‘Do you ever sleep?’
‘Evidently not while I’m working for you.’
‘What’s up?’
‘About two hours ago, a homeless man was admitted to the East City Hospital with burns to his face and hands,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘He was taken in for examination and was violently sick.’
A chill wormed its way down Dan’s spine. ‘Radiation poisoning?’
‘Exactly. That’s what the hospital has informed the police.’
Dan glanced over his shoulder as Sarah rolled over and sat up, the sheet held against her chest, her hair mussed up by sleep.
She frowned at him. Who is it? she mouthed.
‘Hang on, Mel; I’m going to put you on speaker phone. Sarah’s here,’ he said. ‘You can trust her. She’s the one that found out about the attack at the project site in the first place.’
‘Okay.’
‘Any more detail?’ Dan asked and placed the phone on top of the sheets before turning up the volume.
‘The police spoke to the man as soon as the hospital let them. He says he’d been sleeping in a warehouse off Commercial Road. It’s a regular haunt of his. Except this time, two men arrived with a large four-wheel drive vehicle yesterday.’
‘The stolen one from the project site?’
‘Yes. He had the sense to write down the licence plate.’
‘What else?’ Sarah leaned forward.
‘The two men unloaded what the homeless man called a large silver-coloured box. Apparently a second vehicle – a car – had been left under a tarpaulin. The homeless man didn’t see that get delivered; he goes out begging every morning, so it must’ve arrived then. The men left with the car late yesterday afternoon.’
‘Licence plate?’
‘No,’ said Mel. ‘He never got a chance to get near it before the two men left. But the homeless man gave the police a description of the car and the two men, and they’re running it through the traffic camera system to see if they can track it.’
‘Shit.’ Dan pushed the sheets away and reached out for his boxer shorts. ‘That isotope could be anywhere by now.’
‘What happened to the homeless man?’ asked Sarah. ‘Surely he didn’t get sick from watching at a distance?’
‘The men left the four-wheel drive behind,’ said Mel. ‘It seems he got too nosey for his own good. He had a dig around in the vehicle to see if there was anything valuable in it. It sounds like he got contaminated then.’
‘Where’s the homeless guy now?’ asked Dan as he hopped on one foot, trying to put his jeans on as fast as he could. ‘Can we talk to him?’
There was a pause at the end of the line before Mel answered.
‘Sorry, boss. He died twenty minutes ago,’ she said. ‘But you might want to call Dr Michael Draper.’
‘He was treating the homeless guy?’
‘No,’ said Mel. ‘He’s the leader of the radioactive hazard team who are on their way to the warehouse.’
CHAPTER 27
Dan wrapped his hands around the polystyrene takeout cup and blew across the surface of the coffee.
Across the street, a tape fluttered in the breeze between two posts, its surface depicting the three-pronged international symbol for radiation.
At each end of the industrial estate, far away from the warehouse, police vehicles blocked access to the public and media. Road closure signs diverted all traffic away from the area. A press conference had been held half an hour ago at the nearby town hall, the spokesperson taking no questions and citing the UK’s expansive anti-terrorism campaign as the reason for the closure.
The press hung around anyway, hopeful for a last-minute scoop, while the workers turned their cars round and headed for home, grateful for the free day off and for the fact they hadn’t been caught up in whatever was going on.
Dan watched as the first of the HAZMAT team members emerged from the building.
The man’s shoulders were slumped; it had been an early start for all of them and not one that they’d welcomed.
Any threat of a radiation leak was cause for concern, especially when it occurred in a location where the public had been exposed.
His movements were precise, clinical, as he walked towards the staging area and then entered a specialist wash unit, its blue plastic walls a stark contrast against the greyness of the buildings that towered over it.
The rest of the small team of experts began to emerge from the warehouse and waited patiently next to the shower for their turn, their colleagues keeping a respectful distance. One by one, they trooped through the process, discarded overalls being pushed into sealed containers, ready for incineration.
The lead scientist emerged from the last plastic cubicle, now dressed in jeans and a polo shirt emblazoned with the government agency’s logo. He glanced up, raised a hand at Dan, and began to walk towards him.
Dan dropped his coffee cup into a plastic bag and deposited it in a biohazard bin before calling out to the scientist.
‘You’re not hot, are you?’ he asked, a frown creasing his forehead, the temptation to back away stronger than he’d like to have admitted.
The scientist chuckled. ‘No. Not now. I’d hate to think what those shower chemicals are doing to my immune system, but given the alternative…’ He ran a hand through wet hair. ‘Are you the chap from the government?’
‘Sort of. Dan Taylor.’
‘Mike Draper.’
They shook hands and then turned to watch the rest of the team file through the shower system.
‘Did you find anything?’
‘Significant traces of radioactive activity in the four-wheel drive vehicle,’ said Mike. ‘Certainly more than I’d expect if the vials were intact. You were right – you’ve definitely got a leak on your hands.’
‘Jesus.’ Dan squinted down the road, looking at the graffiti that adorned other abandoned warehouses, his mind turning to the homeless man that had died. ‘Thank god no kids found it first.’
‘I know.’
‘What do you think happened here?’ Dan jutted his chin towards the warehouse.
‘My best guess is that they have no idea the vials are leaking,’ said the scientist. ‘I think they’re simply following their pre-arranged plan. Lie low here, knowing the second vehicle is already hidden, and then wait a day and move on.’
‘And wherever they’re hiding, if there are other people around, they’re going to get sick, too, aren’t they?’
Draper nodded. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Shit.’ Dan watched as, one by one, the team of scientists emerged from the showers, freshly dressed in more casual wear. ‘What do you do now?’
‘We’ll keep the area closed off. It’s going to take a while to get the place decontaminated,’ explained Mike. ‘And by that, I mean months, not days or weeks.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Look, it’s not my place to enquire too closely about what people like you do for the government, but you have to understand – the people that have those other vials? They’re going to start getting sick and quickly.’
‘How quickly?’
‘The homeless man that reported this probably succumbed to the symptoms a lot faster as he wasn’t that healthy to start off with.’
‘What about a healthy person, say, someone like me?’
Draper shrugged. ‘At best, they’ve got a day or two. After that, they’re going to go downhill fast.’
Dan exhaled, his mind working overtime.
If the thieves had radiation poisoning, they were likely to start acting more erratic, perhaps bringing their plans forward in light of the fact they were going to die soon – or be under arrest as soon as they entered a hospital with symptoms.
And he was still no closer to finding out who they were or what those plans entailed.
‘It does make you wonder whether they have any contingencies in place,’ said Draper.
‘What do you mean?’
The scientist shrugged. ‘A “Plan B”,’ he said. ‘You don’t carry this
stuff around with you and not have a back-up plan.’
Dan rubbed his chin. ‘Between you and me, I don’t think they’re the ones that will use it,’ he said. ‘I’m getting the distinct impression they really are just thieves – stealing things to order. Otherwise, they would’ve opened the case here and discovered the leak.’
‘Well, I hope they got a good payout to leave in their wills.’
‘So it’s a suicide mission?’
‘With the levels of isotope they’ve been exposed to?’ said Draper. ‘It is now.’
CHAPTER 28
‘Dan? Dan!’
Dan’s eyes shot open, his heart racing. His fingers immediately sought out the gun on the bedside table, the pale afternoon light filtering through the curtains and across the sheets where he’d kicked them off in his sleep.
As he realised where he was, and who was calling him, he relaxed, pushed the gun away and checked his watch.
Two in the afternoon.
The effect of the painkillers and the early morning start had played havoc with his body clock.
‘Dan?’ Sarah appeared in the doorway, her face anxious. ‘You need to see this.’
Groggy from sleep and the painkillers Sarah had insisted he take when he’d returned from the warehouse, Dan climbed from the bed and pulled on his jeans. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Television. Now.’
Sarah disappeared from the door, and he heard her footsteps padding back down the stairs to the living area.
He tucked the gun into his waistband, grabbed his t-shirt, socks, and shoes from where he’d tossed them on the floor before collapsing with exhaustion only four hours before, and hurried after her. The faint aroma of coffee wafted up from the kitchen on the ground floor, and his stomach rumbled.
He ignored it, grabbed the bannister at the bottom of the stairs to slow his descent, and jogged across the landing and into the living area.
Sarah was standing in front of the large television, the remote in one hand while she tugged at a fingernail on the other with her teeth.
She pointed at the TV with the remote. ‘Look.’
Dan joined her, read the headline that screamed across the foot of the screen, and felt his mouth drop open in shock.
Radioactive isotope stolen from top-secret government project site.
‘Oh, shit,’ he murmured. ‘How the hell did that get out?’ He turned to Sarah. ‘Any of your contacts know who broke the story?’
She shook her head. ‘I had the radio on in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘I was going to make some coffee before I woke you.’ She jerked her head at the television. ‘As soon as I heard, I made some phone calls. No-one knows who leaked the story. Apparently, Hugh Porchester’s going to make an announcement within the next few minutes.’
Dan folded his arms and frowned at the screen.
On it, a row of television cameras and reporters were set up facing a backdrop with the logo of the government’s latest initiative blazed across it. A small lectern and microphone stand had been placed in front of it.
‘Where is this?’
‘Milton Keynes,’ said Sarah. ‘Apparently Porchester was visiting businesses in the area, promoting the new government tax rebates for small businesses when this blew up. This is the local Party office.’
They fell silent as the news announcer’s voice washed over them.
‘And here is the Right Honourable Hugh Porchester,’ said the woman. ‘Let’s hear what he has to say about this breaking story.’
The noise in the Party office lessened to a hum on the screen, broken only by the sound of cameras and reporters clearing their throats in readiness for the surge of questions that would be aimed at the PM’s senior advisor.
Hugh Porchester walked to the lectern with a prepared speech in his hand, and cleared his throat.
‘Thank you for being here at short notice,’ he began and then found his cue and looked straight down the camera lens in front of him.
‘The government has been made aware that a small amount of radioactive material has been stolen from a project site in the north of England,’ he said, ignoring his notes. ‘At this time, the emergency services and government departments are working together to locate the perpetrators of this crime and would ask that the public remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity immediately to the police.’
A reporter started to interrupt, but Porchester held up a hand to silence him. ‘At present,’ he continued, ‘we have reason to believe that the suspects removed the material from the site in a secure container and are currently in hiding.’
He checked his notes and then cast his eyes round the room. ‘We would ask that all media outlets use whatever means necessary to help us locate the stolen material. Use your contacts, your informants, and contact the police immediately if you believe you have information that can help them.’
‘Can this be used to make a dirty bomb?’ called out one of the reporters.
Porchester sighed. ‘What we are trying to do,’ he said, glaring at the journalist, ‘is convey to the public that only a small amount of radioactive material has been stolen. The risk to public health is minimal.’
‘He didn’t answer the question,’ Sarah murmured.
‘What about the man who died in the hospital?’ called out another journalist.
All the faces in the room turned to see who had asked the question and then back to Porchester, who appeared to gather his wits before answering.
‘He didn’t see that one coming,’ said Dan.
‘Late yesterday afternoon, a homeless man was rushed to hospital, where doctors confirmed he had been subjected to radiation, yes,’ said Porchester. ‘Police spoke with him to ascertain what his movements were, and an area of east London is currently under specialist investigation.’
There was a flurry of activity on the screen as reporters surged nearer to the lectern, peppering the politician with questions. He held up his hands to try to calm the onslaught.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you please,’ he said sternly. ‘As you will appreciate, this is still an open investigation, one which the emergency services and government departments have been working closely together to resolve.’
‘Where’s the Prime Minister, Hugh?’
Dan watched as Porchester seemed to sway at the lectern and then shook his head slightly and cleared his throat.
‘The Prime Minister is keeping a close eye on the situation, I believe,’ he said. ‘In the meantime, he is continuing with his commitments in Europe and meeting with the leaders of France and Germany over the coming days.’
Dan cocked an eyebrow at Sarah, but she shook her head and put her finger to her lips. He turned his attention back to the screen, where Porchester was wrapping up the press conference.
‘That’s all I’ve got time for,’ he said. ‘We’ll keep you up to date as we find out more.’
Sarah muted the television as Porchester left the lectern and disappeared out of shot.
Dan already had his mobile phone out and punched in Mel’s number.
She answered on the first ring. ‘Boss.’
‘How the hell did that story leak?’
‘We’re trying to find out the source,’ Mel said. ‘It was an anonymous call to the Guardian. Untraceable, of course, but I’m doing my best.’
‘Good of them to give the government the heads up.’
‘Serious situation,’ said Mel. ‘I think they realised they had a live one.’
‘Anyone contacting the PM yet?’
Mel sighed. ‘I don’t think it’s a case of us contacting him, boss. It’s more like his office will tell us when he wants to meet with us. In the meantime, we’ve got orders to liaise with Porchester, same as usual.’
Dan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, perched on the edge of the sofa, and began to pull on his socks and boots. ‘This changes everything,’ he said. ‘Whoever leaked the story just screwed up any deadline these suspects may have had. They’
ll panic. Act irrationally.’
‘Do you think Porchester was right?’ asked Mel. ‘About a dirty bomb? It is only a small amount of isotope that’s been stolen, right?’
‘A dirty bomb doesn’t have to be big, Mel,’ said Dan, raising his gaze to meet Sarah’s. ‘It just has to be big enough. Even if it’s a small explosion, with a low fallout radius, the panic it’ll cause will cripple the country.’ He ran a hand over his face, frustrated that he’d have to wait for Porchester to return from Buckinghamshire. Even with a police escort, it could take a couple of hours, and then he might have to wait until the man had been briefed by several agencies before he had time to talk. ‘I’m coming in,’ he said. ‘We’ll keep working the angles, see what we can do.’
He ended the call, stood, and tucked his phone back into his pocket before reaching out to Sarah.
‘I need you to stay here. I’ve got to go.’
‘I’ll go with you.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t. Please,’ he said and ran his fingers down her cheek. ‘Do as you’re told this time.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said. ‘But if I’m wrong, I need to know you’re safe, okay?’ He swallowed. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.’
‘Okay. I promise,’ she sighed. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to try to speak to the PM – if I can find him.’ He turned towards the door. ‘Someone around here has to know what the hell is going on.’
She followed him, her stockinged feet quiet on the tiled floor. ‘Dan? What happens if there is a bomb?’
He stopped, his hand on the door latch.
‘Hope that we find them before they get that far.’
CHAPTER 29
Malikov ground out the last of his cigarette into the stone tiles of the terrace beyond his office and turned his head slightly, blowing the smoke between his lips.
He watched as it curled into the air before the breeze caught it, the remnants of nicotine teasing his senses as it filtered away.
Three Lives Down (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 13
