Whiteout - Ken Follett [43]
Then there was a shot of Carl Osborne asking, “Exactly what danger did this rabbit pose to the general public?”
Toni leaned forward on the couch. This was the crunch.
They played the interchange between Carl and Stanley, with Carl posing disaster scenarios and Stanley saying how unlikely they were. This was bad, Toni knew. The audience would remember the idea of wildlife becoming infected, even though Stanley had said firmly that it was not possible.
On the screen, Carl said, “But Michael could have given the virus to other people.”
Stanley replied gravely, “By sneezing, yes.”
Unfortunately, they cut the exchange at that point.
Stanley muttered, “Bloody hell.”
“It’s not over yet,” Toni said. It could get better—or worse.
Toni hoped they would show her hasty intervention, when she had tried to counter the impression of complacency by saying that Oxenford Medical was not trying to downplay the risk. But, instead, there was a shot of Susan Mackintosh on the phone, with a voice-over explaining how the company was calling every employee to check whether they had had contact with Michael Ross. That was all right, Toni thought with relief. The danger was bluntly stated, but the company was shown taking positive action.
The final press conference shot was a close-up of Stanley, looking responsible, saying, “In time, we will defeat influenza, and AIDS, and even cancer—and it will be done by scientists like us, working in laboratories such as this.”
“That’s good,” Toni said.
“Will it outweigh the dialogue with Osborne, about infecting wildlife?”
“I think so. You look so reassuring.”
Then there was a shot of the canteen staff giving out steaming hot drinks to the demonstrators in the snow. “Great—they used it!” said Toni.
“I didn’t see this,” Stanley said. “Whose idea was it?”
“Mine.”
Carl Osborne thrust a microphone into the face of a woman employee and said, “These people are demonstrating against your company. Why are you giving them coffee?”
“Because it’s cold out here,” the woman replied.
Toni and Stanley laughed, delighted with the woman’s wit and the positive way it reflected on the company.
The anchor reappeared and said, “The First Minister of Scotland issued a statement this morning, saying, ‘I have today spoken to representatives of Oxenford Medical, the Inverburn police, and the Inverburn regional health authority, and I am satisfied that everything possible is being done to ensure that there is no further danger to the public.’ And now other news.”
Toni said, “My God, I think we saved the day.”
“Giving out hot drinks was a great idea—when did you think of that?”
“At the last minute. Let’s see what the UK news says.”
In the main bulletin, the story of Michael Ross came second, after an earthquake in Russia. The report used some of the same footage, but without Carl Osborne, who was a personality only in Scotland. There was a clip of Stanley saying, “The virus is not very infectious across species. In order to infect Michael, we think the rabbit must have bitten him.” There was a low-key statement from the British Environment Minister in London. The report continued the same unhysterical tone of the Scottish news. Toni was hugely relieved.
Stanley said, “It’s good to know that not all journalists are like Carl Osborne.”
“He asked me to have dinner with him.” Toni wondered why she was telling him this.
Stanley looked surprised. “Ha la faccia peggio del culo!” he said. “Hell of a nerve.”
She laughed. What he had actually said was “His face is worse than his arse,” presumably one of Marta’s expressions. “He’s an attractive man,” she said.
“You don’t really think so, do you?”
“He’s handsome, anyway.” She realized she was trying to make him jealous. Don’t play games, she told herself.
He said, “What did you say to him?”
“I turned him down, of course.”