Spears of Defiance

by David Holman

  He put down the phone and looking out of the window at the approaching jeeps coming from the direction of the barracks, decided instead of a beer, he would now be needing an extremely large scotch.

  8

  Alex Swan drove his Triumph Stag through the main gate of the Microbiological Research Establishment at Porton Down.

  Beside him, Gable observed the high security procedures as a uniformed guard approached the elegant looking sports car. He admired the Tahiti blue coachwork while another guard stood waiting at the end of the red and white striped barrier for confirmation to raise it.

  Swan showed the man his credentials, informing him they were expected.

  The guard touched the tip of his black peaked cap, gave Swan directions for the main building and waved them through.

  After parking in front of the building, the two SID men entered and found the office of Dr Steven Ambrose.

  Ambrose was head of the Agricultural Agents Department for which Baines had also been working in. He was a small man in his mid-fifties with a bald patch of grey hair. He greeted the pair and ushered them inside his small and almost empty office. 'Gentlemen, may I offer you some coffee? I was just about to have some myself.'

  The two SID men invited this and Ambrose picked up a telephone to order some.

  The microbiologist decided to come straight to the point. 'I believe you're looking into the death of Professor Baines? '

  Swan nodded. 'That' s correct Doctor. We were hoping that checking out where he worked would give us more of an insight into why he died. I was wondering if you could tell us what he was working on?’

  Ambrose shuffled in his seat, and opening the drawer of his desk, retrieved a brown file. 'We’re all assigned to the same thing here which is looking into the development of an enhanced chemical fertiliser to aid in the growing of wheat.’

  Swan was suddenly surprised by this, expecting something a lot more sensitive. He thumbed through the file passed to him. 'I see, and this fertiliser is something which will be beneficial?’

  Ambrose smiled. 'Indeed it will be, Mr Swan. You see, if we are able to enhance the current wheat crop, not only will we see an earlier harvest in this country, but in the Third World, making such a crop resistant to drought could help sustain a nation's food supply and reduce famine in countries which most suffer.'

  ‘Sounds like it will be a major breakthrough, then?' Swan realised he wasn't getting anywhere with this so decided to ask his questions. 'Tell me, Doctor. What was Baines like to work with?'

  Ambrose explained, his colleague liked to work mainly alone and was a quiet man who shared little information about his personal life. 'He simply hated to be disturbed, especially when trying to produce a formula in the laboratory.'

  Gable scribbled some notes onto a pad resting on his lap as Swan continued. 'Did he socialise much with the staff here?'

  ‘Not much actually. He did tend to be a bit of a workaholic, sometimes spending the night to work over problems we ran into with our experiments.'

  Swan watched Gable record this. 'So, was this always his field of work here, or did he ever work on anything else?'

  Ambrose suddenly became flustered. 'You mean, did he work on any of the top secret stuff? He was assigned to a military project a few years ago, which went nowhere.'

  ‘Do you happen to know what that was?'

  Ambrose took a few breaths. 'All I know, was it had something to do with the biometric breakdown of crops, a bit like Agent Orange as used by the Yanks in Vietnam. It would render fully fertilized fields completely infertile, and Baines was tasked to research in how prolonged this could be. We don't really get to know the reasons behind these clandestine projects, but what I do know, is that he found a way to prolong this agent so that it rendered the fields infertile for probably eternity.’

  Swan suddenly took an interest. 'So, it was Baines who came up with this?'

  ‘Oh yes. Horace was quite proud of himself having discovered this, but then I remember him thinking about it afterwards and quoting what Oppenheimer said after he tested the first Atom Bomb, I have become Death - the destroyer of worlds.'

  Gable recorded this. 'But you said the project was abandoned?'

  ‘That' s correct, Mr Gable. Horace was quite upset as I can recall. He felt he had been swept aside and devalued by it all.’

  Swan cut in. 'Was there any special classification for this biological agent?'

  ‘Yes, there was - it was known as LX435, but Horace made up his own name for it.'

  'And what was that?'

  Ambrose chuckled to himself. 'By the sounds of what this thing was capable of, he came up with a very appropriate name indeed - he called it, Locust Rain.'

  Swan and Gable just stared at each other - the silence between them could be cut with a knife.

  Swan then suddenly had a thought. 'Is this Locust Rain still here?'

  Ambrose checked himself, deciding these two men had the authority for him to answer. 'I believe it is,’ he nodded, ‘you could also have a chat with Professor Sparrow. He was the project leader for LX435.’ Ambrose informed them of where he could be located. The Department they needed was situated on the other side of the site. He sighed. ‘Poor Horace. I know he was an odd chap, but for this to happen is awful. No more Japanese holidays. He really loved Japan.’

  Gable recalled all the Japanese art he had seen in Baines’s flat. ‘Yes, he obviously went there quite often.’

  Ambrose smiled. ‘Indeed, he did, Mr Gable. Every May, without fail. Always joked of bringing back a Japanese girl to marry so he could live their culture over here. He had a first in the language.’

  Swan suddenly remembered the novel. If Baines was fluent, why did he need to write down Japanese words and their translations in the blank pages? He stood up and shook hands. ‘Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been most helpful.’

  Walking across to where they had been directed, Gable soon realised due to the presence of more uniformed guards, they had entered a much more sensitive area. On arrival, Swan again flashed his warrant card. Professor Sparrow was a complete contrast to Dr Ambrose, being over six foot and a lot younger with black hair and a moustache. He smiled his greeting to them beckoning to follow him to an office. This office was also different to the one they had just been to with two filing cabinets, a photocopier machine and on another desk of the room, sat a typewriter.

  Swan and Gable sat opposite Sparrow at his main desk.

  The man’s eyes darted from one SID officer to the other. 'What can I do for you, gentlemen?'

  Swan informed him of the reason for their visit to Porton Down and they needed more information to what the victim Baines had been working on, namely LRX 435 Locust Rain.

  They then listened, as the Professor explained practically what they had picked up from Ambrose. Then, Sparrow began to explain more.

  'We got to Phase 2 of the project, after conducting Phase 1 in the laboratory. This was done at our outstation at RAF Chawley. We used Field 5 for the test, then once the results were recorded, the field was sprayed with petrol and set alight. After Phase 2, the whole project was cancelled,' he concluded. Sparrow rose from his desk and going to one of the filing cabinets, pulled out a bulky manila file classified Top Secret. It contained documents, maps and photographs. He then handed it to Swan. 'It's all in there, including the formula.'

  Swan and Gable huddled their chairs together to examine through the contents. When they had finished, Swan was about to close it when he noticed a diagram of a missile with a cutaway view showing its warhead loaded with LRX 435. In a bigger diagram, was a silhouette of a military strike aircraft showing the positions of four of these missiles mounted under the wings. The plane was the outline of a Buccaneer. He stared at the image for a few seconds then thumbed the pages for the rest of the file. At the end, he paused and stared back at Sparrow. ‘You said the formula is in this file?’

  Sparrow nodded, ‘that’s right, Mr Swan, at the back in the foolscap envelope.’r />
  Swan checked again. ‘I’m sorry, Professor, the envelope you are talking about doesn’t seem to be here.’ He pushed it back towards Sparrow who opened it back up again and flicked through the pages at a frantic speed.

  ‘I don’t understand. It was always in here attached to the treasury tags.’

  Swan glanced at Gable then turned back to Sparrow. ‘Professor, is there any chance we can see this Locust Rain in the flesh, so to speak, for ourselves?’

  Sparrow led Swan and Gable over to C Block and into a lift which took them to the basement.

  When the door opened again, they noticed a long corridor in front of them. ‘This way gentlemen,’ beckoned Sparrow.

  The three men walked its length to a set of double doors, above which was a sign - Authorised Personnel Only.

  Sparrow pushed some numbers on a keypad. Inside, there were two sets of glass doors. He went over to a wall with a set of white overalls, pulled two from the hooks and handed them to his visitors. ‘You’re just about to enter a clean area so will need to put these on.’

  Swan and Gable quickly slipped them over their clothes while the professor, after selecting another suit, did the same. He caught Gable staring at some respirators with attached visors lying on a metal table.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mr Gable. You won’t be needing one of those. You’ll find the face mask and latex gloves in the pockets of your overalls sufficient enough - we’re only going to be entering the non-toxic area.’ He pointed to a room marked Specimen Room A, then pointed to another door with a small glass window marked Specimen Room B. A yellow hazard sign with skull and crossbones hung above it. ‘The nasty stuff is through there. We call that the Black Hole.’

  Gable swallowed. Staring at the black door, he shuddered to think what lurked behind it: the poison gas, the Anthrax, and who knows what other biological weapons specifically engineered to wipe out enemy populations.

  Swan broke his concentration. ‘It’s all like something out of an Alistair MacLean novel.’

  Then, silent to their own personal thoughts, they followed Sparrow over to Specimen

  Room A, which he then opened by pulling on a handle to release the seal around it. He gestured them inside then closed it again so they were now in between the two doors.

  Gable looked up to see rows of fine nozzles on the ceiling and Sparrow pushed a green button and the hiss of gas ejected from the nozzles, anointing them. ‘You need to put your masks and gloves on now gentlemen,’ he beckoned.

  After checking they had followed his instruction, he opened the other glass door and they walked inside.

  Swan and Gable took in their surroundings. It seemed they had stepped into the laboratory of a mad scientist with work tables and racks full of test tubes, flasks and small round containers. Also, haphazardly arranged, were Bunsen burners, desk lamps and microscopes.

  Sparrow went over to a small metal cabinet beside a poster of test tubes from a company called Osprey Glass. After retrieving a key from his pocket, he inserted it into the lock of the cabinet and opened it. He then pulled off another key from a hook inside.

  The two SID men noticed it was like no ordinary key any of them had seen before, its asymmetrical shape being difficult to copy.

  Just below it, was a small black book which the professor opened and wrote into, before placing it back inside the cabinet.

  Swan saw it was to record who accessed the room they were about to enter.

  Sparrow inserted the strange-looking key, opened the door and led them inside. Around the dove grey walls, were a series of glass boxes which looked like a set of pigeon holes. He led them to the back of the room where just visible through the opaque glass were sets of phials placed inside circular metallic holders. Sparrow moved over towards one of the boxes marked with a big red number 2, and opening it, froze to the spot.

  Swan went over and stood next to him. It was more than obvious what had startled their host. The holder was designed to take eight tubes, but there were only six.

  ‘I really don’t understand,’ Sparrow stammered, ‘there seems to be two missing,’

  Swan pulled out one of the tubes and looked at the handwritten label just below the manufacturer’s symbol of an osprey in flight embossed on the glass- ‘LXR 435,’ he read aloud. ‘Locust Rain.’

  Sparrow put his hand to his forehead. ‘Christ almighty. You both realise what this could mean?’

  Swan placed back the tube of cloudy liquid into the holder. ‘Yes, Doctor.’ He stared at both men. ‘Baines must’ve taken the two missing phials - and now he’s dead.’

  Later, as Swan drove his car under the raised barrier, Gable looked through his notes. 'So, Locust Rain was a decommissioned biological weapon, Alex?'

  Swan nodded. 'And our victim, worked on it right up to its cancellation. Question now is, could he have tried to maybe sell it? Sparrow did mention he was disgruntled about how he had been treated by the authorities.'

  Gable agreed this could have been the case. 'And whoever had decided to buy it couldn't afford to have any loose ends, and that's why Baines has ended up dead.'

  Swan was content with this theory. 'Which means, somewhere out there, a terrifying biological weapon is being manufactured, and Baines was murdered for it. For what purpose is anyone's guess right now.'

  Gable put away the notebook into his jacket. 'So where do we go from here?'

  Swan turned, giving him a dejected look. We go absolutely nowhere, Andrew – we don’t seem to have any more leads.'

  As Swan swung the car onto the road leading them to the A338, back to London, he thought this would be a good opportunity to let his colleague into something else. ‘Andrew? While we decide on our next move in this case, there’s something not connected with this case, I need to talk to you about.’

  Gable was suddenly intrigued. ‘What’s that, Alex?

  ‘Something called Operation Butterfly.’

  By the time they had got to the M3 motorway, Gable had been fully briefed on the missing Buccaneer. He also now knew the reason for Janet’s concern for her husband’s mood these past few days.

  9

  The pub Munroe and Hennessy had chosen was crowded tonight and filled mainly with tourists. The Regent’s Canal had become a popular London attraction and had now spawned an evening clientele to rival that of trendy Covent Garden.

  Siobhan Hennessy watched the South African swerve his way through the crowd from the bar with their drinks. Eventually, he got to the table presenting her with her Jameson and Coke with ice. He had chosen a pint of Carlsberg lager.

  Their day had been an exhausting one, spent visiting the London landmarks and getting in as many art galleries as their cultural appreciation could take.

  Munroe sat squatted on the barstool opposite her. She suddenly noticed his eyes were concentrated on two parts of the room. ‘What’s the matter?’

  He lifted his glass. ‘I’ve seen too much of a certain lumberjacket today. There’s a guy over the far side wearing one, and I swear, I saw someone wearing the same design at Madame Tussaud’s. There’s another guy over this side in a green coat. I think I also saw him in the Natural History Museum.’

  Hennessy pretended to have a casual look around and spied the two men. She was good at this type of counter surveillance, using it well, when reconnoitring potential bombing targets in Belfast. She looked back at Munroe. ‘You don’t suppose they could be Brits, Special Branch or MI5, and on to us?’

  Munroe discreetly looked at them again. Lumberjacket then stood up and walked over to the payphone booths situated on the other side of the bar. He picked up the receiver and after a few seconds placed his money in and spoke to someone on the other end.

  The call lasted about four minutes, then he walked back and standing next to his colleague, started to talk to him.

  Munroe did not need any more action from them to know they were being tailed by these two strangers.

  Almost an hour later, Hennessy rose, informing him she was off
to the toilet and Munroe watched as the two men followed her with their eyes. They were suddenly alerted to others who had entered the pub, stood for a few moments and then walked towards them. This was not looking good, thought Munroe.

  As soon as Hennessy returned from the toilet, he decided they would finish their drinks and leave. Munroe felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His heart then skipped a beat as he observed one of these men walk towards the toilets, and without hesitation, enter the Ladies. Realising this meant trouble, Munroe leapt up from his seat.

  The three men saw him and Lumberjacket started to race over.

  Munroe got there first and burst through the door to find the man with his hand around the girl’s throat. He took two strides to get to him, pulled him back and placed a right upper cut to his jaw.

  The man fell backwards, but managed to stay on his feet. He sprang forward grabbing Munroe by the shoulders and head-butted him.

  Munroe was stunned, but shook it off, retaliating with a kick to the stomach.

  Behind him, Lumberjacket entered and grabbed him from behind while the other, having recovered, punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

  Munroe puffed for breath. The man was about to repeat his action when he thrust his head back smashing the other man’s nose.

  Blood poured as he let go of his assailant to nurse it. Free from his grip, the South African kicked out, sending the other man flying into a cubicle.

  Hennessy was pressed against the tiled wall by a third man who had entered and was asking her questions.

  ‘Why did you meet with the Libyan, Siobhan?’ The accent was distinctly Irish.

  Munroe was still scuffling with one of the men while trying to fend himself from the other one.