Whiteout - Ken Follett [36]
“We’ll know when we see the lunchtime news on television. Now you should slip away; otherwise they’ll all be trying to corner you for an exclusive interview.” He was under pressure, and she wanted to protect him.
“Good thinking. I need to get home, anyway.” He lived in a farmhouse on a cliff five miles from the lab. “I’d like to be there to welcome the family.”
That disappointed her. She had been looking forward to reviewing the press conference with him. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll monitor the reaction.”
“At least no one asked me the worst question.”
“What was that?”
“The survival rate from Madoba-2.”
“What does that mean?”
“No matter how deadly the infection, there are usually some individuals who live through it. Survival rate is a measure of how dangerous it is.”
“And what is the survival rate for Madoba-2?”
“Zero,” said Stanley.
Toni stared at him. She was glad she had not known that before.
Stanley nodded over her shoulder. “Here comes Osborne.”
“I’ll head him off at the pass.” She moved to intercept the reporter, and Stanley left by a side door. “Hello, Carl. I hope you got everything you needed?”
“I think so. I was wondering what Stanley’s first success was.”
“He was a member of the team that developed acyclovir.”
“Which is?”
“The cream you put on when you get cold sores. The brand name is Zovirax. It’s an antiviral drug.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
Toni did not think Carl was genuinely interested. She wondered what he was really after. She said, “May we rely on you to do a judicious piece that reflects the facts and doesn’t exaggerate the danger?”
“You mean will I be talking about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
She winced. “Foolish of me to give an example of the kind of hyperbole I was trying to discourage.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to quote you.”
“Thanks.”
“You shouldn’t thank me. I’d use it happily, but my audience wouldn’t have the slightest idea what it means.” He changed tack. “I’ve hardly seen you since you split up with Frank. How long ago is it now?”
“He left me at Christmas two years ago.”
“How have you been?”
“I’ve had some bad times, if you want to know the truth. But things are picking up. At least, they were until today.”
“We should get together and catch up.”
She had no desire to spend time with Osborne, but she politely said, “Sure, why not.”
He surprised her by following up quickly. “Would you like to have dinner?”
“Dinner?” she said.
“Yes.”
“As in, go out on a date with you?”
“Yes, again.”
It was the last thing she had expected. “No!” she said. Then she remembered how dangerous this man could be, and tried to soften her rejection. “I’m sorry, Carl, you took me by surprise. I’ve known you so long that I just don’t think of you that way.”
“I might change your thinking.” He looked boyishly vulnerable. “Give me a chance.”
The answer was still no, but she hesitated for a moment. Carl was handsome, charming, well paid, a local celebrity. Most single women pushing forty would jump at the chance. But she was not even mildly attracted to him. Even if she had not given her heart to Stanley, she would not have been tempted to go out with Carl. Why?
It took her only a second to find the answer. Carl had no integrity. A man who would distort the truth for the sake of a sensational story would be equally dishonest in other areas of life. He was not a monster. There were plenty of men like him, and a few women. But Toni could not contemplate becoming intimate with someone so shallow. How could you kiss, and confess secrets, and lose your inhibitions, and open your body, with someone who could not be trusted? The thought was revolting.
“I’m flattered,” she lied. “But no.”
He was not ready to give up. “The truth is, I always fancied you, even when you were with Frank. You must have sensed that.”
“You used to flirt with me, but you did that with most women.”
“It wasn’t the same.”
“Aren’t you seeing that weather girl? I seem to remember a photo in the newspaper.”
“Marnie? That was never serious. I did it for publicity,