The Anthrax Mutation (v1.0), page 12
“I agree with the Major,” Combs announced. “And I would like to deploy some troops at key points around the country just in case there’s a panic on.”
. “And treating this stuff?” asked Dr. Marsh.
“Dwarf Hill had some kind of disinfectant developed which they were going to hose down the test area with. If Porton could make enough of this, it would be a start.”
“But we haven’t got any,” Marsh said simply.
Thomas frowned. “What do you mean, you haven’t got any?”
“It was McTavish’s formula. He developed it along with his mutation of the anthrax.”
“So there is no known way to curb the spread of the anthrax,” asked Sir Joseph, “or to cure it.”
Marsh began again. “We can cure it if we catch the patient in time. But the stocks of anti-anthrax serum strong enough to cure this variety are nearly used up now. It would take days to replenish our supplies, and Christ knows how long to make enough for the whole country.”
“Excuse me,” said Thomas, “but wouldn’t any antibiotic do?”
Marsh thought. “Only if it was given in time. And there’s no certainty in that, either.”
Sir Joseph had pushed a button on the table. A messenger entered sharply, took a folded slip of paper from him and departed. He nodded for the Major to continue.
“It’s clear that there is every chance of an epidemic breaking out in a very short time. This bacteria will spread like lightning among people and animals. I think the first thing we should concentrate on is the defense against a possible pandemic.”
Combs smiled. This is exactly what he had considered. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. “I think we should establish a perimeter around-the maximum distance these bats could fly. Presumably, this distance would be greatly influenced by the time capsules—if that’s what they are.” He flapped a handful of papers in his hand. Thomas nodded. “After all, these bats can only fly for so long before either the sun brings them down or the anthrax.”
“We must remember,” the Major began, “that the microencapsulation was an experiment and we can only hope that the delay mechanism has worked effectively. If the unit fails to operate or is at all retarded—there could still be bats flying about as yet unaffected.”
“Do you know the sequence of the mechanisms?” asked Sir Joseph.
“No, Sir, I don’t. I was told about ten hours.”
Sir Joseph pushed his button again. Another messenger entered. “Get Sir Godfrey on the phone. No, better yet, send a car round for him. Tell him it’s an emergency—top priority. Ask him to bring over all the information he can scrape together on bats—especially their flying habits.” The messenger nodded and left. “Sir Godfrey is the best chap we’ve got in natural science. He should give us all we need to know on the distances these creatures are capable of.”
Combs had been scribbling some figures. He stood up and walked to a large wall map of the British Isles. Taking up the pointer, he said, “I would like to establish six bases along the perimeter line which will later be determined. Supposing that these bats will fly no further than two hundred miles in any one direction and taking Dwarf Hill as the center and extending the radius for two hundred miles, we could assume for the moment that the rough boundaries would be Caernarvon, Wolverhampton, London, Southend, Dover and Bognor Regis. I believe we already have a report on Bognor Regis?”
Sir Joseph nodded.
“These Safe Bases, let us say, would be separate command posts for the dispersal of troops. They could work inland towards Dwarf Hill and thus form a huge converging net.”
“With what end in mind, Colonel?” asked Penn.
“Presuming we choose a disinfectant as the best weapon, both land troops and air support could ensure maximum coverage.” He rested his pointer on the floor.
“It’s a good idea,” began General Davies. “If your perimeter theory is operable.”
Admiral Downing-Wright had been silent. He was wondering about the sea. He was thinking of France if the maximum flying distance was indeed two hundred miles. “Gentlemen, suppose some of these bats have landed in the Channel or reached the Continent—we have not yet considered these possibilities.”
“Shouldn’t the French authorities be informed?” asked one of the MI5 men.
“No,” Sir Joseph replied flatly. “I would say that the risk to international relations is far too great to merit frightening the French at this time. Let’s wait a while.”
“Once the news of this gets out,” said Lord Tenningly, “there won’t be any international relations. We’re going to have one hell of a lot of questions that want answer-mg.”
“I’m afraid that the government has its head on the chopping block as it is, gentlemen,” replied Sir Joseph. “We don’t need to lower the axe until the last minute. There is obviously no way out of this one no matter what we say or do. No doubt in the eyes of the public we’re the blighters responsible for all this—one village wiped out and masses of disease-carrying bats wandering about the place. No one’s about to let this go by sympathetically. I’m quite sure that some of these bats have found their way to the Continent—probably sunning themselves on the Riviera right now, but we must stall for time. The PM is coming down from Edinburgh and the Royal Family are being gathered together at Windsor—we may need the Queen. I’ve ordered several men from Porton to join Dr. Marsh here, and I’ve scheduled a meeting with everyone for midnight. I’ve also asked for the Commissioner of Police and the Heads of the Fire Brigade to be present. Our responsibility at this time is to the country, and when we have something concrete to say to the public other than an explanation of what has happened so far, then we’ll notify the Continental authorities. I’ve also asked for a television spot so we’ll have to prepare something for that.”
“I could have some of my men flown over from the States,” Thomas offered. “They might have a few ideas on how to fight this thing.”
“I fear I shall have to await the PM’s arrival before I can accept your offer, Major, but I think you might alert your government to the dangers of this situation. Under the strictest confidence, of course. I think we might also require the assistance of your military stationed in England.”
Thomas nodded.
“Perhaps you could organize something after the television announcement.”
He nodded again.
Combs had an idea. “I suppose we could rely upon NATO.” He left his map and sat down.
“That would be dangerous,” Sir Joseph answered. “Firstly, we would be forced to reveal the exact nature of our difficulties to European sources and, secondly, this is a domestic problem presumably the fault of our government. Might be sticky under the treaty terms.” He paused to look at his watch and check it against the large grandfather clock which faced him. “I would like to adjourn this meeting so that, each of you can go over your notes and prepare everything for the midnight conference. We shall use Room 101 and please be assembled by half eleven. Mr. Chadwell, I shall leave it to you to act as go between with Comcent and I want you to arrange a link-up with the conference room. Major, perhaps you and Dr. Marsh will find a quiet comer and get some statement ready for this television announcement.”
“I’ll take-the Major to Room 20 if it’s free,” said Marsh.
“About the only one that is at the moment. And gentlemen I need not emphasize the security. Scramble all outgoing calls through Gomcent. I want no more information leaking out of here than what appears on television. And avoid the front entrance. The place is crawling with reporters. I dare not order the building shut else they’ll know there is a big flap on.”
Amidst the mumblings of the retreating military and government officials, Combs grabbed General Davies and tried to convince him of the genius of his plans. Sir Joseph disappeared into his study to locate the PM while Dr. Marsh and the Major found Room 20. Admiral Downing-Wright headed for Comcent, the communications center, to order an immediate plot of all his ships within a thousand miles of British waters. Chadwell scurried off behind him to reserve his seat in the massive link-up room and sort out a direct lead to the conference room. When he had settled comfortably near the control desk, he relaxed and turned his head to look out upon London through the misty window. Outside a gentle rain had begun to fall, and a slight mist crept about the city.
“This is BBC One. And now in place of our regularly scheduled program there is an urgent message from the Ministry of Defense. This broadcast will be carried on BBC Two, the Independent Television Authority and on Radios One, Two, Three and Four.”
Sir Joseph appeared on the screen. His voice introduced himself over four radio bands, and he announced to the public the dangers which faced them. Major Thomas and Dr. Marsh had prepared a carefully worded text, not too much of the gruesome facts, but enough to impress upon sixty million people that they were in a hell of a mess. Sir Joseph explained the problem, how it arose and what the dangerous anthrax could do. He told everyone of treatment centers being set up in every police station in England and Wales. He told them to keep well away from bats. He prayed that among this mass of humanity would linger the sense to remain calm. “The government is doing everything possible to locate these bats,” he said. “At the same time we are mounting operations to control outbreaks and decontaminate infected areas. The military is taking much of the responsibility for this work, and I would ask that you give them your fullest cooperation. In some areas the military may have to assume temporary command of land or buildings, but please remember that this is for your own protection. The soldiers are there to help you.
“We shall keep you informed both day and night. We urge you to cooperate and to help yourselves and your neighbors. If you suspect the disease has spread to any area, to any person or family, contact the police by dialing nine, nine, nine. If you have special queries, you can ring your local police station.
“The Prime Minister will address the Nation on this entire problem tomorrow morning at eight fifteen. Immediately before his broadcast, the Ministry of Defense will be on television and radio to inform you of further developments. Until then, please remember what we have said here tonight. Remain calm, follow the instructions given you, and remain indoors.”
When it was clear that Sir Joseph had nothing more to say the announcer appeared and said, “This special broadcast has been carried on both television networks and on radio. For those of you who may have missed any part of it, we are repeating it immediately.”
Sir Joseph arose stiffly and looked at Major Thomas and Dr. Marsh. He shook his head and sighed, glancing at his watch. “The bomb has dropped, gentlemen. God only knows what is going on out there now.”
“It went very well, I thought,” said Marsh. “I. shouldn’t think there’ll be much panic.”
Major Thomas was thinking about Chadwell’s remark—how the people might regard the whole thing as utter rubbish. “Suppose you were a family man,” he began, leaning against the window frame. “You had a wife and kids. Someone tells you there is something outside, something almost invisible yet as deadly as anything they’ll ever come across. Like plague or radioactivity. Like gas. You can’t see it, can’t smell it, can’t feel it, yet it could destroy you in minutes or hours while you sleep. That’s the problem, Dr. Marsh—that’s what you want to worry about. It’s fear. It’s fear of the unknown, sort of like walking down a lane at night. You create the fear—you build it up in your mind. It’s like walking down that lane and there’s no light and you’re convinced there’s someone following you. Then you reach some sort of light or another traveller and you feel safe. But for those people out there, there is no light,” he said, pulling open the curtain. “Not the kind that’ll help calm those people. And there is no friend to meet along the way, and home is as dangerous and frightening as that dark lane. That’s what you must combat first before you go marching across England throwing disinfectant everywhere. Unfortunately, fear has a habit of accumulating in people. It might reach mass panic if you’re unlucky. But it’s gonna be fed by the newspapers, by the TV, by the radio and by people who feel damned indignant about being restricted. After all, whose fault was it that the Base blew up? Certainly not their’s. And you can’t pawn it off on them that it wasn’t anybody’s fault, either. They don’t want to hear that. They’re gonna be mad and they’re gonna be scared. Most people are going to die—it’s inevitable. There could be an epidemic like we discussed. The police, doctors, the soldiers who fight this stuff can be infected. We just don’t know what’s going to happen—the whole experiment was and still is totally unpredictable. People will put up with their fears only just so long and then instinctively they’re gonna fight back—like being backed into a corner. And that is where the real danger lies. Gather a few men together and only one of them has to carry the anthrax bacteria before it spreads to others.”
“Just what are you getting at, Major?” asked Sir Joseph. “What do you want us to do?”
“Be damn sure of every step you make before making it. Every mistake the government makes now will make things a thousand times worse. God help everyone if there’s a panic.”
“Not to add to the melodrama,” said Marsh, “but we’ve got the Continent to think of next. France’ll be on the hot line in minutes and after that we’ll have a United Nations in Comcent unless we get a general release out.”
“Hold them until morning—we have to,” Sir Joseph replied, wringing his hands. “At least until the PM arrives.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” began the Major, suddenly remembering his own duties. “I’ll see what my people can arrange. I’ll go through the Embassy—sure to get quick results that way.”
“Major,” called Sir Joseph. “Keep it as quiet as you can.”
He nodded and withdrew.
“Quite a man,” said Marsh, pulling open the curtain and gazing out on a misty London.
“Emotional. Too emotional. I’m wondering if he is the man we seem to think he is.”
“Give him a chance. Think of what he’s been through already. And this isn’t exactly home to him, either.”
He shrugged. “I guess we’re all getting pretty keyed up. We’ve got precisely six hours to prepare a comprehensive outline of what we plan to do as a government and as a country. Our own people will want to know a lot more by morning, and the Continent will be screaming bloody murder if they aren’t happy with the way we handle this.”
“Well, in that case I’ll get my men sorted out. They should be here by now.”
“Yes, sort something out.” He watched Marsh disappear and sighed heavily. The television crew were closing down in the next room and he heard their muffled footsteps. He walked to the window and peered out. His own reflection seemed far away, and so did London. Christ, he thought, what was going on out there?
Chadwell was falling asleep. The hum of hundreds of circuits to every point in the world, the rhythmic clickety-clack of the teleprinters and the continuous flow of hushed voices were lulling him into another world and he was damned happy to be there. His head bobbed, his chin found his chest and he breathed heavily.
“Mr. Chadwell? A message through. From British Rail.”
Chadwell looked up drowsily as if reluctant to return from his world. He focused on a uniform clutching a slip of paper. “What is it?”
“Edinburgh to London Express has crashed, Sir.”
“So what? I’ve got enough worries with bats—not flip-ing train crashes.”
“But this is bats, Sir. And the PM. The engineer was pulled from the cab suffering from what the police think is anthrax—all black and puffy.”
Chadwell snatched the paper and read through it. “Get me all the information you can,” he snapped. “And what time is it?”
“Nearly midnight, Sir.”
“Well, make it damned quick, lad. I’ve got to get this message through to the conference.”
The messenger hustled off, Chadwell stretched and accepted another cup of coffee from a Wren Officer. She looked at him and smiled. “Rough night, Sir?”
“Going to be Lieutenant.”
She looked around and, seeing no one near, whispered, “I’ve checked on the boy for you. You can tell Major Thomas that Murray’s got him safely tucked in at Brown’s.”
“How is he?”
“Not too well, I’m afraid. I think it’s all caught up with him what with the Major away and all this activity. At least Murray says so. He’s going to stay with him until his relief comes. I think Sir Joseph wants him at the conference.”
“I’ll tell the Major when I see him. That’s kind of you to do that, Lieutenant—I mean with things as they are.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “If it means something to this Major fellow, I’m glad to. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes for all the tea at Lyons.”
The messenger appeared again. “I can’t get much more, Sir, but what there is is here. We’ve got Paris coining through, though, and the other lines are filling up. We’ve had to divert.”
“Any more bats?” he asked, gathering together his papers.
“Two more, Sir. Unconfirmed,, but one is in Wolverhampton and the other near Watford.”
“Watford? Hertfordshire?”
“Yes, Sir. Looks like London’s next.”
“Christ, what bloody next? Bats coming down like rain and the PM in a train crash. Now who’s going to take over?”
“I don’t know,” replied the Lieutenant. “But if I were you I’d get those reports to Sir Joseph PDQ.”
“Yes,” he nodded hastily. “Yes.”
Room 101 or the Great Hall as it was sometimes called was standing room only. The men from Porton, the military, a representative from the American Embassy, police and those who had attended the earlier conference were stretching the limits of the room. Colonel Combs was still fully occupied with maps, having discovered an enormous wall chart of the British Isles and somehow having also found several workmen to stick it up. Sir Godfrey Toddler was sorting out masses of notes and photographs in one comer while various Heads of the Ministry, military, police and fire brigades settled themselves uncomfortably in the front row chairs. Sir Joseph was preparing his initial address to the assemblage when Chadwell burst in from a side door.
