Whiteout - Ken Follett [126]
On television, Osborne was saying, “In a meticulously planned Christmas caper, three men and a woman defeated the laboratory’s state-of-the-art security and penetrated to BioSafety Level Four, where the company keeps stocks of incurable viruses in a locked refrigerator.”
Stanley said, “But, Kit, you didn’t help them do this, did you?”
Olga spoke up. “Of course he did,” she said disgustedly.
“The armed gang overcame security guards, injuring two, one seriously. But many more will die if the Madoba-2 virus is released into the population.”
Stanley rolled over with an effort and sat upright. His face was bruised, one eye was closing, and there was blood down the front of his pajamas; yet he still seemed the most authoritative person in the room. “Listen to that fellow on TV,” he said.
Daisy moved toward Stanley, but Nigel stopped her with a raised hand.
“You’re going to kill yourselves,” Stanley said. “If you really have Madoba-2 in that bottle on the table, there’s no antidote. If you drop it and the bottle smashes and the fluid leaks out, you’re dead. Even if you sell it to someone else and they release it after you’ve left, it spreads so fast that you could easily catch it and die.”
On the screen, Osborne said, “Madoba-2 is believed to be more dangerous than the Black Death that devastated Britain in . . . ancient times.”
Stanley raised his voice over the commentary. “He’s right, even if he doesn’t know what century he’s talking about. In Britain in 1348 the Black Death killed one person in three. This could be worse. Surely no amount of money is worth that risk?”
Nigel said, “I won’t be in Britain when it’s released.”
Kit was shocked. Nigel had not previously mentioned this. Had Elton also made plans to go abroad? What about Daisy and Harry Mac? Kit himself intended to be in Italy—but now he wondered if that was far enough away.
Stanley turned to Kit. “You can’t possibly think this makes sense.”
He was right, Kit thought. The whole thing bordered on insane. But then, the world was crazy. “I’m going to be dead anyway if I don’t pay my debts.”
“Come on, they’re not going to kill you for a debt.”
Daisy said, “Oh, yes, we are.”
“How much do you owe?”
“A quarter of a million pounds.”
“Good God!”
“I told you I was desperate, three months ago, but you wouldn’t listen, you bastard.”
“How the hell did you manage to run up a debt—No, never mind, forget I asked.”
“Gambling on credit. My system is good—I just had a very long run of bad luck.”
Olga spoke up. “Luck? Kit, wake up—you’ve been had! These people lent you the money then made sure you lost, because they needed you to help them rob the laboratory!”
Kit did not believe that. He said scornfully, “How would you know a thing like that?”
“I’m a lawyer, I meet these people, I hear their pathetic excuses when they’re caught. I know more about them than I care to.”
Stanley spoke again. “Look, Kit, surely we can find a way out of this without killing innocent people?”
“Too late now. I made my decision, and I’ve got to see this through.”
“But think about it, lad. How many people are you going to kill? Dozens? Thousands? Millions?”
“I see you’re willing for me to be killed. You’d protect a crowd of strangers, but you wouldn’t rescue me.”
Stanley groaned. “God knows I love you, and I don’t want you to die, but are you sure you want to save your own life at that price?”
As Kit opened his mouth to reply, his phone rang.
Taking it out of his pocket, he wondered whether Nigel would trust him to answer it. But no one moved, and he held the phone to his ear. He heard the voice of Hamish McKinnon. “Toni’s following the snowplow, and she’s persuaded them to divert to your place. She’ll be there any minute. And there are two police officers in the cab.”
Kit ended the call and looked at Nigel. “The police are coming here—now.”
7:15 A.M.
CRAIG opened the side door of the garage and peeped out. Three windows were lit in the gable end of the house, but the curtains were drawn, so no casual observer could see him.
He glanced back to where Sophie sat. He