Ice Age

by Brian Freemantle

  ‘I’m just tagging things,’ said Stoddart. ‘Baikal’s enormous. In the Paleocene and Lower Neocene periods, it was part of an even larger sea that covered all of Siberia. And that would have included Ilutin.’

  ‘There’ll be every precaution?’ demanded Gerard Buchemin, the most relaxed among the group because he’d excluded himself from the expedition, but needed to go on record showing responsible concern for fellow countryman Guy Dupuy, whom he’d insisted should go.

  Stoddart dealt out his already prepared equipment list. ‘That’s everything we’ll be taking with us, already ordered and on its way to our aircraft. There’s still time – one of the main reasons for meeting as early in the day as this – to have anything added that anyone here feels I’ve overlooked.’ He let several moments elapse, for it to be scrutinized. No one, certainly not Raisa, offered suggestions.

  ‘One or two items might be worthwhile explaining,’ resumed Stoddart. ‘There’ll be seven in our group from here. We’re taking three sets each – and by each I mean the closest to individual height and build – of the totally protective, internal oxygen-supplied and air-conditioned suits to enter the caves. That’s one primary suit and two back-ups each, in the event of damage to the first.’ He nodded towards Lyalin. ‘I understand from the minister that we will be supported and assisted on site by personnel from the Listvyanka complex. So I’m adding another thirty suits, in various sizes, for them.’

  ‘I’m sure from local experience the staff at the academy are sufficiently provided with all the protective clothing they might need,’ intruded Raisa, xenophobically.

  ‘I’m sure they are, too, for what I am about to come to,’ said Stoddart, briefly giving way to annoyance at the constant obstructiveness of the Russian woman. ‘But I’m talking – and thinking – specifically about a cave colony in which there appear to be perfectly preserved prehistoric people who died from a disease that could have re-emerged to infect now and which still might be possible to transmit, as it was in the three instances that we are so far aware of. Which, as far as I know, isn’t a local experience with which they will be familiar and therefore they might appreciate our including them in our planning.’

  Raisa flushed, embarrassed not just by the total logic of the rejection but by it being delivered in front of Gregori Lyalin.

  ‘… Which I want to talk more about,’ Stoddart hurried on. ‘You’ll see I’ve included an even greater number of jungle-adapted long Johns -’ momentarily he deferred to Raisa, to lessen the rejection -’the need for which will be local knowledge. These aren’t long johns for warmth. They’re protective all-in-ones against insects and parasites.’

  ‘What insects and parasites?’ broke in an increasingly unsettled Guy Dupuy.

  ‘The most prevalent in the region is a skin-burrowing tick from the Ixodidas genus, which exists worldwide,’ replied Stoddart. ‘It’s probably as common here in America as it is there. Around Baikal they exist in great concentrations. And carry a slew of infections. Here and in Europe it’s Lyme Disease. At Lake Baikal it’s encephalitis. At this time of the year the locals usually wear two layers of clothing to keep them out. The long johns we’re taking will hopefully make life more comfortable as well as safer for us. You’ll also see the hat and cap allocation. We’ll have to cover our heads at all times, they drop off trees, roof overhangs, places like that …’

  ‘What about inoculation?’ asked Dupuy.

  ‘There isn’t one that’s effective, or worth trying even,’ said Raisa. ‘If a tick gets into you, there’s a ninety per cent chance of infection. At least if anyone becomes ill there’ll be an instant diagnosis and treatment. For which the Institute will be prepared.’ It was amusing, generating the unease.

  ‘You’ll also see on the list a variety of insect repellents including smoke candles, room sprays and the finest mesh mosquito netting,’ Stoddart pointed out. ‘Everything is recommended by jungle incursion medics, with additional guidance from entomologists—’ He indicated Lyalin again. ‘On the subject of which, we’re promised at least one local entomologist from the Listvyanka Institute when we go into the colony, to avoid increasing the size of our party any more.’

  ‘We’re getting insect specimen from Noatak and where the McMurdo field station was,’ came in Pelham. ‘The entomologists assigned to me at Fort Detrick have asked for comparisons.’

  ‘What’s the risk of the discovery leaking out?’ asked Spencer. ‘It would attract a hell of a lot of publicity.’

  ‘Small,’ said Lyalin at once. ‘It’s one of the most isolated places in Russia, let alone the world. And I’ve told the institute it’s not to be talked about.’

  It was, Stoddart realized, the second time in a very few hours that he’d set out the downside of a situation, although unlike the encounter with Darryl Matthews and Harold Norris today wasn’t a no-hard-feelings choice. He guessed his team, with the possible exception of Guy Dupuy, remained committed. It would be hardly possible, either, for Gregori Lyalin – the man who after all had made the trip possible – to withdraw. Would either Amanda O’Connell or Peter Reynell make a last minute excuse?

  There were closely similar, although not dissuading, thoughts in the minds of both Reynell and Amanda.

  Just as Reynell hadn’t believed he’d been at risk from Jack Stoddart being a carrier, he couldn’t contemplate any danger now. He had his own camera and spare film packed in case there weren’t any official photographers and wondered how spectacular the space-suited image of him would be in a mountain cave with a lot of preserved, prehistoric ape-men. When the declaring moment came, the media hysteria at his having personally faced horrifying, certain death to investigate a mystery, primeval disease would be phenomenal. He’d be acknowledged as the bravest party leader and premier since Winston Churchill, whose army valour was questionable anyway. Wanting a fitting – and later quotable – remark for the record busily being made by the secretariat, he said: ‘It certainly isn’t going to be a walk in the park, is it?’

  ‘No,’ agreed Stoddart, expectantly.

  ‘But then I never considered my role simply to be that of sitting behind a desk. And I most certainly don’t now.’

  Amanda wondered curiously, although uncritically, whether Reynell always looked at his own reflection walking past shop windows. Tensed to get her own selfless attitude – and complete understanding – even better documented, she said: ‘Phenomenal winds?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Stoddart. ‘Ferocious from every point of the compass, almost as if they’re in competition.

  ‘As well as migrating birds and easily carried parasites?’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed again, wondering at the direction of her questions.

  ‘West Nile encephalitis was introduced for the first time into the Western hemisphere – into New York – in August 1999 by migrating birds infected by mosquitoes,’ she reminded. ‘An airborne virus resistant to sunlight could be lifted into the upper atmosphere to be carried for hundreds – thousands – of miles by hurricane force winds. Either way – either route – we could be looking at a source for the biggest transmission yet, if indeed the ageing illness is endemic at Lake Baikal.’

  It was, Stoddart supposed, a summation of the obvious. ‘Yes,’ he agreed for the third time. No one was going to back down.

  ‘It’s not the influenza, is it?’ demanded Lord Ranleigh.

  ‘No,’ allowed Reynell. He was still holding back from being specific about the disease, wanting even his fatherin-law’s later admiration for what he was about to do. There were few people better at creating legends than Ranleigh, particularly if he were somehow connected.

  ‘Worse?’

  ‘Far worse.’ Not by any means an exaggeration, Reynell judged, building up his later-to-be acknowledged integrity.

  ‘There’ll be a full, publishable record?’

  ‘Of course.’ Reynell was aware, in passing, that the other man was concentrating entirely upon the later benefits rather than upon any present
physical risk.

  ‘And the medical breakthrough is British?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Falling back upon his earlier excuse to the Washington group, Reynell added: This has come up too quickly for me to get the full explanation of how important that is from our scientific officer.’

  ‘No urgency,’ assured Ranleigh.

  ‘As I’m going into Russia, I thought I should perhaps advise Prendergast. He should be informed, as Foreign Secretary, shouldn’t he?’

  There was momentary silence from the London end. ‘I think he’s strongly enough committed to be trusted,’ agreed the older man at last. ‘It brings him into the inner fold, where we need him.’ There was another pause. ‘I’m sure of our strength now. All we really need is you back here.’

  ‘There’ll be a development to justify it soon.’ The public revelation would be sufficient now that a British discovery could be heralded. There was an amusing reverse that the leak he’d initially feared might destroy him could so soon actually be utilized in his favour, if it were timed carefully enough.

  His manipulative mind obviously tuned to the same wavelength, Ranleigh said: ‘Maybe a question should be cultivated?’

  Reynell laughed. ‘Wait until I get back, with photographs and a story to tell.’

  When he told Henrietta where he was going she said: ‘Is it dangerous?’

  ‘Potentially.’

  ‘Don’t do anything silly, will you?’

  It was, he supposed, Henrietta’s way of telling him to be careful. ‘Have I ever?’

  ‘What can you bring me back?’

  ‘How about the key to 10 Downing Street?’

  ‘Just what I’ve always wanted.’

  There was no hindrance in his being connected to Prendergast at the Foreign Office. Pushing the urgency into his voice, Reynell said: ‘I’ve only got a few minutes, Ralph. I’m going into Russia: Siberia. Everything’s up in the air but I thought you should know. There’s not enough to talk sensibly to the PM about, though …’

  ‘I understand perfectly,’ said Prendergast.

  They got to Andrews Air Force base by mid-afternoon and Stoddart was relieved that their transport was a militarized, passenger-carrying Boeing 727 and not a canvas-seated, flying warehouse C-130, although as they settled aboard he had the discomforting recollection that the last time he’d flown had been with a different, now dead lover beside him. If the thought occurred to Geraldine, it wasn’t obvious. The group split without any discussion, Geraldine with Stoddart, Reynell next to Amanda and the two Russians – quietly although intently speaking Russian – together. They spread themselves around the aircraft but the apprehensive Guy Dupuy chose his solitary seat furthest from any of them, as if already seeking protective isolation.

  Quietly to the man beside her, Amanda said: ‘You’ve been working the room more closely than I have. You think Lyalin’s a straight arrow?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Reynell. ‘I think he’s as unique as this time warp we’re going to.’

  ‘And you and I completely understand each other?’

  ‘Even more absolutely,’ he agreed.

  ‘No reason for us not to trust each other?’

  ‘None,’ Reynell agreed. Unless, he mentally qualified, a reason arose that at the moment he couldn’t anticipate.

  ‘That’s good,’ said Amanda. She hoped she wouldn’t have to screw him in any other than the strictly physical and pleasurable way. And she wasn’t sure how that was going to be possible, wearing all-in-ones she didn’t intend taking off, even at night. Maybe there was a flap, although it still wouldn’t be the same.

  Gregori Lyalin had patiently heard out Raisa’s latest protests but refused a repetition by yet again invoking his official seniority, relieved that very soon after take-off she’d relapsed into a hostile silence. He felt, upon reflection, that he’d personally handled Raisa Orlov very badly. He shouldn’t have needed to contemplate letting her know the political reality of his conducting himself the way he had – it was politically far above and beyond her permitted level of knowledge – but belatedly, far too belatedly, he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better at least to have taken her partially into his confidence.

  Raisa Orlov decided there was no purpose in arguing any further with the man. She had to dismiss him and his clearly imagined importance from her thinking, as she was sure he would be even more literally and quickly dismissed from his ministry by what she intended. Until now – this droning, long haul chance to rationalize – she hadn’t properly calculated all the advantages of returning to Russia, despite Siberia being remote, virtually a continent away, from government and power. Now she did and the most positive awareness was that it gave her the opportunity personally to correct a situation instead of trying to achieve it long distance, by telephone and through surrogates. And there would be the additional advantage of whatever she might be able to discover – but still needed to confirm – at Lake Baikal.

  She said: ‘The bodies must be taken to Moscow.’

  ‘I’ll decide how and when – and if – when we find out what we’ve got,’ sighed Lyalin.

  ‘Whatever that decision is, I intend going back to Moscow! To consult!’

  ‘We can go together,’ smiled Lyalin.

  * * *

  The acknowledgement of Russian sovereignty required that they transfer in Alaska to an already waiting Russian military aircraft. They slept, although fitfully, for most of the flight down the eastern Siberian seaboard. Lyalin awoke them when the Illushin turned inland for them to get their first sight of Lake Baikal, which appeared out of the early morning Siberian mist from its mountain surround as abruptly as it was startling.

  Geraldine said: ‘It’s so blue! It’s incredible!’

  ‘So’s the visibility which causes it to be that colour,’ said Stoddart. ‘I told you the crabs eat everything. That includes algae and plankton.’

  On the final approach to Irkutsk they flew low enough to see the lake surface hugely churned and torn. Stoddart said: That’s what the wind does.’

  Geraldine shuddered and said: ‘I actually saw the ShangriLa movie once; a film institute showing. It was set in a place just like this, hidden away among mountains. Scary!’

  ‘You’d made your mind up what it was going to look like,’ refused Stoddart.

  ‘It’s still open about what I’m going to find here, though. The only thing I’ve already decided is how Raisa’s going to try to stop us finding any answers ahead of her.’

  The story that was going to engulf the world’s media broke in Japan.

  It began with the account of the deaths, from an ageing condition doctors couldn’t identity or cure, of five people – two men and three woman, none over the age of forty – in the Hokkaida edition of the Asahi Shimbun. When eight people died in Tokyo, there was reference to the Hokkaida deaths in their Asahi edition but it was the Daily Yomiuri which illustrated the Tokyo outbreak with a photograph of a thirty-year-old mother of two children who died, actually on the day of publication, a wizened old lady of at least eighty. When newspapers in New Delhi, Bombay, Sydney, Santiago, Caracas, San Diego, Charleston, Ottawa, Paris, Naples, Moscow, Vienna, Newcastle and Madrid picked up on localized cases, Associated Press compiled a round-up that was later to win the news organization the award for journalistic excellence in eight of the western countries in which, along with the other thirty-three worldwide, the story exploded within the space of twenty-four hours.

  It did so, at various times around the globe, as Stoddart was hurrying his group off the aircraft at Irkutsk, but Paul Spencer had been alerted overnight by his CIA monitors at Langley and blitzkrieged Henry Partington into such a pre-breakfast meeting that the man appeared in a dressing gown stained with the previous morning’s menu. Egg was an obvious favourite.

  ‘It’s out,’ announced Spencer.

  ‘We ahead?’ demanded Partington, at once.

  ‘No American newspaper or television channel has picked up on it yet,’ a
ssured Spencer, who’d stayed up the entire night, bypassing Boddington, to check. ‘You could segment each of this morning’s three television majors with an immediate statement to run over your ecology footage and go live tonight, for combined television and print.’

  ‘You’re back on track, Paul,’ smiled Partington.

  Back was where he wanted to be, reflected Spencer, tingling with relief.

  Twenty-Five

  Despite Jack Stoddart’s Blair House briefing, none of them was properly prepared and all were disoriented, some more than others. Their most immediate unpreparedness – a political failure – was not to have realized that the arrival of a Russian minister and his foreign counterparts would be considered a civic event by the Irkutsk authorities. The mayor, heading the entire town council, was waiting on the single airstrip inevitably claimed to be an international airport, to deliver a welcoming speech directly beneath a windsock blown horizontal, like an accusing finger, by a wind that flattened their clothing around them. Stiffly beside the council was the local police commissioner flanked by his attendant officers – quite a lot of whom had the mongolian features of the local Buryat population – and directly after the speech a man almost as expansively bearded as Gregori Lyalin introduced himself as the director of the Listvyanka Institute. His name was Vladimir Bobin and he was the only one with any English, which he spoke slowly after obviously mentally rehearsing the words. Lyalin took on the role of interpreter, explaining that the two photographers shepherding them together for group pictures were from the town’s newspaper.

  ‘We’re going to look like shit,’ whispered a travelcrumpled, wind-tossed Geraldine to Stoddart, as they were jockeyed into position.

  ‘I feel like shit,’ complained Stoddart. He still had his watch on DC time. He couldn’t understand why, but at that moment they’d been travelling one hour and twenty minutes longer than it had taken him to get back from McMurdo. They were permitted – feted – guests in another country, so they had to go with the local flow but he’d imagined their being able to go at once to the caves. Over the photographers’ heads he saw their luggage being unloaded into two battered trucks and wished the equipment was being handled more gently.