‘Some time ago he asked me if he could browse through some of Ferraro’s accounting books that are hard to get in Russia, and I don’t see anything wrong with that,’ Halliwell barked. ‘What’s eating you? Get out on the wrong side of the bed today?’
‘Not that you’d notice,’ Simone said, ‘but since you’ve asked, is there some reason why I’m not invited to lunch today?’
‘Oh I see! It all becomes clear.’ Halliwell was becoming increasingly tired of Simone’s all-pervasive presence. Lately she was looking her age, he thought, glaring at her. Once a woman reached forty she was on the downhill run and Simone had reached that milestone two months ago, something she had not been backward in reminding him of when he’d let the occasion pass without the usual bunch of flowers. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, Simone, but there are some things around here you don’t need to be involved in!’
‘I’m fully aware of that, Richard,’ Simone replied icily, ‘but I wouldn’t have thought a lunch would be classified top secret. For what it’s worth, although why I’m bothering to protect you in your present frame of mind is beyond me, I wouldn’t trust your new Russian scientist any more than I would trust Alan Ferraro. It’s not the first time he’s been in Ferraro’s office, but if you’re happy with that be it on your own head.’ Simone stormed out of Richard’s office, almost bumping into Dr Dolinsky on her way through.
Richard Halliwell’s luxurious private dining room was on the same floor as his office suite, next to the lavishly appointed Halliwell boardroom. A Picasso and a Rembrandt, part of the stunning Halliwell art collection, were included on the panelled walls, as well as the odd Caravaggio and a sculpture by Bernini. Exotic pot plants and lampshades in the Halliwell colours of gold and black had been added to the gaudy trappings of power. The far wall was plate glass that stretched from floor to ceiling. The twenty-seat dining table was polished silky oak, and today there was a setting for four at one end of the table. Each dining chair had a Halliwell seal sewn into the backrest – a black circle with two bright gold crossed syringes and a test tube positioned through them, the seal edged in gold with the words ‘Philanthropy before Profit’. Beyond the dining room a set of double doors led to a large kitchen equipped with state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances. Three chefs, as well as a small army of young, slim waitresses and kitchen hands, all personally selected by Halliwell, were standing by; the waitresses linked by a common denominator of a D-cup.
Imran and Kate waited in the large entertainment foyer at a bar that would not have been out of place in any five-star boutique hotel. The two scientists had decided that it would be a waste not to sample some of the Halliwell cellar and in the afternoon they would work in their offices on the thirty-sixth floor rather than return to the hot lab.
‘Doesn’t do things by halves, does he?’ Kate observed, sipping her Clos des Goisses Philipponnat champagne as they waited for Halliwell and Dolinsky to appear.
‘Ah, there you are, Kate,’ Richard Halliwell said smoothly, ushering Dr Dolinsky into the dining room. ‘Welcome back. I trust you’re fully recovered?’
‘Fully thank you, Dr Halliwell,’ Kate replied. Once again she had that strange feeling about Halliwell that sent a shiver down her spine.
‘Please, it’s Richard, and this is Dr Eduard Dolinsky.’
Kate extended her hand towards Dolinsky. He was slim and of just average height. His handshake was unassuming but Kate knew from what Curtis and Imran had told her that the Georgian scientist was often intolerant of those who might not meet his exacting standards, and very ambitious for both himself and Islam.
‘Shall we?’ Halliwell gestured towards the table as Karen, his young maitre d’, hovered in the background.
‘Here’s to a very successful program,’ Halliwell said, raising his champagne flute towards Kate. ‘I trust everything is satisfactory in the laboratories?’ he asked, when the staff had withdrawn having served the first course of crab chowder.
‘The laboratories are first class, Dr Halliwell,’ Imran replied.
‘Please, it’s Richard,’ Halliwell offered again with a quick, mechanical smile. ‘We’re going to be family by the time we’ve finished working on this.’ Kate froze as Halliwell placed his hand on her thigh. She was about to remove it when he slowly ran his hand down to her knee and removed it himself before resuming the conversation.
‘And the monkeys?’
‘They’re still restless, Dr Halliwell,’ Kate said, deliberately using his title. ‘But I would be too if I was part of this program. I think what we’re doing is extremely dangerous.’ Kate made no attempt to hide the anger flashing in her green eyes.
‘Very dangerous,’ Halliwell agreed urbanely, ‘but in Dr Dolinsky here, and in you and Professor Sayed, I couldn’t wish for the experiments to be in more capable hands.’
‘What will your role be in this,’ Imran asked, sensing that his young protege was about to give the CEO of Halliwell Pharmaceuticals her legendary ‘rough end of the pineapple’.
‘As you’re aware, Eduard will be leading the research and I’ll be watching at a distance, putting on a biosuit occasionally to see how you’re getting on, just to keep my hand in,’ Halliwell replied. ‘I still have a day job,’ he added, turning to look at Kate and smiling mechanically again, ‘but I’m sure you’ve been told that our mission is to try to find out what might be possible because if we can do it we have to assume that the terrorists may be able to do it as well.’
‘What’s your view, Eduard?’ Kate asked, keen to determine whether the Georgian scientist had a voice, let alone an opinion.
‘We live in very dangerous times,’ Eduard replied. ‘I think it is possible we will be building a virus from scratch before too long,’ he opined, echoing Kate’s, Imran’s and Curtis’ fears.
‘In our discussions before lunch, Eduard and I were talking about the coming threat from terrorists. It’s not only here that Americans are vulnerable. I’m particularly concerned at what might happen overseas, including the Beijing Olympics,’ Richard Halliwell said, steering the group in the direction that he intended to focus on. ‘It will also be important for us to develop effective vaccines against genetically engineered viruses.’
‘Which may not be all that easy,’ Kate said, this time lifting Richard Halliwell’s hand off her thigh and placing it firmly back on his own.
BOOK TWO
CHAPTER 57
A mon al-Falid waited patiently among the mass of humanity that had charged off the aircraft and were now jostling for position behind the long yellow line that marked the arrivals barrier in the target city’s main international airport. al-Falid kept his face impassive as he took in every detail. No fewer than six jumbos had arrived within minutes of each other, just after the curfew had been lifted at 6 a.m., yet for some reason known only to the authorities, barely a third of the Customs and Immigration desks were manned. The queues stretched back up the ramp into the duty free area, where an overweight female Customs Officer was waddling back and forth, officiously directing people into various lanes as if she was herding cattle. From the looks of bewilderment on some of the faces of the weary passengers, she might just as well have been herding cats.
‘Non-citizens in that lane over there!’ she barked at a group of Muslim women.
People of ‘Middle Eastern appearance’. It was the same in this country too, al-Falid reflected, fingering the Egyptian passport he’d used to depart Islamabad.
‘What’s the purpose of your visit?’ the young woman in the booth demanded. al-Falid refrained from arguing that he’d clearly indicated that in the box marked ‘Purpose of Visit’.
‘I’m an academic on sabbatical,’ he said, smiling politely. ‘My specialties are the history of architecture in this
