as he had done so often in the past. He liked John Macmillan and would be ever grateful to him for rescuing him from the prospect of a dull career in either the pharmaceutical industry or in-house medicine when his service career had ended.

He had known well enough when the time had come for him to leave the armed forces in his mid thirties that an army career with the Parachute Regiment and Special Forces, in which he had become an expert in field medicine, had done little to further his chances of climbing the career pole in domestic medicine. He had simply missed the boat. There was little or no demand for a doctor with the skills of a commando or the ability to operate on wounded comrades in the jungles of South America or the deserts of the Middle East.

Fortunately for him, John Macmillan had appeared on the scene to offer him the job with the Sci-Med Inspectorate where he would be employed as a medical investigator in an organisation he had never heard of but to which he had taken like a duck to water.

Sci-Med operated as a small independent unit within the Home Office. Its function was to monitor events developing in science and medicine in the UK and spot early indications of possible problems or crimes that the police might not have the necessary expertise to either see or investigate. Sci-Med investigators were either medical or science graduates but with many other skills acquired in the course of widely varied careers. New graduates were not recruited to Sci-Med. It was Macmillan’s view that they didn’t know enough about life. All Sci-Med people had to have demonstrated high levels of intelligence and resourcefulness in other walks of life and had to have, above all else, that most valuable of attributes in Macmillan’s book — common sense in abundance.

‘How are you?’ asked Macmillan.

‘Refreshed and relaxed,’ smiled Steven. ‘Unlike you by the look of things…’

‘I’ve just been to a top level security meeting,’ said Macmillan. ‘Apparently al-Qaeda are getting restless. Intelligence suggests they’re going to mount a big operation but we don’t know what and we don’t know where.’

‘Sounds like a challenge,’ said Steven.

‘Apparently, we are ‘heightening security’,’ said Macmillan ruefully.

Steven smiled. He knew that this was a particular hobby horse of Macmillan’s. ‘Be extra vigilant about nail scissors on Boeing 747s, you mean?’

‘That sort of thing,’ agreed Macmillan. ‘Confiscate one passenger’s pen knife while all the others trot on board with glass bottles full of duty-free. What would you rather face, someone with a broken bottle or a pen knife?’

‘Luckily, neither eventuality is too likely,’ said Steven.

‘Just as well when common sense is in such short supply, but that’s what ‘heightening security’ usually boils down to — confiscating more bloody pen knives.’

Steven remained silent while Macmillan worked through his frustration. Eventually he looked up from his desk and said, ‘Sorry, I’m getting a bit carried away. None of this is of any direct concern to us. Did you have a good leave?’

‘I did,’ replied Steven. ‘I was up in Scotland with my daughter. It’s been a while since we could spend a decent amount of time together.’

‘Good. I suppose she’s not a baby any more?’

‘Just moved up to Primary 2,’ said Steven.

‘God, how time flies. How is she getting on? Stays with your sister in law and her husband, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ confirmed Steven. ‘She’s happy. She’s turning out to be everything I’d hoped she’d be. I can see so much of Lisa in her. It’s uncanny.’

‘Well,’ said Macmillan somewhat uncertainly, ‘I trust you can take some comfort from that.’

Steven smiled and put Macmillan at his ease. ‘I can.’

Steven’s wife, Lisa, had died of a brain tumour shortly after Jenny’s birth and since that time Jenny had lived with Lisa’s sister, Sue, and her husband Richard and their own two children, Robin and Mary, in the Dumfriesshire village of Glenvane in Scotland.

‘I understand you have a job for me?’

Macmillan nodded. ‘I take it you are aware of the attack on the Crick Institute in Norfolk by animal rights extremists, the one resulting in the murder of Professor Timothy Devon?’

‘It was on every front page in the country,’ said Steven.

‘Apart from the murder of an eminent scientist and the damage they caused to the labs, they released a number of lab animals into the wild,’ said Macmillan. ‘Primates.’

‘Ah,’ said Steven.

‘When it emerged that Professor Devon was on the UK vaccines advisory committee…’

‘You started wondering what the monkeys had been injected with?’ said Steven.

‘Precisely. But I was assured that nothing dangerous had been involved…’

‘And that there was no cause for alarm,’ completed Steven with a smile. ‘Where have I heard that before?’

‘When I asked exactly what the animals had been infected with, the institute spokesperson declined to tell me without reference to something he called “higher authority”. I asked him to call me back when he had such authority but nothing’s happened so far.’

‘Were all the animals recovered?’

‘In a manner of speaking. The army was called in to shoot them.’

‘The army?’ exclaimed Steven. ‘Why the army?’

Macmillan shrugged.

‘Were they successful?’

‘I understand they got five out of the six.’

‘So one on the loose… but of course, nothing at all to worry about.’

‘That’s why I want you to go up there. It’s a messy business but the question for us is: is it a dangerous mess?’

‘Are the animals known to have been in contact with any members of the public?’

‘One attacked an elderly couple in Holt. The man received bites to his shoulder and was treated in hospital. He was released and appears to be none the worse for his experience.’

‘So there may be nothing to it,’ said Steven.

‘I’d like your assurance about that,’ said Macmillan. ‘The Crick is a civilian establishment, not military, so the attitude of their spokesperson might just have been typical civil service reluctance to say anything about anything — assume that the day of the week is a secret until some higher authority gives you permission to reveal it.’

‘I’ll have a poke around,’ said Steven.

‘Jean has prepared a file for you on Timothy Devon and the institute.’

‘Good, I’ll not pretend that I’m familiar with the man’s work.’

‘He was an expert in vaccines,’ said Macmillan. ‘Not exactly headline grabbing stuff but in recent times, with all the talk of biological attack and our preparedness to deal with such an attack — or lack of it — vaccination schedules are very much in the minds and on the lips of our political masters. There is general concern over our ability to vaccinate the population if a biological attack should occur. It’s the sort of thing that could become an election issue.’

‘As it did in the US last year.’

Macmillan nodded. ‘I think we can be sure that that would not have been lost on the government here,’ he said.

‘On the other hand, I didn’t notice us running out of flu vaccine last year,’ said Steven.

‘Apparently, we license a greater number of suppliers,’ said Macmillan.

‘Maybe there’s a lesson there for the Yanks,’ said Steven.

‘The Americans didn’t license thalidomide,’ said Macmillan.

‘Touche,’ said Steven.