Ken Follett - Whiteout

"Frank may not have leaked the story merely to spite you," Stanley said. "I suspect he would have done it anyway. I imagine Osborne will show his gratitude by reporting favorably on the Inverburn police in general and Superintendent Frank Hackett in particular."

His hand warmed her skin through the silk of her blouse. Was this a casual gesture, made without thought? She suffered the familiar frustration of not knowing what was in his mind. She wondered if he could feel her bra strap. She hoped he could not tell how much she enjoyed being touched by him.

She was not sure he was right about Frank and Carl Osborne. "It's generous of you to look at it that way," she said. All the same, she resolved that somehow she would make sure the company did not suffer from what Frank had done.

There was a knock at the door and Cynthia Creighton, the company's public-relations officer, came in. Stanley took his hand off Toni's shoulder quickly.

Cynthia was a thin woman of fifty in a tweed skirt and knitted stockings. She was a sincere do-gooder. Toni had once made Stanley laugh by saying Cynthia was the kind of person who made her own granola. Normally hesitant in manner, she was now on the edge of hysteria. Her hair was disheveled, she was breathing hard, and she talked too fast. "Those people shoved me," she said. "They're animals! Where are the police?"

"A patrol car is on its way," Toni said. "They should be here in ten or fifteen minutes."

"They should arrest the lot of them."

Toni realized, with a sinking feeling, that Cynthia was not capable of dealing with this crisis. Her main job was to dispense a small charity budget, giving grants to school football teams and sponsored walkers, ensuring that the name of Oxenford Medical appeared frequently in the Inverburn Courier, in stories that had nothing to do with viruses or experiments on animals. It was important work, Toni knew, for readers believed the local press, whereas they were skeptical of national newspapers. Consequently, Cynthia's low-key publicity immunized the company against the virulent Fleet Street scare stories that could blight any scientific enterprise. But Cynthia had never dealt with the jackal pack that was the British press in full cry, and she was too distressed to make good decisions.

Stanley was thinking the same thing. "Cynthia, I want you to work with Toni on this," he said. "She has experience of the media from her time with the police."

Cynthia looked relieved and grateful. "Have you?"

"I did a year in the press office-although I never dealt with anything this bad."

"What do you think we should do?"

"Well." Toni did not feel she was qualified to take charge, but this was an emergency, and it seemed she was the best candidate available. She went back to first principles. "There's a simple rule for dealing with the media." It might be too simple for this situation, she thought, but she did not say so. "One, decide what your message is. Two, make sure it's true, so that you'll never have to go back on it. Three, keep saying it over and over again."

"Hmm." Stanley looked skeptical, but he did not seem to have a better suggestion.

Cynthia said, "Don't you think we should apologize?"

"No," Toni said quickly. "It will be interpreted as confirmation that we've been careless. That's not true. Nobody's perfect, but our security is top-notch."

Stanley said, "Is that our message?"

"I don't think so. Too defensive." Toni thought for a moment. "We should start by saying that we're doing work here which is vital for the future of the human race. No, that's too apocalyptic. We're doing medical research that will save lives-that's better. And it has its hazards, but our security is as tight as mortal beings can make it. One thing certain is that many people will die unnecessarily if we stop."

"I like that," said Stanley.

"Is it true?" Toni asked.

"No question. Every year a new virus comes out of China and kills thousands. Our drug will save their lives."

Toni nodded. "That's perfect. Simple and telling."

Stanley was still worried. "How will we get the message across?"

"I think you should call a press conference in a couple of hours' time. By midday the news desks will be looking for a fresh angle on the story, so they'll be glad to get something more from us. And most of these people outside will leave once that's happened. They'll know that further developments are unlikely, and they want to go home for Christmas like everyone else."

"I hope you're right," Stanley said. "Cynthia, will you make the arrangements, please?"

Cynthia had not yet recovered her composure. "But what should I do?"

Toni took over. "We'll hold the press conference in the Great Hall. It's the only room big enough, and the chairs are already being set out for Professor Oxenford's address to the staff at half past nine. The first thing you should do is alert the people outside. It will give them something to tell their editors, and might calm them down a bit. Then phone the Press Association and Reuters and ask them to put it on the wire, to inform any of the media who aren't already here."

"Right," Cynthia said uncertainly. "Right." She turned to go. Toni made a mental note to check on her as soon as possible.

As Cynthia left, Dorothy buzzed Stanley and said, "Laurence Mahoney from the United States embassy in London is on line one."

"I remember him," Toni said. "He was here a few months ago. I showed him around." The U.S. military was financing much of Oxenford Medical's research. The Department of Defense was keenly interested in Stanley's new antiviral drug, which promised to be a powerful counter to biological warfare. Stanley had needed to raise money for the prolonged testing process, and the American government had been eager to invest. Mahoney kept an eye on things on behalf of the Defense Department.

"Just a minute, Dorothy." Stanley did not pick up the phone. He said to Toni, "Mahoney is more important to us than all the British media put together. I don't want to talk to him cold. I need to know what line he's taking, so that I can think about how to handle him."

"Do you want me to stall him?"

"Feel him out."

Toni picked up the handset and touched a button. "Hello, Larry, this is Toni Gallo, we met in September. How are you?"

Mahoney was a peevish press officer with a whiny voice that made Toni think of Donald Duck. "I'm worried," he said.

"Tell me why."

"I was hoping to speak to Professor Oxenford," he answered with an edge to his voice.

"And he's keen to talk to you at the first opportunity," Toni said as sincerely as she could manage. "Right now he's with the laboratory director." In fact he was sitting on the edge of his desk, watching her, with an expression on his face that might have been either fond or merely interested. She caught his eye and he looked away. "He'll call you as soon as he has the complete picture-which will certainly be before midday."

"How the hell did you let something like this happen?"

"The young man sneaked a rabbit out of the laboratory in his duffel bag. We've already instituted a compulsory bag search at the entrance to BSL4 to make sure it can't happen again."

"My concern is bad publicity for the American government. We don't want to be blamed for unleashing deadly viruses on the population of Scotland."

"There's no danger of that," Toni said with her fingers crossed.

"Have any of the local reports played up the fact that this research is American-financed?"

"No."

"They'll pick it up sooner or later."

"We should certainly be prepared to answer questions about that."

"The most damaging angle for us-and therefore for you-is the one that says the research is done here because Americans think it's too dangerous to be done in the United States."