Cleary seemed to take a long time to answer but when he did it was just to say, ‘No, Inspector, just flu virus.’
‘Good,’ said Giles. ‘Then we can all sleep safely in our beds . . .’
‘Yeees . . .’
‘But?’
‘No buts Inspector, of course we can. About the animals . . .’
‘What about them, sir?’
‘What will you do?’
‘The public have been warned not to approach them and to report any sightings to the police. After that we’ll leave it up to the usual agencies to bring them in, RSPCA, PDSA. Don’t suppose monkeys’ll fancy Norfolk too much with the nights getting colder . . . but then I suppose they’re smart enough to start looking for a billet indoors should the need arise . . .’ Giles watched for a reaction from Cleary.
‘Better warn the public to lock all doors and windows,’ said Cleary.
‘Really, sir?’ said Giles.
Cleary looked at him. ‘They can give you a nasty bite, Inspector,’ he said but he knew he’d been tested.
‘Were all the monkeys infected with . . . flu virus, sir?’ Giles asked.
‘As far as I could make out; it was a six animal experiment. Four animals had received Tim’s experimental vaccine and had then been injected with flu virus – challenged, we call it - one had received the vaccine alone and the remaining animal, the virus alone.’
‘What was the purpose of the last two?’ asked Giles.
‘They’re what we call control animals,’ said Cleary. ‘One was a vaccine control to make sure the vaccine itself did not cause illness and the second was a virus control to demonstrate that the live virus was in fact alive and could cause infection. You always need controls to validate an experiment.’
‘I see, sir. Is there any way of knowing which animal is which when they are recovered?’
Cleary looked doubtful. ‘I think not,’ he said. ‘We wouldn’t know which cage an animal had come from and they wouldn’t have labels round their necks. Mind you . . . Smithy might be able to tell.’
‘The man who fed them?’
‘Yes, the Professor’s notes state which animal was given what by name – they all had names, you see. Smithy might be able to recognise them when they’re brought in.’
‘Good,’ said Giles. ‘That might be useful.’
* * * * *
‘I don’t often feel queasy in my job,’ said Marjorie Ryman. ‘But I’ll have to admit to it this time. For sheer, bloody minded cruelty this takes the biscuit.’
Giles looked down at the body on the table and screwed up his face.
‘I mean, I can see the point of humiliating the man by stripping him and putting him in a cage like an animal. To a lesser extent I can even understand the thing with his eyes – although not with bleach – because of what’s gone on in animal experiments in the past. But the systematic mutilation of his body with a scalpel by the looks of it . . . I fail to see the point they were trying to make.’
‘Pure unadulterated sadism,’ said Giles. ‘I take it you were right about the cause of death? You usually are.’
‘Yes, it was the cannula through the heart.’ She held up the long, hollow needle that had been found in the cage beside Devon. ‘I was rather hoping I wasn’t because I hoped he’d died before they got round to that but no, it looks as if he was alive throughout the rest, God have mercy on him.’
‘Thanks Madge,’ said Giles. He found he had little heart for any further conversation.
‘What now, sir?’ asked Sergeant Morley.
‘Home. We grab a few hours while our colleagues bring in every animal rights bozo they can lay hands on and the whole county goes on monkey watch.’
‘What do you tell your wife when you’ve had a day like this?’ asked Morley as they walked across the yard.
‘I don’t,’ said Giles. ‘We have an agreement. After fifteen years she can tell by my face what kind of day I’ve had and what size of a gin is required. She puts it down on the table and I say, “Thanks love” and that’s the end of it. We talk about other things, inconsequential things like the meaning of life and the origin of the universe.’
‘And that works?’
‘Tonight she’ll be leaving the bottle.’
* * * * *
David Elwood grunted as he manoeuvred himself into bed, hampered by having one arm in a sling. His wife pulled up the blankets and made a fuss of tucking him in. ‘How’s the pain?’
‘It’s fine; the pills are dealing with it. ’
‘Fancy some hot chocolate?’
‘That would be nice, dear.’
‘Telly on?’ asked Mary, pausing by the portable television, which stood on top of a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed. ‘
Panorama’s
on. Mind you, it’s just about finished but I think there’s a spooky film after it.’
‘I think I’ve had enough spooky nonsense for one day,’ said David.
‘Perhaps we both have,’ said Mary. ‘I only hope they catch these swine. What they did to that poor Professor was just plain evil.’
‘World’s full of fanatics these days.’
Mary left the room and returned a few minutes later with two mugs of hot chocolate. She placed one on each of the bedside tables before going over to the window to draw the curtains. Something caught her attention in the garden and she held back the curtains with both hands while she pressed her nose to the glass.
‘You’ve not found another monkey out there, have you?’ said her husband.
‘No, dear,’ replied Mary. ‘I think it’s a spaceman with a gun . . .’
THREE
Home Office
London
‘Gentlemen, the Home Secretary has asked me to convene this first meeting of the
Earlybird
sub-committee of the Joint Intelligence Committee in response to information received. As you are all aware, the JIC set up
Earlybird
in the wake of the Butler Inquiry and in accordance with its mandate to set up committees and sub-committees as it sees fit.
Earlybird
is seen as an appropriate vehicle for the early discussion of security alerts to those not directly concerned with the security of our nation but who, nevertheless, might be regarded as interested parties and who might have an input to make - thus broadening interpretation of such alerts.’
The Home Office minister turned to a man wearing army uniform and said. ‘Colonel Rose, as the current information emanates from Defence Intelligence Services, perhaps you would care to take over?’
‘Thank you, Minister, and good morning, ladies and gentlemen. In recent weeks DIS have correlated from a number of impeccable sources information that leads us to believe that al-Qaeda are becoming increasingly active in the UK.’
‘Would these be the same ‘impeccable’ sources that gave us weapons of mass destruction and 45 minute deployment?’ asked John Macmillan, head of the Sci-Med Inspectorate. The comment attracted glares from several of the others round the table.
‘I think that was uncalled for, John,’ said the Home Office minister.
Macmillan acquiesced with a slight hand gesture, which did not quite amount to an apology.
‘Please continue, Colonel.’
‘On the face of it, we appear to have been successful in diverting a 9/11 style attack on Canary Wharf and a planned second offensive on Heathrow Airport.’
‘You’ve made arrests?’
‘We have had a number of suspects undergoing interrogation for the past two weeks,’ replied Rose. ‘As a result of these interrogations we were able to reach certain conclusions.’
‘Then congratulations appear to be in order.’
‘Unfortunately, we think not,’ said Rose. ‘In fact, we think we’ve been had.’
‘How so?’
‘None of the people we picked up are, in our view, capable of planning or executing such attacks. Without exception, they were all low-level operatives, foot soldiers who knew very little . . . except for the targets.’
‘And that makes you suspicious?’
‘It makes us think that we have been fed false information. We now believe that al-Qaeda have sacrificed a number of foot soldiers, fresh from their training camps, in an effort to create a diversion. But the million dollar question is for what? What are they going to do while we sit congratulating ourselves on smashing a planned attack that never was?’
‘Are you absolutely sure that you’re reading the situation correctly, Colonel?’ asked a commander in the Metropolitan Police. ‘I mean, can you afford to ignore any threat to Canary Wharf and Heathrow?’
‘That is not up to me,’ replied Rose. ‘I can only offer DIS’s reading of the situation.’
‘And that is why we would like your input, ladies and gentlemen?’ said the Home Office minister. ‘To a certain extent, al-Qaeda’s success on September 11
2001 has played against them. You can’t really follow up something like that with a few car bombs and a couple of home videos. To maintain credibility they have to top 9/11 in terms of impact on public consciousness. Or at least equal it. Now that President Bush has been re-elected the pressure is really on them to do something sooner rather than later. Are they really going to try for a second 9/11 or do they have something else in mind . . . equally big?’
‘We need more information. Do we have any?’
‘No,’ said Rose. ‘The people we’re holding know nothing.’
‘You’re sure of that?’
‘We’re sure.’
‘Well, I don’t think we can completely ignore the threat even if DIS does think it’s a bluff,’ said the London Fire Brigade representative.
‘Deciding what to ignore is of course, a perennial problem,’ said the Home Office minister. ‘But with so many threats coming in on an almost daily basis . . . difficult decisions have to be made. We can’t give priority to all of them.’
‘We can still heighten security at Westminster, airports, military establishments . . .’ said the police commander.
‘We’re just covering our backsides by doing that,’ said John Macmillan. ‘If Colonel Rose is right about the threat being a diversion – and I for one believe that he is - it will do nothing at all to help determine what al-Qaeda really has in mind.’
‘But of course, a general heightening of security would . . .’ began the Home Office minister.
‘With respect sir, every time we hear about any kind of threat we get declarations of ‘heightened security’. Maybe I’m missing something here but shouldn’t it already be at a very high level? In fact, shouldn’t it already be at the highest level possible?’
‘As I see it, it’s a question of manpower,’ said the police commissioner. ‘Given enough resources we can increase presence in all key areas and if my recommendations for changes to Westminster security arrangements were to be accepted instead of being obstructed at every . . .’
‘They just might be able to stop any Tom, Dick or Harry climbing Big Ben whenever he feels like it or waving to the crowd from the balcony at the palace. No, I was thinking more about the limitations of our security measures rather than contemplating more of the same,’ said Macmillan.
The room went deathly quiet.
‘Maybe you should say what’s on your mind, John?’
Macmillan took a deep breath as if knowing he was about to go into battle against insurmountable odds. ‘When all’s said and done, security measures are really all about trying to stop what already happened yesterday,’ he said. He paused to allow the expected snorts of disapproval fill the air and then subside.
‘Go on,’ said the Home Office minister.
‘Cockpit doors are locked on September the
twelfth
not the tenth - which would have been a damned sight more useful - shoes are examined at airports the day
after
the shoe bomber appears on the scene. It’s a depressing fact but security is all about locking stable doors the day after the horse has bolted.’
‘Well, none of us has a crystal ball,’ said the Home Secretary.
‘No, but perhaps we should recognise that ‘security measures’ as we know them have their limitations. At best, they might stop the same thing happening again but are the opposition really only intent on repeating past glories? I think not. Does anyone really believe that Bin Laden has been sitting in a cave planning a carbon copy of the 9/11 operation? Of course not. They will have moved on. They will be dreaming up new, imaginative ways of causing mayhem while we content ourselves with ‘heightening security’. And from what Colonel Rose has said, it very much sounds as if they are about to embark on one of them if they haven’t already done so.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ asked the Home Secretary.
‘We must think like the opposition,’ said Macmillan. ‘In addition to rings of steel and gun-toting policemen we need people with imagination and vision who can put themselves in the terrorists’ position, people who can look at a given situation and imagine the worst possible scenario arising from it.’
‘I think the intelligence services already cover this,’ said Colonel Rose.
‘I don’t think they do’ said Macmillan. ‘JIC certainly appoints people with good analytical brains who, in conjunction with the intelligence services of our allies, analyse and correlate information gathered on the ground and from the airwaves and appraise it . . . but only if it is considered relevant in the first place.’
‘Of course,’ said Rose. ‘Where’s the problem?’
Macmillan sighed and took a moment to get his thoughts in order before saying, ‘There’s no problem with that except that it’s
applied
research. Someone has already decided where the starting point is and what the end product should be.’
‘Sorry, I’m not with you,’ said Rose. There were nods of agreement.
‘I suppose what I am highlighting is the difference between applied research and blue-sky research.’
‘I take it by “blue sky” you mean, research for the sake of research and nothing else?’ said the Home Office minister.
‘Exactly. It may sound self-indulgent in these focused times but throughout history that is exactly where most of man’s advances in knowledge have come from: simple human curiosity being given its head: an intelligent person notices something interesting or unusual and picks away at it until an explanation is found. If we’d always been restricted to applied research we’d be sitting here wearing nylon bearskins and carrying very sharp axes.’