Whiteout - Ken Follett [1]
Toni and the two men were working the phones, calling everyone who had a pass to the top-security laboratory. There were four biosafety levels. At the highest, BSL4, the scientists worked in space suits, handling viruses for which there was no vaccine or antidote. Because it was the most secure location in the building, samples of the experimental drug were stored there.
Not everyone was allowed into BSL4. Biohazard training was compulsory, even for the maintenance men who went in to service air filters and repair autoclaves. Toni herself had undergone the training, so that she could enter the lab to check on security.
Only twenty-seven of the company’s staff of eighty had access. However, many had already departed for the Christmas vacation, and Monday had turned into Tuesday while the three people responsible doggedly tracked them down.
Toni got through to a resort in Barbados called Le Club Beach and, after much insistence, persuaded the assistant manager to go looking for a young laboratory technician called Jenny Crawford.
As Toni waited, she glanced at her reflection in the window. She was holding up well, considering the late hour. Her chocolate-brown chalk-stripe suit still looked businesslike, her thick hair was tidy, her face did not betray fatigue. Her father had been Spanish, but she had her Scottish mother’s pale skin and red-blond hair. She was tall and looked fit. Not bad, she thought, for thirty-eight years old.
“It must be the middle of the night back there!” Jenny said when at last she came to the phone.
“We’ve discovered a discrepancy in the BSL4 log,” Toni explained.
Jenny was a little drunk. “That’s happened before,” she said carelessly. “But no one’s ever made, like, a great big drama over it.”
“That’s because I wasn’t working here,” Toni said crisply. “When was the last time you entered BSL4?”
“Tuesday, I think. Won’t the computer tell you that?”
It would, but Toni wanted to know whether Jenny’s story would match the computer record. “And when was the last time you accessed the vault?” The vault was a locked refrigerator within BSL4.
Jenny’s tone was becoming surly. “I really don’t remember, but it will be on video.” The touch-pad combination lock on the vault activated a security camera that rolled the entire time the door was open.
“Do you recall the last time you used Madoba-2?” This was the virus the scientists were working on right now.
Jenny was shocked. “Bloody hell, is that what’s gone missing?”
“No, it’s not. All the same—”
“I don’t think I’ve ever handled an actual virus. I mostly work in the tissue-culture lab.”
That agreed with the information Toni had. “Have you noticed any of your colleagues behaving in a way that was strange, or out of character, in the last few weeks?”
“This is like the sodding Gestapo,” Jenny said.
“Be that as it may, have you—”
“No, I have not.”
“Just one more question. Is your temperature normal?”
“Fuck me, are you saying I might have Madoba-2?”
“Have you got a cold or fever?”
“No!”
“Then you’re all right. You left the country eleven days ago—by now you would have flu-like symptoms if anything were wrong. Thank you, Jenny. It’s probably just an error in the log, but we have to make sure.”
“Well, you’ve spoiled my night.” Jenny hung up.
“Shame,” Toni said to the dead phone. She cradled the receiver and said, “Jenny Crawford checks out. A cow, but straight.”
The laboratory director was Howard McAlpine. His bushy gray beard grew high on his cheekbones, so that the skin around his eyes looked like a pink mask. He was meticulous without being prissy, and Toni normally enjoyed working with him, but now he was bad-tempered. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “The overwhelming likelihood is that the material unaccounted for was used perfectly legitimately by someone who simply forgot to make entries in the log.” His tone of voice was testy: he had said this twice before.
“I hope you’re right,” Toni said noncommittally. She got up and went to the window. The personnel office overlooked the extension that housed the