The Gulf Conspiracy (7 page)

‘
Well done. I’ll say this for you guys, you certainly don’t give up easily,’ said Drummond.

‘
Damn right we don’t,’ said Maclean with a conviction that even Drummond, who had known Maclean for over twenty years, found chilling. He saw in his friend and colleague the same obsession he’d seen in certain relatives of those who had died in the Lockerbie air disaster. It was as if their lives had been frozen at a moment in time.

‘
We even managed to get a commitment from them to make enquiries as to what was going on at Porton just before the war started,’ said Maclean.

‘
Good,’ said Drummond, not at all sure that he meant it. He would much rather his friend had gotten over the tragedy that had struck at his life with the death of his wife and daughter and returned to being something more like the man he had known when they were younger, the man he had gone climbing with every weekend in the Highlands, the bloke who had played the dame with side-splitting success in the hospital pantomime, the bloke he had got drunk with on his stag night and ended up explaining to the police why he happened to be tied to a lamppost wearing a nurse’s uniform at four in the morning. But that Gus had gone. They were still friends but there was no place in Gus’s life for fun any more. The Gulf War had put an end to that. The veterans’ association that Gus led was now his sole reason for being.

‘
It looks as if George W is determined to have another go at Saddam,’ said Drummond.

‘
So I see,’ said Maclean, without giving anything away.

‘
And taking us in with him if the papers are to be believed.’

‘
Where the master goes the poodle must follow,’ said Maclean.

‘
That’s pretty much what the papers are saying too,’ said Drummond.

‘
They’ve probably got teams of writers working on condolence letters as we speak,’ said Maclean bitterly. ‘Rest assured your boy did not die in vain, Mr and Mrs Smith. He died fighting for democracy, freedom, human rights and any other high-sounding crap they can come up with. Bastards. These buggers have no idea what war is really like. They pretend they do but they haven’t. And what’s more, they haven’t even begun to deal with the thousands of guys they maimed in their last little expedition to the desert sands.’

Drummond nodded. ‘Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ he said, anxious to steer the conversation away from Maclean’s favourite hobby-horse. ‘There seems to be quite a strong body of opinion that says nothing should be done without the agreement of the United Nations.

‘
Aye, right,’ said Maclean, making clear his lack of any high regard for the UN organisation.

‘
Mary has called in sick,’ said Drummond. ‘Maybe you could cover for her in serology this morning? Make sure her juniors know what they’re doing.’

‘
Will do,’ said Maclean.

‘
Oh, and Ward Seven phoned earlier. They’d like confirmation of the menigococcus that you reported finding in patient, Robin Chester’s CSF last night as soon as possible. I take it you were called out?’

‘
At three this morning,’ said Maclean. ‘Just when I was getting into a deep sleep.’

‘
Always the way,’ said Drummond.

Channing House

Kent

26
^th
April 2002

There was silence round the table as Sir James Gardiner sat down after telling of his intention to disband the group.

Peter Warner said, ‘I can see everyone here is as stunned as I was when Sir James told me last week. Believe me, I’ve tried persuading him to change his mind, but without success.’

‘
We simply must be pragmatic, gentlemen,’ said Gardiner. ‘We are sitting here on the eve of an election that’s going to see Labour in power for another five years. With our own party still in disarray and unlikely to be even able to mount a credible opposition, we have become an irrelevance. We cannot hope to change things under these conditions.’

‘
Sir James,’ began Donald Crowe; he sounded polite but looked angry. ‘I know that you have always regarded the scientific input to this group with a scepticism bordering on contempt and, it might be argued that you had some reason to after what happened at Porton, but if you will hear me out. We have spent over ten years building up our organisation. We have people, like-minded people, in just about every sphere of modern life. This is not the time to throw this all away. It is tantamount to a betrayal of them and what we believe in. If we can’t change things using the ballot box, we should at least start considering other means.’

‘
I think I agree,’ said Mowbray.

‘
I think I do too,’ said Rupert Everley, clearing his throat in deference to the fact that he was daring to disagree with Gardiner, a man so clearly his intellectual superior. ‘Our country needs us more than ever if we’re to stop the rot.’

Gardiner had a face like thunder. ‘What other means did you have in mind?’ he growled.

‘
Nothing specific,’ said Crowe. ‘I just think we should take time to consider our position and perhaps apply a little more lateral thought to our situation.’

‘
It wouldn’t do any harm to delay a little, James’ said Warner.

‘
We really should explore every avenue,’ said Mowbray.

In the face of general agreement from the others, Gardiner looked down at the table in front of him. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll delay informing our people of disbandment for six months but when we meet again I expect to hear concrete proposals for action – within the law.’

When Donald Crowe left the house he found Cecil Mowbray standing beside his car ‘We need to talk,’ said Mowbray.

He and Mowbray started to walk slowly along the path leading to the rose garden. ‘Never been that fond of roses myself,’ said Mowbray. ‘Fine when they’re in bloom but a mess at any other time. God, that was a close call in there.’

‘
You can say that again,’ said Crowe. ‘Disbanding now would scupper everything. We need another few months. The agent’s ready but we’re going to need the help of one or two people in setting up the trial.’

‘
Is a trial absolutely necessary?’ asked Mowbray.

‘
There’s no deal without it,’ said Crowe. ‘They demand a successful demonstration before they’ll pay.’

‘
Have they stipulated any conditions?’ asked Mowbray.

‘
They have,’ said Crowe,

Mowbray noted a reluctance to answer in Crowe’s voice. ‘And?’ he asked.

Crowe told him.

‘
You can’t be serious?’ exclaimed Mowbray.

‘
We either do that or we wave goodbye to twelve years work and twenty million dollars.’

‘
It sounds as if you haven’t dismissed the idea out of hand,’ said Mowbray as they continued walking.

‘
It can be done,’ said Crowe. ‘I’ve had a think about it and it can be done but we need money and reliable key people. Money means Everley. How do you feel about taking him on board?’

‘
The man’s an idiot,’ replied Mowbray. ‘But a vain and predictable one. If we can convince him that joining us is the way to his dream of a seat in parliament I’m sure he’ll cough up without too much trouble. Leave that to me. What do you need in the way of people?’

‘
We don’t need many but we do need specialists. I’m relying on you for the derring-do input and I’ll have a look at the group’s database for the others. I’ve already come up with a couple of key people but we have to get them on board before Gardiner pulls the plug. Time is not on our side.’

‘
There’s something else we have to worry about,’ said Mowbray. ‘Intelligence says that Bush has set his heart on another Gulf War within a year. He’ll go through the motions with weapons inspectors and the like and try for UN support for military action but the smart money is saying he’s going to go it alone if that doesn’t happen.’

‘
So?’ said Crowe.

‘
Blair will back him and take us in with him.’

‘
Where is this leading?’ asked Crowe.

‘
Plans are already in place to have the troops vaccinated against biological attack.’

Crowe felt an icicle move up his spine as he thought he saw where Mowbray was going. ‘My God, you’re going to tell me that they’re going to use the same vaccine as last time?’

‘
They’ve enough left over for five thousand men. They plan to use that up first. Financial prudence, I think they call it.’

‘
Hell and damnation,’ said Crowe.

‘
I didn’t say anything inside because I felt sure James would have insisted that we immediately come clean about it and confess all,’ said Mowbray.

They had come to the lily pond at the end of the rose garden where they turned round to look back at the lights of Channing House behind their reflection in the stagnant water.

‘
Can’t you find some way of destroying the old stocks?’ asked Crowe.

‘
Destroying stores of vaccine would require some explanation, I fear,’ said Mowbray.

‘
But some of your people are sympathetic aren’t they? That’s the sort of thing they do, isn’t it. James Bond stuff and all that?’

‘
None of them know about the accident twelve years ago. They didn’t need to, so I never told them.’

‘
I see,’ said Crowe.

Mowbray continued hesitantly. ‘If it should prove necessary to call on them for some other reason in the near future I’d rather not involve them in anything else beforehand.’

‘
I understand,’ said Crowe. ‘But we have to do something to stop them using that damned stuff?’

‘
I’ve been thinking,’ said Mowbray. ‘Many of the ’91 Gulf War veterans maintain that the vaccine they were given was to blame for their symptoms. If we were to let it be known openly that HMG were planning to use up old vaccine stocks on today’s troops there will almost certainly be an outcry. With a bit of luck HMG will be forced to back down over the issue and destroy the old stuff.’

Crowe shivered against a chill that had crept into the night air. ‘And no need for us to be involved,’ he said, starting to walk again. ‘That sounds attractive.’

‘
I think it will work,’ said Mowbray. ‘We know all the leaders of the Gulf War veterans’ associations so we can quickly make them aware of what’s going on and make sure the papers get on to it too. But there is still one fly in the ointment.’

Crowe gave him a look that suggested there always was.

‘
When the story gets into the papers, the original Beta team at Porton are going to start wondering just why HMG was going to use a vaccine they knew to be faulty. And if any of them should work out . . .’

‘
That HMG didn’t actually know that to be the case,’ completed Crowe.

‘
Exactly,’ said Mowbray.

‘
The last thing we need right now is for a scandal to break out over a twelve year old accident. Do you think you can deal with any problems that might arise?’

‘
I think so,’ said Mowbray.

Crowe gave a cursory nod and said, ‘Good.’ He rubbed his arms. ‘God, it’s getting cold.’

As he opened the door of his car, Mowbray turned to Crowe and said, ‘We’ll talk again soon.’

Glasgow Airport

Scotland

June 3rd 2002

Dr Steven Dunbar, senior medical investigator with the Sci-Med Inspectorate, settled back into his seat on the British Airways shuttle flight and noted as he fastened his seat belt that the flight was almost full. He recognised a couple of faces passing by as belonging to those of Westminster politicians, one of whom he’d seen on television the night before being interviewed about the potential costs of another Gulf War. As with most conversations involving politicians, no straight answer had been forthcoming.

Steven had been called back from Scotland where he had been spending - or had hoped to spend - a long weekend with his young daughter, Jenny, who lived there with his sister–in-law and her husband and their own two children. Jenny had lived with them since Steven’s wife Lisa had died some four years before.

The summons had come in the form of a text message to his mobile phone from the duty officer at Sci-Med; it said simply that John Macmillan - the head of Sci-Med - required him back in London at his earliest convenience. Steven had managed to get himself on board the first plane to London from Glasgow Airport on Monday morning after having driven the sixty miles or so from the village of Glenvane in Dumfriesshire where Jenny lived.

‘
Good weekend?’ enquired the passenger smelling strongly of aftershave who eased into the seat beside him. He was a fat, loose-jowled man with a ruddy complexion. He wore a striped business suit that was too small for him, as was the collar of the Bengal striped shirt that trapped his fleshy neck, causing it to bulge over. A heart attack waiting to happen, thought Steven.

‘
Fine thanks,’ he replied, a bit surprised at the question coming from a complete stranger but assuming that this might well be normal for the Monday morning shuttle with many Scots who worked in London returning after spending the weekend at home. ‘You?’

‘
Daughter got married,’ said the man. ‘Cost me a bloody fortune. Don’t like the bugger much but there’s not a lot you can do these days, is there? Kids are a law unto themselves. Do as they damn well please, whatever you say.’