Steven hesitated as guilt welled up inside him over his earlier exchange with Jenny. ‘I can’t see me getting one,’ he said. ‘The chances of everyone shaking hands after this meeting and agreeing it was all a mistake must be less than zero. People are going to be fighting for their political lives and others are going to be baying for blood and then there’s the question of the children and what happens to them…’
‘And I’m complaining about targets…’ said Tally.
‘I don’t suppose you can get off tomorrow?’ asked Steven. ‘I’ve got a free day tomorrow.’
‘No way, I’m afraid. If anything it’s going to be worse than today.’
‘Call you tomorrow night?’
‘Please do.’
Steven rested his head on the back of the chair and thought through what he’d told Tally. Nothing had been a lie; everything he’d said had been true and yet he didn’t feel as comfortable doing this as he’d hoped. How the front tyres on the Porsche had burst had been quite a big thing to leave out. Maybe another gin would help him feel better.
Steven used his free day to drive down to the south coast: he felt the need to go beach walking. He wanted to taste salt on the breeze and generally escape from the pressures of life by watching the sky fall into the sea on a horizon that would seem suitably far away. The outward trip was a bit of a struggle against a stiff breeze that whipped sand up into his face, causing him to shrug down into the collar of his jacket, but the return leg enabled him to enjoy the sight of the beach becoming almost liquid as its surface moved in deference to the will of the wind. He felt so much better when he got back and sought out beer and a sandwich in a harbour pub before driving home, his skin still tingling and his calf muscles reminding him of the exercise.
Lunch with Macmillan at his club on Friday proved a sombre affair. Macmillan was very much aware that in a few hours’ time he would have to make Sci-Med’s position clear to the government and the consequences of doing this could be catastrophic for many if, as was his intention, he refused to be any part of a cover-up. With this in mind, he told Steven that he had lodged a report of his findings along with all relevant files with a well-respected firm of solicitors in the City together with instructions as to whom the information should be sent to in the event of any concerted efforts to discredit Sci-Med or its people.
‘Or any accident befalling us,’ added Steven.
The two men paused in order to let a waiter refill their coffee cups.
‘I don’t think anyone can afford to be that silly,’ said Macmillan.
‘Good,’ said Steven, not sounding entirely convinced.
Macmillan noticed this and said, ‘After your little off-road experience — and before we knew of any Russian involvement — I made a point of telling all our investigators what’s been going on. I let this fact be known to the powers that be. But of course, this was before your assailants were identified and there was still a possibility that our security services were involved. Maybe we’ve both been guilty of paranoia.’
‘I’d like to think so,’ agreed Steven, feeling uncomfortable with the general tenor of the conversation. The lights went on in the club as the sky darkened outside and rain started to fall.
‘Are we all done?’ asked Macmillan.
‘I think so. Thanks for lunch.’
Macmillan smiled and said, ‘Let’s hope that eating a hearty meal doesn’t imply anything about the afternoon.’
Although they went into the meeting on time, Steven saw that he and Macmillan were the last to arrive. He wondered if this was some psychological ploy on the part of the twenty or so sombre people seated there — many of them instantly recognisable as senior government figures, others not so well known.
The Home Secretary formally acknowledged them but made as little eye contact as possible with either of them. Sci-Med did fall within the auspices of the Home Office although Macmillan was not personally answerable to the Home Secretary — a grey area perhaps but this was not the time to explore it.
The Home Secretary, appearing gaunt and serious, said, ‘I see no point in beating about the bush, ladies and gentlemen. Sci-Med has uncovered a situation relating to a number of school children attending a school camp in Cumbria which they are extremely concerned about. They have requested an explanation, as is their right. We for our part have been somewhat reticent in complying with their requests for information and I can only apologise. If ever there was a case of the road to hell being paved with good intentions, this is it. Gerald, would you be so good as to put our Sci-Med colleagues in the picture?’
Sir Gerald Coates, looking equally grave, got to his feet and said, ‘Gentlemen, it’s important that you understand the background situation that Her Majesty’s Government finds itself in.’ He gave Macmillan and Steven a rundown on the impasse that had surfaced between themselves and the pharmaceutical industry. ‘It’s something we simply have to find ways around.’
Steven and Macmillan remained impassive.
‘All the intelligence that we have been getting recently has suggested that a terrorist biological weapon attack is imminent,’ continued Coates.
‘Forty-five minutes to an anthrax attack,’ said Steven, attracting hostile stares.
Coates ignored him. ‘If we are to have any chance at all of countering such an act, we desperately need new vaccines so we’ve been encouraging the best biological brains to design them.’
‘I don’t think I understand,’ said Macmillan. ‘You’ve just told us that the pharmaceutical companies wouldn’t cooperate.’
‘We went to the smaller ones, the biotech companies that were set up at the height of the new technology boom. We offered them incentives in terms of prizes, accelerated-tracking through the licensing process, long-term contracts with the NHS for success.’
‘What exactly does “accelerated-tracking through the licensing process” mean?’ asked Macmillan, dissecting the real information from what Coates was saying.
‘The decision-making process would be speeded up, delays cut to a minimum, fewer referral bodies, that sort of thing. There just isn’t time to put new vaccines through what has become the normal schedule of trials and safety evaluation,’ said Coates. ‘There’s a chance we could all be dead before anyone was vaccinated.’
‘So you tried out a vaccine on a hundred and eight children without their knowledge or consent or that of their parents?’ said Macmillan.
Many in the room thought it an opportune moment to look down at the table surface and say nothing.
‘I hope I can assure you that wasn’t the case,’ said Coates solemnly. He paused for a moment to make eye contact with both Steven and Macmillan. ‘Knowing that HMG were keen on cutting bureaucracy to a minimum where new vaccines were concerned, a number of junior people in the Department of Health hatched a plan they imagined might, in the long run, endear them to their superiors. They colluded with the biotechnology company St Clair Genomics in setting up field trials for the company’s new vaccine against tuberculosis, the Nichol vaccine. The people at St Clair convinced them that obtaining the necessary paperwork for the trial would be little more than a time-consuming formality: all preliminary tests had been carried out and passed with flying colours so many months could be saved by simply going ahead. The children at Pinetops comprised a perfect cohort. After vaccination, the plan was to monitor them so that their antibody levels could be checked.’
‘The green sticker children,’ said Macmillan.
‘Yes. The anticipated good levels would be used as the basis for bringing the vaccine into regular use.’
‘And protesting after the event would be useless,’ murmured Macmillan with a shake of the head.
‘I can’t stress how much we need a new vaccine against TB. BCG is well past its sell-by date and the disease is making a big comeback. If we don’t do something soon about protecting our young people, we could be facing a return to the dark days of the early twentieth century where death through “consumption” was a regular visitor to homes across the land.’
‘But instead, the company came up with something that’s put the lives of over a hundred children at risk?’ said Steven.
‘I think that’s going too far,’ said Coates. ‘Although we are, of course, aware that there is a problem…’
‘You’re aware there is a problem?’ exclaimed Macmillan as if he couldn’t believe his ears.
‘Let me explain,’ said Coates, appealing for calm with the palms of his hands. ‘There is actually nothing wrong with the vaccine per se.’
Macmillan looked as if he was preparing for another outburst but Coates used his hands again to calm him. ‘The Nichol vaccine passed all its lab tests and was tried out very successfully on animals. I assure you, no short
