Chapters (124)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
- Also by Frank Gardner
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
Down the grey moss-covered steps they went, through the heavy metal door on its rusty hinges, and into the first room. The remains of a pigeon lay in the corner, picked clean by foxes, and the room smelt of damp and decay. An old mattress, stained black with age and mildew, was half propped against one wall. But the place was empty and that was all that mattered. They moved through the first room, changing hands on the rope handles now as they carried their burden the final few yards, and went into the inner chamber, the monitoring room. A row of ancient sockets ran along one wall where once field telephones would have been plugged in, relaying practice messages back to Whitehall for the day when the unthinkable happened.
They set down the box on the damp floor and removed the blanket. The man with the rucksack crouched, placing it at his feet, and undid its straps. Ever so carefully and slowly, he removed a canister attached to a timer. He walked over to the far corner and placed the canister and timer on top of a pile of rubbish. He made some last-minute adjustments to the device and stood up, hands on hips, to admire his work. Satisfied that everything was in place, he nodded to the others. They unfastened the lock at the top of the box and opened the lid. Immediately there were shrieks of excitement and a small face peered up at them. Dark eyes, pink ears, flared nostrils and a mouth slightly agape. Tenderly, they lifted the rhesus macaque monkey out of the box and attached a chain to a collar around its neck. Then they fastened the other end to the only hard point in the room: a metal table leg from a long-disused workbench. They placed a plate of seeds and dried fruit within the creature’s reach, along with a bowl of water. They checked their watches and, one by one, they filed out of the bunker, pulling the heavy iron door shut behind them.
The final test was about to begin.