Ice Age

by Brian Freemantle

  Immediately, tensed in a readiness that overrode any lingering concern, Raisa declared: ‘What’s just happened was utterly inconceivable and came from total incompetence. Why was a basic test like that not conducted?’ It had to be capitalized upon – used totally to wash away her first day difficulties – and not allowed to be swept aside or forgotten. Moscow certainly needed to be told. And by her, ahead of Lyalin.

  ‘A very bad and serious mistake was made,’ sighed Pelham heavily, seemingly unable to look directly at anyone. ‘I personally apologize to each of you. It most definitely shouldn’t have arisen. The only good outcome is that Jack didn’t turn out to be a carrier.’

  ‘Is the danger entirely over?’ queried Geraldine. ‘If a virus is dormant within a cell, would a swab test give any indication of its hidden presence after all other tests failed to show it?’

  The question was put specifically to Raisa and the Russian felt the warmth of long overdue professional recognition. ‘Yes,’ declared Raisa positively. ‘There’s definitely no longer any risk. But that doesn’t excuse or remove the fact that the potential for an unimaginable catastrophe was absurdly allowed to arise.’

  Stoddart’s renewed blip of alarm at Geraldine’s question went as quickly as it came. ‘But it didn’t turn out to be a catastrophe, potential or otherwise.’ He looked invitingly to Raisa. ‘So let’s talk about what’s come from Moscow?’

  Raisa humped her shoulders in what she hoped was a resigned gesture. ‘Since I left, all the surviving victims have died,’ she announced, to get rid of her original lie. ‘But there’s everything else. All autopsy reports and research translations – and originals – and every specimen taken, from every victim, for comparison analysis here.’

  ‘We’re ready in the laboratories,’ said Pelham, anxious for activity – anxious most of all to find something that would re-establish the credibility of himself and his scientists – after the failure for which he had to take personal responsibility.

  After all that had happened in the last few hours it didn’t seem to Stoddart to be the right moment to announce the President’s Environmental Agency intention, which in truth had very little to do with them in any practical term and for the moment actually seemed inconsequential. Time enough – better timing, in fact – to tell them later. He said: ‘We’ve got a lot of reading, to bring ourselves completely up to date.’

  Despite the isolation chamber interruption, Raisa was satisfied she’d filleted everything that was necessary from the Moscow material to prove her viral theory to be the cause of the disease without any supposed help – and certainly without any interference – from anyone here. She most certainly had to get the clock difference right the following day, to ensure she reached Sergei Grenkov at the Institute.

  ‘Nothing like that’s ever got to be allowed to happen again!’ insisted Henry Partington. They were still in the unrecorded private office, the man already seeking advantages.

  ‘No, sir,’ said Spencer, his mind already going in the same direction.

  ‘I think it would be an idea if Paul – and Amanda – cleared visits here through me, in advance,’ tried Morgan.

  Partington, locked in inner concentration, didn’t respond and Spencer kept the smile long enough for the Chief of Staff to see it. Partington, who at the height of his terror had imagined a sacrificial hero’s state funeral at Arlington rivalling that of JFK, but was glad now he hadn’t mentioned it aloud, said: ‘We really could have died.’

  I really could have died, the other two men translated, simultaneously.

  ‘Yes, Mr President,’ agreed Morgan.

  ‘It was a very real and serious possibility,’ expanded Spencer.

  ‘We’ll let it be known what we went through, when everything gets into the public domain,’ decided the man. How I personally but willingly faced a horror death to protect my country and its people from a similar fate.

  ‘It’s something that should be publicly known,’ said Morgan.

  ‘Taking the swab tests was a very necessary medical precaution,’ said Spencer, the answer to another pressing problem coming to him.

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Partington, expectantly.

  ‘It would be totally justified – an equally necessary medical precaution – for such tests to be carried out on the personnel at McMurdo and Amundsen-Scott,’ stated Spencer. ‘You’d be far more liable to criticism, Mr President, for not ordering such a mass examination than for keeping so many people there against their will when the reason does get into the public domain. Despite the time it will still take – added to by the swabs needing to be brought back here for analysis – it’s essential the people are kept there, as you so rightly decided at the very beginning.’

  Partington looked around the room, as if reminding himself there was no later historical risk in speaking openly. ‘That’s another neat solution,’ he agreed.

  ‘You weren’t frightened, were you?’ demanded Amanda, in the darkness.

  ‘No,’ said Reynell.

  ‘How could you not have been!’ She had needed the drink but she hadn’t arrived at the Hay Adams intending to go to bed with him, although the thought that he might this time hit on her had always been in Amanda’s mind. She wasn’t sorry that she had. He’d made love to her dispassionately but considerately – with something, even, of a professionalism – ensuring she orgasmed twice before allowing himself to and just as dispassionately but experimentally she’d made sure he did. It had actually gone beyond pleasure. It had confirmed her impression that she and Reynell were so totally similar they could have been cast from the same dye, gender being the only difference.

  ‘I knew – absolutely knew! – it wasn’t my time,’ he said. ‘I’ve got far too far to go.’

  ‘Asshole,’ she said, trying to dent the vainglory.

  ‘Your choice,’ he said.

  Twenty-One

  Robin Turner alerted the Kyoto conference signatories to the forthcoming announcement and Partington personally sent official notes to the Russian and French leaders and the British premier. He ensured Amanda had sufficient time in advance of their being delivered to tell the three ministers working with her at Blair House and had the fervently rehabilitating Spencer issue Jack Stoddart with an ultimatum appointment. It wasn’t, however, presented as such. It was actually a written and signed memorandum asking Stoddart to provide a definitive assessment as America’s foremost environmentalist of such an historic proclamation. The officialdom – and the officialese – briefly bewildered Stoddart until he acknowledged that both was precisely that, official, produceable documentation of a president covering his ass against any unforeseen oversight, error, debacle or lightning bolt from an emission-fogged heaven. One or several of which, Stoddart judged – a number of decisions already reached – the man might have brought upon himself. Stoddart wondered if kamikaze pilots had felt as suspended from reality as he did, about to risk annihilation. On a far less immediate and practical level the presidential edict enabled him belatedly to disclose the president’s plans – and his intended acceptance – to his Fort Detrick group. It was the only new and practical development of that day.

  The overall reaction, both in DC and Maryland, was mixed, surprisingly limited and once more confused.

  At Blair House the uncertainty was largely confined to Peter Reynell. Both Gerard Buchemin and Gregori Lyalin, assured by Amanda that the president was communicating personally and directly with their respective leaders, decided there was no need for their involvement beyond advising Paris and Moscow of their prior awareness. Reynell’s priority was to use the American move to his maximum and further advantage, which required his getting his moves in precisely their right order. He timed his first embassy-routed call to Simon Buxton knowing the prime minister would be unavailable during Prime Minister’s Questions in the House of Commons, instead leaving the vaguest of vague messages with Buxton’s parliamentary secretary that he would supplement the direct presidential approach still to be made
with an equally provable memorandum in the diplomatic pouch.

  Reynell hurried away from the embassy to make himself unavailable for Buxton’s return call, and from the greater comfort of his Hay Adams suite succeeded in reaching the instantly available Foreign Secretary before the man heard from the American Secretary of State – an unexpected bonus – and dominated the conversation assessing the American move to be an unquestionable criticism-limiting exercise. They should, insisted Reynell, ride on the back of it – and for the same reason – by having ready to coincide with the Washington invitation emission control statistics at least five per cent lower than those already agreed in Kyoto, knowing from what he’d researched since his return from London that Britain had already achieved its Japan-agreed target.

  Reynell succeeded just as quickly in reaching Lord Ranleigh and again controlled the exchange, urging that in advance of the Washington media event, rumours be started that the British success in meeting the Kyoto agreement had been achieved despite, rather than because of, Simon Buxton’s leadership, which could be supported by the lack of any publicly provable or quotable commitment by the man, which Reynell also knew from the checks he’d had made since arriving back in Washington.

  ‘We’re getting solid backing here,’ assured Ranleigh.

  ‘Let’s hope we can maintain it.’

  ‘We’re going to build upon it until you’re unassailable,’ promised the older man.

  ‘That sounds good,’ said Reynell. None of them had any idea how unassailable he was going to make himself, once he got the job.

  The connection to Simon Buxton was immediate when Reynell finally called, again from the embassy, and by then the American president’s courtesy message had already been delivered from the Grosvenor Square embassy and Robin Turner had been in personal contact with an already alerted Ralph Prendergast. Unlike his earlier conversations with London, Reynell didn’t attempt to lead, instead responding – always shortly – to Buxton’s questions.

  ‘They obviously expect a leak,’ insisted Buxton. ‘Partington’s trying to cover himself.’

  ‘That’s fairly obvious.’

  ‘We should do the same; be part of what Partington’s going to do … make it joint …’

  The man was lost without someone else to follow, thought Reynell, saying nothing.

  ‘What do you think?’ demanded Buxton, openly conceding his need.

  ‘Partington communicated directly with you,’ Reynell pointed out. ‘It’s a matter between leaders …’ He smiled to himself at the intentional pause. ‘I’m assuming, of course, that you wouldn’t want me to take part in whatever event the man’s planning to make the announcement …?’

  ‘No!’ said Buxton, hurriedly. ‘It’s something I should discuss with him personally.’

  ‘That’s probably what you should do.’ Buxton’s refusal to let him become involved, which Reynell didn’t for a moment imagine Partington would have even contemplated, was something to be remembered and used later as an example of the man putting personality ahead of proper political responsibility.

  At Fort Detrick, Raisa Orlov was pulled by conflicting frustrations. She was impatient to reach Sergei Grenkov in Moscow, to discuss what had been detected in the blood of the two Russian victims, which she had held back, and discover if there were any comparable findings in the American specimens, although acknowledging if there were that they should have been detected by Fort Detrick analyses. But having had time to reflect more rationally beyond the fiasco that overwhelmingly compensated for her first day problems, Raisa thought that if Walter Pelham and his so-called top scientists could have allowed an oversight as appalling as not having taken carrier swabs – as well as failing to detect the necrosis the Englishwoman had isolated – then all their experiments could be suspect. Or at least justify secondary examination. Raisa’s only conflict regarding this matter was yet again with Gregori Lyalin, who had said during their discussion of the American president’s environmental intention that he saw no purpose diplomatically in exaggerating an oversight that caused no harm. Lyalin’s failure – or refusal to – acknowledge that made his competence suspect, too. For her to do nothing – putting Lyalin’s far less qualified opinion above her own – actually threatened her professional integrity. So there was every reason for her to go over Lyalin’s head. Paramount in Raisa’s mind was that properly presented – and with nothing else in the current hiatus to do except concentrate upon that presentation – such an account spared her and by inference Russia from any culpability for any medical investigatory lapse whatsoever, each and every one of which could be turned back upon America. So most unarguable of all was the need for Moscow to be fully informed. Completing her decision, Raisa decided that for her to be shown to be above any personality conflict she would actually copy everything to Gregori Lyalin. None of which could be achieved from provincial Maryland.

  Stoddart’s overdue social invitation that night to eat outside the complex in a plastic-beamed, gas-fired log-grated tavern – in which, contrastingly, the food was excellent – provided Raisa with the moment to passingly mention that she was returning to Washington the following day. Raisa was curious if Walter Pelham would be with them, which he wasn’t and which gave her further although unnecessary confirmation of the American embarrassment, which she decided also had to be included in what went in the diplomatic pouch to Moscow.

  It was an awkward and stilted evening, despite the efforts of Stoddart and Geraldine both individually and together – hardening Raisa’s unfounded belief in a personal relationship – to make it the amicable evening it was intended to be. Dupuy very quickly stopped bothering to cover his disinterest and Raisa, who’d set out to enjoy her recovery and acceptance, gave up when the efforts of Stoddart and Geraldine ceased to be amusing.

  There was a moment at the end of the evening when Raisa was in the rest room and Dupuy was collecting his coat when Stoddart was alone in the reception area with Geraldine.

  ‘Cambridge – Cambridge, England – is taking too long on the original genetic tests. I’d appreciate a ride down with you tomorrow, to stir up some action through the embassy.’

  ‘I was thinking of checking out my apartment at Fairfax that I closed up before going to McMurdo; of staying overnight maybe.’

  ‘I’ll get the embassy to check me in somewhere. You could pick me up on your way through in the morning.’

  ‘Sure.’ He should offer a ride to Raisa Orlov, too, although after tonight he didn’t want to.

  The preparation, in such a comparatively although necessarily short time, was impressive. Even on the briefing cards, credit was given to three of Stoddart’s most apocalyptic warnings – with all of which he was now, strangely, uncomfortable – and in the text of the verbatim prompt to run unseen on his podium screen as Partington addressed the press conference, each was set out in full for the president to quote, if he chose. The supporting statistics stopped well short of making the presentation indigestable, but what at first surprised Stoddart most of all was the apparent apologetic tone of the speech until Stoddart recognized how cleverly the responsibility for America’s failure to meet its Kyoto undertakings was very positively being made that of the previous White House incumbent, whose nonperformance Partington was belatedly but dramatically setting out to correct and more than fulfil.

  Despite his awareness of the motivation – despite, even, not wanting to be – Stoddart was impressed by the breadth of Partington’s seeming although unspecific commitment, until he recognized how well it fitted his own undeclared intentions.

  ‘What’s been missed that needs to be added?’ demanded Partington. Already with Paul Spencer in the private, unrecorded office when Stoddart arrived, had been the nervously thin, notebook-poised speechwriter who had been introduced as Barry Tilson. Stoddart hadn’t personally met the press spokesman, Carson Boddington, although he recognized the man from countless televised White House media briefings.

  ‘Nothing, I don’t think,’ s
aid Stoddart, to the obvious relief of both Spencer and Tilson. ‘Everything that needs to be has been properly covered.’ He had another fleeting kamikaze impression.

  Partington appeared disappointed. ‘You don’t think anything should be improved, pointed up more obviously?’

  ‘I think it’s all fine.’ Stoddart made a mental note to tell Geraldine later how the president had physically held back from any greeting when he’d entered the small room.

  Partington eased further, contentedly, into his chair. The other three men followed. The president said: ‘Which only leaves you, Jack …?’

  Formally Stoddart said: ‘I’ll take the position you’ve offered me, Mr President—’

  ‘Of course you will,’ broke in Partington, not bothering to disguise his impatience at what he clearly saw to have been importance-building posturing about which, Stoddart supposed, the man was an expert.

  ‘With some additional suggestions,’ abruptly added Stoddart.

  Partington instantly became wary. ‘What?’

  It would, thought Stoddart, be a rehearsal – even perhaps an excuse – of sorts for what he hoped to follow. Consciously – cynically – flattering, he said that by announcing the environmental conference in the wording of the speech, the president was making it a very positive, personal commitment. Which he, Stoddart assured, even more forcefully and publicly intended to match in every way possible. But they’d already acknowledged the problem of his being at Ford Detrick and he didn’t believe they should rely upon the existing environmental and ecological agencies properly to combine to create in his absence the absolutely binding agenda necessary – and publicly expected – after what the president was going to say today. ‘We’ve got two survivors from Alaska, now cleared. If they were given facilities here they could be my liaison, until I can take over more fully, to detail what we have to establish on an agenda they’ll understand without my having to explain in detail. They already know. And because they know it won’t be possible, in my absence, for them to be sidetracked or outmanoeuvred by environmentalists with their own, conflicting agendas or those whose colour preference is simply green …’ Stoddart needed to pause, at the same time regretting the tail-off glibness. Quickly he picked up: ‘And if they’re my bridge, there’ll be no danger of media curiosity at why I’m not as absolutely hands-on, which they know me always to have been in the past. And also be the barrier to anyone knowing why – and where – I am at Fort Detrick.’