BooksBarbecue
Back Outbreak Save as PDF
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
  69. 63
  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

Luke turned to see a young woman walking towards them, her ID badge swaying on its lanyard. She introduced herself, then led them down a corridor and through MI5’s Knowledge and Information Centre, its in-house library of open source material. Luke felt his spirits sink lower still. The bald fact was he knew next to nothing about far-right extremism. He sensed that a world of warrants and digital paperwork beckoned, and now he was about to have this lawyer peering over his shoulder every minute of the day. Christ, he actually missed Afghanistan.

67

No. 10 Downing Street

Tuesday, 15 March, 0901hrs GMT

BRENDAN HOLMES HAD requested an urgent meeting with the PM and he had got it. As the government’s chief medical officer, it was his duty, along with the chief scientific adviser, to keep his prime minister appraised of every possible development in the threat from Agent X, and this, he thought, could not wait.

With his vehicle registration details phoned through in advance, he was swiftly cleared through the armed police cordon that ringed the historic home of Britain’s prime ministers since 1735. Let in through the back entrance facing St James’s Park, he made his way up the staircase lined with photographs of past prime ministers. A butler took his coat and offered him tea or coffee while he waited. He declined. Ten minutes later he was shown into a room where the PM sat at his desk, scribbling away with a fountain pen. He could see a cup of tea steaming beside him on the desk, a soggy slice of lemon resting on its saucer.

‘Brendan.’ The PM looked up and gave him a tired smile. ‘Take a pew, will you? I’ll just be a tick.’

‘Prime Minister.’ As chief medical officer, Holmes had had plenty of occasions to get to know the PM, but the two men had never been close. Their conversations often began like this.

‘Well? Let’s have it,’ the PM said briskly, putting away his fountain pen and regarding Holmes across the desk. ‘Do we have this outbreak thing under control yet or not?’

Holmes looked down at the patterned carpet and briefly studied its weft and weave before replying. ‘No, I’m afraid we don’t. So far, this pathogen has infected four of our own citizens that we know of. That’s our two Arctic researchers – they have both sadly succumbed – plus a shop assistant from Surrey and an A & E nurse from Epsom General. They’re both in intensive care right now.’

‘Right.’ The PM seemed distracted as he allowed himself a quick glance at his watch. ‘I think I already knew this, Brendan. Was there anything else? Because I’ve got the EU trade commissioner coming in twelve minutes. Not that I wouldn’t rather listen to you, believe me.’