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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
  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 could feel his impatience getting the better of him. It would soon be dark, there was work to be done and time was running out. He rose to his feet, his glass of akvavit left unfinished on the table. ‘So,’ he announced, with some finality, ‘I think we need to check out this Karlsen’s house while there’s still light. Ivan, are you able to take us there?’

‘What, now?’ Ivan shook his head. ‘Sorry, mister. I have Ilse coming round with that sick puppy of hers. I said I’d take a look at him for her. But, hey, you can find it easily enough. I’ll give Kristian the directions.’ He walked over to the window and shook his head. ‘But that’s quite a snowstorm building out there, just like the one we had yesterday. You sure you want to go ahead in this?’

Luke looked at Kristian, his partner from the Norwegian Intelligence Service, and saw the dubious look on his face. ‘Absolutely,’ said Luke. ‘We’re doing this.’

16

High Security Infectious Diseases Unit, Royal Free Hospital, Hampstead

Tuesday, 8 March, 1440hrs GMT

TWO POLICE OUTRIDERS on motorbikes led the convoy of vehicles racing the seventy miles from RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire. They were heading for one of several destinations where patients with a suspected highly dangerous infection were taken. Coming off the A406 at Brent Cross in north London, then turning sharply right into Hendon Way, blue lights flashing, the convoy sped down Finchley Road until it braked to a stop outside a large, eye-wateringly ugly, multi-storey concrete building.

Sandwiched between London Zoo and Hampstead Heath, the Royal Free Hospital has a venerable past. It was awarded its royal title in 1837, the year Queen Victoria ascended the throne, in recognition of all the work it had done with cholera patients. Today it plays a no less vital role. Until Covid-19 came along it was, along with the Royal Victoria High Security Infectious Diseases Unit in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, one of only two hospitals in Britain capable of handling in isolation a patient infected with a deadly pathogen. A few lessons have been learned since then. Back in 2006 the former Russian KGB officer and defector Alexander Litvinenko would have been taken there if only they had known what was wrong with him from the start. By the time the nuclear scientists at Aldermaston’s Atomic Weapons Establishment had detected the lethally high levels of radioactive Polonium-210 poison in his urine it was already too late to save him. He died three miles to the south, at University College London Hospital.