James Barrington - Pandemic

When computerized cockpits were first introduced, there was both resistance and suspicion on the part of the pilots. In fact, shortly after its introduction into service, one of the most common remarks made by pilots on the flight deck of the Boeing 757 aircraft, one of the first to possess a semi-computerized cockpit, was: ‘What’s it doing now?’

Time and technology have marched on, and nowadays on most commercial airliners and a large proportion of military aircraft the cockpits almost entirely lack the traditional engine and navigation instruments. And there are some, particularly the new generation of American air-superiority fighters, which are inherently aerodynamically unstable, and literally impossible to fly if the computers fail.

‘This is fitted with the FADEC system,’ Vento explained, as the noise from the engines increased to a dull whistling roar. The Full Authority Digital Engine Control system applies a level of digital control to the twin engines, and has been responsible for both reducing the fuel consumption and increasing the helicopter’s range and payload.

‘That,’ Vento added, releasing the rotor brake and watching as the main blades began turning slowly, ‘and the better aerodynamics, have given us a range of over nine hundred kilometres, a top speed of one hundred and fifty knots, and a service ceiling of six thousand metres. It’s a truly delightful aircraft to fly.’

Vento then called Brindisi Tower and obtained taxi and take-off clearance. The ground marshaller watched as the helicopter lifted into the air and turned to the west, accelerating as it crossed over the main runway. The Italian retracted the undercarriage as they cleared the airfield and climbed up to two thousand feet for their transit to Matera.

It was late afternoon, but the sun was still high in the sky as the Agusta flew swiftly across the fairly flat terrain lying to the north of Taranto. Vento pointed out the villages, towns and roads as they passed near them; San Michele Salentino; Villa Castelli; Montemesola; the sprawl of Taranto itself looming to the south; Crispiano beneath the autostrada that runs from Bari down to Massafra skirting Taranto; then Palagiano and Laterza.

A couple of minutes after they’d flown past Laterza, Vento descended the Agusta to one thousand feet. ‘That’s Matera,’ he said. ‘Right one o’clock at about five kilometres.’ Richter peered forward, as did Simpson and Perini. ‘We’ll be landing a couple of miles outside the town. There’s a convenient field right alongside the road, and that’s where the cars will be waiting.’

Vento dropped the undercarriage as he descended the helicopter further and, as he brought the Agusta in to land, Richter could see four dark-coloured vehicles parked nose-to-tail in a lay-by immediately adjacent to a small and level field. Three minutes later they were on the ground, and walking towards the gateway by the road.

Kandíra, south-west Crete

Gravas and his assistants had carefully stripped off their white overalls and overshoes, and had placed them beside a wall right across the street from Aristides’s house. Gravas also issued orders that nobody was to approach the clothing, except to add to the pile.

Everything any one of them had been wearing was possibly or probably contaminated, so should really have been placed in a sealed bag for destruction in a furnace. But they possessed no bag big enough to hold everything, and Gravas had decided that simply getting out of the clothes was probably the best they could do in the circumstances. Originally they had anticipated investigating a murder scene, which had dictated the equipment carried in their vehicle. Some lethal and invisible virus was a very different situation.

The last items to be removed were their gloves and masks, though Gravas ordered them to don fresh ones immediately. He also told Inspector Lavat to remove his uniform jacket, his trousers and shoes, and provided him instead with a white overall and a pair of rubber boots from the back of the van. The two Greek women, as Gravas had silently predicted, were more difficult to sway.

‘This is for your own safety,’ Gravas insisted, for at least the third time, while Christina Polessos stood in front of him, hands on hips and rock-like in her defiance. ‘We believe that house has been contaminated with some kind of deadly virus, a germ that killed him and might kill both of you too.’

Christina snorted. ‘Call yourself a doctor? We saw Aristides and he was covered in blood. Somebody killed him, with a knife or a club or a gun. It wasn’t some germ – germs just give you a cold.’

Maria Coulouris, still tearful, added her contribution. ‘And we are respectable women. We cannot disrobe here in public, out in the street.’

‘Not even if it kills you?’ asked Gravas, in exasperation.

This blunt remark stunned both women into a momentary silence.

‘But we didn’t touch him,’ Christina insisted. ‘We never even went near him.’

Gravas shook his head. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘The virus I mentioned could be anywhere in that house: on the floor, the walls, the door handles, or just floating in the air. And now it could be somewhere on your clothes, so if you breathe it in, you could end up like Aristides.’

The two village women looked at each other, then back at Gravas. ‘And if we do take off our clothes?’ Christina was the natural spokeswoman of the two.

Gravas shrugged. ‘I can give no guarantees, but the risk would be much less.’

Again the women exchanged glances. ‘Very well,’ Christina said, ‘but you must erect a proper screen, and provide us with something decent to wear.’

Gravas rapidly gave instructions for his assistants to rig up a temporary screen using waterproof tarpaulins from the back of the van, behind which the women could decently undress. The older one, Christina Polessos, could just about fit into a set of his one-size white overalls, but the younger, Maria Coulouris, had an ample girth and spectacular breasts, so would have to be content with a large blanket.

Gravas walked back over to Lavat, who stood waiting.

‘What now?’ the inspector asked.

‘ Now it’s over to you,’ Gravas replied. ‘It’s time for your detective work. We have to find out exactly what this Aristides did yesterday. We have to identify and locate everybody he met or talked to. It might be worth starting with those two women, once they’ve sorted themselves out.’

Outskirts of Matera, Puglia, Italy

Perini asked Richter and Simpson to wait by the gate while he went forward to check that the senior DCPP officer and his men were ready. Then he returned and motioned them to get into the last of the four Alfa Romeo saloons parked in the lay-by.

‘Everything is prepared,’ he said, sitting in the passenger seat and turning round to look at them. Behind him they could see the paramilitary police officers, looking to Richter something like a group of Special Air Service troopers, climbing into the other three cars.

As the last car door slammed shut, the leading vehicle indicated briefly then pulled swiftly out of the lay-by and onto the road, the others following promptly. It was only a short drive because the helicopter had landed no more than a couple of miles from the villa itself. The lead car indicated again – something Richter had previously believed Italian drivers never did – and pulled off the road onto some waste ground, the driver turning his vehicle to face towards the road.

The other drivers followed suit, but this time when the men emerged from the cars they were obviously taking care to be quiet, so Richter realized they must be fairly close to the villa where Lomas was believed to be hiding. The officers checked their weapons – they were carrying Spectre 9mm sub-machine-guns and Beretta Model 92 pistols in holsters – each man inserting a magazine, working the action to chamber a round, and then setting the safety catch. The Italian-made Spectre is the only double-action sub-machine-gun in the world, and is also unusual in having a magazine containing four columns of cartridges, thus allowing fifty rounds to be carried in a magazine that is vertically smaller than the thirty-round units fitted to most similar weapons.