‘To be quite frank, Peter, I don’t think there’s going to be any “from now on in”,’ breathed Shearson, puffing at his cigar. ‘I’ve done what I can to keep this blight in the right kind of perspective, but if the media don’t realise what’s going on by the middle of next week, then they’re even dumber than I always thought they were.’

‘The president seems to think it’s all under control,’ said Peter.

‘The president’s scared shitless, and he’s clinging on to any and every optimistic statement that anybody comes up with,’ retorted Shearson. ‘How can he possibly turn around to the people of the greediest nation on the face of this earth and say, “I’m sorry, folks, but you’re going to have to do without bread, or corn, or french fries, or Post Toasties”? He’d be dragged out of the White House and publicly crucified.’

‘What about Protter?’ asked Peter. ‘Has he come up with anything yet? I asked him to call you direct if he did, in case I was out.’

‘No. No word from Protter,’ said Shearson. ‘Listen – I’ll meet up with you later. Right now I have to get myself dressed. But start thinking up ways to get that two million out of Michigan Tractors before mid-week.’

‘Okay, Senator. I’ll see you at the airport.’

Shearson put the phone down, but almost immediately it rang again. Billy walked across the parquet hallway with metal-tipped heels that methodically clicked, and picked up the receiver. He listened, and nodded, and finally he said to Shearson, ‘It’s Professor Protter. He says priority.’

‘All right,’ said Shearson. ‘I’ll take it. Bring me a tankard of Dom Perignon, will you? I’m as dry as a hog.’

Professor Protter sounded strained. ‘Senator? I believe I may have some good news for you.’

‘Good news?’ asked Shearson, suspiciously.

‘That’s right. We’ve made some excellent progress on the virus. It was very fortunate. Almost an accident. But the net result is that we may be able to clear most of it up.’ Shearson sucked silently at his cigar.

‘Are you there?’ asked Professor Protter.

‘I’m here,’ said Shearson. ‘Tell me what you’ve found out.’

‘It was Dr Egan’s idea, as a matter of fact. He sent a sample around to the Pentagon’s bacteriological warfare centre, and asked if they could possibly identify it. They spent twenty-four hours going through ten different samples, and then they called us back and said there wasn’t any doubt about it.’

‘Well?’ said Shearson, impatiently.