Ken Follett - Whiteout

And they had obtained the murder weapon from her.

In despair, she restarted the footage, and watched with horror while one of the intruders emptied the contents of the vials into a perfume spray marked "Diablerie." That was obviously the delivery mechanism. The ordinary-looking perfume bottle was now a weapon of mass destruction. She watched him carefully double-bag it and place it in the briefcase, bedded in polystyrene packing chips.

She had seen enough. She knew what needed to be done. The police had to gear up for a massive operation-and fast. If they moved quickly, they could still catch the thieves before the virus was handed over to the buyer.

She returned the monitors to their default position and left the control room.

The security guards were in the Great Hall, sitting on the couches normally reserved for visitors, drinking tea, thinking the crisis was over. Toni decided to take a few seconds to regain control. "We have important work to do," she said briskly. "Stu, go to the control room and resume your duties, please. Steve, get behind the desk. Don, stay where you are." Don had a makeshift dressing over the cut on his forehead.

Susan Mackintosh, who had been blackjacked, was lying on a couch used by waiting visitors. The blood had been washed from her face but she was severely bruised. Toni knelt beside her and kissed her forehead. "Poor you," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Pretty groggy."

"I'm so sorry this happened."

Susan smiled weakly. "It was worth it for the kiss."

Toni patted her shoulder. "You're recovering already."

Her mother was sitting next to Don. "That nice boy Steven made me a cup of tea," she said. The puppy sat on spread-out newspaper at her feet. She fed it a piece of biscuit.

"Thanks, Steve," Toni said.

Mother said, "He'd make a nice boyfriend for you."

"He's married," Toni replied.

"That doesn't seem to make much difference, nowadays."

"It does to me." Toni turned to Steve. "Where's Carl Osborne?"

"Men's room."

Toni nodded and took out her phone. It was time to call the police.

She recalled what Steve Tremlett had told her about the duty staff at Inverburn regional headquarters tonight: an inspector, two sergeants, and six constables, plus a superintendent on call. It was nowhere near enough to deal with a crisis of this magnitude. She knew what she would do, if she were in charge. She would call in twenty or thirty officers. She would commandeer snowplows, set up roadblocks, and ready a squad of armed officers to make the arrest. And she would do it fast.

She felt invigorated. The horror of what had happened began to fade from her mind as she concentrated on what had to be done. Action always bucked her up, and police work was the best sort of action.

She got David Reid again. When she identified herself, he said, "We sent you a car, but they turned back. The weather-"

She was horrified. She had thought a police car was on its way. "Are you serious?" she said, raising her voice.

"Have you looked at the roads? There are abandoned cars everywhere. No point in a patrol getting stuck in the snow."

"Christ! What kind of wimps are the police recruiting nowadays?"

"There's no need for that kind of talk, madam."

Toni got herself under control. "You're right, I'm sorry." She recalled, from her training, that when the police response to a crisis went badly amiss, it was often due to wrong identification of the hazard in the first few minutes, when someone inexperienced like P.C. Reid was dealing with the initial report. Her first task was to make sure he had the key information to pass to his superior. "Here's the situation. One: the thieves stole a significant quantity of a virus called Madoba-2 which is lethal to humans, so this is a biohazard emergency."

"Biohazard," he said, obviously writing it down.

"Two: the perpetrators are three men-two white and one black- and a white woman. They're driving a van marked 'Hibernian Telecom.'"

"Can you give me fuller descriptions?"

"I'll get the guard supervisor to call you with that information in a minute-he saw them, I didn't. Three: we have two injured people here, one who has been coshed and the other kicked in the head."

"How serious would you say the injuries are?"

She thought she had already told him that, but he seemed to be asking questions from a list. "The guard who has been coshed should see a doctor."

"Right."

"Four: the intruders were armed."

"What sort of weapons?"

Toni turned to Steve, who was a gun buff. "Did you get a look at their firearms?"

Steve nodded. "Nine-millimeter Browning automatic pistols, all three of them-the kind that take a thirteen-round magazine. They looked like ex-army stock to me." Toni repeated the description to Reid.

"Armed robbery, then," he said.

"Yes-but the important thing is that they can't be far away, and that van is easy to identify. If we move quickly, we can catch them."

"Nobody can move quickly tonight."

"Obviously you need snowplows."

"The police force doesn't have snowplows."

"There must be several in the area; we have to clear the roads most winters."

"Clearing snow from roads is not a police function; it's a local authority responsibility."

Toni was ready to scream with frustration, but she bit her tongue. "Is Frank Hackett there?"

"Superintendent Hackett is not available."

She knew that Frank was on call-Steve had told her. "If you won't wake him up, I will," she said. She broke the connection and dialed his home number. He was a conscientious officer; he would be sleeping by the phone.

He picked it up. "Hackett."

"Toni. Oxenford Medical has been robbed of a quantity of Madoba-2, the virus that killed Michael Ross."

"How did you let that happen?"

It was the question she was asking herself, but it stung when it came from him. She retorted, "If you're so smart, figure out how to catch the thieves before they get away."

"Didn't we send a car out to you an hour ago?"

"It never got here. Your tough coppers saw the snow and got scared."

"Well, if we're stuck, so are our suspects."

"You're not stuck, Frank. You can get here with a snowplow."

"I don't have a snowplow."

"The local council has several-phone them up."

There was a long pause. "I don't think so," he said at last.

Toni could have killed him. Frank enjoyed using his authority negatively. It made him feel powerful. He especially liked defying her-she had always been too assertive for him. How had she lived with him for so long? She curbed the retort that was on the tip of her tongue and said, "What's your thinking, Frank?"

"I can't send unarmed men chasing after a gang with guns. We'll need to assemble our firearms-trained officers, take them to the armory, and get them kitted out with Kevlar vests, guns, and ammunition. That's going to take a couple of hours."

"Meanwhile the thieves are getting away with a virus that could kill thousands!"

"I'll put out an alert for the van."

"They might switch cars. They could have an off-road Jeep parked somewhere."

"They still won't get far."

"What if they have a helicopter?"

"Toni, curb your imagination. There are no thieves with helicopters in Scotland."

These were not local hooligans running off with jewelry or banknotes-but Frank had never really understood biohazards. "Frank, use your imagination. These people want to start a plague!"

"Don't tell me how to do the job. You're not a cop anymore."

"Frank-" She stopped. He had broken the connection. "Frank, you're a dumb bastard," she said into the dead phone, then she hung up.

Had he always been this bad? It seemed to her that when they were living together he was more reasonable. Perhaps she had been a good influence on him. He had certainly been willing to learn from her. She recalled the case of Dick Buchan, a multiple rapist who had refused to tell Frank where the bodies were despite hours of intimidation, shouting, and threats of violence. Toni talked quietly to him about his mother and broke him in twenty minutes. After that, Frank had asked her advice about every major interrogation. But since they split up, he seemed to have regressed.