Jenny's smile was radiant when she saw him. "Are you okay, Luke? I've been so worried about you ... all."
"I'm fine," he assured her. He looked down at Whittaker and studied the deep wound on his face. You'll have a handsome scar there," he told him.
"It's the rest of my body that really hurts," said Whittaker. "I feel as though every inch of skin has been bitten."
We had a lucky escape. If it hadn't been for Captain Mather keeping a cool head, we'd have been finished."
Whittaker looked down and studied his hand which was red and raw with teeth marks. "I want to thank you for helping me back there, Pend ...
Luke. I don't think I could have held that bastard away from my face much longer."
Fender said nothing.
"You're going to need stitches, Vie," said Jenny, 'so I'll let the experts take care of that. Let's have your shirt off and I'll treat the bruises."
As the senior tutor peeled off his shirt Jenny turned to Fender, concern in her eyes.
"Are you sure you're all right, Luke? Let me have a look at you."
Fender grinned. "Jenny, I've got bruises in places you wouldn't believe; but I haven't got time to let you examine them."
You're not going out there? There's nothing more you ..."
We're going to gas the sewers a little earlier than planned."
"But they don't need you for that."
"I'm going to be there." Any warmth had left his face and she knew it was pointless to argue.
What if they get out?" Whittaker said and both Jenny and Fender winced as they saw the red patches and teeth indents all over his torso. Large areas of skin were already turning a yellowish purple. By tomorrow, he would hardly be able to move.
The troops are moving in," said Fender. "It's something we should have done in the first place. Instead of sealing any exits with cement, they'll keep them blocked with fire and bullets."
"And the rats that are already outside those that attacked us?"
"Disappeared. When the other soldiers got there, the rats had all gone. Hopefully, they found their way back into the sewers."
"And if there are others running free?"
We'll deal with them later. Our first concern is to eliminate the main force and they're in the sewers. The rest should be just a tidying-up exercise."
"I hope you're right."
Fender pulled the sleeve of his protective suit up, tugging at the elasticated wristband to examine his watch. The soldiers should be in position within the hour. In the meantime, I'll do a quick tour of the main pumping sites to make sure they're ready. I'll see you both later." He turned and headed for the door.
"Luke?" Jenny's voice made him pause, and he was surprised at her hurt tone. "I'll come with you to your car," she said, catching up with him.
They walked out into the busy corridor leaving the senior tutor staring after them.
"I won't be using my car, Jenny," Fender said, "I'll be under armed escort. There's no way I'm going back into the forest on my own."
Then I'll walk you to your escort," she replied. "Luke, do you really have to go? Haven't you done enough for one day?"
He stopped and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking intently into her face. "Jenny, I won't stop until those bastards have been wiped from the face of the earth."
The venom in his words frightened her and she dropped her eyes from his. His grip slackened and his hands fell away. Jenny kept up with him as he strode towards the reception area.
Once there he stooped to retrieve his fallen helmet, then pulled the tutor to one side, away from the figures that bustled to and fro. He smiled down at her, the old warmth returning.
"Stop worrying. Everything will be under control after we've used the cyanide, you'll see." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
Jenny responded by clasping a hand around his waist, but drew it back hastily when he winced.
"Luke, you really are hurt." She looked anxiously down at his side.
He drew in a deep breath, smiling. That doesn't help."
"Please, let the medical officer look at you."
Fender shook his head. "It's nothing serious. Just bruises. Hey, you didn't tell me how Jan Wimbush and Will are doing."
"Jan is still under sedation. Oh, Luke, her injuries are terrible. Her face ... The wound at the back of her neck is the one the doctors are really worried about. Fortunately, the spine was undamaged, but the wound beside it is so deep. It was touch-and-go for the first twenty-four hours. They think she'll pull through, though."
The coldness had crept back into Fender's features. "And Will?" he asked.
"He should be out tomorrow. He's got a nasty wound in his leg where the rat bit him, but no muscles or tendons were torn. They're only keeping him in to make sure there isn't any infection. Or disease.
He's terribly upset about poor Jan..."
"Ready, Mr. Fender?" Captain Mather stood two yards from them, Mike Lehmann at his side.
You're going back for more, Captain?" said Fender, surprised.
Why not?" came the reply. Then, with a grin, They're only rats."
Mike Lehmann rolled his eyes heavenwards, but seemed in good humour now that the gassing was underway.
"Okay, Luke. Check the north first, then the southern outlets. There's no way the vermin can get into the surrounding sewer networks every connection is sealed tight. So we won't be getting any complaints from the local authorities saying we've driven monsters on to their patch.
We've got 'em boxed in, Luke, no way out."
"Okay. I'll report back to you from each base. I'll stay with the last one until they've completed pumping."
"Right. Good luck."
Fender looked down at Jenny. "I'll see you later," he said.
"Be sure you do."
Then he was gone, tramping down the path in his awkward suit, Captain Mather striding briskly by his side. They headed for a scout car, two lounging soldiers snapping to attention as they approached.
"Why did he have to go this time?" Jenny said aloud. "He's done his job."
"His job?" Lehmann had joined her at the reception area's long window.
"It's more than just a job to Luke, miss, er ... Jenny, isn't it?"
She nodded, turning towards RatkiU's head biologist. "What do you mean, more than just a job?" she asked curiously.
"With Luke, it's more of a vendetta. He despises the rats."
"But why?"
You didn't know? I thought..." Lehmann left the sentence unfinished, and turned his gaze back to the window, his face expressionless.
"Please tell me," Jenny persisted.
Lehmann let out a deep breath. "Luke's parents and younger brother were killed by Black rats in the London Outbreak, four years ago. He was living in the North at the time because of his work."
Jenny closed her eyes. She had known, sensed instinctively, that there was an underlying seriousness behind Luke's flippant remarks regarding his job.
"It was months after the incident that Luke contacted Ratkill. I suppose it took that long to get himself together. Stephen Howard was an old friend of his. He knew the full story and discussed it with me before he decided to take him on. I must say, I was against the idea, even though we needed as many men as we could get at that time: I didn't want any of my staff taking unnecessary risks, you see. Anyway, Howard overruled me, said Luke was a professional, whatever his motives. When I got to know Luke, I had to agree."
Jenny shook her head. "I didn't realize."
"I'm sorry. I assumed he'd told you. From what I've seen over the last couple of days, you two seem, er ... close? It's not something Luke talks about much, although I think it would be better for him if he did. It might get it out of his system. Maybe he'll tell you in his own time. I wouldn't mention that I..."
Jenny shook her head again. "I won't. At least now I know why he does this godawful job. I'm sorry, I didn't mean ..."
"It's all right," Lehmann said, chuckling. "You're right
: it is a godawful job. But thank God some of us are inclined to do it. Now I've got to get back next door and synchronize the gas pumping. We want all the machines to be used at the same time so there's nowhere for the vermin to run to."
Lehmann smiled at the tutor. "Don't worry about Luke, Jenny. This'll be good for him. It'll help purge some of the hate that's been building up inside him for all these years. You can be sure of one thing though, he won't be happy until every last one of them is dead."
They pumped the cyanide into the underground tunnels and prayed. There was no reason why the deadly fumes should not eliminate the vermin completely, for they were trapped, sealed in their own tomb; yet every man felt uneasy, as though they were dealing with more than just animals, but something unknown, something alien to their world. They listened to the sounds from below through earphones, the microphones sunk deep into the earth, penetrating the dark chambers, and heard the cries of the dying creatures, their panic as they fought to free themselves, the frantic scraping against solid walls, their terrified squeals as they scrambled over each others' backs to get clear of the destructive, seeping gas.
Some, just a few, managed to scrabble their way through an undetected opening, close to where Fender's group had been attacked earlier, but the soldiers were waiting for them. The first through were burnt to black ash by the flamethrowers, and those immediately behind had their lungs seared with the heat. Their corpses blocked the narrow passageway as effectively as the cement, for although their companions tried to gnaw their way through the bodies, the creeping fumes stole over them and they quivered in final, painful death-throes.
The men above the ground could not see the carnage that was taking place below, but they could feel the death in the air, they could envisage the desperate struggle inside the black catacombs. Even the forest itself seemed to maintain a respectful silence.
On the faces of the men who listened into the receivers was a mixture of disgust and pity. The cries in their ears seemed to belong to hundreds upon hundreds of children, screaming their panic, wailing as they died. It did not take long for the gas to penetrate every dark hole of the sewer network and soon the radio men at their different points began removing the headphones, feeling no gloating victory, just an ebbing of their spirit. They looked up at the silent men around them and nodded. The rats were dead.
SIXTEEN
"Luke, you look done in. Come and join us in the Warden's office, we'd like to discuss something with you."
Fender wearily tossed the helmet into the corner of the reception area and stared into Stephen Howard's smiling face.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to get back to my hotel and take a long, hot bath. Can't we meet later?"
"Afraid not. I promise you, it won't take long." The research director turned on his heels, still smiling pleasantly, and strode from the reception area, taking the corridor leading to Alex Milton's office. Fender followed, his limbs stiff from the bruising he'd received earlier that day.
The only people in the small room were Mike Lehmann and Antony Thornton. The research director immediately walked over to a cabinet on one side of the office on which stood an assortment of drinks.
The Warden sent these over from his private stock," Howard explained, his smile now beginning to irritate Fender. "Still Scotch, no ice, no water?"
Fender nodded and sank into a straight-backed chair beneath the room's only window. He pulled off the thick gloves and dropped them on the floor, flexing his fingers and examining the red marks on them. Howard handed him the Scotch, his expression one of sympathy.
"I'm sure you must be rather sore in places after that dreadful attack today. Thank God we had these suits reinforced after the Outbreak."
Fender took a long swallow of his drink, momentarily closing his eyes at the liquid warmth. "As I said earlier, they'll need to be made even tougher. They didn't stand up well enough."
"Of course. Now the danger is over, well have time to improve them."
Thornton, seated at the Warden's desk, raised his own glass. "I think congratulations are in order, Stephen. Once again your company has provided an invaluable service to the country. God knows where we'd have been without your expertise."
"It's not all over yet," said Mike Lehmann staring down into his glass.
There may still be others running free on the outside. Those that attacked Luke, for instance."
"I quite agree," said Howard, his smile gone. He sat in a seat facing Thornton and reached for his own drink that had been perched near the edge of the desk. We have to be pessimistic, Antony. You may think us over-cautious, but we can take no chances whatsoever. It is possible the rats that attacked Luke and his group returned to their companions in the sewers after all, the one unblocked exit that was discovered when the gassing started was quite near the spot where the attack took place. But we cannot assume that is the case: the forest has to be searched thoroughly before we can give the all-clear."
"Yes, yes, of course. But the point is, the main force has been dealt with," said Thornton. The rest is surely a "mopping-up" exercise."
We hope so, Antony," said Howard, 'we certainly hope so. However, it will be weeks before we can be absolutely sure. First, we have ..."
"I think it's time we put Luke fully in the picture." Fender's eyes shot towards Mike Lehmann who had just spoken. There was silence in the room for a few moments and the rat catcher gaze shifted to Stephen Howard, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Yes," the research director said, 'it is time." He looked first at the private secretary, then at Fender. "I'm sorry I've never spoken of this to you before, Luke, but it was decided at the time that time being immediately after the London Outbreak
that it should be a matter of secrecy. The less who knew of it, the better."
Fender leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the Scotch held in both hands. His eyes never left Howard's.
"As you know, we discovered the source of the mutant Black rat when London had been cleared of people and the vermin had been successfully gassed. Their original breeding-ground had been in an old disused lock-keeper's house on a canal near the docks in East London. You know how the zoologist Schiller had smuggled a mutant rat into the country from the radiation-affected islands around New Guinea. He mated his mutant with the normal Black rat the area in which he lived, of course, was infested with them. The result
the terrifying result was the giant Black rat, a new strain, stronger, more cunning than any other rodent. They dominated the indigenous Black rat and utilized their strength of numbers."
Lehmann had become impatient. We thought we had killed them all off,"
he said, 'but we hadn't. We didn't discover their nest, you see. We didn't know about the canal-house, the lair of the original mutant."
"It was discovered by a man named Harris, a teacher who knew the area well, and who was helping us at the time." Howard placed his glass back on the desk and swung round to face Fender. "In the cellar of the house, he came upon a monster. From the description he gave, you could hardly call it an animal, let alone a rodent."
Wait a minute," Fender said evenly. Why haven't you told me about this before? Do any of the Ratkill investigators know?"
This time Thornton interrupted. Tour company has been acting under strict government instructions, Mr. Fender. We saw no reason to panic the public any more than it had been. The slightest leak ..." He spread his hands, leaving the sentence unfinished.
"So what happened to this ... monster?" Fender asked impatiently.
Howard exhaled a short, dissatisfied breath. "I'm afraid Harris destroyed it. Chopped it to pieces with an axe."
Fender almost grinned. To Howard and his colleagues, it must have seemed like the vandalization of a valuable work of art.
Lehmann sensed the rat catcher inner amusement. We could have learned a lot from the animal's genetic structure, Luke," he said seriously.
"But you must have had thousands of corpses to study."
"Not like this one."
We know what the creature looked like," said Howard, 'from the description Harris gave us. Also there were many drawings of it in the zoologist's study. The body itself was too mutilated to piece together; it was almost as if it had literally exploded."
"Exploded?" Fender sat straight in his chair.
Yes. The body, you see, was not like that of the mutant rats. It was almost hairless, bloated, pinkish in colour. The skin was so taut the veins could be seen through it. It was like a huge, fat slug, crippled by its own obesity. And the most ghastly thing of all..." He paused, made nervous by his own description. "It had two heads."
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