by The Enemy
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE The wind whistled about my ears as I stood on the pier at eight next morning. The sky was slate-grey and so was the loch, stippled with whitecaps whipped up by the wind. Below me Robbie Ferguson's boat pitched violently, the rubber tyre fenders squealing as they were compressed and rubbed on the stone wall. It looked much too fragile to be taken out on such a day, but Robbie seemed unconcerned. He had taken the cover off the engine and was swinging on a crank. Beside me, Archie Ferguson said, 'So you think the young lady is still on Cladach Duillich?' 'I do.' He pulled his coat closer about him. 'Maybe we're wrong about the government,' he said. 'Could this be one of those queer religious groups we're importing from America these days? Moonies or some such? I've heard some remarkably funny things about them.' 'No, it's not that.' I looked at my watch. 'Mr. Ferguson, could you do me a favour?' 'If I can.' I estimated times. 'If I'm not back in eight hours—that's by four this afternoon—I want you to get the police and come looking for me.' He thought about it for a moment. 'No harm in that. What if Robbie comes back and you don't?' 'Same thing applies. They might spin Robbie a yarn, tell him I've decided to stay. They'll be lying, but he's to accept the lie, come back here, and raise the alarm.' Below, the diesel engine spluttered into life and settled down into a slow and steady thumping. Archie said, 'You know, Malcolm Jaggard, I don't believe you're a journalist at all.' I took a card from my wallet and gave it to him. 'If I don't come back ring that number. Get hold of a man called Ogilvie and tell him about it.' He studied the card. 'McCulloch and Ross—and Ogilvie. It seems we Scots have taken over the City of London.' He looked up. 'But you look less like a financier than you do a journalist. What's really going on out there on Cladach Duillich?' 'We spoke about it last night,' I said. 'And you talked of fire.' A bleakness came over him. 'The government would do that again?' 'Governments are made of men. Some men would do that.' 'Aye, and some men can pay for it.' He looked at me closely. 'Malcolm Jaggard, when you come back you and I are going to have a bit of a talk. And you can tell yon laddies on Cladach Duillich that if you don't come back we'll be bringing the fire to them. A great cleanser is fire.' 'Stay out of it,' I said. 'It's a job for the police.' 'Don't be daft, man. Would the police go against the government? You leave this to me.' He looked down into the boat. 'Away with you; Robbie is waiting. And I'll away and have a talk with a few of my friends.' I didn't argue with him. I climbed down the iron ladder which was slippery with water and seaweed and tried to time my drop into the boat to coincide with its erratic pitching. I fumbled it but was saved from sprawling full length by Robbie's strong arm. He looked me up and down, then shook his head. 'You'll freeze, Mr. Jaggard.' He turned and rummaged in a locker and brought out a seaman's Guernsey. 'This'll keep you warm, and this—' he gave me a pair of trousers and an anorak, both waterproof—'this'll keep you dry.' When I had put them on he said, 'Now sit you down and be easy.' He went forward, walking as easily in that tossing boat as another man would walk a city pavement. He cast off the forward line, then walked back, seemingly unconcerned that the bow was swinging in a great arc. As he passed the engine he pushed over a lever with his boot, then dexterously cast off the stern line. The throbbing note of the engine deepened and we began to move away from the pier wall. Robbie was standing with the tiller between his knees, looking forward and steering by swaying motions of his body while he coiled the stern line into a neat skein. The wind strengthened as we got out into the loch and the waves were bigger. The wind was from the north-west and we plunged into the teeth of it. As the bow dipped downwards sheets of spray were blown aft and I appreciated the waterproofing. As it was, I knew I'd be thoroughly drenched by the time we got to Cladach Duillich. Presently Robbie sat down, controlling the tiller with one booted foot. He pointed, and said, 'The Coigach shore.' I ducked a lump of spray. 'What sort of man is your brother?' 'Archie?' Robbie thought a bit and then shrugged. 'He's my brother.' 'Would you call him a hot-headed man?' 'Archie hot-headed!' Robbie laughed. 'Why, the man's as cold as an iceberg. I'm the laddie in the family to take the chances. Archie weighs everything in a balance before he does anything. Why do you ask?' 'He was talking about what he'd do if I didn't come back from Cladach Duillich.' 'There's one thing certain about my brother—he does what he says he'll do. He's as reliable as death and taxes.' That was comforting to know. I didn't know what lay ahead on Cladach Duillich, but I knew I wasn't going to get an easy answer. The knowledge that I had a reliable backstop gave me a warm feeling. I said, 'If I go missing on that bloody bit of rock you'll take no for an answer. You'll swallow what they tell you, then go back and see your brother.' He looked at me curiously. 'Are you expecting to disappear?' 'I wouldn't be surprised.' He wiped the spray from his face. 'I don't ken what this is about, but Archie seems to like you, and that's enough for me. He's a thinker.' It was a long haul across Annat Bay towards the Summer Isles. The waves were short and deep, and the pitching was combined with rolling, giving a corkscrew motion which was nauseating. Robbie looked at me and grinned. 'We'd better talk; it'll take your mind off your belly. Look, there's Camnan Sgeir, with Eilean Dubh beyond. That's Black Island in the English.' 'Where's Cladach Duillich?' 'Away the other side of Eilean Dubh. We've a way to go yet.' 'Why don't they keep a boat there? If I lived on an island it's the first thing I'd think of.' Robbie chuckled. 'You'll see when we get there—but I'll tell you anyway, just for the talking. There's but one place to lan d and a chancy place it is. There's no protection for boat or man. You can't just tie up as you can at Ullapool Pier. There'd be no boat when you got back if there was anything of a blow. It would be crushed on the rocks. I won't be waiting there for you, you know.' 'Oh? Where will you be?' 'Lying off somewhere within easy reach. There are more boats wrecked on land than at sea. It's the land that kills boats. I'll be doing a wee bit of fishing.' I looked at the jumbled sea. 'In this!' 'Och, I'm used to it. You give me a time and I'll be there.' 'I'll tell you now. I want exactly two hours ashore.' 'Two hours you'll get,' he said. 'About the boat they haven't got on Cladach Duillich. When those folk first came they had a boat but it got smashed, so they got another and that was smashed. After they lost the third they began to get the idea. Then they thought that if they could take the boat ashore it would be all right, but it's an awful weary job pulling a boat ashore on Cladach Duillich because there's no beach. So they rigged davits just like on a ship and they could take the boat straight up a cliff and out of the water. Then a wave came one night and took the boat and the davits and they were never seen again. After that they gave up.' 'It sounds a grim place.' 'It is—in bad weather. It won't be too bad today.' I looked at the reeling seas and wondered what Robbie called bad weather. He pointed. There it is—Cladach Duillich.' It was just as Archie Ferguson had described it—a wee bit of rock. There were cliffs all around, not high but precipitous, and the sea boiled white underneath them. Off the island was a scattering of rocks like black fangs and I thought the people on Cladach Duillich had been right when they decided this was no place for a boat. As we drew nearer Robbie said, 'See that ravine? The landing place is at the bottom.' There was a narrow crack in the cliff face at the bottom of which the sea seemed to be calmer—relatively speaking. Robbie swung the tiller over sharply to avoid a rock which slid astern three feet off the port quarter, then he swung hard the other way to avoid another. He grinned. 'This is when you hope the engine doesn't pack in. You'd better get right forrard—you'll have to jump for it, and I won't be able to hold her there long.' I scrambled forward and stood right in the bows as he brought the boat in. Now I saw that the crack in the rock was wider than at first glance and there was a concrete platform built at the bottom. The engine note changed as Robbie throttled back for the final approach. It was an amazing feat, but in that swirling sea with its crosscurrents he brought her in so the bow kissed the concrete with a touch as light as a feather. At his shout I jumped and went sprawling as my feet skidded from under me on the weed-covered surface. When I picked myself up the boat was thirty yards off-shore a
nd moving away fast. Robbie waved and I waved back, and then he applied himself to the task of avoiding rocks. I looked at my surroundings. The first thing I saw was the notice board Archie Ferguson had mentioned. It was weather-beaten and the paint was peeling and faded but it was still readable. GOVERNMENT ESTABLISHMENT Landing is Absolutely Prohibited By Order It did not say who had issued the order. A path led from the concrete platform up the ravine, so I followed it. It climbed steeply and led to a plateau, sparsely grassed, in the centre of which was a group of buildings. They were low concrete structures which had the appearance of military blockhouses, probably because they were windowless. From what had been said about Cladach Duillich they were the only type of building which could survive there. I had no more time to study the place because a man was approaching at a run. He slowed as he came closer, and said abruptly, 'Can't you read?' 'I can read.' 'Then clear off.' 'The age of miracles is past, friend. Walking on the water has gone out of fashion. The boat's gone.' 'Well, you can't stay here. What do you want?' 'I want to talk to Dr. Carter.' He seemed slightly taken aback, and I studied him as he thought about it. He was big and he had hard eyes and a stubborn jaw. He said, 'What do you want to talk to Dr. Carter about?' 'If Dr. Carter wants you to know he'll tell you,' I said pleasantly. He didn't like that but there wasn't much he could do about it. 'Who are you?' 'Same thing applies. You're out of your depth, friend. Let's go and see Carter.' 'No,' he said curtly. 'You stay here.' I looked at him coldly. 'Not a chance. I'm wet through and I want to dry out.' I nodded to the buildings. 'Those look as bloody inhospitable as you behave, but I'm willing to bet they're warm and dry inside. Take me to Carter.' His problem was that he didn't know me or my authority, but I was behaving as though I had a right to be there and making demands. He did as I thought he would and passed the buck. 'All right, follow me. You see Carter and you go nowhere else.'
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX As we walked towards the buildings I looked around at Cladach Duillich. It was not very big—about a third of a mile long and a quarter-mile across. Life had a poor existence on this rock. What grass had managed to gain a roothold was salt resistant marram, growing in crannies where a poor soil had gathered, and even the dandelions were wizened and sickly growths. The seabirds appeared to like it, though; the rocks were white with their droppings and they wheeled overhead screaming at our movements below. There were three buildings, all identical, and I noted they were connected by enclosed passages. To one side, on a level bit of ground, was a helicopter pad, empty. I was conducted around the corner to one of the buildings and ushered through the doorway, bidden to wait, and then taken through another doorway. I looked back and realized I had gone through an airlock. We turned sharply left and into a room where a man in a white coat was sitting at a desk and writing on a pad. He was slightly bald, had a thin face and wore bifocals. He looked up and frowned as he saw me, then said to my escort, 'What's this, Max?' 'I found him wandering about loose. He says he wants to see you.' Carter's attention switched to me. 'Who are you?' I glanced sideways at Max, and said smoothly, 'Who I am is for your ears only, Dr. Carter.' Carter sniffed. 'More cloak and dagger stuff. All right, Max. I'll take care of this.' Max nodded and left, and I stripped off the anorak. 'I hope you don't mind me getting out of this stuff,' I said, as I began to take off the waterproof trousers. 'Too warm for indoors.' Carter tapped on the desk with his pen. 'All right. Who are you, and what do you want?' I tossed the trousers aside and sat down. 'I'm Malcolm Jaggard. I've come to see Dr. Ashton.' 'Didn't you ring me last night? I told you she wasn't here–she's on the mainland.' 'I know what you told me,' I said evenly. 'You said she'd be back this morning, so I came to see her.' He gestured. 'You've seen the weather. She wouldn't come over in this.' 'Why not? I did.' 'Well, she hasn't. She's still in Ullapool.' I shook my head, 'She's not in Ullapool, and she wasn't there last night, either.' He frowned. 'Look here, when I asked last night you said you were ringing from London.' 'Did I? Must have been force of habit,' I said blandly. 'Does it make a difference where I rang from?' 'Er . . . no.' Carter straightened and squared his shoulders. 'Now, you're not supposed to be here. This establishment is, shall we say, rather hush-hush. If it became known you were here you could be in trouble. Come to that, so could I, so I'll have to ask you to leave.' 'Not without seeing Penny Ashton. She's supposed to be here. Now isn't that a funny thing. I'm where I'm supposed not to be, and she's not where she's supposed to be. How do you account for it?' 'I don't have to account for anything to you.' 'You'll have to account for a lot, Dr. Carter, if Penny Ashton doesn't turn up pretty damn quick. How did she get to Ullapool?' 'By boat, of course.' 'But this establishment doesn't have a boat. All journeys are by helicopter.' He moistened his lips. 'You appear to be taking an unhealthy interest in this place, Mr. Jaggard. I warn you that could be dangerous.' 'Are you threatening me, Dr. Carter?' 'For any purpose prejudicial to the safety of the State, to approach, inspect or enter any prohibited place, or to—' 'Don't quote the Official Secrets Act at me,' I snapped. 'I probably know it better than you do.' 'I could have you arrested,' he said. 'No warrant is needed.' 'For a simple scientist you appear to know the Act very well,' I observed. 'So you'll know that to arrest me automatically brings in the Director of Public Prosecutions.' I leaned back. 'I doubt if your masters would relish that, seeing that Penny Ashton is missing from here. I told you, you'll have to account for a lot, Dr. Carter.' 'But not to you,' he said, and put his hand on the telephone. 'I hope that's to give instructions to have Dr. Ashton brought in here.' A cool and amused voice behind me said, 'But. Dr Carter really can't have her brought in here.' I turned my head and saw Cregar standing at the door with Max. Cregar said, 'Doctor, I'll trouble you for the use of your office for a moment. Max, see to Mr. Jaggard.' Carter was palpably relieved and scurried out. Max came over to me and searched me with quick, practised movements. 'No gun.' 'No?' said Cregar. 'Well, that can be rectified if necessary. What could happen to an armed man who breaks into a government establishment, Max?' 'He could get shot,' said Max unemotionally. 'So he could, but that would lead to an official enquiry which might be undesirable. Any other suggestions?' 'There are plenty of cliffs around here,' said Max. 'And the sea's big.' It was a conversation I could do without. I said, 'Where's Penny Ashton?' 'Oh, she's here —you were quite right about that. You'll see her presently.' Cregar waved his hands as though dismissing a minor problem. 'You're a persistent devil. I almost find it in me to admire you. I could do with a few men of your calibre in my organization. As it is, I'm wondering what to do with you.' 'You'd better not compound your offences,' I said. 'Whatever you do about me, you've already done for yourself. We've linked you with Benson. I wouldn't be surprised if the Minister hasn't already been informed of it.' The corners of his mouth turned down. 'How could I be linked with Benson? What possible evidence could there be?' 'A letter dated the fourth of January, 1947, carried by Benson and signed by you.' 'A letter,' said Cregar blankly, and looked through me into the past. Comprehension came into his eyes. 'Are you telling me that Benson still carried that damned letter after thirty years?' 'He'd probably forgotten about it—just as you had,' I said. 'It was hidden in the lining of his wallet.' 'A brown calf wallet with a red silk lining?' I nodded and Cregar groaned. 'I gave Benson that wallet thirty years ago. It would seem I tripped myself.' He bent his head, apparently studying the liver spots on the backs of his hands. 'Where is the letter?' he asked colourlessly. 'The original? Or the twenty photocopies Ogilvie will have already made?' 'I see,' he said softly, and raised his head. 'What were your first thoughts on seeing the letter?' 'I knew you were linked with Ashton because you brought him out of Russia. Now you were linked with Benson, too. I thought of all the odd things that had happened, such as why a gentleman's gentleman should carry a gun, and why you tried to discount the fact he had shot Ashton when we had the meeting on my return from Sweden. It seemed hard to believe he was still your man after thirty years, but I was forced into it.' Cregar lounged back in his chair and crossed his legs. 'Bens
on was a good man once, before the Germans got him.' He paused. 'Of course he wasn't Benson then, he was Jimmy Carlisle and my comrade in British Intelligence during the war. But he lived and died as Benson, so let him remain so. He was captured in a Gestapo roundup in '44 and they sent him to Sachsenhausen, where he stayed until the end of the war. That's where he got his broken nose and his other brutalized features. They beat him with clubs. I'd say they beat his brains out because he was never the same man afterwards.' He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. 'He was in a mess after the war. He had no family—his father, mother and sister were killed in an air raid—and he had no money apart from a disability pension. His brains were addled and his earning capacity limited. He'd never be any good in our line of work after that, but he deserved well of us, and by 1947 I pulled enough weight to help him, so I offered him the job of shepherd to Chelyuskin—Ashton as he became. It was a sinecure, of course, but he was pathetically grateful. You see, he thought it meant he wasn't finished in his job.' Cregar took out a packet of cigarettes. 'Are you finding this ancient history interesting?' He held out the packet. I took a cigarette. 'Very interesting,' I assured him. 'Very well. We switched him into the person of Benson at the same time we switched Chelyuskin to Ashton, then he hung around for a while. When Ashton got going Benson had a job in Ashton's office, and then later he became Ashton's factotum.' 'And Ashton knew what he was?' 'Oh, yes. Benson was the price Ashton had to pay for freedom. I knew that a man with that calibre of mind would not long be content to fiddle around in industry and I wanted to keep tabs on what he was doing.' He smiled. 'Benson was on to quite a good thing. We paid him a retainer and Ashton paid him, too.' He leaned forward and snapped a gold lighter into flame under my nose. 'When the reorganization came and I lost Ashton to Ogilvie I kept quiet about Benson. In fact, I paid his retainer out of my own pocket. He didn't cost much; the retainer wasn't raised and the erosion in the value of money made Benson dirt cheap. It was an investment for the future which would have paid off but for you.' I said, 'Did you know Ashton was into genetics?' 'Of course. Benson caught on to that as soon as it started happening. His job was to know what Ashton was doing at all times and, being permanently in the house, he could hardly miss. It was an incredible stroke of luck—Ashton becoming interested in genetics, I mean—because after the reorganization I had moved into the biological field myself.' He waved his hand. 'As you have discovered.' 'Ogilvie told me.' 'Ogilvie appears to have told you too much. From what you have let fall he appears to have given you the run of Code Black. Very naughty of him, and something he may regret. I was fortunate enough to be able to put a block on the computer to cover Benson, but evidently it wasn't enough.' He stopped suddenly, and stared at me. 'Even I appear to be telling you too much. You have an ingratiating way with you.' 'I'm a good listener.' 'And I become garrulous as I grow old, a grave failing in a man of our profession.' He looked at his half-smoked cigarette distastefully, stubbed it out, and put his hands flat on the desk. 'I'm at a loss to know how to dispose of you, young Jaggard. Your revelation that Ogilvie has that letter makes my situation most difficult.' 'Yes, he's in a position to blast hell out of you,' I agreed. 'I don't think the Minister will be pleased. I rather think you've put yourself on the retirement list.' 'Very succinctly put. Nevertheless, I will find a way out of the difficulty. I have surmounted difficulties beforehand I see no reason why I should fail this time. All it takes is applied thought to the study of men's weaknesses.' He slapped his hands together. 'And that is what I must do immediately. Put him somewhere safe, Max.' I ignored the hand on my shoulder. 'What about Penny Ashton?' 'You will see her in my good time,' said Cregar coldly. 'And only if I think it advisable.' In my rage I wanted to lash out at him but I couldn't ignore that tightening hand. Max leaned over me. 'No tricks,' he advised. 'I have a gun. You won't see it but it's there.' So I rose from the chair and went with him. He took me from the office and along a corridor. Because the place was windowless it was almost like being in a submarine; everything was quiet except that the air shivered with the distant rumble of a generator. At the other end of the corridor I saw movement on the other side of a glass partition as a man walked across. He was wearing totally enveloping overalls and his head was hooded. I had no time to see more because Max stopped and opened a heavy door. 'In there,' he said curtly, so I walked through and he slammed the door, leaving me in total darkness because he had not seen fit to turn on a light. The first thing I did was to explore my prison and arrived at the conclusion that it was an unused refrigerated room. The walls were thick and solid, as was the door, and I soon came to the conclusion that the only way out was to be let out. I sat on the floor in a corner and contemplated possibilities. It appeared to have been wise to tell Cregar of the letter. Up to then he had primarily been interested in discussing ways and means of transforming me into a corpse safely, but my disclosure that Ogilvie had the letter had put a stopper on that line of thought. But what a ruthless bastard he had turned out to be. I don't know what makes men like Cregar tick, but there seem to be enough of the bastards around just as there are many Carters eager to help them. Somewhere in the world, I suppose, is the chemist who lovingly mixed a petroleum derivative with a palm oil derivative to produce napthenic acid palmetate, better known as napalm. To do that required a deliberate intellectual effort and a high degree of technical training, and why a man should put his brain to such a use is beyond me. Supervising that chemist would be an American Cregar whose motives are equally baffling, and at the top are the politicians ultimately responsible. Their motive is quite clear, of course: the ruthless grasp of sheer power. But why so many others should be willing to help them is beyond me. It's hard to know who to blame. Is it the Lumsdens of the world who know what is going on but turn a blind eye, or is it the rest of us who don't know and don't take the trouble to find out? Sometimes I think the world is like a huge ant heap full of insects all busily manufacturing insecticide. I was in the black room for a long time. The only light came from the luminous dial of my watch which told me of hours ticking away. I was oppressed by the darkness and became claustrophobic and suffered strange fears. I got up and began to walk around the room, keeping to the walls; it was one way of taking exercise. The silence was solid except for the sound of my own movements and a new fear came upon me. What if Cladach Duillich had been abandoned—evacuated? I could stay in that room until the flesh rotted from my bones. I stopped walking and sat in the corner again. I may have fallen asleep for a while, I don't remember. The hours I spent there are pretty much blanked out in my memory. But I was aware when the door opened to let in a flood of light as glaring as from arc lamps. I put my hands to my eyes and saw Cregar at the door. He tut-tutted, and said, 'You didn't leave him a light, Max.' 'Must have forgotten,' said Max indifferently. The light was quite ordinary light shed from fluorescent tubes in the ceiling of the corridor. I got up and went to the door. 'God damn you!' I said to Max. He stood back a pace and lifted the pistol he held. Cregar said, 'Calm down. It wasn't intentional.' He saw me looking at the pistol. 'That's to warn you not to do anything silly, as well you might. You wanted to see the girl, didn't you? Well, you can see her now. Come with me.' We walked along the corridor side by side with Max bringing up the rear. Cregar said conversationally, 'You won't see any of the staff because I've had them cleared out of this block. They're scientific types and a bit lily-livered. The sight of guns makes them nervous.' I said nothing. We walked a few more paces. 'I think I've found a way of confounding Ogilvie—there'll be no problem there—but that still leaves you. After we've seen Dr. Ashton we'll have a talk.' He stopped at a door. 'In here,' he said, and let me precede him. It was a strange room because one wall was almost entirely glass but the window looked, not upon the outside, but into another room. At first I didn't know what I was looking at, but Cregar said, 'There's Dr. Ashton.' He pointed to a bed in the next room. Penny was in bed, seemingly asleep. Her face was pale and ravaged, she could have been a woman twice her age. Around the bed were
various bits of hospital equipment among which I recognized two drip feeds, one of which appeared to contain blood. I said, 'In God's name, what happened?' Cregar said, almost apologetically, 'We had . . . er . . . an accident here last week in which Dr. Ashton was involved. I'm afraid she's rather ill. She's been in a coma for the last two days.' He picked up a microphone and snapped a switch. 'Dr. Ashton, can you hear me?' His voice came amplified and distorted from a loudspeaker in the next room. Penny made no movement. I said tightly, 'What's she got?' 'That's rather hard to say. It's something nobody has ever had before. Something new. Carter has been trying to run it down but without much success.' I was frightened and angry simultaneously. Frightened for Penny and angry at Cregar. 'It's something you brewed up here, isn't it? Something that got loose because you were too tight-fisted to have a P4 laboratory as she wanted.' 'I see that Dr. Ashton has been chattering about my business.' Cregar gestured. 'That's not a proper hospital ward of course; it's one of our laboratories. She had to be put somewhere safe.' 'Not safe for her,' I said bitterly. 'Safe for you.' 'Of course,' said Cregar. 'Whatever she's got we can't have spread about. Carter thinks it's most infectious.' 'Is Carter a medical doctor?' 'His degree is in biology not medicine, but he's a very capable man. She's getting the best of attention. We're transfusing whole blood and glucose, as you see.' I turned to him. 'She should be in a hospital. This amateur lash-up is no good, and you know it. If she dies you'll be a murderer, and so will Carter and everybody else here.' 'You're probably right,' he said indifferently. 'About the hospital, I mean. But it's difficult to see how we could put her in a hospital and still maintain security.' His voice was remote and objective. 'I pride myself on my ability to solve problems but I haven't been able to solve that one.' 'Damn your security!' 'Coming from a man in your profession that smacks of heresy.' Cregar stepped back as he saw my expression, and gestured to Max who lifted the pistol warningly. 'She's having the best attention we can give her. Dr. Carter is assiduous in his duties.' 'Carter is using her as a guinea pig and you damned well know it. She must be taken to a hospital—better still, to Porton. They understand high-risk pathogens there.' 'You're in no position to make demands,' he said. 'Come with me.' He turned his back and walked out. I took a last look at Penny, then followed him with Max close behind. He walked up the corridor and opened a door on the other side. We entered a small vestibule and Cregar waited until Max had closed the outer door before proceeding. 'We do take precautions, in spite of anything you've been told,' he said. 'This is an airlock. The laboratory through there is under low pressure. Do you know why?' 'If there's a leak air goes in and not out.' He nodded in satisfaction as though I'd passed a test, and opened the inner door. My ears popped as the pressure changed. 'This is Carter's own laboratory. I'd like to show it to you.' 'Why?' 'You'll see.' He began a tour, behaving for all the world like a guide in one of those model factories where they show you what they're proud of and hide the bad bits. 'This is a centrifuge. You'll notice it's in an air-tight cabinet; that's to prevent anything escaping while it's in operation. No aerosols—microbes floating in the air.' We passed on, and he indicated an array of glass-fronted cabinets covering one wall. 'The incubating cabinets, each containing its own petri dish and each petri dish isolated. Nothing can escape from there.' 'Something escaped from somewhere.' He ignored that. 'Each cabinet can be removed in its entirety and the contents transferred elsewhere without coming into contact even with the air in the laboratory.' I looked into a cabinet at the circular growth of a culture on a petri dish. 'What's the organism?' 'Escherichia coli, I believe. It's Carter's favourite.' 'The genetically weakened strain.' Cregar raised his eyebrows. 'You seem well informed for a layman. I don't know; that's Carter's affair. I'm not the expert.' I turned to face him. 'What's this all about?' 'I'm trying to show you that we do take all possible precautions. What happened to Dr. Ashton was purely accidental—a million to one chance. It's very important to me that you believe that.' 'If you'd listened to her it wouldn't have happened, but I believe you,' I said. 'I don't think you did it on purpose. What's so important about it?' 'I can come to an accommodation with Ogilvie,' he said. 'I'll lose some advantage but not all. That leaves you.' 'Have you spoken with Ogilvie?' 'Yes.' I felt sick. If Cregar could corrupt Ogilvie I wouldn't want to work with him again. I said steadily, 'What about me?' 'This. I can do a deal with Ogilvie all right, but I don't think I could make it stick if anything happened to you. He always was squeamish. That means you have to be around and able to talk for some time to come which, as you will appreciate, presents me with a problem.' 'How to keep my mouth shut without killing me.' 'Precisely. You are a man like myself—we cut to the heart of a problem. When you appeared in the Ashton case I had you investigated most thoroughly. To my surprise you had no handle I could get hold of, no peccadilloes to be exploited. You seem to be that rarity, the honest man.' 'I won't take compliments from you, damn it!' 'No compliment, I assure you. Just a damnable nuisance. I wanted something to hold over you, something with which to blackmail you. There was nothing. So I have to find something else to close your mouth. I think I've found it.' 'Well?' 'It will mean my giving up more of the advantage I have achieved over the years, but I'll retain the most of it. I'll trade the young lady in the next laboratory for your silence.' I looked at him with disgust. He had said the solution to his problem would lie in the study of men's weaknesses and he had found mine. He said, 'As soon as you agree, the girl can be taken to hospital, in carefully controlled conditions, of course. Perhaps your suggestion that she be taken to Porton is best. I could arrange that.' I whirled round as the door of the laboratory burst open. There stood Archie Ferguson. 'You're right, Mr. Jaggard,' he said. 'It's another damned Gruinard.' 'Get out!' I yelled. 'For your life, get out!' He looked at me with startled eyes, and I pointed to the glass wall at the end of the room. 'Go next door—I'll talk to you there. Move, man!' The door slammed shut.