lingered on the edge for anything up to a week. Not enough people were bitten to allow any assumptions to be made, but the fact that one person had survived and others had lasted for almost a week was definitely encouraging. Tests were tried on animals but instead of dying from the disease caused by the rats, they died from the man-made virus introduced into the rodents.
After three weeks, the danger from the vermin was thought to be virtually over although only approximately two thousand bodies were found. It was assumed that the rest of the rats’ population was dying or dead below ground.
Life began slowly to return to normal. Plans were made to begin a massive clean-up operation onEast London’s older districts. Houses were to be pulled down, wastelands to either be utilised for building or flattened into concrete playgrounds or car-parks. The dockside areas would be renovated into modern open-plan blocks. Disused basements would be forever sealed, sewers and drains thoroughly cleansed or rebuilt. It would cost millions but a sharp lesson had been learnt. Stepney and Poplar would eventually become fashionable areas and their history of slums forgotten.
Foskins was completely exonerated of any blame for initial mistakes and reinstated publicly to his former position. He was congratulated personally by the Prime Minister and passed on the compliments to the team that had helped him accomplish his critical task. At a press conference he praised the specialists whose painstaking endeavours coupled with their dynamic ingenuity had finally, begun to defeat this fearsome mutant creature and the deadly disease it carried, whilst subtly implying all credit really belonged to him, as originator and organiser of the project.
They still held daily meetings in the town hall to discuss the progress of the operation but the urgency was no longer felt amongst the members. A serum was derived from the virus to be used as an antidote for the rat-bites which made the disease non-mortal although now such cases were becoming much less frequent anyway.
The danger had passed. So everyone thought.
Chapter Fourteen
Judy was in the bath, enjoying its cocoon warmth, when she heard the phone ring. Harris’s muffled voice came through the half-open bathroom door as it was answered. She idly wondered who the caller was.
After a few moments of one-sided conversation she heard the click of the receiver being replaced and footsteps crossing the lounge towards the bath-room. Harris came in with a wry smile on his face.
‘That was Foskins,’ he said, sitting on the edge of the toilet.
‘Ringing on a Sunday morning? He must miss you.’
‘Hardly. He’s given me the sack.’
‘What? Why?’
‘My services are no longer needed. “Thank you for your extremely valuable assistance, old boy, but the worst is now over and I think it would be unfair to you to take up any more of your valuable time.” “The old bastard.’
‘No, not really, I couldn’t have done any more. To tell you the truth it’s a bit of a relief; I’ve felt a bit useless the last couple of weeks.’
‘Yes, but to get rid of you now, just when it’s nearly all over.’
‘Well, he’s proved his point hasn’t he? He doesn’t need me to show off to now - he’s got the whole of the public.
Anyway, the kids will be coming back in a few weeks and then it’ll be back to the old routine.’
Foskins greeted them warmly when they arrived at his home the following Tuesday.
‘Hello, old boy. Ah, this must be Judy. Do come in.’
Half-plastered already, thought Harris, catching Judy’s eye and winking.
‘Most of my guests have arrived,’ said Foskins in an overloud voice. ‘Bathroom’s upstairs to the left, bedroom to the right.’
Judy disappeared up the stairs to attend her make-up and Harris followed Foskins into a room full of chatting people.
He saw Howard amongst one of the groups, his face flushed with the glory of the previous week’s events. ‘Hello, Harris!’ he called, waving a glass-filled hand and spilling some of its contents on a young woman next to him. ‘Come and meet everybody.’
Harris walked over, Foskins leading him by the arm, taking a Scotch from the waiter with a tray full of assorted drinks on the way. Howard introduced him to his group with an air of camaraderie he’d never shown in their working relationship.
‘Oh, you’re the teacher who saved all those little children at the school, aren’t you?’ the girl standing next to Howard said excitedly.
‘With the help of halfLondon’s police force and fire brigade,’ smiled Harris.
‘Now, my boy, mustn’t be modest,’ said Foskins, placing his hand on the teacher’s shoulder and shaking it heartily.
‘Fiona adores heroes,’ Howard laughed, putting a possessive arm around her waist.
‘Come along, you must meet everybody,’ Foskins tugged him away from the group. They were joined by Judy as they made their circuit of the room, smiling, shaking hands and being congratulated. After his third Scotch, Harris’ mood began to mellow towards the Under-Secretary as he watched him laughing and bantering with his fellow ministers, accepting their praise with mock modesty at one moment and skilful braggartism the next. He noticed Howard standing to one side, glaring at Foskins, taking no notice of the chattering Fiona at his side.
His thoughts were interrupted by Judy whispering in his ear, ‘So this is the jet-set?’
‘It could have been worse,’ he smiled down at her. ‘At least the booze is flowing smoothly.’
‘Old Foskins is certainly bathing in the glory.’
‘Of course. What do you think the party’s for? You can’t blame him though.’
‘Harris, for a belligerent man you’re very easy-going.’
He laughed, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him. ‘All right, he made a mistake once, but he soon made up for it.’
‘Yes, with the help of you and all the others!’ Judy said indignantly.
‘She’s quite right you know, Harris!’ Howard had crossed the room to join them, Fiona at his heels.
‘He’s busy taking all the credit - very modestly, I grant you - when after all, it was my idea.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Fiona, breathlessly.
‘And by the way,’ he added maliciously, ‘I’m sorry to see you’re no longer part of the team.’
Harris grinned at the researcher, refusing to be drawn out.
‘What does it matter? It’s all over now, anyway,’ he said, looking around for the waiter and his tray.
‘Yes, and we’re all going back eventually to our obscure little jobs whilehe ...’
‘Look, if you don’t like it, don’t tell me about it, tell him.’
Harris deftly grabbed a Scotch from the passing tray.
‘Right,’ said Howard. ‘I bloody will!’ and marched towards Foskins.
‘Harris, you’re evil,’ Judy admonished the smiling teacher.
‘Oh dear, he’s going to create a scene,’ wailed Fiona.
Just as Howard reached the jovial Foskins, the telephone rang in the hall and the Under-Secretary excused himself from his group, leaving the researcher standing open- mouthed and flat-looted.
Harris suppressed his mirth as he watched the researcher gather his wits and stride after him.
Two minutes later, Howard came back into the room ashen-faced. He rejoined them, slowly shaking his head, a look of disbelief on his face.
‘Darling, what’s the matter, what’s happened?’ asked Fiona, worriedly.
He looked at each of them in turn, not really seeing their faces. ‘That phone call,’ he started to say. ‘It was from our operations room.’
They waited in impatient silence.
‘There’s been another attack. Another massacre – inNorth London.’
Chapter Fifteen
Stephen Abbott sat in the darkened cinema and stole a quick glance at his girlfriend’s face, illuminated by the
