The Secret

‘No. I wouldn’t see the report, but I believe Tom said not — that’s probably why I forgot about it. That’s often the way with viruses. Labs often have to leave the diagnosis as “a viral infection” without being specific. GPs tell patients every day that they’re suffering from a virus without saying which one. They’re just guessing. It’s just too damned difficult to establish.’

‘I see,’ said Steven. ‘Which lab was this?’

‘I’m not sure... maybe Tom made the arrangements. It was probably the Public Health lab at Mill Hill. Is it important?’

‘Not really,’ said Steven with a smile. ‘Many thanks for your help. I hope things work out for you guys.’

‘I’ll see you out,’ said Liam Kelly.

‘No need,’ Steven replied, before realising that it was probably department policy to see visitors off the premises. He didn’t protest again and Liam came down with him in the lift. Steven thought he seemed more circumspect than usual but put it down to worry about whether or not he would be able to continue with his studies. ‘I hope they can fix you up with a new supervisor, Liam,’ he said as the doors opened.

‘Thanks, Dr Dunbar... Look, this is probably not important, but...’

‘Go on.’

‘It wasn’t Tom who sent off Dr Ricard’s blood samples, it was Dan: he must have forgotten.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘I saw the package. He sent them to a Dr Neville Henson.’

He smiled. ‘Thanks for clearing that up, Liam. Good luck this afternoon.’

Steven kept up the pretence of taking on board an unimportant detail till he got into his car and put his head back on the restraint. ‘Sweet Jesus Christ,’ he whispered. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ Alarm bells had gone off in his head as soon as he’d heard the name Henson. Dr Neville Henson didn’t work for Public Health at Mill Hill; he worked at Porton Down, the UK’s germ warfare establishment or whatever they called it these days. It had been a while since Steven had checked. It was probably the institute for cuddly toys and happy songs by now. Neville Henson was the microbiologist whose name and affiliation had appeared in the list of participants at the Prague polio meeting.

Sixteen

Steven was glad that the demands of London traffic stopped him dwelling on what he’d discovered until he reached the sanctuary of the underground car park at Marlborough Court. By this time his anger and frustration had subsided enough to enable him to sit for a couple of minutes with only the contracting metal sounds from the Porsche for company until he had recovered his powers of cold, calm appraisal.

The fact that the blood samples had been sent to Porton would mean a sudden end to that line of inquiry. Porton was a top secret establishment: there would be no point in asking even if he hadn’t already been warned off. But the mere fact they’d been sent there said a lot. Blood samples for diagnostic tests would not be sent to Porton unless there was a very good reason, a reason that implied a connection with high risk pathogens or biological weaponry. Polio was a high risk virus but Simone and her team were used to seeing and dealing with it. There would have been no need for Porton to become involved — but they were.

Dr Neville Henson had been present at the meeting in Prague as had... the name wouldn’t come to him. Steven got out, locked the car and took the lift upstairs. He switched on the kettle and looked through his paperwork for the list of participants at Prague. Dr Mel Reznik from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta, Georgia was the name he was looking for. Two scientists from labs dedicated to the study of the world’s killer diseases and how they might be developed or altered for military purposes. The CIA’s admission of guilt over using fake aid teams in order to gain intelligence clearly wasn’t the full story.

Steven had the feeling he was opening Pandora’s box. When he thought about it, the confession could even have been a clever ploy to stop further investigation. Médecins Sans Frontières, the World Health Organisation and even the UK and French governments all saw the sense in keeping what had happened under wraps. They thought they were defending the polio eradication initiative from prurient press interest and scandal by keeping quiet about what the CIA had done when, in fact, they were unwittingly helping to cover something up. Something else was going on in the border region between Pakistan and Afghanistan, something that had got Simone Ricard, Aline Lagarde and maybe even Tom North killed.