Ice Age

by Brian Freemantle

  Clever, as well as confident, conceded Partington. It had been wise, quite apart from her other, future use, to have included Amanda. To her he said: ‘What’s your feeling about the withholding?’

  ‘It went totally against the spirit and intent of what we were brought together to achieve,’ said Amanda, as completely prepared and confident as Reynell. ‘But I believe the Russian minister that it was personal, professional ambition, not officially sanctioned or ordered obstruction. Fort Detrick have not only caught up on that particular discovery but learned substantially more.’ She nodded towards Reynell. ‘I agree with the English minister that nothing worthwhile could be achieved – indeed, it would fuel already over-fuelled public disquiet – if it were to become an open, diplomatic dispute.’

  Reynell was tempted to come back into the discussion but decided he didn’t have anything to prove to this man. Better – more productive – instead to let Amanda mark out the ground where hidden mines might be laid. He had, after all, to get Partington’s agreement if there was going to be later, personal gratitude from Moscow.

  Partington said: ‘What about insisting the woman apologize?’

  ‘No!’ rejected Amanda, to the surprise of Reynell to whom she hadn’t expressed the objection earlier. ‘There’ll be humiliation enough in her having to return, knowing that she’s been caught like some exam-cheating kid. Making her apologize really is reducing it to school-yard level and Raisa Orlov is a world renowned scientist. Fort Detrick are getting a lot they don’t understand and we might need her help, not her resentment.’

  Time to come back in, judged Reynell. ‘I totally agree. We might very well need whatever additionally the Russians get from their analysis of the cave findings. They might have something – the very catalyst – to make sense of everything that we’re isolating here.’ All this was obvious: school-yard level, to use Amanda’s analogy. So what was the real reason for their being there? It hardly mattered. For the moment he’d benefited enough by being recognized as the future British leader by the President of the United States of America.

  ‘So we just welcome her back, like nothing ever happened?’ pressed Partington.

  ‘No,’ seized Reynell at once, eager to let the other man realize that he finally understood. ‘She hasn’t just been caught out here. She’s been caught out in her own country and by delaying this long you’ve let Moscow know your …’ he intentionally hesitated, for the heavy qualification, ‘… our feelings. Like Amanda says, Raisa Orlov’s been humiliated enough.’

  Partington shifted imperceptibly in his special seat, uncomfortable at being caught out himself. It was important to remember that the Englishman wasn’t someone to be taken lightly. ‘OK, then I agree,’ he said, which he’d always intended to do. He smiled towards Reynell. ‘I’m glad it’s given us the opportunity to meet.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Reynell. ‘I hope it’s a long and successful relationship.’

  ‘I hope so, too. I always think personal contact is important, particularly between our two countries. I’m going to enjoy our working together.’

  As he left the White House, alone again and on foot for the benefit of an even greater number of cameras than there had been for his arrival, Reynell decided that he was at least an equal and probably a more adept manipulator than Henry Partington. He wondered why the man had asked Amanda to remain, but was sure he’d find out either in or out of bed later that night.

  ‘What do you think of Britain’s future leader?’

  ‘We work well together,’ Amanda said, amusing herself by her choice of words. She hadn’t been led into this private study to provide a character reference for Peter Reynell. Why then?

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be any doubt that he’ll get it.’

  ‘That’s what I understand.’ Come on, give me a steer!

  ‘So his future’s decided, when this is all over.’

  Better, thought Amanda, cautiously. ‘It would seem so.’

  ‘Have you considered yours?’

  At last! ‘Any thoughts I might have had are on the back burner, until this is over. It’s far too important to be deflected from.’

  Liar, thought Partington, unimpressed by the claimed dedication. ‘Where did you see yourself, in those back-burner thoughts?’

  Amanda’s concentration was absolute. Partington wasn’t a man to make offers without wanting something in return. His wife looked like Mother America at a weenie roast but there’d never been any extra-marital rumours. There was always the first time, she supposed. ‘State,’ she said, bluntly. You want it, Mr President, you got it.

  Partington nodded. ‘That’s where I see you, too. Particularly after how well you’ve conducted yourself over this.’

  Don’t be shy, Henry, thought Amanda. ‘I appreciate your confidence. And this conversation.’

  ‘There’s a Russian delegation, lobbying our support for an IMF and World Bank bail-out.’

  ‘Are we going to give it?’ Amanda enjoyed the ‘we’. She wasn’t even going to have to get down on her knees!

  ‘What do you think of the current Russian leadership?’

  Testing time, Amanda recognized. ‘Sound, given time. But it hasn’t had that time, not yet. The alternative is a further slide back to communism, which I don’t think is in our interests.’

  ‘That’s my feeling, too,’ said Partington. ‘You get on well with Lyalin?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘I think Moscow should know we’re doing them the favour they’ve asked for. Discreetly, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But that it wasn’t an easy decision, after what their woman did.’

  ‘I understand,’ assured Amanda. ‘So will Lyalin.’

  The incumbent Secretary of State did not come to mind until Amanda was practically at Blair House and then her thought was that Robin Turner was a lucky asshole to have survived as long as he had. The difference, when she was in charge at Foggy Bottom, was going to be dramatic.

  ‘So far, so good,’ said Geraldine.

  ‘We’ve only just ordered,’ warned Stoddart.

  ‘The waitress didn’t recognize us.’ It had been easier for Geraldine, getting unseen out of the British embassy. Stoddart had got through the media cordon around Blair House in the enclosed rear of a laundry truck. They’d arrived in Georgetown separately, the Italian restaurant corner table booked by Geraldine in the name of Barton, her mother’s maiden name.

  Stoddart said: ‘What are you going to do if someone asks for an autograph?’

  ‘Give it, I suppose. And be bloody embarrassed doing it,’ said Geraldine, responding to touch her wine glass against his. ‘How’s the conference agenda going?’

  ‘We’re calculating the necessary emission control targets for each country, before inviting their individual proposals. Then we’ll work out agreeable compromises.’

  ‘You’re the greatest culprit.’

  ‘We’ve set two and a half times what America agreed in Kyoto.’

  ‘And promptly ignored. What’s the point of bothering?’

  ‘The President wants to make an environmental statement,’ said Stoddart. ‘It can be negotiated down by a third to satisfy industry, which will give us exactly the figure we want. That’s how we’ll make everyone happy.’

  Geraldine grinned, raising her glass again. ‘Here’s to it working.’

  ‘This time I’ve got the platform to see that it does: well enough, at least.’

  Geraldine kept her glass raised. ‘Here’s to that, too.’

  Both were aware of the closer attention when the waitress returned with their salads. Stoddart said: ‘I warned you!’

  ‘She’s not sure.’

  ‘It won’t be the same girl next time: it’ll be someone else, checking,’ predicted Stoddart. ‘Anything from England?’

  Stoddart’s environmental meeting had been the reason for that day’s helicopter trip: Geraldine had hitched a ride to check for responses to what now numbered
twenty-three separate but specific test analyses she’d demanded. She said: ‘I spoke, by telephone. Three more days at the earliest.’

  The man who served their steaks was obviously the manager. He smiled in recognition and said: ‘Hi! Good to have you with us.’

  Stoddart said: ‘We’re trying for a quiet meal. You think you can help us?’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ said the man. ‘Could we get a photograph, before you go?’

  ‘Providing we don’t have to leave in a hurry,’ said Geraldine.

  After the man left, nodding confirmation to the staff gathered at the serving area, Stoddart said: ‘I told you!’

  ‘I can live with it,’ said Geraldine.

  ‘That’s become pretty easy, hasn’t it?’ said Stoddart. ‘Living with it, I mean.’

  Geraldine stopped eating. ‘What, exactly, do you mean?’

  ‘Our living together,’ qualified Stoddart.

  ‘Emergency circumstances,’ said Geraldine.

  ‘Is that how you think it is? Why it’s easy?’

  ‘No,’ she said, holding his look.

  ‘Neither do I. You think it will be the same when the emergency’s over?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe we should give it a try, to find out?’

  ‘That sounds a good idea to me,’ said Stoddart.

  ‘You quite sure?’

  ‘Sure enough.’

  ‘I think I am, too.’

  They didn’t make a lot of conversation for the rest of the meal. It was only when they posed for Polaroids – swapping around so that each missed-out photographer could be included – that they were recognized by other diners. As Stoddart hurried Geraldine out, someone began to clap and at once every occupied table joined in but they managed to reach the door without being intercepted.

  Geraldine said: ‘Jesus! That was embarrassing!’

  Stoddart said: ‘Think what the wedding will be like,’ and immediately wished he hadn’t.

  Soberly, Geraldine said: ‘Let’s take things a step at a time, shall we?’

  Amanda lay with her head cushioned on Reynell’s naked stomach, although she’d turned to look up at him. ‘I thought that was what Partington was going to ask me to do.’

  ‘Would you have done?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, honestly.

  ‘You didn’t tell me why he asked you to stay?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ she agreed.

  Reynell waited. When she didn’t continue he said: ‘You happy with it?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Good. Anything I can do?’

  ‘In the future, maybe.’

  ‘Any time.’ He’d been wrong, believing he could seduce her in every way.

  ‘Will I have all the telephone numbers?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ promised Reynell. ‘You’ll have all the numbers.’ Sexually each was as innovative as the other, but there were some things that he preferred in Amanda over Henrietta.

  Raisa’s entomology department had only detected the second of the two unidentified ticks and the bowel and gut infestation from re-examination prompted by the passed on Fort Detrick analysis and Gregori Lyalin’s written – and copied to the president – summons for her to return to America to rejoin the scientific investigation.

  ‘They’re getting ahead!’ she declared.

  ‘Raisa!’ implored Grenkov. ‘We’ve found unknown ticks in vegetation our paleobotanists have never seen before. Using the enzyme from the bodies we’ve synthesized the illness into three chimpanzees and our geneticists think it’s attacking genes to a pattern …’

  ‘It’s not genetic! It’s viral!’ insisted the woman.

  ‘Wait until we’ve finished the tests!’

  ‘No!’ refused Raisa.

  The synthesized enzyme had also been introduced into five chimpanzees at Fort Detrick, all of which were at varying stages of carefully monitored death. The daily shipment of tissue samples for genetic testing in England were additional to the twenty-three already ordered by Geraldine. They were also being duplicated by American geneticists.

  From its Geneva headquarters, the World Health Organisation warned that the global figure of two and a half million people having already died from the ageing illness should be considered a conservative estimate.

  Thirty-Four

  It took a full day for two specifically assigned switchboard operators to return all the logged calls. Raisa Orlov selected the publications and Moscow-based TV bureaux – predominantly American and English – to contact personally. She chose the largest of the institute’s lecture rooms. Every seat was occupied and nearer the podium journalists were standing two deep.

  Raisa prepared her presentation with the care she’d given to her personal invitations. There were huge drawings as well as greatly enhanced laboratory photographs of the octagonally shaped, green stain reactive enzyme recovered from the body of Gennardi Varlomovich Markelov matching the samples from the cave bodies, actual photographs of which, enlarged to twice life size, were on display stands at the rear of the dais she occupied, quite alone. There were also illustrations of the intertwined DNA double helix and quite separately three drawn representations of telomeres in the process of age degeneration to supplement more greatly enhanced laboratory photographs of the actual gene cap. The only break in the illustration and photographic backcloth was for the enormous slide screen Raisa could operate from the lectern at which she stood, laser wand in hand to point up examples she intended to make.

  ‘A short while ago, near the site of the most important discovery in anthropological history, I promised important revelations,’ began Raisa, quietening the room. ‘Today I intend to make them.’

  There was total, expectant silence.

  At the press of her operating button, an artist’s impression of a Neanderthal appeared on the screen behind her. Raisa declared: ‘The world is being infected by the disease that totally wiped out man’s first ancestor.’

  Raisa had a teleprompt running against her lectern screen but she scarcely needed it. She called up the official still photographs inside the Baikal caves, interspersing them with the enlarged slides of the enzyme from the bodies there and that recovered from Gennardi Varlomovich Markelov. Her prepared slides showed the two side by side, visibly proving a perfect match. It was evidence, she asserted, of a virus already being replicated under laboratory control. She quickly switched to the double helix and telomere illustrations, insisting the degeneration was being caused by virus invasion. That could – and would – be stopped by a vaccine that would be the logical result of their current laboratory experimentation, although she could not give a time frame in which it might be achieved.

  ‘What I can say is that we are moving properly – and as quickly as is scientifically possible – in the right direction. And that I’ll develop it.’

  There was the briefest hiatus, of people who’d expected her to talk longer, before the explosion of conflicting sounds not recognizable as questions through which Raisa remained relaxed at her pedestal, unresponsive but alert to the cameras. When the demands did become intelligible she chose only those she wished to answer. Prepared – and happy to titilate although not to be shown directly responsible – for the sensationalism she confirmed to a New York Times questioner that she was indeed claiming that the Neanderthal species had been totally wiped out by the ageing illness, but insisted she was not suggesting the current world population ran the risk of total annihilation as well.

  ‘The Neanderthal didn’t have science and people trained how to use it. We have now. But there is something that is essential to understand. The latest World Health Organization mortality figures for this plague are in excess of two million. AIDS has already claimed more than thirty times that number. I anticipate – although I wish I didn’t – that we have to prepare ourselves for fatalities in such number before there is any hope of arresting this new illness, let alone developing an effective cure.’

  Raisa allowed herself to be led agai
n through most of the questions she’d faced in Irkutsk – grateful for the rehearsal – and frequently used the laser pointer to simplify answers she feared might be too esoteric. It was only towards the end and from American reporters that the questioning switched to the speculation of disputes between herself and the rest of the Fort Detrick team. There were no such difficulties, she insisted. They’d recall the British science minister independently announcing what he’d described as a breakthrough, which as she understood was still being evaluated, and once more threw up the telomere representations to discuss viral infection of cells, although not actually mentioning that it was the telomere shortening that was the British discovery. She expected very shortly to be rejoining the scientists at Fort Detrick, although there remained some experiments in Moscow she intended to supervise first.

  ‘I am sure there is ongoing research in America, of which I am at the moment unaware, that will contribute every bit as much to the final solution to this devastating disease as the progress I’ve been able to disclose here today.’

  Raisa agreed to separate, one-to-one interviews with the BBC and all three American national stations as well as CNN. BBC, ABC and CNN even agreed to repeat their sessions in front of her illustrations and photographs which would be edited into the final report with what she’d initially said, as well as her general remarks, to be dubbed as her voice-over.

  Television segments of the general conference itself were satellite relayed live for midday news bulletins, which was the first indication outside Moscow of what was happening, but it was not until the evening that the Fort Detrick group, on call-back instructions from Washington, were able to watch the complete, channel-cleared transmission. With the excuse yet again to show the cave footage, the concentration was upon Raisa’s Neanderthal assertion.

  Stoddart said: ‘She even used some of the words you did, to explain telomere fraying.’

  ‘Yes,’ accepted Geraldine. There wasn’t any anger; not even irritation.

  ‘She’s wrong,’ insisted Pelham. ‘It’s definitely not viral.’