Алистер Маклин - Red Alert

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An Alistair MacLean’s UNACO novel #5
A deadly virus has been stolen, and the thieves plan to use the hundred million pound ransom to fund terrorist armies. When the mission looks impossible, the world calls upon UNACO.
The Italian Red Brigades raid the US-owned Neo Chem laboratory between Rome and Tivoli and steal a vial of deadly DNA virus. They plan to trade the vial – which if opened could kill millions – for a hundred million pounds, to be paid to the terrorist armies of five European countries. The deadline approaches: a summit conference in Switzerland, at which the terrorists threaten to release the virus into the atmosphere if their demands are not met.
UNACO agents Mike Graham, C.W. Whitlock and Sabrina Carver are summoned back urgently from leave. Their mission is to find and secure the vial before a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions takes place…

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‘You got it?’ Graham whispered.

Marco nodded. ‘It was taped under the mudguard.’

Graham wriggled his way out and rubbed the back of his head gingerly. A man suddenly emerged from the back of the pantechnicon beside the ZRF one. He paused on the bottom step and eyed them suspiciously.

Marco got to his feet, brushed the grass from his overall and shook his head sadly at the man.

‘You wouldn’t believe the amount of rust under there. It’s not fit to be on the road. I’d check under your van if I were you.’

The man watched them get back into the maintenance van, then shrugged and walked away. Marco started up the engine and reversed out fast into the road.

‘We’ve got nine minutes left to get the cylinder to the helicopter,’ Graham said.

‘Forget about the back entrance, we’ll never make it. Drive to the main entrance, it’s our only chance.’

‘We’ll never get through without setting off the metal detector,’ Marco replied.

‘We’ve got to do it.’

Marco sped round the perimeter of the car-park and pulled up in front of the main doors.

‘Run like hell,’ Graham told him. ‘And use the stairs, they could shut down the lifts before you reach the helipad.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Someone’s got to cover your back. Whatever happens to me, don’t turn back. Just keep running.’

Marco nodded. Graham patted him on the shoulder and they leapt out of the van. The doors parted electronically in front of them. Marco entered first. The metal detector buzzed. He broke into a run when a guard approached him. The guard shouted at him to stop. Graham shoulder-charged the guard as he reached for his bolstered pistol. The pistol spun from his hand. A second guard was instantly on the scene.

Graham tackled him, knocking him to the floor. He retrieved both pistols and sprinted after Marco. The two guards radioed for back-up.

There wasn’t much else they could do. Graham reached the stairs before any of the guards could get to him. Fortunately they hadn’t dared to shoot because the foyer was packed. He only paused for breath when he reached the fifth floor. There was still no sign of the guards. It surprised him. He took a deep breath, then bounded up the stairs, two at a time, until he reached the tenth floor landing. Still no guards.

What was going on? Were they waiting for him on the helipad? How would they know where he was headed? He pressed himself against the wall and pushed open the door leading out on to the helipad. No gunfire.

‘Michael?’ a voice called out from the helipad.

Graham recognized Kolchinsky’s voice. He was also the only person he knew who called him Michael.

‘Michael, is that you?’ Kolchinsky called out again.

Graham wiped the sweat from his forehead and stepped out on to the helipad. Vlok stood beside Kolchinsky and Marco, a two-way radio in his hand.

‘We thought you two might use the main entrance to save time,’ Kolchinsky said.

‘So when we heard that two maintenance workers were headed for the stairs we put two and two together and Dieter gave instructions to the guards to give you free passage to the helipad.’

‘You sure know how to spoil a guy’s fun, Sergei,’ Graham said with a half-smile.

Kolchinsky checked his watch. ‘You did it with four minutes to spare. You could have taken the lift after all. It would have been far less strenuous.’

Graham smiled as Kolchinsky crossed to the telephone to break the news to Philpott.

‘Wouldn’t you like to join us?’ Calvieri said to Sabrina and indicated the third chair in front of the television set.

‘The air’s a lot cleaner where I am,’ Sabrina retorted sharply.

‘Humour, even in defeat. I admire you for that.’ Calvieri sat down and rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since the PCI came to power two years ago. The public humiliation of Enzo Bellini.’

‘It’s five o’clock,’ Ubrino said, glancing at his watch. ‘He should be arriving any moment now.’

Calvieri nodded.

‘All that’s missing is a cigarette. I would die for one.’

‘Me too,’ Ubrino muttered, and helped himself to another peppermint from the packet he had taken from the drawer.

They watched the screen as the Swiss President emerged through a side door and crossed to a table where he sat down and surveyed the dozens of journalists seated in front of him. Cameras flashed incessantly. A journalist shouted out a question but the Swiss President immediately raised a hand for silence.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming here tonight,’ the President said in English. ‘I called this press conference to deal with the rumours that the Italian Prime Minister, Signore Enzo Bellini, is to step down through ill-health. It is true that he was taken ill this morning, which is when the rumours began, but I am glad to report that it is nothing more serious than influenza. I have just seen Signore Bellini and he has asked me to assure you that he will not be standing down, either today or at any time in the foreseeable future…’

‘What are you talking about?’ Calvieri shouted at the screen. He rubbed the back of his hand nervously across his mouth. ‘It’s part of the deal. Bellini must resign.’

The telephone rang.

Calvieri knocked over his chair in his haste to answer it.

‘I thought you’d like to see the start of the press conference before I called you,’ Philpott said.

‘What are you playing at, Philpott?’ Calvieri snarled, his breathing ragged. ‘I told you what would happen if either of my demands weren’t met. You’ve just made a very big mistake–’

‘We’ve found the vial.’

Calvieri’s eyes narrowed with uncertainty.

‘Where?’

‘In the workshop.’

Calvieri burst out laughing, such was his relief.

‘But we expected a red herring,’ Philpott continued. ‘That’s why we carried on with the search even after it had been found. Miss Rietler was very helpful when it came to finding the real vial. Or should I call her Miss Dannhauser? After all, that was the name in the address book we found under the floorboards in your flat.’

Calvieri’s face went pale. He fumbled for a chair and sat down slowly.

‘The lab results came through fifteen minutes ago,’ Philpott said, knowing he had to call Calvieri’s bluff. It was too late to turn back, even if he was wrong. And God help him if he were. ‘Our scientists have identified the compound as the virus. They didn’t attempt to defuse the magnetic charge on the side of the metal cylinder, just in case you’d booby-trapped it. The vial’s been removed from the cylinder for further tests. It’s quite harmless now.’

Calvieri wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

‘It’s not over yet, Colonel. We still have one ace left to play. Sabrina. She’s our ticket out of here. And don’t underestimate us, we don’t have anything left to lose. Not any more.’

‘If anything happens to Sabrina–’

‘It won’t, as long as you do as we say. I’ll call you back when we’ve decided on a plan of action. And don’t try anything stupid like storming the room. You wouldn’t want to have Sabrina’s death on your conscience, would you?’ Calvieri replaced the receiver and rubbed his hands over his face. He was devastated. He looked up at Ubrino.

‘They found out about Helga.’

‘How?’ Ubrino replied. ‘You said there was no way they could trace her.’

‘I know what I said,’ Calvieri snapped, raking his fingers through his hair. ‘They found her name and number in an old address book under the floorboards in my flat. I don’t remember putting it there. I thought I’d destroyed all my links with her. God, what have I done?’

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