‘Hopefully nothing while we’re in the middle of a terrorist attack.’
‘Which doesn’t make sense either,’ said Steven, a comment that made Macmillan raise his eyebrows.
‘In what way?’
‘Just about every way,’ said Steven. ‘Cholera was an odd choice for a bio-attack.’
‘It’s a horrible disease.’
‘But there are worse, much worse, if you rather than nature are in the position of deciding which microbe to use.’
Macmillan conceded the point with a shrug.
‘Where did eight disaffected Asian youths living in the Midlands get cultures of cholera from?’
‘Presumably it must have been grown in laboratories abroad and brought into the country.’
‘MI6 are adamant that they would have heard something about such an operation, and yet they heard nothing.’
Macmillan made a gesture with his hands indicating ambivalence.
‘The cholera strain they used is sensitive to antibiotics, when it’s the easiest thing in the world for a lab to make bugs resistant and therefore treatment harder. They didn’t bother doing that.’
‘Even we get a bit lucky sometimes,’ said Macmillan with a half-hearted smile. When Steven’s expression didn’t change, he added, ‘Fair enough, it is a bit odd. So why didn’t they?’
‘I’m still thinking about that.’
‘Anything else?’
‘The spread of the epidemic has been surprisingly limited.’
‘I’ve been impressed with the way the authorities have responded,’ said Macmillan. ‘They’ve been on the ball from the word go.’
‘I know they’d like to believe that, and people will take credit wherever they can, but, as you said, cholera is a horrible disease… and spreads like wildfire. Do we really put it all down to good management?’
Macmillan sat with one hand under his chin, his index finger tapping his lower lip as he appeared to think back to his own experience of seeing the full horror in his youth. ‘Point taken,’ he said. ‘But what are you getting at?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Steven. ‘I just need to… share my angst.’
Macmillan smiled.
‘And now, just as the terrorists are about to launch a second strike, someone shops the lot of them. As John Ricksen said, how lucky was that?’
‘So where does that leave us?’
‘All at sea.’
‘And in which direction do you intend rowing?’
‘I need to turn suspicion into fact,’ said Steven. ‘That means asking questions. I need to know if we were set up to believe that we foiled the Schiller Group’s plans. If we were, it would mean they’re still active.’
‘In which case you could be putting yourself in very grave danger,’ said Macmillan. ‘I suggest you call a full code red on this and pay a visit to the armourer.’
Steven nodded reluctantly. He disliked carrying weapons, and only did so when his life could be in real danger, but there was no denying the truth of what Macmillan had said. ‘I’ll go round first thing in the morning… and then have another word with Maxine French.’
The next day, having duly signed for a Glock 23 pistol and a supply of. 40 calibre ammunition and been fitted with a shoulder holster, he went into the Home Office and asked Jean Roberts to call Maxine French. Would it be convenient for him to pop over and see her some time — preferably that morning? He could tell by the expression on Jean’s face that she was getting a positive response, and got up from his chair in anticipation.
‘She’d be delighted to see you,’ said Jean, putting down the phone. ‘She suggests you join her for coffee at eleven.’
Maxine welcomed Steven and left him admiring the view while she made coffee and returned with everything on a silver tray.
‘How can I help you, Dr Dunbar?’
‘Mrs French, the last time I saw you you very kindly handed over some disks that your husband had been keeping safe.’
‘Yes, government property, you said. Is something wrong?’
Steven still wasn’t sure in his own mind how to approach the problem, but now, faced with the smiling Maxine French, he had to make his decision. He took a sip of coffee. ‘Did anyone else have access to the disks you gave me?’
‘Yes,’ said Maxine, matter of factly, making the word music to Steven’s ears. ‘An executive called round from Deltasoft. He seemed to know about the disks, and said that when he was clearing Charles’s office he had come across the latest versions, which Charles obviously hadn’t had time to bring home. We exchanged them. I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it.’
‘No problem,’ said Steven. ‘No problem at all.’ He felt both relieved and apprehensive. The good thing was that he had made progress: he now knew for sure that Sci-Med had been set up to believe that there had been a plan to reintroduce the old Northern Health Scheme and it had ended with the explosion in Paris. There had never been any such plan, but knowing that now raised many more questions.
‘Did you know the man who came to see you?’
‘No, but he showed me ID. It’s quite a large company,’ said Maxine. ‘And I wasn’t involved in it at all. I think it fair to say I took as much interest in Charles’s computer business as he did in my charities. Not-a-lot, as that chap on the telly used to say.’
Steven smiled and wondered about Maxine’s marriage. He felt sure she’d been a loyal, supportive wife — probably the reason French had married her. She’d ticked all the boxes for service as a top-flight political animal’s wife. He hadn’t been looking for any sort of companion and she, coming from the same sort of background, hadn’t expected to be one.
‘Does the term Schiller Group mean anything to you, Mrs French?’ He watched Maxine carefully for a reaction, but none was visible. She shook her head.
‘Not in any meaningful way,’ she said, a reply that Steven found strange: his facial expression said so. Maxine explained. ‘I remember once at a dinner party we gave, one of the guests mentioned something about the Schiller Group and Charles told him to shut up. I thought it very rude of him but he was clearly very angry. I asked him about it later but he said it was something that didn’t concern me — something he said rather a lot, if truth be told. But then, I suppose that was because of his government involvement?’
Steven gave a knowing nod. ‘The price we all have to pay, I’m afraid, not being able to share things with our loved ones. Thank you, Mrs French. You’ve been a great help.’
He returned to the Home Office, feeling well satisfied with his morning’s work. He was particularly pleased that he’d managed to find out what he wanted to know without alerting anyone to the fact, particularly anyone connected with the Schiller Group.
Steven reflected that this was the first morning since the start of the emergency that there had not been a meeting of COBRA. There was one pencilled in for the following morning — more a case of not wanting to tempt fate by calling a complete halt to them, he suspected — but it was a sign that fear was being replaced by optimism. The epidemic could have been so much worse, as he’d noticed the newspapers were starting to point out when he flicked through the copies on his desk. Some of them were already taking to task the consultant microbiologists across the country who’d been predicting something much more serious.
Steven noticed that they were largely the same experts who’d been asked to pronounce on the swine flu ‘epidemic’, and was reminded of some questions of his own he wanted to ask. He needed to speak to someone about the course of the cholera epidemic and considered calling an old friend at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, but then he changed his mind. He needed something more than a strictly academic view. He called Lukas Neubauer at the Lundborg labs instead.
‘Steven, you have some work for me?’
‘Not right now, Lukas. I need to talk.’
‘Talk doesn’t put food in my children’s mouths. We could do with a big, juicy government contract down here.
