Алистер Маклин - Red Alert

‘And how’s she going to react to your arrest? Have you thought about that?’

Cellina buried his face in his hands again.

Paluzzi crossed to where Whitlock was standing by the swing door.

‘What did the Colonel say?’

‘He wants me to take the cylinder up to the office straight away. It’ll have to be sent for analysis. He’s arranging for a security guard to take Cellina off our hands but he wants you to wait here until the guard arrives.’

‘Sure,’ Paluzzi said, then noticed Whitlock’s questioning look towards Cellina. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’

Whitlock nodded and reached for the swing door. He suddenly turned back to Paluzzi.

‘What would you have done if he’d called your bluff?’

‘He didn’t, did he?’ Paluzzi replied, glancing at the band-saw.

‘But what if he had?’

‘It could have got a bit messy,’ Paluzzi said with an indifferent shrug.

‘You would have carved up his face?’ Whitlock asked in disbelief.

‘What use is a threat unless you’re prepared to back it up?’

‘Now I see what the Colonel meant,’ Whitlock muttered.

‘About what?’

‘You and Mike being a bad influence on each other,’ Whitlock replied, then disappeared out into the corridor.

‘I’m not convinced,’ Philpott said, turning the cylinder around in his fingers. ‘I still say it’s a red herring. That’s why I don’t intend to tell the others until it’s been analysed. If they think there’s a chance that it’s the real vial it could lull them into a false sense of complacency. And that would jeopardize the search.’

‘Your confidence in them is touching, sir,’ Whitlock said, fighting the anger in his voice.

‘I have every confidence in them,’ Philpott replied sharply. ‘I know they wouldn’t let it affect them consciously. But the subconscious plays tricks on us all with out us even realizing it.’

The door opened and Kolchinsky entered breathlessly.

‘I came as soon as I could. But why the secrecy?’

‘Because I’m not convinced this cylinder contains the virus,’ Philpott replied, placing it on the table. ‘You didn’t mention anything to Visconti, did you?’

‘I did as you said and told him you needed me back here to help you co-ordinate the search.’

‘Good. I’ve arranged for Ingrid Hauser to join him when she’s finished checking her areas.’

Kolchinsky picked up the cylinder.

‘The serial number’s the same. What makes you think it’s a dummy?’

‘We found it too easily. Calvieri’s planned this operation down to the last detail. I find it inconceivable that he would slip up at this late stage.’ Philpott relit his pipe. ‘But this is all speculation. We can’t possibly know until its contents have been analysed. One of our helicopters is waiting for you on the helipad. The lab technicians in Zürich have been put on immediate standby.’

‘I hope you’re wrong about this, Malcolm,’ Kolchinsky said, holding up the cylinder.

‘So do I,’ Philpott replied.

Kolchinsky slipped the cylinder into his pocket and left.

Bachstrasse was a gloomy, deserted cul-de-sac off the Utoquai, a wharf on the banks of Lake Zürich. The road was strewn with bricks and masonry. The buildings themselves had been derelict for years. A hoarding at the entrance to the cul-de-sac warned: FALLING MASONRY. CARS PARKED AT OWNERS’ RISK. A second hoarding was more ominous: UNSAFE STRUCTURES. DANGEROUS. KEEP OUT!

UNACO owned Bachstrasse. They had erected the hoardings. They had strewn the bricks and masonry on the road to give the impression that the buildings were unsafe. Privacy was essential. Their European Test Centre, housed in a network of soundproofed catacombs, ran the length of the street. The only way into the Test Centre was through the warehouse at the end of the cul-de-sac. It was a rectangular building and, like the other buildings in the street, its windows had long since been vandalized. The battered, corrugated-iron door could be activated electronically from inside the Test Centre, provided the correct password was given. The password itself was changed every day. The roof, like the door, could be opened from inside the Test Centre but, for security reasons, it was only used in emergencies.

The helicopter descended into the deserted warehouse and when it landed on the concrete floor the roof slid back into place. The pilot cut the engine. A circular section of the floor, fifty feet in diameter, which supported the helicopter, was lowered by means of a hydraulic press and locked into place beside a landing stage. The two halves of the floor closed above the helicopter.

Kolchinsky unfastened his safety belt and picked up the small, insulated lead case at his feet. It contained the metal cylinder. He clambered out of the helicopter and made his way down a set of metal stairs to where a white-coated technician was waiting to take the case from him.

‘Monsieur Rust is waiting in his office for you,’ the technician said politely, then strode with barely contained impatience down one of the corridors leading from the landing stage.

Kolchinsky headed down another corridor and paused outside a door marked: j. RUST DIRECTEUR. He knocked. An overhead camera panned his face and a moment later there was an electronic click as the door was unlocked. Kolchinsky entered the plush office and the door closed behind him. Rust activated his wheelchair and approached Kolchinsky.

They shook hands.

‘I think you know Professor Helmut Scheffer, head of our science department,’ Rust said, indicating the black-haired man sitting on the sofa against the wall.

‘Of course,’ Kolchinsky replied. ‘How are you, Helmut?’

‘Well, thank you,’ Scheffer said, getting to his feet to shake Kolchinsky’s hand.

‘Emile made good time,’ Rust said, glancing at his watch. 1.40 p.m. ‘It can’t have taken him much more than twenty minutes to fly you here from Berne.’

‘About that,’ Kolchinsky agreed, then sat down in the leather armchair in front of Rust’s desk. He looked at Scheffer.

‘How long will it take for your people to analyse the contents of the vial?’

‘Had it been a glass cylinder, a matter of seconds. We could have used either infra-red spectroscopy or nuclear magnetic resonance. But not with metal. It will have to be cut open inside an isolation chamber.’

‘Like a glove box?’ Kolchinsky asked.

‘Glove boxes have been known to leak. This chamber’s windowless. The whole operation will be carried out by means of closed-circuit television cameras using mechanical hands which are operated from outside the chamber. Once the cylinder has been opened a sample can be transferred to a glass vial for analysis. The results will show up as a series of oscillations on a graph which we can use to identify the different components that make up the substance.’

‘But how long will it take?’ Kolchinsky repeated.

‘How long?’ Scheffer pouted thoughtfully. ‘Anything up to two hours.’

‘Two hours? Kolchinsky parroted in disbelief. ‘The way you described it, it sounded more like twenty minutes.’

‘I only outlined the process for you,’ Scheffer said defensively. ‘I’d be glad to explain it in more detail if you want.’

‘It wouldn’t mean anything to me if you did,’ Kolchinsky replied with a quick smile. ‘Science was never my strong point.’

Scheffer moved to the door.

‘They will be waiting for me in the lab. I’ll let you know the moment we’ve identified the substance in the cylinder.’

Rust activated the door, then closed it again behind Scheffer.

‘Two hours!’ Kolchinsky exclaimed, getting to his feet. ‘I never thought it would take that long.’