3 PM
THE Kremlin looked pretty. Snow clung to its gargoyles and crochets, doorcases and window ledges, outlining the Victorian ornamentation in white. Toni parked and went inside. The place was quiet. Most people had gone home, for fear of getting caught in the snow—not that people needed much of an excuse to leave early on Christmas Eve.
She felt hurt and sensitive. She had been in an emotional car crash. But she had to put thoughts of love firmly out of her mind. Later, perhaps, when she lay alone in bed tonight, she would brood over the things Stanley had said and done; but now she had work to do.
She had scored a triumphant success—that was why Stanley had hugged her—but all the same a worry nagged at her. Stanley's words repeated in her brain: If we lost another rabbit, we'd be right back in trouble. It was true. Another incident of the same kind would bring the story back to life but ten times worse. No amount of public-relations work could keep the lid on it. There will be no more security incidents at the lab, she had told him. I"ll make sure of that. Now she had to make her words come true.
She went to her office. The only threat that she could imagine was from the animal rights activists. The death of Michael Ross might inspire others to attempt to "liberate" laboratory animals. Alternatively, Michael might have been working with activists who had another plan. He might even have given them the kind of inside information that could help them defeat the Kremlin's security.
She dialed regional police headquarters in Inverburn and asked for Detective-Superintendent Frank Hackett, her ex. "Got away with it, didn't you?" he said. "Luck of the devil. You should have been crucified."
"We told the truth, Frank. Honesty is the best policy, you know that."
"You didn't tell me the truth. A hamster called Fluffy! You made me look a fool."
"It was unkind, I admit. But you shouldn't have leaked the story to Carl. Shall we call it quits?"
"What do you want?"
"Do you think anyone else was involved with Michael Ross in stealing the rabbit?"
"No opinion."
"I gave you his address book. I presume you've been checking his contacts. What about the people in Animals Are Free, for example—are they peaceful protestors, or might they do something more dangerous?"
"My investigation is not yet complete."
"Come on, Frank, I'm just looking for a little guidance. How worried should I be about the possibility of another incident?"
"I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Frank, we loved one another once. We were partners for eight years. Does it have to be like this?"
"Are you using our past relationship to persuade me to give you confidential information?"
"No. To hell with the information. I can get it elsewhere. I just don't want to be treated as an enemy by someone I used to love. Is there a law that says we can't be nice to one another?"
There was a click, then a dial tone. He had hung up.
She sighed. Would he ever come around? She wished he would get mother girlfriend. That might calm him down.
She dialed Odette Cressy, her friend at Scotland Yard. "I saw you on the news," Odette said.
"How did I look?"
"Authoritative." Odette giggled. "Like you would never go to a nightclub in a see-through dress. But I know better."
"Just don't tell anyone the truth."
"Anyway, your Madoba-2 incident appears to have no connections with . . . my kind of interest."
She meant terrorism. "Good," Toni said. "But tell me something— speaking purely theoretically."
"Of course."
"Terrorists could get samples of a virus such as Ebola relatively easily by going to a hospital somewhere in central Africa where the only security is a nineteen-year-old cop slouching in the lobby smoking cigarettes. So why would they attempt the extraordinarily difficult task of robbing a high-security laboratory?"
"Two reasons. One, they simply don't know how easy it is to get Ebola in Africa. Two, Madoba-2 is not the same as Ebola. It's worse."
Toni remembered what Stanley had told her, and shuddered. "Zero survival rate."
"Exactly."
"What about Animals Are Free? Did you check them out?"
"Of course. They're harmless. The worst they're likely to do is block a road."
"That's great news. I just want to make sure there's not another incident of the same kind."
"It looks unlikely from my end."
"Thanks, Odette. You're a friend, and that's a rare thing."
"You sound a bit low."
"Oh, my ex is being difficult."
"Is that all? You're used to him. Did something happen with the professor?"
Toni could never fool Odette, even over the phone. "He told me his family is the most important thing in the world to him, and he would never do anything to upset them."
"Bastard."
"When you find a man who isn't a bastard, ask him if he's got a brother."
"What are you doing for Christmas?"
"Going to a spa. Massage, facials, manicures, long walks." On your own?
Toni smiled. "It's nice of you to worry about me, but I'm not that sad."
"Who are you going with?"
"A whole crowd. Bonnie Grant, an old friend—we were at university together, the only two girls in the engineering faculty. She's recently divorced. Charles and Damien, you know them. And two couples you haven't met."
"The gay boys will cheer you up."
"You're right." When Charlie and Damien let their hair down, they could make Toni laugh until she cried. "What about you?"
"Not sure. You know how I hate to plan ahead."
"Well, enjoy spontaneity."
"Happy Christmas."
They hung up, and Toni summoned Steve Tremlett, the guard supervisor.
She had taken a chance with Steve. He had been a pal of Ronnie Sutherland, the former head of security who had conspired with Kit C )xenford. There was no evidence Steve had known about the fraud. But Toni had feared he might resent her for firing his friend. She had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and had made him supervisor. He had rewarded her trust with loyalty and efficiency.
He arrived within a minute. He was a small, neat man of thirty-five with receding fair hair cut in the brutally short style that was fashionable. He carried a cardboard folder. Toni pointed to a chair and he sat down.
"The police don't think Michael Ross was working with others," she said.
"I had him down as a loner."
"All the same, we have to have this place buttoned up tight tonight."
"No problem."
"Let's make doubly sure of that. You have the duty roster there?"
Steve handed over a sheet of paper. Normally there were three security guards on duty overnight and on weekends and holidays. One sat in the gatehouse, one in reception, and one in the control room, watching the monitors. In case they needed to step away from their stations, they carried phones that were cordless extensions to the house network. Every hour, the guard from reception made a tour of the main building, and the guard from the gatehouse walked around the outside. At first, Toni had thought three was too few for such a high-security operation, but the sophisticated technology was the real security, and the human beings merely backup. All the same, she had doubled the guard for this Christmas holiday, so that there would be two people at each of the three stations, and they would patrol every half hour.
"I see you're working tonight."
"I need the overtime."
"All right." Security guards regularly worked twelve-hour shifts, and it was not very unusual for them to do twenty-four hours, when staff were short or, as tonight, in an emergency. "Let me check your emergency call list."
Steve passed her a laminated sheet from the folder. It listed the agencies he was to phone in case of fire, flood, power cut, computer crash, phone system faults, and other problems.
Toni said, "I want you to ring each of these in the next hour. Just ask them if the number will be operational over Christmas."
"Very good."
She handed back the sheet. "Don't hesitate to call the police at Inverburn if you're the least worried about anything."
He nodded. "My brother-in-law Jack is on duty tonight, as it happens. My missus has taken the children over to their place for Christmas."
"How many people will there be at headquarters tonight, do you know?"
"On the night shift? An inspector, two sergeants, and six constables. And there'll be a duty superintendent on call."
It was a small complement, but there would be nothing much to do once the pubs had closed and the drunks had gone home. "You don't happen to know who the duty super is?"
"Yes. It's your Frank."
Toni did not comment. "I'll have my mobile phone with me day and night, and I don't expect to be anywhere out of range. I want you to call me the minute anything unusual happens, regardless of the time, okay?"
"Of course."
"I don't mind being woken up in the middle of the night." She would be sleeping alone, but she did not say that to Steve, who might have considered it an embarrassing confidence.
"I understand," he said, and perhaps he did.
"That's all. I'll be leaving in a few minutes." She checked her watch; it was almost four. "Happy Christmas, Steve."
"To you, too."
Steve left. Twilight was falling, and Toni could see her own reflection in the window. She looked rumpled and weary. She closed down her computer and locked her filing cabinet.
She needed to get going. She had to return home and change, then drive to the spa, which was fifty miles away. The sooner she hit the road, thc better: the forecast said the weather would not get worse, but forecasts could be wrong.
She was reluctant to leave the Kremlin. Its security was her job. She had taken every precaution she could think of, but she hated to hand over responsibility.
She forced herself to stand up. Her job was facilities director, not security guard. If she had done everything possible to safeguard the place, She could leave. If not, she was incompetent and should resign.
Besides, she knew the real reason she wanted to stay. As soon as she turncd her back on the job, she would have to think about Stanley.
She shouldered her bag and left the building. The snow was falling more heavily.