We’re bored stiff doing DNA analyses for paternity suit lawyers and bacteriology reports for councils closing down Chinese restaurants.’
‘Well, it keeps the Merc on the road,’ Steven joked, alluding to the Mercedes Lukas drove.
‘When would you like to come over, my friend?’
‘This afternoon?’
Dr Lukas Neubauer, a tall, Slavic-looking man, welcomed Steven with a smile and a firm handshake. ‘Maybe we can talk in the lab? I’ve got a couple of things on the go.’ Steven perched on a lab stool and rested an elbow on the bench while he waited for Neubauer to transfer a rack of tubes from one water bath to another and start a stop clock. ‘Now, what would you like to talk about?’
‘When you found that the cholera strain was sensitive to antibiotics, what was your first thought?’
Neubauer pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and put his head to one side. ‘I was surprised,’ he said. ‘But relieved too because it suggested the Vibrio had not been genetically altered.’
Neubauer’s reply had been simple and to the point, so he didn’t understand why Steven suddenly appeared spellbound. ‘Steven? Are you all right?’
‘Christ, that’s it.’
‘What’s what?’
‘That’s what we were meant to think. Did Colindale do any further analysis of the bug’s genetic make- up?’
‘I don’t think they did — everyone was so pleased that it was still sensitive to antibiotics. And, of course, it was quickly apparent that the enterotoxin had not been enhanced because people were recovering as long as they were kept hydrated.’
‘Can you get your hands on the bug? I can go through the usual channels but it might be quicker if we bypass them.’
‘I can ask my friend at Colindale. We have a licence to handle dangerous pathogens here so I can’t see any great problem.’
‘I need you to carry out a full analysis of it. Tell me everything you can as quickly as you can. Make it your number one priority.’
‘What are we looking for?’
‘I don’t know.’
TWENTY-NINE
The evening broadcast from the advisory committee urged caution. People must remain on their guard against a disease which could still kill if given the chance. Water supplies were being kept under constant surveillance, but should suspicion be aroused the public were urged to report it quickly to the authorities. Arrangements for vaccination against cholera were proceeding as planned, and it was envisaged that there should only be a gap of around ten days after the first wave of vaccinations before the entire population could be protected. Together they would wash away the evil.
Steven had noticed the new government slogan appearing on posters in the city. Swine flu had had one too: someone in Whitehall believed that all epidemics should have a slogan. His mind strayed to what it might be if weapons-grade smallpox or bubonic plague came to call.
‘Anything in from Lukas?’ Steven asked Jean when he arrived at the Home Office in the morning.
‘Nothing apart from a memo yesterday evening saying that the lab had the strain and would be working on it all night.’
‘Let me know if anything comes in. I’m going over to Belmarsh prison after the COBRA meeting. I need to speak to the Asian who claims he was set up.’
‘Aren’t you going to say good morning to Sir John?’
‘I’m sorry?’
Jean inclined her head towards John Macmillan’s office, a gesture that made Steven break into a disbelieving smile. He knocked on the door and waited for a response before entering. ‘Good to see you back. Does your wife know you’re here?’
‘She made a bit of a fuss, but frankly I think she’s glad to be rid of me.’
‘Well, I’m delighted to see you sitting there,’ said Steven. ‘Are you officially back at the helm?’
‘No. Call me an interested observer until the medics sign me off completely.’
‘I was just telling Jean I’m going over to Belmarsh to talk to Anwar Khan. If you were to attend the COBRA meeting instead of me, it would save some time.’
Macmillan smiled. ‘You never were much of a one for meetings, were you, Steven?’
Steven concurred. ‘There’s quite a lot to tell you about, but it’ll wait till later. Will you attend COBRA?’
Macmillan nodded. Steven set off for Greenwich and HMP Belmarsh, home to some of the most violent prisoners in the country. He paused at the door to check with Jean that full code-red status had gone through. This was important because, although Sci-Med agents always had the right to request assistance and co-operation from the police and many other authorities, having full code-red status entitled them to demand it with total Home Office authority should it not be forthcoming — not something to be used lightly, but a useful power when opposition was anticipated.
‘The Home Secretary signed it yesterday.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t forget to remove your weapon before you try to enter the prison or we’ll be seeing you on the six o’clock news.’
Steven had a brief meeting with the two MI5 interrogators on duty before his interview with Anwar Khan. ‘None of them is saying anything,’ one told him. ‘They’re shit scared but they’re not talking.’
‘It’s not us they’re scared of,’ said the other. ‘It’s the Muslim mob in here. They’ve obviously been told they’re dead if they say anything. It was a mistake bringing them here.’
‘I agree,’ said Steven.
‘What’s Sci-Med’s interest?’
‘The cholera,’ Steven lied, knowing it would be a reasonable angle for Sci-Med to follow up on, and hoping it would defuse any animosity about his muscling in on security service territory. ‘We’d like to know if they have a lab in this country.’
‘So would we if you learn anything. Good luck.’
Steven remained seated when two prison officers brought in the nineteen-year-old Khan, his eyes betraying conflicting emotions. Steven guessed that fear was winning but currently defiance was emerging as a front- runner.
‘What are you looking at?’ the boy snarled.
‘A loser?’
Khan made to move forward across the table but stopped himself when Steven didn’t react at all. ‘We’ll see who the losers are,’ he said, sinking back down in his chair.
‘Indeed we will.’
‘Our war is a holy war.’
‘But what you don’t realise, Khan, is that you were never part of it. You were set up just like you said you were. Weren’t you? You were conned. They set you up, then blew the whistle.’
‘Shut the fuck up.’
‘Come on, son, you’re the one who worked it out. Who set you up? At least make sure the bastard gets what’s coming to him.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Fair enough… but think about it. How many virgins do you get in Paradise when you’re a loser who was set up from the very start? You’re young, you made a mistake; someone used you and your friends. You’re not going to
