Whiteout - Ken Follett [18]
Another camera showed them in a small lobby. A row of dials on the wall monitored the air pressure in the lab. The farther you went inside BSL4, the lower the air pressure. This downward gradient ensured that any leakage of air was inward, not outward. From the lobby they went to separate men’s and women’s changing rooms. “This is when he took the rabbit out of the bag,” Toni said. “If his buddy that day had been a man, the plan wouldn’t have worked. But he had Monica and, of course, there are no cameras in the changing rooms.”
“But damn it, you can’t put security cameras in changing rooms,” Stanley said. “No one would work here.”
“Absolutely,” said Toni. “We’ll have to think of something else. Watch this.”
The next shot came from a camera inside the lab. It showed conventional rabbit racks housed in a clear plastic isolation cover. Toni froze the picture. “Could you explain to me what the scientists are doing in this lab, exactly?”
“Of course. Our new drug is effective against many viruses, but not all. In this experiment it was being tested against Madoba-2, a variant of the Ebola virus that causes a lethal hemorrhagic fever in both rabbits and humans. Two groups of rabbits were challenged with the virus.”
“Challenged?”
“Sorry—it’s the word we use. It means they were infected. Then one group was injected with the drug.”
“What did you find?”
“The drug doesn’t defeat Madoba-2 in rabbits. We’re a bit disappointed. Almost certainly, it won’t cure this type of virus in humans either.”
“But you didn’t know that sixteen days ago.”
“Correct.”
“In that case, I think I understand what Michael was trying to do.” She touched the keyboard to unfreeze the picture. A figure stepped into shot wearing a light blue plastic space suit with a clear helmet. He stopped by the door to push his feet into rubber overboots. Then he reached up and grabbed a curly yellow air hose hanging from the ceiling. He connected it to an inlet on his belt. As air was pumped in, the suit inflated, until he looked like the Michelin Man.
“This is Michael,” Toni said. “He changed faster than Monica, so at the moment he’s in there alone.”
“It shouldn’t happen, but it does,” Stanley said. “The two-person rule is observed, but not minute by minute. Merda.” Stanley often cursed in Italian, having learned a ripe vocabulary from his wife. Toni, who spoke Spanish, usually understood.
On screen Michael went up to the rabbit rack, moving with deliberate slowness in the awkward costume. His back was to the camera and, for a few moments, the pumped-up suit shielded what he was doing. Then he stepped away and dropped something on a stainless-steel laboratory bench.
“Notice anything?” Toni said.
“No.”
“Nor did the security guards who were watching the monitors.” Toni was defending her staff. If Stanley had not seen what happened, he could hardly blame the guards for missing it, too. “But look again.” She went back a couple of minutes and froze the frame as Michael stepped into shot. “One rabbit in that top right-hand cage.”
“I see.”
“Look harder at Michael. He’s got something under his arm.”
“Yes—wrapped in blue plastic suit fabric.”
She ran the footage forward, stopping again as Michael moved away from the rabbit rack. “How many rabbits in the top right-hand cage?”
“Two, damn it.” Stanley looked perplexed. “I thought your theory was that Michael took a rabbit out of the lab. You’ve shown him bringing one in!”
“A substitute. Otherwise the scientists would have noticed one was missing.”
“Then what’s his motivation? In order to save one rabbit, he has to condemn another to death!”
“Insofar as he was rational at all, I imagine he felt there