The Plague of Silence

by John Creasey

  Domminy paused.

  Stefan Andromovitch lifted the telephone very slowly, watching the little man intently.

  This was the man who had passed on doubts about Matt Stone.

  No one moved; everyone stared at Domminy with slow, awful comprehension. His lips and jaw worked like those of a ventriloquist’s doll.

  “What we are facing is a new kind of force, with which to compel the application of the moral and religious laws,” Domminy went on. “I am authorized to inform you that the outbreaks of what it pleases some of you to call a plague can be stopped and will be stopped as soon as this Government and all Governments have accepted the one condition which will be laid down.”

  A man gasped: “My God!”

  “There will be only one condition, gentlemen.”

  Stefan had the telephone at his ear. No one else looked away from the Minister, who paused as if for breath.

  “Are you calling, sir?” an operator asked.

  Stefan whispered: “Get me Dr. Palfrey, at the Forest Hotel.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The one condition is very simple,” continued Domminy who was sitting at the table with his hands clasped lightly in front of him. “That is the destruction of all weapons of offence and defence, beginning with the destruction of all atomic piles, which are said to be intended for peaceful purposes which can of course be turned at any time to the pursuit of war. The destruction of all military aircraft, of all vehicles and guns, all armed ships, all ammunition, all rockets, all guided missiles and all small arms. For decades men of goodwill and of intelligence have been endeavouring to persuade the world to settle all its disputes by discussion and peaceful means, but there is no indication at all, as far as I can see, that we are any nearer that situation. A nation without arms cannot fight. Some great shock was needed to compel the government to heed the voice of conscience. This is the shock.”

  He looked round at every man who heard him.

  The girl said into Stefan’s ear: “You’re through, sir.”

  “Stefan?” Palfrey said.

  Stefan whispered: “Domminy is delivering an ultimatum. Send men to the Cabinet room. We must hold him.”

  Palfrey said: “I didn’t quite get that. Hold who?”

  “Domminy.”

  Domminy was looking at Stefan, and for the first time he unclasped his hands. His voice grew sharper.

  “If you are attempting to send word to Palfrey or your other associates, you are wasting your time. I have made the necessary arrangements to have them rendered harmless at the Forest Hotel, in London, and wherever else they are working on this matter. I knew that you were endeavouring to find that very great scientist, Professor Rondivallo, and consequently I have been able to neutralize much of what you have attempted to do. I confess that I had not intended to act as quickly as I have. In another five or six weeks I think it would have been possible to control the paralytic outbreaks more thoroughly, and also control the severity, but the important thing is the shock which has been delivered. No man can be such a fool as to reject an ultimatum of this kind, which is delivered with the sole object of serving the best interests of mankind. Ah’m. Mr. Prime Minister, I am going to suggest that you should contact all other Governments forthwith, either direct—which would gain time—or through the United Nations, which might in the long run be more effective, and inform them of the conditions which I have laid down. You must not attempt to molest me in any way. I have been nominated as the only negotiator for Professor Rondivallo and his co-scientists, who would be very angry indeed if anything should happen to me.”

  He stopped, while still looking at the Prime Minister.

  “There is little time, but possibly you would like to discuss this,” he went on. “I shall be willing to give you any information you require so that you may judge the seriousness of what I have told you. For instance, you will wish to know how effectively a widespread re-occurrence of the plague could be handled. I assure you, most effectively.

  “We have the facilities, the organization and the requirements in every town of any importance throughout the world.

  “Well, Mr. Prime Minister?”

  BOOK III

  THE PLAGUE

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE ATTACK

  Palfrey heard every word.

  Some of it was faint, but every syllable came through, and so did the hushed horror in that room at Number 10. He heard Domminy’s calm statement that arrangements had been made to neutralize Z5, and could believe that it was true. He sat with the others in the room overlooking the forest, listening tensely for the odd word which reached them. In the hotel everything seemed quiet.

  Domminy finished.

  Stefan said in a whisper: “Did you get it all, Sap?”

  “Every word.”

  “Watch yourself.”

  “I will,” Palfrey put the receiver down slowly and his hand strayed to the hair at his forehead. He began to twist a few strands round his forefinger. One man burst out:

  “What is it, Sap. What’s on?”

  Palfrey said slowly: “Domminy is one of the leaders, George. No wonder we were forestalled nearly everywhere. At least we got moving today before he could stop us. He wants complete destruction of all armaments. The saint gone mad. He says he’s arranging to neutralize us. That will almost certainly mean by the hotel residents and staff. They’ve let us have our head so far. Made quite a job of fooling us, too.”

  “We’d better scatter,” George said abruptly. “Let’s get a move on.”

  “Will it help?” Palfrey asked.

  George said: “We can get Domminy—”

  “If it’s possible, Stefan will,” Palfrey said. “But I can’t see Domminy doing this without being pretty sure of himself. Keep quiet a minute.” He sat quite still except for the twisting fingers at his forehead, staring at the forest. The fire had died down and there was only a red glow to show where it had been, an occasional lick of flame. The headlamps were still on, spreading white light over the steps, the lawns, the flower beds. “He says that he and Rondivallo have agents in all large cities where they can start the plague if they want to,” Palfrey went on. “Don’t need telling what that means. Someone is in or near Lauriston, and he has counterpart in all large cities. What is common to all large cities. George?”

  George said: “Sap, you’re just talking for the sake of talking. Cut it out. Let’s get away while we can.”

  Palfrey seemed to look through him.

  “Water,” he said. “The public services of all kinds. This infection could conceivably be from insects bred in polluted water, but there’s no proof. What else? Shops. Laboratories. Factories. Workshops.”

  The door opened, and Sarak stepped in. He spoke at last, clearly, and quickly, in very broken English.

  “The servants are disarming our men. Please.”

  “Let’s get out of here!” George cried.

  “Yes,” said Palfrey, and stood up. “That’s if they’ll let us. What is common to all cities and common to Lauriston? Lauriston is just a little town.”

  “Come on,Sap!”

  Palfrey said: “Take it easy, George,” and brushed at something which touched his nose; as he did so, George flicked something away from the back of his hand, and Sarak waved his hand in front of his face.

  “Please—” he began.

  “My God!” breathed George, “the mosquitoes!” He slapped at two which lit upon his forehead, and then exclaimed: “Breathe through your handkerchief!”

  “You will all be bitten, and a bite will do the same thing as a breath of the dust,” said the fat, bulky-faced resident, coming heavily along the passage. “Including you, Palfrey. While you have time for reflection perhaps you will remember that it does not always pay to be offensive to people whom you
think are quite helpless. None of your men is likely to escape. All of the staff and the residents are immune, of course, they have been subjected to a course of immunization. No doubt you would like to know that the immunization has been through food which everyone has eaten, and not everyone realized that they were being so treated.”

  George said: “Well, there’s one of you who won’t live to laugh about it.”

  He had an automatic in his hand.

  “Put that away!” the bulky man said sharply, “If treated by our neutralizing agent you will recover in a week, but if you attempt violence you will not be treated. Then within a few hours you will be dead.” He waved his hand, as if the threat of the gun was non-existent, and looked straight at Palfrey. “You will at least have the good sense to know that violence won’t help you.”

  “Oh yes,” said Palfrey. “Couldn’t agree more.”

  George growled: “Well, I haven’t.”

  He levelled the gun at the man, who seemed to realize that the danger was real. He reared up. Palfrey struck at George’s right hand, but George was too far away. He fired twice. One bullet struck the bulky man in the forehead, another in the chest.

  One moment he was alive, the next, he was dead on his feet.

  “I’ll show you how to get out of here,” George said savagely. “I’ll shoot as many of the swine as I see.” He leapt towards the door and swung towards the main landing. He fired again and a man cried out. He went running, while Sarak stood quite still, looking up at Palfrey as if pleading with him to tell him what to do.

  A mosquito landed on Palfrey’s cheek and he felt a sharp pain. He squashed the insect, and as he did so, felt a burning sensation at the back of his throat. Sarak and the other two men began to cough.

  A man called out from the passage: “No one else will get away with that. If you’re carrying guns, throw them on the floor.”

  Palfrey said: “Yes,” in a clipped voice, and took a gun out and dropped it. “Listen carefully,” he said to the others as they drew near, and added in a whisper: “We’ve got to fool them, we haven’t a chance to fight. I’m heading for the First Aid Room, where Matt is. Follow me one at a time. I’ll wait there for five minutes.” He stopped as a youthful-looking man appeared, one of those who had been on the verandah earlier in the evening. He looked vicious.

  He said: “I’d like to cut your throat for killing him, but there’s a better way to let you die.” He stared at the red mark of the plague, and there was ferocity in his expression as he went on: “In half an hour you’ll all be as helpless as new-born kittens. You’ll be in agony.”

  He went down on one knee beside the bulky man, but he didn’t speak again, didn’t even take the flabby hand.

  The dead man was the Smith who had ordered the murders of Korven and Dr. Dimmock.

  The young man said: “Pick him up. Carry him to his own room.” He jumped to his feet and shouted: “Do what you’re told, do something while you can move your bodies, you won’t be able to much longer. Pick him up!”

  “Where is his room?” Palfrey asked.

  “Two along to the right. Pick him up!”

  Palfrey said: “All right. Sarak, take his shoulders. Jim, come and help me. One of you help Sarak.” Talking was an effort, and the burning pain was worse. He felt a twinge in his right leg, too. The others must be feeling much the same.

  He moved towards the dead man’s feet, and to do so he had to pass close to the younger man who seemed to take it for granted that there was no danger now.

  Palfrey dropped his hand on to the other’s wrist, and twisted. As the gun dropped, Sarak leapt forward. His hands went round the thin throat, choking all sound. No one else was in the passage.

  The other Z5 men went to the doorway, and one went back for the guns. The man sagged, unconscious, his body a dead weight against Sarak, who let him fall.

  “All right, we’ll go altogether now,” Palfrey said. He could only just get the words out. “Keep your guns out of sight, and don’t talk if anyone tries to stop us.” He led the way along the passage, and as he reached the hall he saw two girls, pretty young girls, laughing at a Z5 man who was standing between them on the stairs.

  “It won’t be long before you go dumb, Sammy,” one of them said, “you won’t ever be fresh with me again.”

  On the man’s forehead were two dead mosquitoes.

  Palfrey looked at the girls, and said: “You’ll be all right, Sam.”

  “All right!” a girl echoed, and laughed in his face. “That’s

  all you know about it, Palfrey. Didn’t you know you’d had a gnat bite?”

  Palfrey didn’t speak to her. His muscles were twitching and his throat burning.

  A man at the foot of the stairs said sneeringly: “Not feeling sociable, Palfrey? Where do you think you’re going?”

  Palfrey said roughly: “If I’m going to die, I’ll die outside. Get out of my way.”

  The man moved.

  “Don’t waste your time,” he said, “you haven’t got ten minutes left. Not even time to dig your own grave.”

  Palfrey turned towards the passage which led to some of the lounges, and to the First Aid Room. The others followed, and the man and the two girls were behind them, puzzled, keeping their distance. They believed that collapse would start at any moment, and they were right; there was only one thing they didn’t know.

  Palfrey opened the door of the first aid room and Matt

  Stone jumped up from the sofa.

  Matt jumped up from the sofa.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE ESCAPE

  Palfrey managed to say painfully: “Matt, you can see what’s happened to us. Don’t talk.” He moved to the shelf and pushed open a glass door, took down a hypodermic syringe and two small boxes. With great care, he filled a syringe, then injected Sarak, one other agent, and himself. “Must capture that helicopter,” he added, “then get off in it. Our one hope. Feel ail right?”

  Matt said: “I’ve never felt fitter. That injection—”

  “Saved you, can save us,” Palfrey muttered. He put the automatic into Matt’s hand. “Shoot your way to the helicopter.

  We’ll be just behind you. Must get there while—while we can walk.” He turned stiffly towards the door and opened it.

  Matt went out and saw the man and the two girls, still watching. He went towards a door which led into the grounds. As he stepped outside two men came forward, and one said:

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Air,” Palfrey gasped. “Must have air.”

  One of the men laughed.

  “You’ll get the air all right!” He stood aside, and as he moved, Matt struck him on the side of the head with the butt of the gun. He went down heavily. The other man opened his mouth to shout, but Sarak was on him like an avenging dog and choked his cry, then choked the breath out of him. Sarak was less affected than the others, but all could move.

  “What’s happening out there?” called the man from inside.

  “Past white—building,” Palfrey muttered to Matt, and turned to Sarak. “Stay back, Sarak. Take the—syringe. Inject —one other man if—if you get a chance. If they discover what we’re doing—”

  Sarak said heavily: “I will see to them all.”

  Matt Stone was moving freely, obviously quite cured—but he felt desperate even with the gun in his hand. Palfrey and the others looked ill and pain-wracked, likely to collapse at any moment. The one hope was that Rondivallo’s men would assume that they would do so soon.

  “Help—me,” Palfrey gasped to Matt.

  They pushed through a shrubbery to a clearing with the others close behind. Gaunt and silent in the starlight was the helicopter which had been used for the sortie into the forest. No one stood near it, no one was at the controls.

/>   “Know how—to handle this one?” Palfrey asked.

  “No. But I’ve handled helicopters.”

  Palfrey said: “Have to—learn fast.”

  Matt helped him into the cabin, then helped the others. He switched on a light. Other lights were shining from doorways, the beams of torches were waving about, some drawing nearer. Palfrey collapsed on to the pilot’s seat. “Know the—general principle—of landing?”

  “I can manage,” Matt said.

  He started the engine and the throbbing roar filled the cabin, the helicopter began to quiver. In front of Matt was a mass of controls.

  “I’ll give her a couple of minutes to warm up,” Matt said. “Then we’ll have to make it. They’ll probably start firing at us soon.”

  That was when Palfrey felt the pain at his throat worse;

  then that he realized that he was going to lose his voice.

  Palfrey said: “Right, we’re airborne. You’re on your own,” he managed to add. “Remember the statue at Winchester. Not Lauriston, too dangerous. Winchester. Tell the police—”

  His voice faded.

  Matt said: “You take it easy, you’ll be all right.”

  They were flying at about five hundred feet, and were over the forest. Below them, a great circle had been burned and was still glowing red, and the smoke still rose. They could smell the burning. Beyond were a few lights, almost certainly the lights of Conne village, and further away many more lights in a great cluster: Lauriston. To the east was Winchester, and he could imagine the lights there but wasn’t sure that he could pick them out.