The Lazarus Strain

SEVENTEEN

‘Well, what do you think?’ asked Macmillan, pouring coffee when they had returned to his office.

‘There’s something wrong,’ said Steven, starting to pace up and down. ‘All that back-slapping and self-congratulation… it made me feel… nervous. They seem happy to believe that al-Qaeda were guilty of lack of foresight or bad planning. That implies that they’re stupid or incompetent. They’re neither.’

‘Would you care to be more specific?’

‘I wish I could be. I suppose it’s the small team thing that worries me most. Al-Qaeda set up a big diversionary tactic involving lots of people and lots of planning to make us think that an attack was about to be made on Canary Wharf in order to throw us off the scent of what? A small team being sent in to steal Cambodia 5 virus without the back-up necessary to do anything with it? I don’t think so somehow.’

You still think they’re going to use the virus?’

Steven shrugged and said, ‘No point in stealing it otherwise.’

‘I understand your reservations,’ said Macmillan. ‘But maybe the loss of three team members knocked them back?’

‘The three who died were unskilled cannon fodder, totally unused to handling dangerous biological material. Their ‘loss’ could have been anticipated by anyone with an IQ running into treble figures.’

‘But if that were the case, sending in not only a small team but a largely unskilled one would make even less sense,’ said Macmillan.

‘Exactly,’ said Steven. ‘We’re not seeing something here.’

‘What do you want to do?’ asked Macmillan.

‘Get out the file, go over everything again.’

‘Let’s both do that,’ said Macmillan.

Steven glanced at his watch when he got in and reckoned that Leila would be back in Washington by now. She would be looking forward to seeing old colleagues at the university in the morning and getting back into the swing of her old life — her apartment was probably a far cry from a run-down old cottage in Norfolk with its one-bar electric fire. He couldn’t blame her for needing or missing the intellectual stimulation she got from working at a large prestigious university but he had already started to nurture hopes that her success in designing a vaccine against the Cambodia 5 virus, when it became known, might well open up academic doors to her all over the world. England was what he really had in mind and Oxbridge would be just fine. He poured himself a gin and tonic and sat down to start working his way through the files.

Two hours and three gins later he thought he saw something that made his heart miss a beat and a thin film of sweat appear on his brow. He snatched up the phone and called Rose at Defence Intelligence. ‘Tell me, Colonel, what was it exactly that made you cotton on to the fact that the hit on Canary Wharf was a red herring?’

‘Hard to say when you pose the question that way,’ replied Rose. ‘I suppose I started to get the feeling that we were being led by the nose down a pre-charted pathway. I remember feeling pleased with our progress in the investigation and almost patting myself on the back when I suddenly realised that what we were seeing was what someone meant us to see. It didn’t have anything to do with luck or skill on our part; the clues were being laid down for us. The men we were picking up were low-level nobodies who had been sacrificed for the cause. We were meant to track them down. They were no great loss to al-Qaeda because there was nothing they could tell us because they didn’t know anything. Why do you ask?’

‘Because I think I’ve just had exactly the same feeling,’ said Steven. ‘The train of events that took us to the mill house wasn’t part of the big picture. It was another diversion.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Think about it, three dead men at the flat who’d been infected with Cambodia 5 virus, two of them actually murdered by their own, a vehicle parked conveniently round the back which yields a hair from a monkey and a petrol receipt. The receipt leads us to a petrol station which leads us to the mill house where we find egg cartons and a warm incubator room and then of course, the final slice of “luck”, a map of all the targets they intended to hit. It’s embarrassing to say it but we’ve been had; we’ve been set up. Your people couldn’t find any egg supplier because none was required. It was never their intention to do what we were meant to think they were going on to do.’

There was a long silence at the end of the phone before Rose murmured, ‘I wish I could argue with you…’

‘Pity,’ said Steven. ‘I was sort of depending on you. I was hoping this was all my imagination.’

‘But if the Cambodia 5 attack is nothing more than a diversion… what are they really up to?’ asked Rose.

‘I have absolutely no idea,’ said Steven.

‘Perhaps you should re-convene Earlybird and tell them what you’ve just told me?’

‘And confess to everyone that we really have no idea what al-Qaeda are up to? HMG will go bananas and it’ll look like sports day for headless chickens in Whitehall.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ agreed Rose. ‘The Spanish will probably lobby Brussels to slap a quota on red herrings on the grounds that we’ve been over-fishing them.’

‘I can’t prove any of this,’ said Steven. ‘It’s still just a feeling. I could still be wrong. Maybe the Norfolk Police were just lucky in getting to the mill house… Maybe it was just good forensic work that came up with the monkey hair and good fortune that the garage attendant remembered the Land Rover…’

‘No,’ interrupted Rose. ‘Let me stop you there. She remembered it because it had been in to the filling station a number of times. We should have seen that earlier. We both know that no trained terrorist group would have returned to the same place time and time again unless…’

‘They had been told to,’ completed Steven. ‘They wanted to be remembered. Of course, you’re right.’

‘So where do we go from here?’

‘As I see it, there’s nothing anyone can do that isn’t already being done,’ said Steven. ‘All the services are already on high alert. We have to sit down and think our way out of this one.’

‘So we say nothing?’

‘For the moment.’

Steven saw that there was one exception he had to make and that was to tell John Macmillan. He called him and told him what he had just told Rose.

‘You know,’ said Macmillan, not sounding too surprised, ‘I’ve been sitting here wondering about that petrol receipt. If it had been found among general detritus on the floor of the van, I might just have bought it, but it was the only thing the police found in the van apart from the monkey hair…’

‘So you agree?’

‘I do. I think it was a plant.’

‘Did anything else strike you?’ asked Steven.

‘One thing,’ said Macmillan. ‘I see from your report that you asked about the sale of primates up and down the country?’

‘I was trying to find out how the opposition got their hands on a monkey to plant in the wilds of Norfolk for the army to find,’ said Steven. ‘But I drew a blank. The only orders for primates placed in the previous three months came from recognised research labs.’

‘That’s true,’ said Macmillan. ‘But one of them was the Crick.’

‘Professor Devon was using them to test his experimental vaccine on,’ said Steven.

‘The last order — for six monkeys — was placed a week after Devon died.’

‘Shit, I missed that.’

‘The real question is who wanted them and why?’ said Macmillan. ‘According to your report, Professor Devon was the only researcher using monkeys at the institute. When Dr Martin took over the work on a vaccine against Cambodia 5 there was no question of her being able to try it out on animals. Apart from there being no time, everyone had learned their lesson from the Devon debacle. Any animal tests to be carried out involving Cambodia 5 would have to be done out at Porton Down.’

‘Good point,’ agreed Steven. ‘Maybe I’ll go up to the Crick first thing tomorrow and find out who placed the order…’

Steven smiled as he put down the phone. It was good to see that John Macmillan was still as sharp as ever. He called the garage to ask why his replacement car had not turned up.

‘We were promised it this morning but it didn’t happen,’ said Stan Silver, the owner of the small garage who’d supplied Steven’s cars and who had looked after them for several years. Although they’d never served in the regiment at the same time together, Silver had also served with the SAS. ‘I phoned at the back of four and they said it was ‘in transit’. It’s still not appeared.’

‘I need a car first thing in the morning, Stan.’

‘There’s an old Nissan Primera you could have… rear spoiler and everything… Hello? Are you still there?’

‘I assumed you were having a laugh,’ said Steven coldly.

‘Okay, okay, look, there’s a Porsche 911 I could let you have but I have to have it back by tomorrow night at the latest. A customer’s coming in to see it first thing on Thursday morning and I need this sale. Definitely no cliff diving. Understood?’

‘Highly amusing,’ said Steven. ‘I’ll have it back, Stan; I promise.’

In the morning, Steven decided to drop in and see Frank Giles before driving on to the Crick Institute. As it happened, Giles was just coming out of the building as Steven was parking the Porsche.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Giles. ‘A silver Porsche… supplied by Stan Silver Motors,’ he said, reading from the rear screen. ‘You’ve come up in the world.’

‘It turns into a pumpkin at midnight,’ said Steven. ‘Mine for a day.’

‘Bad luck. You coming to see me?’

‘I was passing so I thought I’d pop in and see if you’d caught the bastard who rolled me off the bridge,’ said Steven.

Giles shook his head. ‘He abandoned the stolen vehicle half a mile up the road and disappeared into the night. We’ve absolutely nothing to go on.’

‘May he rot in hell,’ said Steven.

‘Mustn’t let a little thing like attempted murder become personal,’ said Giles. ‘It strikes me as odd though…’

‘What does?’

‘According to your statement, he reversed and deliberately pushed you off the bridge.’

‘He did.’

‘Why? Your car was disabled and you didn’t get a look at him on the way past: you said he was all wrapped up against the cold. Why stop, reverse and try to kill you?’

‘Who knows? I suppose I was pretty abusive: I shouted at him.’

‘You must have really pissed him off…’ said Giles. ‘If a bit of road rage escalated to that… in such a short space of time…’

‘Sign of the times,’ said Steven.

‘Maybe…’

‘Well, I don’t think I want to go there right now,’ said Steven.

‘Just a thought,’ said Giles. ‘Where do you want to go right now?’

Steven told him about going to the Crick and why.

‘Let me know how you get on.’

Steven did not have much interest in cars but had to admit that the drive over to the Crick in a Porsche 911 was something to savour. He knew the car had a marvellous reputation and now he understood why. It stuck to the road like glue as he pushed it harder and harder through the corners. He was feeling quite exhilarated and more than a little disappointed that the journey was over when he reached the institute and nursed the car in through the gates to park in front of the newly rendered façade of the building.

‘I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again,’ said Nick Cleary with a smile. He’d come along to Reception to meet Steven. ‘I’d like to think this is social but I fear not?’

‘There’s something I need your help with,’ said Steven. ‘Monkeys. The Crick put in an order for six of them a week after Professor Devon died.’

‘Did we? I can’t think why off-hand but I can check if you like.’

‘If you would.’

‘It may just have been a repeat order placed after the loss of the six after the attack…’ Cleary turned to the girl behind the desk and said, ‘Karen, could you look out the lab animal order book?’

A few moments later a black ring binder was placed on the desk and Cleary started to leaf through it. ‘Here we are… Six Rhesus monkeys ordered by… Leila.’

‘Leila?’

‘Like I say, she was probably replacing the ones that went missing.’

‘But why? She knew she wouldn’t be doing any animal testing,’ said Steven.

‘Good point,’ agreed Cleary. ‘Maybe she didn’t know that at the time she placed the order.’

‘Would anyone else in the institute have reason to use monkeys?’

‘No.’

‘So the animals will still be in the animal house?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Could I see them?’ asked Steven.

‘Of course.’

Cleary led the way through corridors where only the smell of paint remained as a reminder of what had happened there. They finally descended two flights of stairs and came to the primate house where Cleary inserted his pass card into the lock.

‘Good Morning Freda,’ said Cleary to the middle aged woman who was mopping the floor. He turned to Steven. ‘Freda is our new animal technician.’

Steven smiled and nodded. He wondered how Robert Smith’s widow was getting on. Did she still live in the ‘tied’ house at the end of the drive?

‘Well, there they are,’ said Cleary.

Steven walked slowly past the cages and the monkeys flung themselves at the bars, filling the air with excited screeching.

‘What’s all the fuss about?’ demanded Freda as if she were speaking to naughty children. ‘Just you stop all that nonsense…’

Steven smiled at the antics of the animals but then the smile faded from his face.

‘Something wrong?’ asked Cleary.

‘There are only five,’ said Steven.

Cleary counted. ‘So there are,’ he agreed, sounding puzzled. ‘Freda, do you know why there are only five animals?’

‘There were only five when I started,’ replied Freda.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course, I’m sure,’ replied Freda, sounding bemused. ‘You’re not likely to miss a monkey…’

‘Of course not,’ said Cleary. ‘Could I see the primate book?’

Freda propped her mop up at the side of one of the cages and went into her little office, which didn’t seem to be much bigger than a shower cabinet. She returned with an A3 sized record book.

Cleary flicked through the pages and said, ‘There’s no recorded entry of any monkey being used but then of course, there was a bit of a hiatus after Smithy… well, you know, so perhaps records weren’t kept as diligently as they should have been.’

‘Six were received?’ asked Steven.

‘Let me see…’ said Cleary, flicking back through the pages. ‘No,’ he said, his eyes opening wide with surprise. ‘Only five have been entered in the book.

‘Who made the entry?’

‘Smithy. Well, I suppose that clears up the mystery — if we only ever received five,’ said Cleary.

‘But six were ordered,’ said Steven.

‘Primates aren’t as easy to obtain as other experimental animals,’ said Cleary. ‘Five was probably all they had. The invoice will probably confirm this but we’ll have to go back upstairs.’

Once again Steven stood by while Cleary this time looked through the institutes accounts for the past two months. ‘Here we are,’ he announced. ‘Bronington Life Sciences… Oh, that’s odd, we’ve been charged for six animals… it must be a mistake.’

‘Maybe you could ask the company to check?’ said Steven. ‘I presume someone would have had to sign for the animals when they arrived as well as entering the delivery in your record book downstairs?’

‘Of course. I can’t imagine us getting six if Smithy only entered five in the book. There has to be some mistake. ’

Steven found that he could imagine only too well what had happened to the missing monkey but didn’t say it.

‘Let’s go to my office,’ said Cleary. ‘I’ll call from there.’

Steven looked out of the window while Cleary made the call. Looking at the institute surroundings, he found it hard to believe that such a genteel place had been at the centre of such recent violence and intrigue. He smiled wryly as he saw it as the sort of place that Agatha Christie might place a body in the library, but as for an al-Qaeda attack and the theft of lethal viruses… that was the stuff of nightmares from a different world. He heard Cleary slam the phone down and turned round.

‘Bronington insists that six animals were delivered and signed for but they can’t make out the signature on the driver’s delivery note. It’s a scrawl they say. Sounds to me like the driver might have been doing a little business on his own.’

‘Maybe,’ said Steven. ‘I think I’ll call Leila in Washington about this before we start making any accusations.’ He looked at his watch and said, ‘A bit early for the States, I’ll do it later. In the meantime, thanks for your help.’

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t clear this up,’ said Cleary. ‘Give Leila my best when you speak to her.’

Steven decided to call in on Giles on the way back.

‘I didn’t expect you back,’ said Giles. ‘I thought you’d just phone.’

‘They ordered six monkeys but only recorded delivery of five,’ said Steven. ‘Bronington Life Sciences insist they delivered six.’

‘And you think the sixth one was the monkey that was put out for the army to find?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘It would be stretching coincidence too far to think anything else,’ agreed Giles. ‘But they must know who ordered the monkeys?’

‘Leila… Dr Martin,’ replied Steven.

‘Did she say why?’

‘She’s gone back to the States. I’m going to phone her later.’

‘Who took delivery of them?’

‘That’s really why I came by,’ said Steven. ‘They say the signature is a scrawl: they can’t decipher it. There’s a possibility the driver might have done some kind of deal on his own and hoped that the paperwork would slip through without anyone noticing…’

‘But he reckoned without Sci-Med,’ said Giles. ‘I take it you’d like me to have a word?’

‘I’d be obliged.’

‘Who could say no to a man with a silver Porsche?’

Steven rang the university in Washington and asked to speak to Leila Martin in the Department of Immunology. He didn’t have her direct line number because of the agreement that she would call him first.

‘You’re through to Immunology, caller.’

‘Hello. My name is Dr Steven Dunbar. I’m calling from England. I’d like to speak to Dr Leila Martin please.’

‘I’m sorry. Dr Martin is currently in Europe.’

‘No, she returned to the States on Tuesday.’

‘One moment please.’… The minutes seemed to pass like hours before the woman came back on the line to say, ‘I’m afraid that’s news to everyone here, Doctor.’

But I saw her off at the airport myself.’

‘One moment please.’

Another wait.

‘I’ve just spoken to Carla Brunner, Doctor. She’s a post-doc who’s been staying in Leila’s apartment while she’s been away. Carla hasn’t heard anything about Leila’s return either.’