Steven genuinely didn’t know what to say. He made a face implying resignation and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Right now, I wish I was Roger Moore playing Bond: I could make some pithy joke about killing somebody and move on with a raised eyebrow and a cheeky smile.’
‘This is real life,’ said Macmillan. ‘All that adrenalin has gone and you’re feeling like a burst balloon lying in the dirt. Are you injured?’
Steven shook his head. ‘How’s the policeman?’
‘Concussion, he’ll be fine.’
‘Good.’
‘Actually, things might have been worse, but for MI5, they stopped three Russian tourists from entering the country at Heathrow; they had a tip-off they were hitmen coming here to carry out an assignment.’
‘Me?’
‘Possibly, you seem to be coming awfully close to finding out what they’re up to.’
‘Which brings us to Porton. How did you get on?’
‘They are keen to help in any way they can,’ said Macmillan, ‘but maybe you should take a few days off, clear your mind, get your breath back...’
Steven shook his head, thinking that Macmillan meant well, but was a million miles wide of the mark. The last thing he needed was time to dwell on all that had happened. More than anything, he wanted this whole business to be over, he wanted the Russians to be exposed and brought to justice, he wanted Tally safe home and he wanted his life back. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, ‘the sooner we get down there the better.’
‘Very well,’ said Macmillan. ‘We are not taking any more chances with the opposition. I’ve arranged for a police protective convoy to take us down. Armed Response will be in one of the vehicles.’
Subconsciously, Steven touched his head. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Time?’
‘I’ll set things up for a 3 p.m. pick-up and warn Porton. That’ll give us time for lunch at my club?’
Steven didn’t quite know what to say, he found the distance between being seconds away from death at the hands of a Russian hit man and having lunch at a London gentlemen’s club... a bit of a surreal stretch. ‘Fine.’
The police provided a four-vehicle convoy for the journey to Porton Down, Steven and Macmillan were ushered into the second vehicle — a black Range Rover, which Steven guessed might be armoured, judging by the way the doors swung: they were obviously very heavy.
‘You are probably thinking this is a bit over the top,’ said Macmillan.
Steven put his head back and smiled before saying, ‘I’m thinking this is just fine.’ He relaxed and resorted to people-watching through the privacy glass before the population thinned out and they picked up speed.
Three people at Porton had been detailed to greet them when they arrived, two were senior scientists and the third was the pleasant administrator who had acted as guide for Steven and Scott Jamieson when the Petrov flask was opened. With introductions complete, all of them moved into a room that seemed a little different from last time Steven thought, more board room than staff room.
‘Sorry again about the misunderstanding,’ said the scientist who had introduced herself as Dr Mary Penrose, ‘we weren’t aware of the background.’
‘No problem,’ said Macmillan. ‘It did seem rather an odd request to make, however, my chief investigator, Dr Steven Dunbar, will tell you exactly why he made it.’
Steven went through the step by step thinking and reasoning that had led to him coming to the conclusion he had. He was pleased to see the looks of dismay appearing on the faces of his audience.
‘My God,’ said Mary Penrose.
‘Wow,’ added her colleague, Dr Norman Burns.
‘Unbelievable,’ offered the former guide.
‘It’s still a theory,’ said Steven, ‘that’s why we’re here. We need proof.’
‘And proof positive will involve rupturing a few of these proposed killer capsules and releasing Marburg virus,’ said Mary Penrose, thinking and speaking at the same time.
‘Maybe an X-ray might be a good first step,’ Burns suggested.
‘I did wonder about that,’ said Steven, ‘but we can’t be sure how the pellets will respond to X-rays.’
‘I think we could set up a secure containment facility,’ said Mary Penrose. ‘If X-rays don’t rupture the capsules, they might well tell us if they are indeed more sophisticated objects than we thought and we can proceed from there. If we go directly to looking for a rupture frequency, we will definitely be releasing Marburg virus.’
‘Good point,’ Steven agreed. ‘I’m happy to go along with an X-ray.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ said Burns getting up from his chair. ‘Won’t take long.’
‘Coffee?’ asked the guide.
With Burns out of the room arranging for an X-ray of the capsules, the conversation turned to what it could all be about.
‘Why on Earth would anyone want to design something like this — if this is what they turn out to be?’ asked Mary Penrose. ‘They’re useless as an offensive weapon.’
‘Whatever the reason,’ said Macmillan, ‘it wasn’t some kind of academic exercise. An awful lot of money has been poured into it, and some of the finest minds employed to create it.’
‘No disrespect, Doctor,’ said Mary Penrose addressing Steven, ‘but I find myself hoping that you are completely wrong.’
‘Frankly, Doctor, I hope exactly the same thing,’ Steven replied.
‘Amen to that,’ added Macmillan.
‘This is absolutely incredible,’ announced Norman Burns, on his return. ‘Look at them!’
Several X-rays were slid around the table by Burns simulating the role of a casino dealer, all of them ruling out any possibility that Steven had been wrong. Vain hopes reluctantly gave way to grudging admiration as the intricate interior details of the capsules were revealed. Tiny chambers and even tinier motor technology were highlighted in hushed tones. Eventually, Mary Penrose, sounding sad and reluctant, said, ‘I suppose this means we move on to the final test of your theory, Dr Dunbar.’
Steven didn’t reply and it was left to Norman Burns to break the ensuing silence. He said, ‘When I saw the X-rays, I took the liberty of alerting the bio-safety team we put on stand-by.’
Mary Penrose nodded. ‘We had better brief them.’ She turned to Steven and asked, ‘Do we know anything about the wireless frequency we’re looking for?’
Steven said not. ‘I’m supposing Tom Harland would have started his search at the extreme of the range and worked backwards until he found the matching frequency for the intercom he was fixing. He must have hit the trigger for the capsules by accident.’
‘Makes sense,’ said Burns. ‘but it would have to be an extreme frequency that no one would use otherwise the capsules would rupture all the time.’
‘All the same,’ said Mary Penrose, ‘we should disable all wireless intercoms in the building until we’ve carried out the experiment.’
Nods of agreement were followed by Steven adding, ‘We have to make sure the bulk of the capsules are safely out of range too, otherwise there could be a massive release of Marburg virus.’
‘Good point,’ said Mary Penrose, ‘we can’t take any chances. I’ll have the original container secured and taken out of the building.’ She went on to outline the plan for the test. ‘I thought we’d use the high security lab that was used the first time. That way we can use the same wireless intercom that Tom Harland worked on. In the lab, six capsules will be placed in a glass container by our bio-safety crew and sealed. A small camera will be trained on it so we can see what happens on CCTV up in the viewing gallery and then the safety people will leave the lab — I don’t want them in there.’
Norman Burns took over. ‘When we’re ready, an audio technician with us in the gallery will access the audio transmitter and start changing the frequency. If the capsules rupture, Dr Dunbar will be proved right and the experiment will be over. Our bio-safety people will enter the lab to carry out decontamination... and the day will be done, any comments?’