‘Mm, unfortunately, people like us cannot afford the luxury of such proclamations from the moral high-ground,’ said Macmillan. ‘we have to figure out why the bastards did it.’
‘Touché,’ said Steven with a smile.
‘Don’t take it personally, I know exactly what you mean.’
The two men lapsed into silence, looking out the windows of the police Range Rover at the world flashing past until Macmillan said, ‘Penny for them.’
Steven laughed and said, ‘I haven’t heard anyone say that in years, but, as you’ve asked... I know the two English scientists took a shed-load of money for contributing their expertise and design skills and it looks awful, but I’m finding it hard to believe that either of them would have agreed to any plan that would have involved anyone using their lifetime’s work to murder people.’
‘You don’t think it’s a case of scientists handing matches to a baby and absolving themselves from all responsibility over what happens afterwards?’
‘I suppose... I suppose,’ Steven conceded.
‘But you think they may have swallowed some different story?’
‘I think it possible they believed they were doing what they were doing for genuine humanitarian reasons. They might well have accepted that they were designing something to enable multiple vaccine inoculations at varying times from one tiny implant and that some pharma company must have come up with the cash, perhaps looking for a world monopoly.’
‘But there was no pharma company money,’ said Macmillan, ‘The Russian expats have been financing it for their own ends and that can only mean making money — even more than the fortune they shelled out to make the damned things. Can’t see why myself, the capsules are pretty useless as a weapon; who is going to buy them.’
‘We’ll have to tell the World Health Organisation,’ said Steven. ‘We must assume that it was capsules Petrov was sending to Lagarde in Geneva in the other containers he sent from Beer Sheva.’
‘Do you think they might be lying around there?’
‘Actually, no,’ exclaimed Steven with a pained expression, suddenly remembering that someone at Beer Sheva had said that Lagarde forwarded the containers almost as soon as they arrived in Geneva.
‘To where?’
‘No one who was asked knew.’
‘Maybe we shouldn’t tell WHO just yet,’ said Macmillan, ‘it might get to the wrong ears.’
‘Agreed,’ said Steven, ‘but, who should we tell?’
‘I think the PM will have to be told.’
Steven seemed unsure, prompting Macmillan to say, ‘You don’t agree?’
‘It’s going to create an... unusual situation,’ said Steven. ‘We don’t know if MI6 found their snake in the grass and we can’t request that she keep Six out of the loop — same goes for the Home Secretary; Six is his responsibility.’
‘Oh my God,’ sighed Macmillan, ‘we’re faced with that old adage again, two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.’
‘The PM doesn’t actually know about our visit to Porton today,’ said Steven, ‘the last request she was involved in was over my asking them to keep the capsules somewhere isolated and safe.’
‘And what she doesn’t know can’t harm her?’
‘Just for the time being.’
Steven waited for Tally to call with what were becoming the usual feelings of trepidation surrounding the prospect of having to tell her the truth about anything that had been going on, so much so that he decided he would ask her if they could agree to avoid the subject of his investigation entirely until they were together again. He just couldn’t face the prospect of opening a cupboard so full of skeletons over the phone and then try telling her there was nothing to worry about. Amputated limbs, dead Russians, keeping secrets from the prime minister and Marburg virus being set free were just all part of the daily routine.
This line of thought brought Steven to considering what he was going to say or do if Tally announced that she was coming home in the next few days. He was staring at the Glock pistol hanging over the corner of a chair in its holster and thinking how much Tally hated seeing it in their flat... when the phone rang.
‘How good to hear your voice,’ said Steven.
‘And yours, I’m not even going to ask you where you were last night when I called, I’m just so relieved that you answered tonight. No, don’t say anything. I know you are engaged in some awful investigation and that you will be in danger whatever you say. I’ve learned from the past, I won’t ask any questions until I come home because doing so will make it even worse for you and I need you to concentrate on taking care. We can talk about things then.’
Steven felt a lump come to his throat. ‘We both have to concentrate on taking care.’ Feeling slightly silly, he asked, ‘How was your day?’ which made Tally laugh and Steven to think what a lovely sound that was.
‘Uneventful,’ said Tally, ‘none of us have managed to make plans because our regional manager, Marcus Altman, hasn’t returned from his tour round the entire region: he’s checking that there are no cases of Ebola being concealed. We’ll all just have to wait.’
‘Have you seen your friend, Monique again?’
Tally said not. ‘She doesn’t like being seen with me, the villagers start thinking she’s consorting with the enemy.’
‘Surely she knows you’re not the enemy.’
‘I think she does, but she’s the one who has to live here.’
‘Nothing’s ever easy,’ Steven said with a sigh.
‘Loving you is,’ said Tally out of the blue and the lump returned to Steven’s throat.
‘Are you still there?’
‘MI6 want to speak to you,’ said John Macmillan when Steven arrived at the Home Office in the morning.
‘Any idea why?’
‘C didn’t say.’
Steven noted Macmillan’s clipped tones and suspected that he wasn’t too pleased at not being told what was going on. He felt obliged to assure him that he didn’t know either. ‘Maybe he has some news about Jane Sherman,’ he suggested.
‘Only one way to find out,’ said Macmillan.
Steven made his way over to Albert Embankment, enjoying the walk but feeling curious about what he was going to hear. Good news or bad news, he wondered.
‘Thanks for coming,’ said, C, the head of MI6, not M as people imagined from the Bond movies.
‘I was actually preparing to go over to the hospital to see how Jane Sherman was doing when Sir John said you wanted to see me,’ Steven said, ‘Have you heard anything this morning?’
‘She’s holding her own, the doctors think they’ve found the right antibiotic combination. They’re optimistic.’
‘Good.’
‘I understand you and Jane have been... collaborating over a few things?’
‘There’s nothing like being run over by a Range Rover for bringing people together,’ said Steven, immediately regretting his hasty tongue.
C ignored the comment and said, ‘As Jane is hors de combat at the moment, is there anything you would like to tell me?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Steven thoughtfully, matching C’s steady gaze with his own.
‘Are you sure?
‘I think so... have you found the mole who leaked information about Jane’s whereabouts, which led to the loss of her leg?’
‘Point taken,’ said C after more than a moment’s thought. ‘We have, the problem has been... resolved.’
‘Good,’ said Steven, ‘then perhaps there are things we should talk about.’ He told him about the capsules and what had gone on at Porton.
‘Ah,’ said C. ‘We knew about Marburg disease going walk-about, now we know why.’