She handed him the USB stick, and he turned it in his hand.
‘I can’t wait to hear all about it,’ he muttered. ‘I suppose all the chatter I’m seeing in the forums about a shooting at Hyde Park is your doing, Decker?’
‘The other guy shot first.’ Decker stomped to the refrigerator that rattled in the corner and pulled out three cans of soft drink, tossing one to Miles and handing the other to Eva. He cracked his can open and took three long gulps. ‘We need to get a move on. It sounds like we’re the only ones who are taking the danger posed by Maxim seriously.’
‘Fine,’ said Nathan. He held up his hands. ‘I can take a hint.’
He sat back down in front of his laptop, and inserted the USB stick before starting to retrieve the documentation that had been saved to it.
As he worked, Eva cast her eyes around the room.
She didn’t think the owner of the place was often there. It resembled a bedsit rather than a flat, with the main living area and kitchen encompassing one large space and a single bedroom leading off to the side of it. The bathroom was through another door.
Water stains covered the ceiling, and the whole place stank of cigarettes and mildew. When they had arrived the day before, there had been a baby crying in the flat two floors up, and a man and a woman arguing.
Towards the front of the basement flat, a single grimy window with yellowing net curtains provided the only way light could enter the property and there were no blinds, so Decker had torn up a cardboard box he’d carried their food purchases in and taped it to the windows at night.
He had then spent most of the evening complaining about the lack of a back door, and no means to escape if they were compromised. Eva shared his concerns, but pointed out there wasn’t a lot they could do about it. As it was, they only intended to be there for a short time – especially now.
The belongings that they had brought from Prague with them comprised the computer equipment Nathan sat in front of, and a change of clothes but nothing more. Their three backpacks stood beside the wall next to the front door, ready to grab at a moment’s notice if they needed to.
Crowe had set up a security camera further along the street the previous night, attaching the small but powerful lens to a lamp post to act as an early warning system.
It was just as well; the old refrigerator clanged and hummed so loudly, they wouldn’t hear anybody approaching down the steps.
She tore herself away from her thoughts at Nathan’s voice.
‘All right. Looks like it’s all here, like Miles said. Let’s make a start.’
Eleven
Despite Nathan’s assertions, it turned out that Knox had added a layer of security to the files in case the information fell into the wrong hands and, muttering, the IT expert began to strip away at the encryption while the others began to get listless.
Miles commandeered the single armchair next to the kitchen and picked at a loose thread on the arm of it.
Eva perched on the edge of one of the two inflatable mattresses they’d found in a cupboard the previous night, and nibbled at her thumbnail.
‘We have to alert the authorities,’ said Miles.
‘Who, exactly?’ Decker stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Knox has obviously given us this information because he knows more than he’s letting on. And, I’ve got no doubt that he’ll burn the lot of us if he needs to save his own skin.’
‘It’s not that,’ said Eva, staring at the threadbare carpet while trying not to look too closely at the stains. ‘It’s because if this goes off, the entire European intelligence community will be pointing the finger at each other – and the Americans and Russians will get involved, too. By the time they sort out their differences and work out how they’re going to deal with this situation, it’ll be too late. We’re the only hope Knox has got.’
‘You mean it’s a political hot potato?’ said Miles.
She nodded. ‘How much of this do you think the British government are aware of? They knew all about the engineer trying to defect three years ago; it’s evident from the information Knox has given us that Petersen sold Maxim to the Russians. And someone tried to wipe that laboratory complex off the face of the earth, killing anyone that remained.’
‘You think the British government did that?’ said Miles, his tone incredulous.
‘Wouldn’t put it past them,’ said Decker. ‘Although it was probably done in such a way the Cabinet can say they knew nothing about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they contracted that job out to privateers. There’s no way any of our special forces lot would’ve agree to it.’
‘Here we go.’ Nathan finished typing and turned the laptop to face them. ‘Okay, I’ve been running some projections while you lot have been gossiping, and this is what I’ve got so far.’
He ignored the growl that Decker emitted, and changed the image on the screen to a satellite image.
‘This is an aerial view of Prague. Based on risk calculations, and the number of people we’d expect Maxim will want to infect, it’s the most likely target given his current location.’
‘Why?’ said Eva. ‘Most people will be hibernating this time of year. Why not wait until the summer tourist season?’
‘First, the virus is too unstable for him to store for that long,’ said Nathan. ‘Second, Prague experiences an influx of tourists in December because of the Christmas markets. You’ve got half a million people descending on places like Old Town Square and Wenceslas Square in the space of twenty days leading up to Christmas Eve.’
‘That makes sense,’ said Miles. ‘Squash that many people into a built-up area, and any respiratory disease will spread easily.’
‘Not to mention the fact it’s cold and ’flu season, so people will be much more susceptible to infection,’ said Nathan.
‘How long do symptoms take to show up?’ said Eva, her brow knitting.
‘About two to three days, dependent upon which strain of the virus it is. Some are more aggressive than others.’
‘It doesn’t matter which variant it is if Maxim’s weaponised it,’ said Decker. ‘You could start seeing casualties within an hour.’
‘And a lot of people get cheap flights from the UK and the rest of Europe to go to the markets,’ said Nathan, ‘so it’d be out of control pretty quickly. On top of that, you’ve got Americans who like to tack on the markets to the end of their European holidays before returning to the States, and the virus will spread from there.’
Eva cast her eyes over the display. ‘What are the casualty projections?’
‘We saw four trucks travelling to the facility,’ said Nathan. ‘Based on the fact those were all capable of carrying weight in excess of six tonnes each, this is what the projections look like.’
He hit a button and a counter in the middle of the screen began at one, and quickly escalated into seven figures.
It was still rising when Eva whistled through her teeth thirty seconds later.
‘That’s millions of people.’
‘It’s worse than nuclear fallout,’ said Nathan. ‘With a nuclear blast, at least only one area is affected. Okay, you’d get some radiation being carried into the atmosphere, but a weaponised virus such as smallpox? Think of it as a moving blast radius. Every person carrying that virus increases its reach. Globally.’
‘Like Ebola or Marburg virus?’ said Decker.
‘Worse, in that those are usually contained within sub-Saharan Africa. This will wipe out three-quarters of the world’s population within a month. It’ll make the Spanish ’Flu look like a bad joke.’
Eva began to pace the floor. ‘It’ll be too risky to try and stop them once they reach Prague. Four of us? We don’t stand a chance. Even if we did manage to find the trucks, the areas around Wenceslas Square and the other market areas are serviced by bus and train routes.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ said Decker.
She stopped in front of him and raised her chin until she could look him in
the eyes.
‘We go to Poland. We stop the trucks before they leave the laboratory complex.’
He blinked. ‘And how do you propose to do that? If we destroy them, there’s still a risk of infection.’
‘Not if we burn it.’ She turned to Nathan. ‘Right?’
He sighed. ‘It’s no guarantee. You’d have to make sure you destroyed it all, and at a very high temperature. We can’t risk any of it remaining. You know what’ll happen – the first government agency to reach the bunker after we go in will attempt to take the virus for itself. And, if we do this, it’s going to send a bloody big flag up on the system. It won’t just be our own people after that smallpox. You can bet everyone and their mother out of the Middle East will be keen to get their hands on it.’
‘There’s a way to burn it, all right,’ said Miles from his chair next to the window.
Eva spun around to face him. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. Let me make some calls.’
Twelve
Knox ended the call and tried to temper his anger and frustration.
There would be significant political fallout from the shooting in Hyde Park, and the Section would suffer for it.
He sank back against the soft leather of his chair and ran a hand over tired eyes.
He’d thought that by keeping Miles out of harm’s way that he’d be able to better control the whole situation, especially after the debacle in Berlin so soon after Eva’s hiding place in Cyprus had been compromised.
He berated himself; he should have known that Miles was too dogged to let it go so easily, and that he’d forge ahead with his own course of investigation.
He had suspected Petersen for some time; it had been the reason for him agreeing readily to the old spymaster’s enforced retirement. Those at the top hoped the move would silence the former Section chief, but Knox knew better.
Petersen had always been too ambitious to agree to fade into the background and from people’s memories. His ego simply wouldn’t allow it.
Knox had argued at the time with his superiors that a more permanent solution was needed, but they’d quaked at the idea, arguing it was impossible.
Of course, that’s how the Americans dealt with their dirty laundry, allegedly, but no. It simply wasn’t British.
A knock at the door jerked him from his musings.
‘Come in.’
His secretary peered around the oak frame, her wavy black hair swept up away from her face and her eyes worried behind the frames of her designer glasses.
‘What is it, Jenny?’
‘The Prime Minister’s office called, sir. She wants to see you. Right away, they said.’
‘Let them know I’ll be there.’
She nodded and pulled the door closed behind her, and it was only then that Knox exhaled with frustration.
He’d told the PM’s predecessor what would happen if they didn’t nip the situation in the bud three years ago, and now it seemed it was back to bite him, exactly as he’d predicted at the time.
He eased himself from his chair, buttoned his jacket, and slipped his mobile phone into his pocket before leaving his office.
‘Car’s waiting for you downstairs,’ said Jenny as he swept past her desk.
He acknowledged the information with a curt nod, and rode the elevator down the six storeys to the car park where his chauffeur was completing a last-minute check of the vehicle.
‘Ready, Harris?’
‘Sir.’
The back door was held open for him, and Knox settled into the plush upholstery as Harris slipped behind the wheel and powered the vehicle out from the subterranean space and into the busy street beyond.
As he watched the city pass by through shaded bulletproof glass, Knox mulled over the facts known to date, wondering how much of the situation the PM should be briefed about.
‘The Prime Minister will see you now, Mr Knox. In the study.’
‘Thank you.’
Knox straightened his tie, a frisson of adrenalin shooting through his veins as he stood and approached the double doors through to the Prime Minister’s domain.
It was imperative he set out his arguments for his team, before the Secretary of State arrived and began to spin a tale of woe with embattled heads of the other security agencies.
He clenched his fist.
There was absolutely no way in hell he was handing over the operation to MI6. Not after everything he’d sacrificed over the past three years.
He knocked twice, and waited.
‘Enter.’
He buttoned his jacket and placed his hand on the highly polished brass handle, and entered the inner sanctum of the leader of the British government.
The Prime Minister sat in one of the four wing-backed chairs that stood in a circle at the centre of the room, a pile of documents on the small coffee table in front of her.
Bookcases lined the shelves, while lamps cast a yellowish hue upon the shuttered windows and illuminated the patterned carpet under Knox’s feet as he approached.
‘Good afternoon, Prime Minister.’
He hovered next to the chair opposite hers and kept his hands clasped behind his back.
The PM flung the report she’d been reading onto the coffee table and glared at him over the top of her glasses. ‘Well, Knox – I have to say today’s events are an unmitigated disaster.’
‘Yes, Prime Minister.’
‘We’ll be a laughing stock in Europe. Not what we need at the moment. Weakens our position, you see?’
‘Understood, Prime Minister.’
She sighed and waved a hand at him. ‘Sit down, then. Let’s hear your version of events.’
He chose the seat opposite hers, rather than sitting right next to her and having to twist around, then cleared his throat and proceeded to give her a precis of the incident at the park.
‘Were you aware your man was attempting to meet with Delacourt?’
Knox glanced down at his hands. ‘I’ve had him under surveillance for a few weeks now. It would appear that he thought I was the leak in the Section, and instead approached Philip Petersen for guidance.’
The PM emitted a sharp intake of breath, and Knox raised his gaze.
‘Does your man know he made a mistake in trusting Petersen?’
‘I strongly suspect he does now, yes.’
‘Do we know who placed the Code One on Eva Delacourt?’
‘I have evidence to suggest that was also Philip Petersen’s work.’
The PM cursed. ‘I thought he was under surveillance and medicated?’
‘It would appear he’s been fooling us all.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Not all of us, Knox.’
‘Prime Minister.’
She sighed. ‘I presume you’ve got a plan to sort this mess out?’
‘Yes. Probably best I don’t share the details with you, with all due respect. Deniability, and all that.’
‘Understood.’
‘What about the threat from Maxim Kowalski? I’d be happier if we could give our colleagues in the Czech Republic some sort of warning.’
‘Let the Czechs deal with it themselves. Put a dossier together and have your office deliver it to mine before close of business tomorrow. I’ll ensure it’s sent to them straight away.’
‘Prime Minister, with all due respect, we don’t have time to bring them up to speed on the events of the past month. Moreover, there are certain operational protocols we’d have to divulge into order to do so. May I suggest an alternative?’
‘What?’
‘I have a man on the inside. With Eva Delacourt.’
The PM’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re in contact with them?’
Knox shifted in his seat, and avoided her eyes. ‘Yes.’
She drummed her fingers on the chair armrest, the movement causing the light to reflect off the rings on her fingers.
‘All right,’ she said eventually. ‘Maintain that contact. Stop Maxim. Without embarra
ssing the British government. And get that damn Code One retracted. Immediately.’
‘Yes, Prime Minister.’
‘Issue an all ports alert for them, just as a formality, mind. Might as well keep an eye on them.’ She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and he nodded, before rising from his seat and hurrying to the door.
‘And, Knox?’
‘Prime Minister?’
‘Deal with Petersen. Properly this time.’
‘Yes, Prime Minister.’
Thirteen
Eva hugged her coat across her chest, then reached up and adjusted the backpack on her shoulder.
Her breath fogged in the crisp air and she resisted the urge to yawn.
Late the previous night, they’d eventually agreed that Miles would return to the Section to report to Knox after cleaning the flat to ensure no trace of their existence remained, and then meet them in Prague.
She’d been incredulous at first when Decker had suggested they bring the current Section chief up to date with their plans.
He’d reached into the canvas bag he’d brought with him, and extracted a mobile phone before handing it to Miles. ‘I think you’d better phone Knox and bring him up to speed.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ Eva had launched herself from the chair and snatched the phone from his hand. ‘We can’t trust the Section. Any of them.’
‘We have to,’ said Decker. ‘We can’t do this on our own, and Knox needs to know about Petersen. If Miles is right, and Petersen is communicating with Maxim, he needs to be stopped before he compromises our mission. Now. Permanently.’
She, Decker, and Nathan had been on the move since before dawn, working their way up the Essex coastline in a vehicle Decker had stolen on the outskirts of Romford.
She could only hope Miles Newcombe was as good as his word.
They had taken turns driving, keeping to the minor roads and passing through sleepy villages as a weak sunrise crested the horizon.
They had eventually dumped the car east of Ipswich, taking to footpaths and lanes to reach their destination.
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