“It’s over there, your hotel. Be there in a tick.”
The cab turned sharply into Half Moon Street and drew into the kerb. Terry paid the driver.
“Ta very much, sir. Go careful, now.”
“You too.”
The engine burbled into greater life and the cab moved off, leaving behind it an oppressive silence. As they crossed to the hotel entrance they felt and heard the whitened paving stones rasping on the soles of their shoes. A young man in a smart black uniform stepped out and held the door open for them and they were in the warm, clean surroundings of the reception area.
CHAPTER 14
There was barely time to go to their rooms and drop their bags before they had to return to the lobby. It was just after eleven-thirty, and a large black Jaguar was already waiting for them in the dim daylight outside the hotel. They drove directly to Whitehall, making swift progress along roads that would normally be crawling with cars, buses, and taxis. The PA got up as they entered the outer office and conducted them straight in. Four men were seated around the big desk and they stood as Terry and Maggie came through the door. Giles Monteith greeted them.
“Hello, good of you to come. You’ve already met my Scientific Adviser, Sir Ashley Gibbs.”
Terry nodded curtly. Monteith continued:
“I expect you recognize the Home Secretary, Robert Spalding…” He paused to allow both of them to shake hands. Spalding was a familiar figure; the same height as Monteith, he looked a good deal older, partly because he was almost entirely bald. He was wearing the pale grey suit in which he was often interviewed on television.
“And Gareth Evans is here from the Department of Health.”
Evans was a young man with thick, dark hair and a flushed face. His hand was hot and sweaty. Terry was standing slightly behind Maggie and noticed her wipe her palm discreetly on the back of her skirt.
Monteith waited until they had all taken their seats.
“Good, let’s get started. First some facts. The white smog which has overtaken the capital is due to a cloud of ammonia – no doubt about that, you can smell it everywhere. It seemed to come in from the Atlantic when the rainstorms moved off to the north-east. It’s not due to an industrial accident: anything that released a volume of gas that size would have to be on a massive scale; we’ve checked both here and in northern France and nothing showed up. So if it isn’t due to an industrial disaster where did it come from? The reason I’ve asked Dr. McKinley and Dr. Ferris to join us is that they have a unique take on what may have been happening. Dr. McKinley, do you think you could give us a quick rundown on what you believe is behind this phenomenon, just to get everyone on the same footing?”
Terry had been waiting for this. He summarized their findings as he’d done before and followed up with the implications for the weather: the early hurricanes and the torrential rain. As his predictions had been borne out by events, he could do this with confidence and with a slight air of inevitability that would not be lost on Monteith and Ashley. Then he turned to what they really wanted to know.
“Ammonia gas is invisible. What you’re getting in this noxious white smog is a mixture of the gas with fine crystals of ammonium salts – the sulphate, nitrate, chloride, and carbonate – formed when the gas combines with the acid emissions you get in any large city.” Then, addressing Monteith and Ashley directly, he said:
“In short, the sequence of events has been pretty much what I laid out in this office about three weeks ago. The only surprise is how quickly it’s all happened. That’s the major concern. It suggests that these organisms are already well established in the environment. Perhaps if you’d taken us more seriously before we could have been better prepared.” Monteith’s mouth was opening to reply but Terry turned quickly to Maggie. “Dr. Ferris, anything you want to add?”
“Just this.” Maggie’s voice had a steely edge. “As Dr. McKinley and I were unable to convince Mr. Monteith and Sir Ashley that we were facing a serious potential threat, we had to follow it up privately and at our own expense. We now have samples of the ocean in the Sargasso Sea area, taken near the algal mats where the organism may have arisen. We can confirm that the ammonia-producing organism, or organisms, is present there. I’m afraid we can’t say more than that at the moment because,” she fixed her eyes on Monteith, “we were given neither the opportunity nor the resources to mount a proper investigation.”
Monteith’s face was slightly flushed. “Thank you, thank you very much. Let’s be clear: the situation facing us before was purely hypothetical. Now it’s a reality and we have to deal with it. Yes, Mr. Evans?”
The Junior Health Minister said, “Thank you, Minister.” He tugged nervously at his shirt cuffs, and Terry caught a flash of inappropriately large cufflinks. “First of all, the Minister of Health sends her apologies. As you can imagine, she’s extremely busy with the current crisis. Now, if I may… Dr. McKinley. Our immediate problem, as I see it, is this smog. The hospitals and general practitioners are working at full stretch now. People are already dying. How long do you think it’s going to last?”
“That’s hard to say. If you’re lucky, this is just a pocket of ammonia that’s been blown in by an unfavourable wind. In that case it should clear in a day or two. But that won’t be for long. The organism has obviously been spreading unchecked for many months. Fogs like this one are going to become more frequent. Eventually the air will become too toxic to breathe, and not just in the towns.”
Monteith came back. “Well, what can we do about it? Could we spray something on these algal mats? Dr. Ferris? Would that be a useful place to start?”
“Not without knowing which ones are affected. We could end up killing the good phytoplankton and making things worse. Also the plankton are at the bottom of tremendously important marine food chains. You can’t go about disrupting things in that untargeted way, even if it were feasible.”
“Well, do you have any other suggestions?”
Maggie sighed. “We’re dealing with a mutant organism. The only sure way to combat a mutation like this is first to find out what it is. That means identifying the DNA sequence responsible. What you need is a team of experts – as we suggested before – and they’d have to be adequately resourced. It will take time and even after they’ve succeeded they’ll have to work out a way of neutralizing it, and that will take more time. All the while the smogs will be getting worse. Sorry, I’m afraid there are no easy answers.”
“Giles, may I?”
“Of course, Home Secretary.”
“Dr. McKinley and Dr. Ferris, we’re deeply indebted to you for the remarkable work you’ve done. Without your insights we would be at a total loss to understand what’s going on.
“The PM’s in the States at the moment, having talks with the President. The visit was prearranged and in some ways the timing hasn’t been ideal. President Kinghorn has his hands full right now, dealing with the legacy of Hurricane Ailsa. It left a dreadful trail of destruction and now they’re faced with the challenge of restoring services, rehousing the homeless, repairing highways, and so on. Needless to say, the cost of all that is a major headache for the present administration. With me so far?”
“Yes…”
“In the circumstances you wouldn’t expect him to be unduly exercised by the news that London’s been afflicted by a white smog. However, when this crisis arose yesterday Giles briefed the PM on your previous conversations, and the PM’s passed it on. He’s told the President that there’s a possible causal connection between a white smog on our side of the Atlantic and an unusually severe and unseasonally early hurricane on theirs. The President’s interested. If nothing else he wants to be better informed so that he can make appropriate provision – that way he might avoid some of the political backlash he suffered this time around. One of us will be speaking to the PM again after this meeting and if you agree I will be suggesting that you, Dr. McKinley, and you, Dr. Ferris, go out to the States to share your knowledge and expert
ise with their people.”
Maggie frowned. “We just happened to be the ones who came across this organism. There must be lots of people better qualified than us. It seems to me you’re just using the first scientists you come across.”
“Not at all, Dr. Ferris. You’re losing sight of one thing: it’s still absolutely vital to keep this entire business secret. If the truth got out, there would be serious public disorder – Giles was right about that. Now if we did as you suggest, and started to trawl around for suitable scientists, why, the whole thing would get out in no time at all! The fact is, we’ve been rather fortunate: the people who’ve brought this to our attention, and who are already in the picture, are also very suitably qualified.”
Terry’s eyes narrowed. “You’re placing a lot of reliance on Dr. Ferris and myself.”
“Oh, I think that’s justified, don’t you? You’ve discovered the problem and already begun to do the necessary research. And there don’t seem to be any difficulties from a security point of view. You haven’t got criminal records. You both belong to a trade union but you’re not especially active. You’re not members of any political party – in fact politics probably doesn’t interest either of you in the slightest – ”
“ – well, you’ve got that right.”
“You’ve done as Giles instructed and kept this to yourselves. You’re not seriously in debt…”
Terry sat up, a tingling sensation in his palms. “Wait a minute, how do you know all this?”
The Home Secretary smiled: “Don’t be offended Dr. McKinley, we have to take precautions.”
Terry wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or furious. He knew now why he’d felt uneasy about that phone call. This was how they knew which hotel they’d stayed in before and how to contact him at home. But they also knew a lot more.
“We stay together?”
“Of course, unless you yourselves choose to act independently. All expenses will be met for both of you, of course, here and in the States.”
“What about our day jobs? We do work, you know. We’ve got teaching, research, we sit on committees...”
“I’ll have a word with your Vice-Chancellor. I’m sure he’ll be amenable to treating it as a Leave of Absence. We’ll fund a couple of temporary lecturers if it helps.”
Terry looked at Maggie and back at the Home Secretary.
“Sir, would you mind if we have a moment to discuss this in private?”
“Not at all, but please bear in mind that all of us here have busy schedules.”
They walked down the corridor to the outer office. Fortunately it was empty, but they kept their voices down to avoid being overheard by the secretaries in the adjacent room.
“What do you think, Terry?”
“I think they’re being cheap. They wouldn’t give us the resources to investigate the problem before. Now they see the need for it, but they still won’t do what’s needed. They’ve had a better idea: they’ll use us to pass the bill to the Americans.”
“It’s better than doing nothing, surely?”
“I guess so. I can’t help but feel they don’t want anyone to point the finger at them. If we succeed they’ll take all the credit. If we fail it’s our tough luck; they’ll say they did everything possible and we let them down. They’ll hang us out to dry.”
“You’re probably right but right now there’s nothing else on offer. This way at least we’d get the chance to do something.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
“So, are you up for it?”
“Off we go again.”
“Time to save the world, Dr. McKinley.”
“After you, Dr. Ferris.”
CHAPTER 15
By the time Terry and Maggie’s plane took off for Washington a few days later the situation in London had eased: a strengthening wind had dissipated the smog, driving the last traces out to the North Sea, and life was returning to normal for all but the unfortunate few still confined to hospital. Gazing out of the window at the retreating landscape Terry had the distinct feeling that they, too, were being blown away from UK shores, and the problem with them.
The Headquarters Building of the National Science Foundation was a massive W-shaped block on Wilson Boulevard in Arlington, Virginia. The car dropped them off and they stood outside for a few moments, gazing up at the sheer size of it.
At the reception desk they were greeted by a young woman in a black uniform carrying the NSF logo and a Security Officer tab. Terry handed over their passports and she tapped at a keyboard, consulted the computer screen, then picked up the phone. After a quick exchange she turned back to them.
“Wait here, sir, someone will be down for you.”
A couple of minutes later a woman came around the corner and walked straight over to them. She was wearing a burgundy trouser suit and her hand was already outstretched.
“Hi, I’m Tricia Lawton, the Director’s PA. Please come with me.”
As they followed her to the elevators Terry was thinking of the hundreds of offices that must be contained in this huge building, the number of personnel in those offices, and the hierarchy of organization needed to run it.
Once in the lift Tricia placed her ID card in a slot and pressed a button for the top floor.
The PA’s office was thickly carpeted, the walls lined with bookshelves carrying box files and bound volumes. In addition to her desk there were two polished wood tables, on which piles of coloured booklets and other papers were stacked. The faint sound of tapping came from beyond an unmarked door, which Terry presumed led to the secretariat. The PA knocked lightly on another door, marked “Director”, and ushered them into an office that was similar in size to her own but more sparsely furnished. The Director rose from behind his desk as they came in. He was tall, his height subtly emphasized by the cut of his suit. He wore a striped shirt and a blue tie. Beyond him was a large window, through which they could just make out the distant tops of high-rise buildings.
“Thank you, Trish,” the Director said, as his PA withdrew. He shook hands with them in turn. “Chris Walmesley. Welcome to Washington. Please have a seat.”
He returned to the office armchair behind his desk. With his clean-shaven appearance and dark hair he seemed young to be in such a senior post, but the corded skin of his throat suggested he was older than he looked. He fixed them with keen grey eyes, then sat forward, his forearms on the leather desktop, hands clasped.
“Now, I have instructions to assist you folks in pretty much whatever way I can.”
“Instructions?” Terry said, with interest. “May I ask from whom?”
“From the President, of course. Right now his prime concern is the havoc created by Hurricane Ailsa. We’re all hoping this is a freak event. If that’s not the case – if it’s part of some new pattern – he wants to be the first to know. At the same time he’s anxious to avoid public alarm, so there’s no one else in the loop. I hope that’s understood.”
They nodded and Walmesley continued:
“All I know is that you have some kind of explanation for these unseasonal hurricanes, and you’re saying we could be due for more of them. Would you like to take it from there?”
Terry had presented their case twice before but now the responsibility weighed more heavily on him. This could well be their last chance to get something done. He had to strike the right tone: persuasive, without indulging in overstatement.
“With respect, it would be helpful if I knew what level to pitch this at.”
“You pitch it as high as you like. I’ll tell you if I don’t understand something.”
“All right.”
Terry gave him the story: the ammonia-producing organism, its likely source, the possibility that it had spread to other species, and the consequences if quantities of ammonia were being liberated into the atmosphere. Walmesley listened without interrupting. Terry concluded:
“This is what I told the UK Minister for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs les
s than a month ago. What I didn’t realize at the time was how far the organism had spread already. Because of that, things have happened sooner than anticipated. Otherwise the picture is consistent with expectations: unseasonal hurricanes on your side of the water, storms and torrential rain on ours. So far as I’m concerned, the final confirmation was the choking white smog that rolled into London earlier this week.”
When he’d finished Walmesley blinked a couple of times, then got up and went over to stand facing the window. They waited for several minutes, watching his silhouette. He returned to the desk.
“It’s all very interesting stuff, Dr. McKinley, but I have to say I’m not totally convinced.”
Terry almost sagged with disappointment. “You’re not?”
“Not based on what you’ve just told me, it’s circumstantial at best. Let’s get down to brass tacks guys. Here at the NSF we’ve been funding, through our Geosciences Directorate, several long-term programs. These are designed to provide more precise data on the prevalence of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere and they involve analysing air samples at high altitudes. The evidence we have is unequivocal: it supports global warming. Now I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how difficult long-range forecasting can be, but it seems more likely that this, or simply a random fluctuation of climate, is what’s behind these hurricanes.”
“It doesn’t explain the white smog that hit London, though does it?” Said Maggie, quickly.
“That’s assuming the two things are connected.”
“Fair point,” she continued “but surely that’s what we’re here to find out. And if we are right about this we need to do it now, before things really get out of hand.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying we should put together a team of experts – phytoplankton ecologists and molecular biologists, atmospheric chemists, oceanographers – to investigate the organism and the effects it’s having on the atmosphere. Then we can assess the scale of the threat and figure out how the hell we can fix it.”
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