Whiteout (20 page)

The light over the door remained stubbornly red. Nigel looked at Kit anxiously. Kit told himself this had to work. The chip contained the encoded details of his own fingerprint—he had checked. What could go wrong?

Then a woman's voice behind them said, “I'm afraid you can't go in there.”

Kit and Nigel turned. Susan was standing behind them. She appeared friendly but anxious. She should have been at reception, Kit thought in a panic. She was not due to patrol for another thirty minutes . . .

Unless Toni Gallo had doubled the patrols as well as doubling the guard.

There was a chime like a doorbell. All three of them looked at the light over the door. It turned green, and the heavy door swung slowly open on motorized hinges.

Susan said, “How did you open the door?” Her voice betrayed fear now.

Involuntarily, Kit looked down at the stolen card in his hand.

Susan followed his gaze. “You're not supposed to have a pass!” she said incredulously.

Nigel moved toward her.

She turned on her heel and ran.

Nigel went after her, but he was twice her age. He'll never catch her, Kit thought. He let out a shout of rage: how could everything go so wrong, so quickly?

Then Daisy emerged from the passage leading to the control room.

Kit would not have thought he would ever be glad to see her ugly face.

She seemed unsurprised at the scene that confronted her: the guard running toward her, Nigel following, Kit frozen to the spot. Kit realized that she must have been watching the monitors in the control room. She would have seen Susan leave the reception desk and walk toward BSL4. She had realized the danger and moved to deal with it.

Susan saw Daisy and hesitated, then ran on, apparently determined to push past.

The hint of a smile touched Daisy's lips. She drew back her arm and smashed her gloved fist into Susan's face. The blow made a sickening sound, like a melon dropped on a tiled floor. Susan collapsed as if she had run into a wall. Daisy rubbed her knuckles, looking pleased.

Susan got to her knees. Sobs bubbled through the blood covering her nose and mouth. Daisy took from the pocket of her jacket a flexible
blackjack about nine inches long and made, Kit guessed, of steel ball bearings in a leather case. She raised her arm.

Kit shouted: “No!”

Daisy hit Susan over the head with the blackjack. The guard collapsed soundlessly.

Kit yelled: “Leave her!”

Daisy raised her arm to hit Susan again, but Nigel stepped forward and grabbed Daisy's wrist. “No need to kill her,” he said.

Daisy stepped back reluctantly.

“You mad cow!” Kit cried. “We'll all be guilty of murder!”

Daisy looked at the light brown glove on her right hand. There was blood on the knuckles. She licked it off thoughtfully.

Kit stared at the unconscious woman on the floor. The sight of her crumpled body was sickening. “This wasn't supposed to happen!” he said in alarm. “Now what are we going to do with her?”

Daisy straightened her blond wig. “Tie her up and hide her somewhere.”

Kit's brain began to come back on line after the shock of sudden violence. “Right,” he said. “We'll put her inside BSL4. The guards aren't allowed in there.”

Nigel said to Daisy, “Drag her inside. I'll find something to tie her up with.” He stepped into a side office.

Kit's mobile phone rang. He ignored it.

Kit used his card to reopen the door, which had closed automatically. Daisy picked up a red fire extinguisher and used it to prop the door open. Kit said, “You can't do that, it will set off the alarm.” He removed the extinguisher.

Daisy looked skeptical. “The alarm goes off if you prop a door open?”

“Yes!” Kit said impatiently. “There are air management systems here. I know, I put the alarms in myself. Now shut up and do as you're told!”

Daisy got her arms around Susan's chest and pulled her along the carpet. Nigel emerged from the office with a long power lead. They all passed into BSL4. The door closed behind them.

They were in a small lobby leading to the changing rooms. Daisy
propped Susan against the wall underneath a pass-through autoclave that permitted sterilized items to be removed from the lab. Nigel tied her hands and feet with the electrical lead.

Kit's phone stopped ringing.

The three of them went outside. No pass was needed to exit: the door opened at the push of a green button set into the wall.

Kit was trying desperately to think ahead. His entire plan was ruined. There was no possibility now that the theft would remain undiscovered. “Susan will be missed quite soon,” he said, making himself keep calm. “Don and Stuart will notice that she's disappeared off the monitors. And even if they don't, Steve will be alerted when she fails to return from her patrol. Either way, we don't have time to get into the laboratory and out again before they raise the alarm. Shit, it's all gone wrong!”

“Calm down,” Nigel said. “We can handle this, so long as you don't panic. We just have to deal with the other guards, like we dealt with her.”

Kit's phone rang again. He could not tell who was calling without his computer. “It's probably Toni Gallo,” he said. “What do we do if she shows up? We can't pretend nothing's wrong if all the guards are tied up!”

“We'll just deal with her as and when she arrives.”

Kit's phone kept ringing.

TONI was driving at ten miles an hour, leaning forward over the steering wheel to peer into the blinding snowfall, trying to see the road. Her headlights did nothing but illuminate a cloud of big, soft snowflakes that seemed to fill the universe. She had been staring so long that her eyelids hurt, as if she had got soap in her eyes.

Her mobile became a hands-free car phone when slotted into a cradle on the dashboard of the Porsche. She had dialed the Kremlin, and now she listened as it rang out unanswered.

“I don't think anyone's there,” Mother said.

The repairmen must have downed the entire system, Toni thought. Were the alarms working? What if something serious went wrong while the lines were down? Feeling troubled and frustrated, she touched a button to end the call.

“Where are we?” Mother asked.

“Good question.” Toni was familiar with this road but she could hardly see it. She seemed to have been driving forever. She glanced to the side from time to time, looking for landmarks. She thought she recognized a stone cottage with a distinctive wrought-iron gate. It was only a couple of miles from the Kremlin, she recalled. That cheered her up. “We'll be there in fifteen minutes, Mother,” she said.

She looked in the rearview mirror and saw the headlights that had been with her since Inverburn: the pest Carl Osborne in his Jaguar,
doggedly following her at the same sluggard pace. On another day she would have enjoyed losing him.

Was she wasting her time? Nothing would please her more than to reach the Kremlin and find everything calm: the phones repaired, the alarms working, the guards bored and sleepy. Then she could go home and go to bed and think about seeing Stanley tomorrow.

At least she would enjoy the look on Carl Osborne's face when he realized he had driven for hours in the snow, at Christmas, in the middle of the night, to cover the story of a telephone fault.

She seemed to be on a straight stretch, and she chanced speeding up. But it was not straight for long, and almost immediately she came to a right-hand bend. She could not use the brakes, for fear of skidding, so she changed down a gear to slow the car, then held her foot steady on the throttle as she turned. The tail of the Porsche wanted to break free, she could feel it, but the wide rear tires held their grip.

Headlights appeared coming toward her, and for a welcome change she could make out a hundred yards of road between the two cars. There was not much to see: snow eight or nine inches thick on the ground, a drystone wall on her left, a white hill on her right.

The oncoming car was traveling quite fast, she noted nervously.

She recalled this stretch of road. It was a long, wide bend that turned through ninety degrees around the foot of the hill. She held her line through the curve.

But the other car did not.

She saw it drift across the carriageway to the crown of the road, and she thought, Fool, you braked into the turn, and your back slipped away.

In the next instant, she realized with horror that the car was heading straight for her.

It crossed the middle of the road and came at her broadside. It was a hot hatch with four men in it. They were laughing and, in the split second for which she could see them, she divined that they were young merrymakers too drunk to realize the danger they were in. “Look out!” she screamed uselessly.

The front of the Porsche was about to smash into the side of the
skidding hatchback. Toni acted reflexively. Without thinking about it, she jerked her steering wheel to the left. The nose of her car turned. Almost simultaneously, she pushed down the accelerator pedal. The car leaped forward and skidded. For an instant the hatchback was alongside her, inches away.

The Porsche was angled left and sliding forward. Toni swung the wheel right to correct the skid, and applied a featherlight touch to the throttle. The car straightened up and the tires gripped.

She thought the hatchback would hit her rear wing; then she thought it would miss by a hair; then there was a clang, loud but superficial-sounding, and she realized her bumper had been hit.

It was not much of a blow, but it destabilized the Porsche, and the rear swung left, out of control again. Toni desperately tugged the steering wheel to the left, turning into the skid; but, before her corrective action could take effect, the car hit the drystone wall at the side of the road. There was a terrific bang and the sound of breaking glass; then the car came to a stop.

Toni looked worriedly at her mother. She was staring ahead, mouth open, bewildered—but unharmed. Toni felt a moment of relief—then she thought of Osborne.

She looked fearfully in the rearview mirror, thinking the hatchback must smash into Osborne's Jaguar. She could see the red rear lights of the hatch and the white headlights of the Jag. The hatchback fishtailed; the Jag swung hard over to the side of the road; the hatchback straightened up and went by.

The Jaguar came to a stop, and the car full of drunk boys went on into the night. They were probably still laughing.

Mother said in a shaky voice, “I heard a bang—did that car hit us?”

“Yes,” Toni said. “We had a lucky escape.”

“I think you should drive more carefully,” said Mother.

KIT was fighting down panic. His brilliant plan had collapsed in ruins. Now there was no way the robbery would go undetected until the staff returned to work after the holiday. At most, it might remain a secret until six o'clock this morning, when the next shift of security guards arrived. But if Toni Gallo were still on her way here, the time left was even shorter.

If his plan had worked, there would have been no violence. Even now, he thought with helpless frustration, it had not been strictly necessary. The guard Susan could have been captured and tied up without injury. Unfortunately, Daisy could not resist an opportunity for brutality. Kit hoped desperately that the other guards could be rounded up without further nauseating scenes of bloodshed.

Now, as they ran to the control room, both Nigel and Daisy drew guns.

Kit was horrified. “We agreed no weapons!” he protested.

“Good thing we ignored you,” Nigel replied.

They came to the door. Kit stared aghast at the guns. They were small automatic pistols with fat grips. “This makes it armed robbery, you realize that.”

“Only if we're caught.” Nigel turned the handle and kicked the door open.

Daisy burst into the room, yelling at the top of her voice: “On the floor! Now! Both of you!”

There was only a moment's hesitation, while the two security guards went from shock and bewilderment to fear; then they threw themselves down.

Kit felt powerless. He had intended to enter the room first and say,
Please stay calm and do as you're told, then you won't get hurt.
But he had lost control. There was nothing he could do now but string along and try to make sure nothing else went wrong.

Elton appeared in the doorway of the equipment room. He took in the scene in an instant.

Daisy screamed at the guards: “Face down, hands behind your backs, eyes closed! Quick, quick, or I'll shoot you in the balls!”

They did as she said but, even so, she kicked Don in the face with a heavy boot. He cried out and flinched away, but remained prone.

Kit placed himself in front of Daisy. “Enough!” he shouted.

Elton shook his head in amazement. “She's loony fucking tunes.”

The gleeful malevolence on Daisy's face frightened Kit, but he forced himself to stare at her. He had too much at stake to let her ruin everything. “Listen to me!” he shouted. “You're not in the lab yet, and you won't ever get there at this rate. If you want to be empty-handed when we meet the client at ten, just carry on the way you are.” She turned away from his pointing finger, but he went after her. “No more brutality!”

Nigel backed him. “Ease up, Daisy,” he said. “Do as he says. See if you can tie these two up without kicking their heads in.”

Kit said, “We'll put them in the same place as the girl.”

Daisy tied their hands with electrical cable; then she and Nigel herded them out at gunpoint. Elton stayed behind, watching the monitors, keeping an eye on Steve in reception. Kit followed the prisoners to BSL4 and opened the door. They put Don and Stu on the floor next to Susan and tied their feet. Don was bleeding from a nasty cut on his forehead. Susan seemed conscious but groggy.

“One left,” said Kit as they stepped outside. “Steve, in the Great Hall. And no unnecessary violence!”

Daisy gave a grunt of disgust.

Nigel said, “Kit, try not to say any more in front of the guards about
the client and our ten o'clock rendezvous. If you tell them too much, we may have to kill them.”

Kit realized, aghast, what he had done. He felt like a fool.

His phone rang.

“That might be Toni,” he said. “Let me check.” He ran back to the equipment room. His laptop screen said, “Toni calling Kremlin.” He transferred the call to the phone on the desk at reception and listened in.

“Hi, Steve, this is Toni. Any news?”

“The repair crew are still here.”

“Everything all right otherwise?”

With the phone to his ear, Kit stepped into the control room and stood behind Elton to watch Steve on the monitor. “Yeah, I think so. Susan Mackintosh should have finished her patrol by now, but maybe she went to the ladies' room.”

Kit cursed.

Toni said anxiously, “How late is she?”

On the monitor, in black-and-white, Steve checked his wristwatch. “Five minutes.”

“Give her another five minutes, then go and look for her.”

“Okay. Where are you?”

“Not far away, but I've had an accident. A car full of drunks clipped the rear end of the Porsche.”

Kit thought, I wish they'd killed you.

Steve said, “Are you okay?”

“Fine, but my car's damaged. Fortunately, another car was following me, and he's giving me a lift.”

And who the hell was that? “Shit,” Kit said aloud. “Her and some fellow.”

“When will you be here?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe thirty.”

Kit's knees went weak. He staggered and sat in one of the guards' chairs. Twenty minutes—thirty at the most! It took twenty minutes to get suited up for BSL4!

Toni said goodbye and hung up the phone.

Kit ran across the control room and out into the corridor. “She'll be here in twenty or thirty minutes,” he said. “And there's someone with her, I don't know who. We have to move fast.”

They ran along the corridor. Daisy, going first, burst into the Great Hall and yelled: “On the floor—now!”

Kit and Nigel ran in after her and stopped abruptly. The room was empty. “Shit,” said Kit.

Steve had been at the desk twenty seconds ago. He could not have gone far. Kit looked around the half-dark room, at the chairs for waiting visitors, the coffee table with science magazines, the rack of leaflets about Oxenford Medical's work, the display case with models of complex molecules. He stared up into the dimly lit skeleton of the hammer-beam roof, as if Steve might be hiding among the timber ribs.

Nigel and Daisy ran along radiating corridors, opening doors.

Kit's eye was caught by two stick figures, male and female, on a door: the toilets. He ran across the hall. There was a short corridor leading to separate men's and ladies' rooms. Kit went into the men's room.

It appeared empty. “Mr. Tremlett?” He pushed open all the cubicle doors. No one was there.

As he stepped out, he saw Steve returning to the reception desk. The guard must have been in the ladies' room—searching for Susan, Kit realized.

Steve turned around, hearing Kit. “Looking for me?”

“Yes.” Kit realized he could not apprehend Steve without help. Kit was younger, and athletic, but Steve was a fit man in his thirties, and might not give up without a fight. “Something I need to ask you,” Kit said, playing for time. He made his accent more Scots than was natural, to make sure Steve did not find his voice familiar.

Steve lifted the flap and entered the oval of the desk. “And what would that be?”

“Just a minute.” Kit turned away and shouted after Nigel and Daisy. “Hey! Back in here!”

Steve looked troubled. “What's going on? You lot aren't supposed to be wandering around the building.”

“I'll explain in a minute.”

Steve looked hard at him and frowned. “Have you been here before?”

Kit swallowed. “No, never.”

“There's something familiar about you.”

Kit's mouth went dry and he found it hard to speak. “I work with the emergency team.” Where were the others?

“I don't like this.” Steve picked up the phone on the desk.

Where were Nigel and Daisy? Kit shouted again: “Get back in here, you two!”

Steve dialed, and the mobile in Kit's pocket rang. Steve heard it. He frowned, thinking, then a look of shocked understanding came over his face. “You messed with the phones!”

Kit said, “Stay calm, and you won't get hurt.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake: he had confirmed Steve's suspicions.

Steve acted quickly. He leaped nimbly over the desk and ran for the door.

Kit yelled: “Stop!”

Steve stumbled, fell, and got up again.

Daisy came running into the hall, saw Steve, and turned toward the main door, heading him off.

Steve saw that he could not make it to the door and turned instead into the corridor leading to BSL4.

Daisy and Kit ran after him.

Steve sprinted down the long corridor. There was an exit toward the rear of the building, Kit recalled. If Steve made it outside, they might never catch him.

Daisy was well ahead of Kit, arms pumping like a sprinter, and Kit recalled her powerful shoulders in the swimming pool; but Steve was running like a hare, and pulling away from them. He was going to escape.

Then, as Steve drew level with the door leading to the control room, Elton stepped into the corridor in front of him. Steve was going too fast
to take evasive action. Elton stuck out a foot and tripped Steve, who went flying.

As Steve hit the ground, face down, Elton fell on him, with both knees in the small of his back, and pushed the barrel of a pistol into his cheek. “Don't move, and you won't get shot in the face,” he said. His voice was calm but convincing.

Steve lay still.

Elton stood, keeping the gun pointed at Steve. “That's the way to do it,” he said to Daisy. “No blood.”

She looked scornful.

Nigel came running up. “What happened?”

“Never mind!” Kit shouted. “We're out of time!”

“What about the two guards in the gatehouse?” Nigel said.

“Forget them! They don't know what's happened here, and they're not likely to find out—they stay out there all night.” He pointed at Elton. “Get my laptop from the equipment room and wait for us in the van.” He turned to Daisy. “Bring Steve, tie him up in BSL4, then get into the van. We have to go into the laboratory—now!”