Monty looked through the other details in the file.
As recently as 1967 The World Health Organisation attacked smallpox on a global scale and success was proclaimed in 1980 when they declared that 'Smallpox' was dead.
The WHO then decided that the remaining research stocks of over 600 vials of the smallpox virus should only be kept in two high security laboratories, one in Russia and one in America.
So it was arranged that the samples of the virus held in Britain would be shipped from Porton Down to the security laboratory in America, and it was agreed with the Health & Safety Executive that it would be shipped as freeze-dried powder in small labelled containers, and although the police would escort the samples to the departure airport, other people would not be allowed to know.
But in a closed session, a meeting of Am-Brit Intelligence was held in secret and Glenndenning persuaded the committee that in view of the political meltdown in Russia, and the fact that weapons were disappearing, left, right and centre, it would be prudent if a Mimesis think-tank of the joint advisors to the NSA, CIA and SIS could find a logistical solution to substitute a placebo in place of a particular sample of the virus, either before or in transit across the UK, and the virus would be held unclassified in a destination to be chosen by the CoS, and later, if all the stocks were destroyed in both America and Russia, Am-Brit would hold the ultimate bargaining chip.
Since then, the WHO have tried on two occasions to have the remaining stocks in Russia and America destroyed, but both extinction dates in 1993 and 1995 have been postponed due to research protests, but now there’s a new, final official date when all the vials in both Russia and America will be destroyed.
It’s the 30th of June 1999 and then 'Smallpox' will no longer exist on earth.
Monty grimaced, except for one vial that’s now declassified, and by orders of the CoS has come to rest unnoticed and within the safety of Area 57.
Staring out through the window, he knew now that the number, 57, was simply an amalgam of the grid reference numbers on the Ordnance Survey map, Sheet 184.
But why did Glenndenning want to know where the vial could be found?
Lucinda stood in the gloom outside the priest hole, and calming the pounding in her chest, shut her eyes tightly against the flashes of bright light shooting through her head.
Looking up, she slowly turned the wooden carving and felt the sweaty burst of heat as she eased the door open, and stepping into the dark deathly silence, ignored the spiders already around her ankles, but as she reached up to the light switch, she stopped abruptly, her eye suddenly caught by the faintest red glow up in the priest hole.
She stared in puzzlement, and in the sweet musky darkness, padded up the stairs and pushed the door open, but only to stand transfixed as she looked at the red neon shining brightly on the switch of the photocopier.
And then the pain vanished instantly as her eyes narrowed to slits of venom.
Snapping on the light, she flicked the grotesque spiders from her and crushed them, and looking around the room, checked every detail for the slightest discrepancy, and when her gaze fell on the red digital numbers of the copier, they told her exactly how many copies had been made.
Checking her desk, she saw the pad and alphabet were more or less as she remembered leaving them, but looking more closely to the pad, realised that although it was open at the correct page, she could see faint crease lines on the individual pages as if they’d all been folded over, one at a time along the spine.
Sitting down, she flipped through the used portion of the pad, and counting the pages, looked back to the reading on the copier and saw it had recorded just one more.
Frowning, she looked down to the desk and her gaze fell on the alphabet page.
And now, someone must die, die quite horribly, and very soon.
Evelyn waited nervously in the corridor, and when she heard Lewis pulling at the lever, watched impatiently as the huge mechanism began to open the door, but when he emerged, he looked angry, ‘Evelyn, where the hell is Monty?’
She glanced anxiously down to the cubicles, ‘He’s getting changed.’
‘Well thank god for that, we’ve got to get out of here, and pretty damned quick.’
Following her through the airport gate, they hurried down the corridor.
‘Evelyn. Monty’s in big trouble, he’s been reading that damned file.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she looked at him quizzically, ‘but how do you know?’
‘Never mind that, so why the hell didn’t you stop him?’
She looked frightened, ‘I did try, but he wouldn’t listen.’
‘Well that’s Monty all over. Do the job and bollocks to the Devil.’
Monty was almost changed when they rushed into the cubicles and stripped off, and having stood impatiently for the camera, got dressed in their own clothes.
‘Jesus, Monty, I don’t believe it, you actually read that bloody file.’
‘Yes, sorry about that, but it had to be done, it was the only way.’
‘But they’ve got you on camera, reading the damned stuff.’
‘I rather thought they would, after all the fuss.’
‘And you still read it? An authorised eyes only file. Dear god.’
‘Well as I said, it had to be done.’
‘Okay, if you say so, but we’ve got to get the hell out of here, or you’re dead.’
Monty straightened his tie, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much.’
‘Worry? Did you say, worry …
One, you’ve just committed a crime to die for.
Two, the only way out is through the main gate.
Three, Sergeant Jenkins just happens to be Angela’s poodle.
And four, his fucking guards are armed and we’re not, just in case you’ve forgotten.’
Monty checked his watch, ‘No, I didn’t forget, and it’s only myself who’s recorded going into that room and being monitored, and for the last half an hour, Sergeant Jenkins will have been trying to explain to the CIC why he allowed the release of the bodies without the correct medical certificates, so Sergeant Jenkins is feeling rather isolated just now.’
Looking up to the sprinklers, Evelyn wished they could leave before they went off.
‘Also, a private ambulance will arrive here in twenty minutes, and the doctor has orders to remove me on a priority emergency basis, then quite soon, Angela will receive a letter saying if anything should happen to my Sarah, a dossier of everything I know will be sent to the French and German national newspapers.’
As Frank looked up from tying his shoelaces, a quiet smile spread over his face.
‘Monty, why did I ever doubt you?’
‘I’ve absolutely no idea, old chap. No idea at all.’
Swiping the men out of the house, Evelyn left them to sit and talk on the steps, but she was scared and couldn’t help wondering what would happen to her, now she’d helped Monty commit the worst possible crime at Thornley Manor.
Frank sat huddled on the step, ‘Well, was reading that file worth the risk?’
‘Sadly, yes it was.’
‘Go on then, fill me in.’
‘I can’t. You see, although I’ve provided a safety net for yourself, Mrs Carthwaite, and my own dear Sarah, it would be foolish to provide you with information that would seal your death warrant.’
‘Okay, but ignorance is dangerous, and if I foul up, a lot of people could get hurt.’
‘True, so maybe something to help you, but just enough and no more.’
His eyes searched along the avenue for the ambulance, time was running away.
‘Well it’s more or less certain that Glenndenning is the key figure in all this.’
‘That’s right, and I reckon Angela will soon be asking the CoS if she can turn the dogs loose on him.’
Monty shook his head, ‘I think not, old chap, because the lady would be refused.’
Frank looked surprised, ‘And what makes you think that?’
<
br /> ‘Just knowledge, and if Angela was also aware of the contents of that file, I have no doubt she would agree with me.’
‘But maybe she does know, I wouldn’t put anything past her.’
‘Now that is most unlikely. To know the content of the file would be foolish, and Angela is not that, but Glenndenning was mentioned in the file, and I suspect the reason for the violation was to discover the resting place of an extremely lethal item.’
‘Okay, so if Angela can’t cleanse Glenndenning, where does that leave everyone else?’
‘In a very dangerous situation, for if Angela is denied access to Glenndenning, she might decide to isolate him by removing anyone who might be involved, that’s why I’ve decided to go to Moon Shadow and try to make a difference from there.’
‘Right, but you can’t leave me here naked, I must have something.’
‘But I can’t tell you more, it’s just too dangerous, surely you can see that?’
‘Well of course I can, but Angela is always one step ahead, I need a fighting chance.’
Evelyn called out, ‘There’s an ambulance coming.’
‘Come on Monty, give me a break, just for old time’s sake.’
Monty sat thinking, his bony fingers entwining while a frown rippled across his brow.
‘Alright. Well the best I can do, is ask if the following three items mean anything to you.’
‘Good, go for it.’
‘First, The Russian State Research Centre of Virology and Biotechnology in Koltsovo.’
‘Never heard of it. So what’s the second?’
‘The Centre for Disease Control and Prevention, in Atlanta, Georgia, USA.’
‘No, it doesn’t mean a thing.’
‘Good, because the only protection I can offer, is that our masters will be concerned that I may have informed you of the contents of the file, but the trick is, no-one is supposed to know the contents, so how could they guess which questions to ask you?’
‘Go on.’
‘Alright, well if you ever find yourself being questioned about those two places, you’ll know the sanction for questioning could only have come from those who created the file, which in turn will mean they will almost certainly ask you about Area 57.’
‘Area 57. So where’s that?’
Monty sighed, ‘That’s what Glenndenning wants to know, and let’s hope he never does. It’s why so many have died, and why so many more will follow, so if you’re ever asked about Area 57 it means your days are numbered, and your death is not far away.’
‘Oh great. Well thanks for telling me.’
‘Well you did ask. So if it happens, run to Moon Shadow and disappear forever.’
‘Right. So if this Area 57 is so important, do you know where it is?’
‘Yes, but I can’t tell you, it would surely take your life.’
Monty half smiled.
‘But having said that, it appears our masters have been quite perverse, because if one looked carefully on the correct sheet of the Ordnance Survey map of the United Kingdom and found the co-ordinates, one would see where it isn’t.’
33
Christiana sat in the warmth of the summer house, and gazing out to the farm, couldn’t help thinking that everything here was a paradox.
Outwardly, the big old house and gardens were a vision of peaceful tranquillity, but beneath the facade of wealth and respectability lay an unfathomable chaos of crazy people.
Sipping the coffee, her nagging doubts became more real by the minute, and with a sigh, laid back on the deep mattress and let the sun close her eyes.
It had all been a waste of time, her stay here at the farm and her affair with Lucinda.
The diary had shown that the death of Robin Sheverill had never been linked to Area 57 and although he’d died on Cardinal secondment, everything in the priest hole had always belonged to Lucinda.
Thinking back to the unknown Brit in the States, she wondered why he’d been asking questions about Area 57, and according to Tomlinson, the number of people who might know of that coded area could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
So if Cardinal weren’t involved, then who could have been the Brit’s controller?
Well whoever it was, he or she, certainly had access to top secret information.
She remembered asking her contacts but no-one had known anything, and learning that Sheverill had been killed on Cardinal secondment, she thought it weird that no retribution had followed, and it made her wonder if it had been an in-house affair with Cardinal tying up the loose ends of a game.
And now she realised just how prophetic that idea had turned out to be, because Robin had been seconded to Cardinal in order for Lucinda to kill him.
So the in-house affair had turned out to be their own damned house, and as that diary belonged to Lucinda, she ought to get out right now, except that Lucinda had a target today, a woman by the name of Tara Goodwin, so if there was just the faintest possibility her target was connected with Area 57, she really ought to stay just one day longer.
Lucinda stared at the numbers on the copier, and thinking of Martha and her idiot brother her expression became ugly.
After all the years of hiding them and protecting them they’d obviously betrayed her, and now, by god, they’ll wish they hadn’t.
Lolling back, she stared at the ceiling as the vision of that hated Swiss clock came back into her mind, and with it came the thought of those ridiculous little figures just going round and round through their little wooden house.
Well alright, you miserable little shits, so let’s see what you want from me this time.
Stamping to her feet, she reached out and angrily ripped the message from the printer, and flopping back down heavily into the chair, began to transcribe the message.
Attn DC,
Immediate Action.
Target. Female (Sorry). Tara Goodwin.
Normal Target Location. Thornley Manor. (Target off location at present time).
Instruction. Find and cleanse on sight, as and when, soonest.
Best wishes.
A.
Her shoulders slumped as she read the message, because the target had been confirmed, and not only was it a woman but Mrs A wanted her cleansed immediately.
So there’d be no time for therapy and she would have to do it cold.
Oh god, life was so unfair.
Taking a deep breath she looked over to the waiting computer, entered her password and sent an email to the Minotaur on the red line scrambler.
'GOODWIN Tara. Head of security @ Thornley Manor. Request all information.'
Oh well, the operation had started now and nothing could stop it, and swivelling round, lifted the heavy lid of the trunk, but as she felt inside the silk pocket, she froze …
The silk pocket was empty, and her beautiful, wonderful precious diary, her insurance against the hideous, calculating and manipulative Angela, was gone.
Martha finished cleaning and tidying the kitchen, and walking to the window, clenched her fists as she watched Arthur building his compost heap, and with each degradation of her lady’s fun and games, she hated him more and more.
As she stood there, the hall door suddenly burst open, and swinging round, she caught her breath when she saw her lady staring at her, her eyes dark, cold and menacing.
‘Hello ma’am. You didn’t finish your coffee, so shall I make some more?’
Lucinda walked slowly across the room and stopped directly in front of her.
‘Coffee? Do I want coffee? No, you slimy old hag, I don’t want any frigging coffee, what I want is an explanation, because you’ve been in my room, haven’t you?’
Lifting her fist, Lucinda drew her arm back.
Martha trembled, tears brimming over, ‘Please ma’am. Please don’t.’
Staring into her eyes, Lucinda swung on her hips and punched her full weight, her knuckled fist smashing into Martha’s face and splitting her thin lips wide open.
Spraw
ling back, Martha landed in a crumpled heap on the floor.
‘So why have you been in my room?’
Gasping, Martha shuffled back on her bottom and tried to edge away, her salty tears flowing with the blood, and when Lucinda drew her foot back, desperation came to her.
‘But it wasn’t me, ma’am. I swear it as holy god is my witness, it wasn’t me, honestly, it was Miss Chrissy; she made me open the door and went inside.’
Lucinda faltered, her chest heaving as she stared down blankly through wild eyes.
‘Don’t you dare blame my Chrissy, you useless pile of filth, it was you, you did it.’
‘No ma’am, it was Miss Chrissy, she did it, just like she wanted the diary.’
Lucinda froze as ugly disbelief appeared on her beautiful face, ‘The diary?’
‘Yes ma’am, the one from the trunk with all those funny numbers.’
Staring at her, Lucinda held her head in her hands and began to sway to and fro.
‘No … No … No …’
Scrabbling around on the floor, Martha tried to wipe the blood from her mouth.
‘I’m sorry ma’am, really I am.’
Lucinda fell silent, her body beginning to shake, her dark eyes blazing wide open.
‘Then get up … Get up, you old whore.’
‘Yes ma’am.’
Swivelling on her knees, Martha reached up and took hold of the worktop, but as she began to pull herself up, Lucinda’s gaze suddenly flashed to the ten inch butcher’s knife lying on the chopping board. In a second, she’d snatched it up, and swinging her arm in a high curving arc, stabbed down and sent the blade thudding through Martha’s hand and into the ancient beauty of the old oak worktop.
Martha sucked in her breath as an indescribable agony made her throw her head back, her body jumping and twisting with pain, her thrashing pulling the splintered bones against the blade.
Lucinda watched through cold eyes as blood began to trickle down Martha’s arm, the pain of Christiana’s deception sending shooting stars of light hurtling through her head.
Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) Page 34