‘What’s she done with it?’ asked Giles.
‘She gave it to Auroragen to grow up on an industrial scale. They’ve been filling injection vials with it for inoculation… with distribution due to start today.’
‘Christ! This is a bloody nightmare.’
‘If we can’t stop it,’ said Steven, frantically pulling his phone out, ‘something like fifty million people both here and the USA are going to be injected with Cambodia 5 virus instead of vaccine.’
‘Jesus!’
Steven called the duty officer at Sci-Med. ‘Listen and listen carefully. This is the biggest situation you are ever going to handle. We are talking a grade-one national emergency. All supplies of flu vaccine emanating from Auroragen in Liverpool must be recalled immediately. The vials do not contain vaccine, they contain a biological weapon. All government departments must be alerted to the danger and the police and army should make recovery of the vials a first priority. Auroragen can supply the distribution schedules including the arrangements for the US consignment. The company was not part of the conspiracy. Got that?’
‘Got it.’
‘When you’ve finished with the top level alerts, all major UK cities on the Auroragen supply list should be instructed to implement their biohazard emergency procedures just in case any of the distribution vehicles should be involved in an accident.’
‘Understood.’
‘Any consignments in the air should be recalled and diverted to military airports away from populated areas. If they’ve already gone beyond the point of no return, the same goes for the other side of the Atlantic.’
‘Understood.’
‘Good man. Put me through to Macmillan.’
Steven confined himself to telling Macmillan quickly that the Auroragen vials contained Cambodia 5 virus, not vaccine, knowing that his boss would appreciate the urgency of the situation and want to start making calls of his own. They agreed to speak later.
By four in the afternoon all ‘vaccine’ production had been closed down at Auroragen and stocks placed in quarantine, pending removal to Porton Down. All production workers had been placed under virtual house arrest until the incubation time for Cambodia 5 had passed — just in case they had infected themselves during the course of their everyday work. But the fact that they had been so well trained in safe microbiological techniques in an effort to avoid ‘contamination’ of the vaccine after last year’s fiasco worked both ways. Their skills had also protected them from infection when handling Cambodia 5. Fifteen outward bound trucks, laden with injection vials, had been intercepted and ordered to return to the pharmaceutical company under police escort and an RAF Hercules flight had been recalled when already two hours out over the Atlantic, bound for the USA, carrying emergency ‘vaccine’ for the Bush administration.
‘I think it fair to say that the Prime Minister and the entire cabinet were astounded at the audacity of the al-Qaeda operation,’ said Macmillan. ‘Another few hours and it would have been too late. The UK and US governments would have been crippled within weeks and it’s almost certain that a global pandemic would have ensued. They asked me to pass on their sincere thanks.’
Steven nodded. ‘So, what are they going to tell the electorate about the lack of flu vaccine this year when the papers have been doing their level best to cause panic over bird flu?’ he asked. ‘There’s no time left now to come up with a real vaccine.’
‘I understand they’re going to dress up the shortage as a change in strategy,’ said Macmillan. ‘The Health Secretary will announce that they’ve decided to go for stocks of an antiviral drug instead of a vaccine. Apparently a Swiss pharmaceutical company has come up with one they’ve had some success with.’
‘In getting politicians out of a tight corner,’ completed Steven.
‘That might well be its main asset,’ agreed Macmillan. ‘But I understand that it can be effective in preventing death if it’s taken quickly enough.’
‘And like all anti-virals, that means at the very first sign of symptoms,’ said Steven. ‘And we both know the chances of that are practically zero. By the time people have actually decided they’ve got flu and sought help it’ll be too late.’
Macmillan looked equally dubious. ‘Either that or there will be a panic and people will demand the drug and take it when they haven’t even got the disease, which will be no use at all in preventing it and just use up stocks.’
Both men remained silent for a moment before Macmillan shook his head and changed the subject. He asked, ‘Any thoughts on who the false Leila Martin really was?’
‘I’m still thinking about it,’ replied Steven. ‘And before you remind me, I am aware that she’s still out there.’
The sun had come out and Steven walked by the Thames Embankment while he considered ‘Leila’s deception. She’d obviously had enough training in microbiology for her to be able to culture the virus safely and pass herself off as a visiting research fellow at the Crick Institute although, through pressure of work, she had had the perfect excuse to avoid too much contact with fellow scientists. The deadline for the vaccine had also helped her avoid facing any questions about its design where any shortcomings about her knowledge might have been exposed. He himself, to his embarrassment, had helped her negotiate her way through the safety screens of Auroragen.
The real Leila Martin had had a French father and a Moroccan mother and had been educated in France. His Leila had the right looks for such a mix and also the right accent… It was also similar to Ali Mansour’s background, thought Steven. Mansour was the son of an Iraqi father and a French mother… He was also a graduate in microbiology…
Steven pulled out his phone and called Mac Davidson at the Sci-Med lab.
‘Do you remember the DNA fingerprint tests I requested a while back on the staff of the Crick Institute?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Do you still have them?’
‘I don’t think we’ve got round to destroying them yet,’ said Davidson. ‘Why? There were no matches as I remember.’
‘I know but I’d like you to look at them again, particularly a comparison of the woman we believed to be Leila Martin and the DNA profile taken from the safe handle — the one that was subsequently shown to be Ali Mansour’s.’
‘I’ll get back to you.’
Two hours later an embarrassed Mac Davidson got back to Steven. ‘I’m not sure how we missed this,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it was because we were just looking for exact matches at the time but… there are certain corresponding features about the two profiles you asked to be re-examined.’
‘Let me guess,’ said Steven. ‘The two subjects concerned could be brother and sister.’
‘That’s about it,’ conceded Davidson. ‘Sorry.’
‘Thanks, Mac,’ said Steven. When it came to missing things, he didn’t feel up to calling the kettle black. He called Macmillan. ‘Leila was Ali Mansour’s sister,’ he said. ‘I take it you have details of Mansour’s family there?’
‘I’ll email them to you. Well done again!’
Fifteen minutes later, Steven was gazing at a photograph of his Leila on the screen of his laptop only she was in reality, Zainab Aline Mansour. She was eight years younger than the real Leila Martin but she had a degree in microbiology like her brother and had actually worked in the real Leila Martin’s lab in Washington at one time as a graduate student.
Steven called Macmillan back and gave him the details. ‘If she didn’t leave the country as Leila Martin,’ he said. ‘There’s a good chance she travelled under her own name of Zainab Aline Mansour. She may still be waiting for her brother to join her somewhere.’