Ken Follett - Whiteout

She frowned at her phone, racking her brains. How was she going to put a bomb under Frank? She had something over him-the Farmer Johnny Kirk story. If the worse came to the worst, she could use that to blackmail him. But first there was one more call she could try. She scrolled through the memory of her mobile and found the home number of Odette Cressy, her friend at Scotland Yard.

The phone was answered after a long wait. "This is Toni," she said. "I'm sorry to wake you."

Odette spoke to someone else. "Sorry, sweetheart, it's work."

Toni was surprised. "I didn't expect you to be with someone."

"It's just Santa Claus. What's new?"

Toni told her.

Odette said, "Jesus Christ, this is what we were afraid of."

"I can't believe I let it happen."

"Is there anything that might give us a hint about when and how they plan to use it?"

"Two things," Toni said. "One: they didn't just steal the stuff-they poured it into a perfume sprayer. It's ready to use. The virus can be released in any crowded place-at a cinema, on a plane, in Harrods. No one would know it was happening."

"A perfume spray?"

"Diablerie."

"Well done-at least we know what we're looking for. What else?"

"A guard heard them talk about meeting the client at ten."

"At ten. They're working fast."

"Exactly. If they deliver the stuff to their customer by ten o'clock this morning, it could be in London tonight. They could release it in the Albert Hall tomorrow."

"Good work, Toni. My God, I wish you'd never left the police."

Toni began to feel more cheerful. "Thanks."

"Anything else?"

"They turned north when they left here-I saw their van. But there's a blizzard, and the roads are becoming impassable. So they probably aren't far from where I'm standing."

"That means we have a chance of catching them before they deliver the goods."

"Yes-but I haven't been able to persuade the local police of the urgency."

"Leave that to me. Terrorism comes under the Cabinet Office. Your hometown boys are about to get a phone call from Number Ten Downing Street. What do you need-helicopters? HMS Gannet is an hour away from you."

"Put them on standby. I don't think helicopters can fly in this blizzard and, if they could, the crew wouldn't be able to see what's on the ground. What I need is a snowplow. They should clear the road from Inverburn to here, and the police should make this their base. Then they can start looking for the fugitives."

"I'll make sure it happens. Keep calling me, okay?"

"Thanks, Odette." Toni hung up.

She turned around. Carl Osborne stood immediately behind her, making notes.

ELTON drove the Vauxhall Astra station wagon slowly, plowing through more than a foot of soft, fresh snow. Nigel sat beside him, clutching the burgundy leather briefcase with its deadly contents. Kit was in the back with Daisy. He kept glancing over Nigel's shoulder at the briefcase, imagining a car crash in which the briefcase was crushed and the bottle smashed, and the liquid was sprayed into the air like poisoned champagne ro kill them all.

He was maddened with impatience as their speed dropped to bicycle pace. He wanted to get to the airfield as fast as possible and put the briefcase in a safe place. Every minute they spent on the open road was dangerous.

But he was not sure they would get there. After leaving the car park of the Dew Drop Inn, they had not seen another moving vehicle. Every mile or so, they passed an abandoned car or truck, some at the side of the road and some right in the middle. One was a police Range Rover on its side.

Suddenly a man stepped into the headlights, waving frantically. He wore a business suit and tie, and had no coat or hat. Elton glanced at Nigel, who murmured, "Don't even dream of stopping." Elton drove straight at the man, who dived out of the way at the last moment. As they swcpt by, Kit glimpsed a woman in a cocktail dress, hugging a thin shawl around her shoulders, standing beside a big Bentley, looking desperate.

They passed the turning for Steepfall, and Kit wished he were a boy again, lying in bed at his father's house, knowing nothing about viruses or computers or the odds at blackjack.

The snow became so heavy that little was visible through the windshieid but whiteness. Elton was almost blind, steering by guesswork, optimism, and glances out of the side windows. Their speed dropped to the pace of a run, then a brisk walk. Kit longed for a more suitable car. In his father's Toyota Land Cruiser Amazon, parked only a tantalizing couple of miles from where they were right now, they would have had a better chance.

On a hill, the tires began to slip in the snow. The car gradually lost forward momentum. It came to a stop and then, to Kit's horror, began to slide back. Elton tried braking, but that only made the skid faster. He turned the steering wheel. The back swerved left. Elton spun the wheel in the opposite direction, and the car came to rest slewed at an angle across the road.

Nigel cursed.

Daisy leaned forward and said to Elton, "What did you do that for, you pillock?"

Elton said, "Get out and push, Daisy."

"Screw you."

"I mean it," he said. "The brow of the hill is only a few yards away. I could make it, if someone would give the car a push."

Nigel said, "We'll all push."

Nigel, Daisy, and Kit got out. The cold was bitter, and the snowflakes stung Kit's eyes. They got behind the car and leaned on it. Only Daisy had gloves. The metal was bitingly cold on Kit's bare hands. Elton let the clutch out slowly, and they took the strain. Kit's feet were soaking wet in seconds. But the tires bit. Elton pulled away from them and drove to the top of the hill.

They trudged up the slope, slipping in the snow, panting with the effort, shivering. Were they going to do this on every hill for the next ten miles?

The same thought had occurred to Nigel. When they got back into the car, he said to Elton, "Is this car going to get us there?"

"We might be all right on this road," Elton said. "But there's three or four miles of country lane before you get to the airfield."

Kit made up his mind. He said, "I know where there's a sport-utility vehicle with four-wheel drive-a Toyota Land Cruiser."

Daisy said, "We could get stuck in that-remember the police Range Rover we passed?"

Nigel said, "It has to be better than an Astra. Where is this car?"

"At my father's house. To be exact, it's in his garage, the door to which is not quite visible from the house."

"How far?"

"A mile back along this road, then another mile down a side turning."

"What are you suggesting?"

"We park in the woods near the house, borrow the Land Cruiser, and drive to the airfield. Afterwards, Elton brings the Land Cruiser back and takes the Astra."

"By then it will be daylight. What if someone sees him putting the car back in your father's garage?"

"I don't know, I'll have to make up a story, but it can't be worse than getting stuck here."

Nigel said, "Has anyone got a better idea?"

No one did.

Elton turned the car around and went back down the hill in low gear. After a few minutes, Kit said, "Take that side road."

Elton pulled up. "No way," he said. "Look at the snow down that lane-it's eighteen inches thick, and there's been no traffic on it for hours. We won't get fifty yards."

Kit had the panicky feeling he got when losing at blackjack, that a higher power was dealing him all the wrong cards.

Nigel said, "How far are we from your father's house?"

"A bit-" Kit swallowed. "A bit less than a mile."

Daisy said, "It's a long way in this fucking weather."

"The alternative," Nigel said, "is to wait here until a vehicle comes along then hijack it."