“Yes,” said Davies. “It was still a considerable threat, and they could activate their remaining stockpile quickly enough. Russia is now overrun, and the government nonexistent. Our only threat from nuclear attack will come from the five nuclear submarines they have at sea.”
“Five submarines with over 100 warheads,” said McAddle. “Enough to turn Britain to ashes.”
“We have contact,” said Bellamy. He pressed his ear to the telephone. “The Russian admiral claims he is what is left of the Russian government, which also includes three nuclear armed submarines.”
“He’s threatening us,” said McAddle. “I don’t believe he would have the codes to launch such an attack. Only the Russian premier and minister of defense hold the nuclear launch codes. Both were in the convoy we have positively identified as being … infected.”
“Are you saying with 100 percent certainty they are empty threats?” asked Stone.
“No one can give that guarantee.”
“The Russians would happily put the security of Britain at risk to save a few thousand of their own,” said General Davies. “This is their form of diplomatic pressure.”
“Desperate for asylum,” said Stone. “We have to try and calm him down.”
“But we cannot permit docking,” said McAddle.
“No, definitely not,” said Stone. “No matter what, we don’t let that happen. We offer to look after them, supply them.”
“We have to assume at the minute they’re desperate enough to do anything,” said McAddle.
“Patching through to the president,” came an older female voice over the phone with a distinct American twang.
“William,” came Thomas.
“Thomas, we have a situation.”
After being brought up to speed, Thomas took a few moments to consult with his own advisors.
“Prime Minister,” said Bellamy. Interrupting a phone call between the prime minister and the president was usually a grave faux pas, but this was urgent. “The Russian admiral is demanding we allow his ships to continue to British port. He has reiterated his threat.”
“William,” said Thomas, who was listening in, “ask the Russian admiral to agree to a video conference with the two of us. Perhaps we can calm the situation down, in case the worst-case scenario isn’t as unlikely as you think.”
Stone ordered Bellamy to make it happen, who was listening to the president on loudspeaker. A few minutes later, a highly distraught and agitated Russian admiral appeared on the large video screen behind Bellamy, facing Stone. Stone was surprised—he expected to be greeted by a defiant Russian stalwart.
“Patching through to the White House control room.”
“Admiral,” began Stone as the screen split to show both the Russian admiral and the President of the United States. “Britain cannot be held to nuclear ransom by you or any other country. I understand your situation is dire, but at the moment you are not permitted to dock in any of Britain’s ports.”
“The United States supports Britain in their view on this,” said Thomas, with Richards to his left and Gail to his right. The admiral had to steady himself to stay standing, as the storm intensified.
“Prime Minister. Mr. President. I just watched my country fall to this killer virus in a matter of hours. It spread across the border from Asia like an unstoppable plague. No matter what we tried, it wasn’t enough. You repeatedly refused our requests for military assistance, and the deaths of our citizens are on your hands.”
“We had to protect our own countries,” said Stone.
Thomas remained placid, waiting for the right moment.
“I am demanding you let us dock or face the consequences.” The admiral was now shouting at full volume, struggling to hold back tears. Stone sympathized with him. He had just lost his country and was trying to save what troops were left under his command.
“Admiral, you must understand that…”
“What has this got to do with America anyway?” he snapped as Stone looked on.
“The United States of America,” began Thomas in a much more threatening tone, “considers Britain its closest ally. I have thousands of citizens based in the country. They are very much my responsibility, Admiral.”
The admiral paid close attention to the American president, hanging on to each word.
“The remaining unaffected countries around the world are trying their best to regain some control of the situation for the future of our race,” said Thomas. “You are not helping us in that.”
“Consider the threat you are making here,” added Stone. “If you launch a nuclear attack on Britain, the Royal Navy will obliterate your fleet into a million pieces. I will not hesitate to give that order, Admiral.”
“And if that happens,” said Thomas, “you will have no future, and neither will the Russian people. The United States is working on a way to combat this virus. It won’t be easy, and afterwards we will be rebuilding in a way this world has never seen, but we can rebuild. Britain will be vital to rebuilding Europe. Don’t force our hand here.”
Stone watched Thomas play a magnificent game of political poker with the Russian admiral. No vaccine was likely coming; they had discussed as much privately. But if that information were publicly known, then what was left of law and order would fall apart within hours. He watched Thomas finish, now wanting to add his own final part.
“If you do, you will consign Russia to the history books forever.” Stone crossed his legs and looked at McAddle, who gave the slightest nod of approval.
“Admiral,” said Thomas, “trust in us. Stay onboard your ships. If we go to battle, your fleet will be destroyed, but there’s something more important to think of.”
“Which is what?” said the Russian admiral, his voice beginning to creak.
“Your duty to carry on the Russian nation. You have a few thousand Russian citizens onboard those ships. Without you, there will be no Russia after this crisis. It’s up to you to carry your flag now. Sit tight and let us get the situation under control. You are what’s left of Russian civilization. The French people we rescued only hours ago now look to the future, as well, knowing they are all that’s left to begin anew.”
“I’ll need to confer with my crew,” he said after a long pause.
“Of course.” Stone let out a big sigh and thanked Thomas for his intervention. Even with the world on the brink, America was still the country heeded by every nation on Earth.
“Paul, get food and medical supplies arranged for our Russian friends,” said Stone. “Perhaps, on that rare occasion, the calmer side of human nature has prevailed.”
“And our fleet?” asked Bellamy.
“Have them stay out there,” ordered Stone. “In case I’m wrong.”
Chapter 47
“You know, Doc, I’m feeling quite relaxed at the moment,” said Nelson. He swung his feet up on one of the shiny desks, sipping another hot chocolate.
Ursula leaned to the right, grabbing a quick, curious glance at the commander across the room from her.
“I am,” said Nelson, spotting the look. “It’s like retirement.”
“That’s a novel way of looking at it,” said Ursula. “I had pictured my retirement a little different.”
“Well,” he said, whistling, “I always knew I’d die on the job.”
“I know that feeling,” said Ursula. “But I’d hoped for something different.”
“I suppose you do,” said Nelson. He didn’t sound surprised. “What had you hoped for?”
“A country bungalow, to write my memoirs. How English,” said Ursula.
“I can’t picture you in that setting,” said Nelson.
“I’ve worked fighting viruses all my life. I always hoped not to die at the hands of one.”
She contin
ued to input data into the system, waiting for the connection to Section 51 to activate. After several futile attempts, Peter finally appeared.
“Ursula,” said Peter, sounding exasperated. A good-quality image appeared on the screen, but the connection was intermittent.
“I take it this connection could drop at any time?” said Ursula, coming closer to the briefcase. She could see herself in the bottom corner of the screen, still not a hair out of place.
“It could, so fill me in as quickly as you can,” said Peter. “We still can’t receive data from you, so we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
Ursula turned back to her computer, rereading the quick scribbles she called notes.
“Peter, I’m almost certain we have found a carrier.”
“There can be no room for error here.”
“I’m as certain as I can be,” she murmured, chewing the top of her pen. “Not having to start from scratch has been a minor miracle.”
“The Chinese made progress?” Peter said, not hiding his surprise.
“They did,” said Ursula. “Granted, a lot of it is quite basic, but it saved me the initial groundwork. We’ve made some investigatory progress, but we are at the very earliest of stages. The next few hours are going to be critical.”
She peeled the wrapper off another chocolate bar, this time with a caramel filling.
“How many of them have you had now?” said Nelson, walking past her to the coffee dock.
“My weight is the least of my worries,” she replied, taking a bite. The sugar rush was helpful. She watched Nelson go for the hot chocolate powder again.
“Oh, cup for me, as well.”
“Fine,” said Nelson, rolling his eyes in playful fashion.
“Thank you,” she said, appreciating the little gesture. Anyone that kept her on this seat and focused on the work was worth appreciating.
“Do you think we could aim for a cure now instead of a vaccine?” said Peter.
Ursula turned to look at him.
“Peter, it’s a good job you’re not here right now…”
“Ursula!”
“We are not developing a cure,” said Ursula, shouting every word. She didn’t understand why Peter, a highly intelligent man, failed to see the huge shortcomings.
“Can’t we at least discuss it?”
“No,” said Ursula. She was being curt, but it was better than anger. “Peter, miracle worker is not yet in my résumé. We have presidential orders to carry out: deciphering the virus and developing a protective vaccine against it. Those are our goals.”
“We took an oath to help people,” said Peter.
“Okay, that’s it.” Ursula slammed her book down and went right up to the screen. “Explain yourself!”
“What?” said Peter, looking off-camera. “We have a duty to help people.”
“This is about the story getting out, isn’t it?” She knew him better that he thought. “The best thing both of us can do is develop a vaccine for those the virus has yet to ravage. A billion people, Peter. That’s really nothing to be flippant about.”
“I know,” he said. “But when did you become so cold?”
That comment would have stung anyone else, but Peter was right. She had become colder in the last few years. It made her job easier.
“I had to,” she said. “Peter, I never was an office person like you. I prefer to be out there, stuck in the middle of it all. The drawback was becoming colder. You try turning away sick children because you know there’s nothing that can be done for them. It’s pointless giving them a bed that could be used for someone that can be treated and cured. We have a duty of care to the future of our species. Right now, that’s to defend those who are free from infection.”
“Just give me an update.”
She suspected a sulk was imminent, something he was famed for. His heart was always in the right place, but that was a dangerous trait now. He needed to be more like her, more cold.
“Gladly.”
Peter began talking about what methodologies would be best to use against the virus for a vaccine, but something had caught Ursula’s eye. A simple notepad, hidden under the piles of paper and folders on the table. The Chinese really had theorized everything.
“Strange,” she muttered.
“What is?” said Nelson, as Peter kept talking.
“Peter, what do you make of this?” Ursula said. She walked over, holding the little notepad up to the screen.
“It looks like some kind of algorithm to me.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“For what, though?”
“A computer,” said Ursula.
Peter rolled his eyes.
“Sorry, I wasn’t being sarcastic.” It had clicked in her head. “A computer program.”
“For the virus?” asked Peter. “I can’t see it.”
“I think I recognize some of the basic instructions,” said Ursula. “Basic computer coding.”
“I didn’t know you could do computer programming.”
“I dabbled in it,” said Ursula, “nothing extreme, but I’ve a very basic understanding.”
“Well, can you input it into a Chinese computer system?” Peter asked.
“I’ll try.” It was a basic mathematical formula for computer input, scrawled down in a hurry. She couldn’t help but wonder which poor sod was brave enough to get his final notes down before having to flee.
“Well?” asked Peter after fifteen minutes.
She bit her lip—patience was never his strong suit.
“It’s a little tricky, Peter.” She tapped in the last commands. “There, I think that’s it.”
“You think?”
“Peter, I swear…” said Ursula.
“He’s lucky I’m stuck down here,” said Nelson, his teeth clenching.
“Now, now,” she replied. “Let’s keep on track. Peter, the program I’ve created—well, it’s a bit more advanced than I thought. But I followed the instructions to the letter.”
“Well … engage,” said Peter.
Ursula initiated the program. Number sequences danced around the desktop, like a big jumble being put into order. “I hope these computers can handle all this. They’re not CIM.” She felt cold air rushing across her feet as the fans shot to full capacity.
“Ach damn!” said Ursula, cursing loudly.
“What happened?” said Peter. Nelson raced over.
“Computer error,” she said, not wanting to worry him. “Hold on…”
“Can you fix computers?” asked Nelson. “I can’t.”
Without hesitation, she kicked the computer under the desk with her thick boots.
“That didn’t help,” said Nelson.
The computer switched back on, and Ursula nearly fell off her chair.
“What is that?” asked Nelson, just as shocked.
“What’s what?” said Peter.
Ursula was stunned, and her scientific friend wasn’t oblivious to the expression on her face.
“What the hell do you see?” said Peter.
Nelson lent into her ear. “What is it?” he whispered.
“The virus,” said Ursula. She was both stunned and confused at the same time. The virus was displayed on the computer screen, beautiful and crystal clear. It was represented as a floating, rotating lattice sphere bristling in bright blue and white colors.
“We’re looking at the virus, Doc,” said Nelson. “Whoa!”
“This is impossible,” said Ursula. The shock was starting to wear off, confusion setting in. “Peter.” She looked back to her colleague.
“Tell me everything,” said Peter. “I need to know.”
“The program has illustrat
ed the virus in its entirety.” She was jotting down notes frantically now, afraid of forgetting any new idea.
“First impressions?”
“Clearly an artificially designed virus,” she said. “The structure has a very mechanical construction to it… It’s perfect. Very interconnected, for max efficiency.”
“The Bernay are experts in their field,” said Peter. “I’d expect nothing less.”
“We’re experts, too—just remember that,” She could tell he was worried. “It’s time to get to work. Nelson, an extra-strong coffee, please.”
“Yes ma’am,” he acquiesced, taking the hot chocolate back.
“Where do you want to start?” Peter said.
“Layering.” Ursula called up the tools menu on the computer and instructed the program to begin scanning the virus. “We need to know exactly how many parts make up this virus.”
“Makes sense,” said Nelson, whipping up a fresh cup for her.
“If we can disrupt the virus’s ability to communicate with each of its internal components, we may be able to render it dormant,” said Peter.
“It’s a possibility.” The virus sphere broke apart, separating. “We’ve got three layers.”
“Could have been worse,” said Peter. “How’re they connected?”
“There you go,” said Nelson, handing her a fresh cup.
“Seems to be thin artificial data strands,” said Ursula, nodding her thanks to Nelson. “Dozens connecting each layer together, like shots of spider web.”
The adrenaline was now racing through her.
“How did the Chinese create such an advanced program?” said Peter.
“What?”
“Well, it does make you wonder.”
“We can wonder about that later,” said Ursula. “Be grateful for small mercies. Computer, activate.” Nelson had certainly made the coffee extra strong, and she added more sweetener.
“Computer online. English mode confirmed,” said the mechanical voice. Ursula had noted the Chinese had installed a rudimentary voice control computer system in the lab.
The White Death Page 25
