‘They had an accident. But don’t worry, Daddy’s going to make it all better. Now, why don’t you go back to your room?’
One of the guards came over to lead him out.
‘Come on, son.’
‘No, let him stay,’ Stafford interrupted.
Lock watched as Josh shuttled his gaze between his father and Stafford, unsure who to obey. It was the first time he had seen the boy in anything other than photographs. The anger he felt that he’d been used as a pawn in this whole thing by Stafford acted like an opiate to dull his pain. Damn. He should have shot him when he had the chance and been done with it.
Stafford turned his attention back to Mareta, and grimaced at her leg wound. ‘She still good to go for the trial?’ he asked Richard.
‘Are you out of your mind? Of course not.’
‘You couldn’t juggle the results?’
‘Wait a second. One minute you want me to sign off, now you want me to fake them?’
‘You’re right. But it still leaves us one short. We’ll have to find someone else to take her place.’
Lock watched as Stafford’s gaze settled on Josh.
‘I wonder if there’d be any clinical benefit in seeing how effective the vaccine is with a different age group?’ Stafford mused.
Richard placed himself between Stafford and his son. ‘You can go to hell, Stafford.’
Lock strained to lift his head. ‘You can use me.’
Sixty-one
Carrie full-screened the RealPlayer window on her computer. The screen was black, save for a time/date stamp in the lower left corner. If it was accurate, the tape had been shot at ten minutes to midnight, a month before Gray Stokes had been shot outside Meditech.
White text rolled up the screen. Someone had taken their time putting this together. Carrie pulled a yellow legal pad from a drawer and jotted down what it said.
1st PHASE TRIAL OF DH-741
MEDITECH ANIMAL TESTING ROOM
ANIMAL TRIAL SUBJECT REACTION
POST-VACCINATION FILOVIRUS EXPOSURE
As the text scrolled off screen there was an abrupt cut to video footage — shaky, handheld, snatched. Grey metal filled the frame. A slow zoom out revealed the grey as the bar of a cage. It was joined by another bar, then Carrie could make out a brown rhesus monkey staring out. The monkey’s hands gripped the bars, its mouth opened wider than seemed possible. It screamed. Blood-red tears seeped from its eyes. It shook the bars of the cage.
The camera panned across, picking up its neighbour banging its head against the bars, simultaneously clawing at its eyes with its fingers. Screams came from all sides.
In the cage next to that another rhesus writhed. Its back arched and fell, as if a strong electric current was being passed through it. Near-human features contorted in pain. Then it arched once more, fell back, and didn’t move.
The person shooting the footage moved along the line. One dead or dying animal after another.
There was the clank of a heavy door closing and someone walking in.
‘Dr Hulme?’
Then the screen went black.
Sixty-two
Back in the cell, Lock tried to doze, but sleep was made all but impossible by leg irons, cuffs, an aching body and a bad case of buyer’s remorse.
He’d made the decision to shoot Mareta in the heat of the moment, rationalizing that she wasn’t the best thing to be unleashed on an unsuspecting American public, but not having the guts or the heart to kill a woman. Shooting her kept them both alive, and bought him time, although for what? It had been his best, probably only chance of escape, and he’d screwed it up royally. The monkey might be dead, but the organ grinder was very much alive. And he guessed Mareta wasn’t best pleased either.
The cell door opened unexpectedly and two guards in riot gear stepped inside.
‘Relax. I’m not about to throw down,’ Lock said, rolling over on to his side. ‘Although I may throw up.’
They pulled him to his feet and dragged him from the cell. He waited for the punches and kicks to start again but none came.
The gate slid open at the end of the corridor and they marched him through and out of the building. The watery low winter sun hurt his eyes as they led him across open ground to the medical block. Here there were more gates, more security points to pass through.
Eventually, they reached a room that Lock vaguely remembered passing on his way with Mareta to the medical area a few hours earlier. There were no gurneys inside, just an examination couch, a desk and a chair. Richard Hulme sat behind the desk.
The guards lifted Lock up on to the couch.
‘I’ll be quite safe,’ said Richard.
The guards didn’t budge. ‘Sorry, Dr Hulme, we have our orders.’
Lock wondered how much either guard knew about what had happened in the lead-up to his appearance in Mareta’s cell. He doubted Brand would have trusted all but his closest confidants with the knowledge of Josh’s kidnapping, or Lock’s role in trying to track him down.
‘He’s fully restrained,’ Richard shot back.
‘Like we just said, we’re here to ensure your safety,’ the second guard replied.
‘And I appreciate it. And if you get your rocks off seeing me giving a grown man a full medical, including a prostate check, that’s your business.’
‘Prostate?’ said the first guard.
‘He’s going to shove his finger up my ass,’ replied Lock.
The two guards traded a look.
‘He is in restraints,’ the second guard said, not relishing the thought of what was going to be happening in the room. ‘OK, we’ll be right outside, but leave the door open. If it closes we’ll be coming through it.’
Once they were alone, Richard began the examination, starting with a visual assessment. ‘You took a real beating.’
‘I’ve taken worse,’ Lock lied.
Richard leaned in closer as he checked Lock’s ears for signs of bleeding. ‘You think there’s a camera on us?’ he whispered. Then he drew back. ‘Are you experiencing any pain?’
‘I think that’s safe to assume,’ Lock said. ‘But as long as it’s low level, I think I’ll be OK.’
Richard took the hint and dropped his voice as he continued the examination. ‘Listen, do you know the procedure for this test?’
Lock shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’
‘In your case, yes. I’m going to give you a placebo but I want you to act as if you’re having a violent reaction right after I give it to you.’ He raised his voice again. ‘Could you raise your arms for me?’
‘What about the others? Are you going to test them too?’ Lock asked as Richard placed a stethoscope against his back.
‘I’m hoping to test you first.’
‘It’s too risky. Especially now they’ve got Josh here.’
‘They can’t blame me if the vaccine doesn’t work.’
‘You don’t think it’ll work?’
‘No, I think it will, but I’m not going to play God with these people no matter who they are.’
‘You might not have a choice, Dr Hulme.’
Sixty-three
Josh lay on the bed reading a comic, one for boys his age. Not like that horrible album. He’d already worked out that if he looked at enough other stuff he could push those pictures out of his brain. But he couldn’t seem to get rid of the smell of the place where he’d been kept. It was everywhere.
He glanced up as his dad walked into the room. ‘What was wrong with that lady?’
‘She got hurt in an accident.’
‘It looked like she’d been shot.’