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Chapters (124)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
  4. Also by Frank Gardner
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
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  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. 95
  102. 96
  103. 97
  104. 98
  105. 99
  106. 100
  107. 101
  108. 102
  109. 103
  110. 104
  111. 105
  112. 106
  113. 107
  114. 108
  115. 109
  116. 110
  117. 111
  118. 112
  119. 113
  120. 114
  121. 115
  122. Epilogue
  123. Acknowledgements
  124. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

And today Colonel Petrov was a worried man. He found himself facing a problem he did not know how to fix. At lunchtime he had been ordered to an unscheduled meeting across town at the Kremlin. He had expected it to be about the forthcoming annual military manoeuvres in southern Russia. But instead he had been asked to explain what exactly his department was up to in the Norwegian Arctic, and why he had not informed his superiors through the proper channels about the testing of a new biological weapon. It seemed the Russian ambassador to London had been summoned to the Foreign Office that very morning and been forced to issue a blanket denial. The ambassador had then got straight on the phone to Moscow to seek an explanation. Yet Colonel Petrov was at a loss to explain events in the Norwegian Arctic. And now the British were claiming a phone number had been traced from the scene in Svalbard back to his headquarters. Well, that proved nothing. It could have been made by a third party using a proxy dial-in. The British might have made a mistake – they could be making it up. Hell, there were any number of explanations for that.

But now, as he returned to his office in the dying light of the late afternoon, stepping past the piles of dirty grey slush that spelled the tail-end of a Moscow winter, Petrov had a gnawing feeling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. What if it were true? What if a rogue actor was indeed operating from within his own command? He knew only too well what was coming if he didn’t get to the bottom of this in double-quick time. Those goons from the FSB – the Federal Security Service, the successors to the KGB – would be crawling all over his department, going into their computers, hauling his people in for questioning, making life impossible. No. He couldn’t have that. Not on his watch. Colonel Arkady Petrov had to move fast if he was to have any hope of saving his career.

44

Porton Down Laboratory, Wiltshire

Friday, 11 March, 1330hrs GMT

IN THE SPRAWLING high-security government science complex outside Salisbury, the news of Sheila Mackenzie’s death from the pathogen they were calling ‘Agent X’ had come as a real blow. Not totally unexpected, but still a setback. The Defence Science and Technology Laboratory had had little more than forty-eight hours to work on the samples rushed over from the Royal Free, but already the pressure was intense. Big Pharma would combine forces to take on the task of trying to find a vaccine, just as they had with Coronavirus. It was a process expected to take months. Porton Down’s mission was to ascertain the origin of the virus and to come up with an early and effective therapy.