The Satan Bug by Alistair MacLean Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alistair MacLean
straightened, gas-suit in hand, and felt my arm gripped. Dr. Gregori. The dark eyes were intense behind the thick glasses, the swarthy face tight with worry.
" Don't go in there, Mr. Cavell." His voice was low, urgent, almost desperate. " I beg of you, don't go in there."
I said nothing, just looked at him. I liked Gregori, as did all his colleagues without exception. But Gregori wasn't in Mordon because he was a likeable man. He was there because he was reputed to be one of the most brilliant micro-biologists in Europe. An Italian professor of medicine, he'd been in Mordon just over eight months. The biggest catch Mordon had ever made, and it had been touch and go at that: it had taken cabinet conferences at the highest levels before the Italian government agreed to release him for an unspecified period. And if a man like Dr. Gregori was worried, maybe it was time that I was getting worried too.
"Why shouldn't he go in there?" Hardanger demanded. " I take it you must have very powerful reasons, Dr. Gregori?"
" He has indeed," Cliveden said. His face was as grave as his voice. " No man knows more about number one lab than Dr. Gregori. We were speaking of this a short time ago. Dr. Gregori admits candidly that he's terrified and I'd be lying if I didn't say that he's got me pretty badly frightened, too. If Dr. Gregori had his way he'd cut through the block on either side of number one lab, built a five foot thick concrete wall and roof round it and seal it off for ever. That's how frightened Dr. Gregori is. At the very least he wants this lab kept closed for a month."
Hardanger gave Cliveden his usual dead-pan took, transferred it to Gregori, then turned to his two assistants. " Down the corridor till you're out of earshot, please. For your own sakes, the less you know of this the better. You, too, Lieutenant. Sorry." He waited until Wilkinson and the two men had gone, looked quizzically at Gregori and said, " So you don't want number one lab opened, Dr. Gregori? Makes you number one on our suspect list, you know."
" Please. I do not feel like smiling. And I do not feel like talking here."
He glanced quickly at Clandon, looked as quickly away. " I'm not a policeman—or a soldier. If you would-----"
" Of course." Hardanger pointed to a door a few yards down the passage. " What's in there?"
' Just a store-room. I am so sorry to be so squeamish-
" Come on." Hardanger led the way and we went inside. Oblivious of the "
No smoking" signs, Gregori had lit a cigarette and was smoking it in rapid, nervous puffs.
" I must not waste your time," he said. " I will be as brief as I can. But I must convince you." He paused, then went on slowly. " This is the nuclear age. This is the age when tens of millions go about their homes and their work in daily fear and dread of the thermo-nuclear holocaust which, they are all sure, may come any day, and must come soon. Millions cannot sleep at night for they dream too much—of our green and lovely world and their children lying dead in it."
He drew deeply on his cigarette, stubbed it out, at once lit another. He said through the drifting smoke, " I have no such fears of a nuclear Armageddon and I sleep well at nights. Such war will never come. I listen to the Russians rattling their rockets, and I smile. I listen to the Americans rattling theirs, and I smile again. For I know that all the time the two giant powers are shaking their sabres in the scabbards, while they're threatening each other with so many hundreds of megaton-carrying missiles, they are not really thinking of their missiles at all.
They are thinking, gentlemen, of Mordon, for we—the British, I should say—have made it our business to ensure that the great nations understand exactly what is going on behind the fences of Mordon." He tapped the brickwork beside him. " Behind this very wall here. The ultimate weapon. The world's one certain guarantee of peace. The term
'ultimate weapon' has been used too freely, has
" Don't go in there, Mr. Cavell." His voice was low, urgent, almost desperate. " I beg of you, don't go in there."
I said nothing, just looked at him. I liked Gregori, as did all his colleagues without exception. But Gregori wasn't in Mordon because he was a likeable man. He was there because he was reputed to be one of the most brilliant micro-biologists in Europe. An Italian professor of medicine, he'd been in Mordon just over eight months. The biggest catch Mordon had ever made, and it had been touch and go at that: it had taken cabinet conferences at the highest levels before the Italian government agreed to release him for an unspecified period. And if a man like Dr. Gregori was worried, maybe it was time that I was getting worried too.
"Why shouldn't he go in there?" Hardanger demanded. " I take it you must have very powerful reasons, Dr. Gregori?"
" He has indeed," Cliveden said. His face was as grave as his voice. " No man knows more about number one lab than Dr. Gregori. We were speaking of this a short time ago. Dr. Gregori admits candidly that he's terrified and I'd be lying if I didn't say that he's got me pretty badly frightened, too. If Dr. Gregori had his way he'd cut through the block on either side of number one lab, built a five foot thick concrete wall and roof round it and seal it off for ever. That's how frightened Dr. Gregori is. At the very least he wants this lab kept closed for a month."
Hardanger gave Cliveden his usual dead-pan took, transferred it to Gregori, then turned to his two assistants. " Down the corridor till you're out of earshot, please. For your own sakes, the less you know of this the better. You, too, Lieutenant. Sorry." He waited until Wilkinson and the two men had gone, looked quizzically at Gregori and said, " So you don't want number one lab opened, Dr. Gregori? Makes you number one on our suspect list, you know."
" Please. I do not feel like smiling. And I do not feel like talking here."
He glanced quickly at Clandon, looked as quickly away. " I'm not a policeman—or a soldier. If you would-----"
" Of course." Hardanger pointed to a door a few yards down the passage. " What's in there?"
' Just a store-room. I am so sorry to be so squeamish-
" Come on." Hardanger led the way and we went inside. Oblivious of the "
No smoking" signs, Gregori had lit a cigarette and was smoking it in rapid, nervous puffs.
" I must not waste your time," he said. " I will be as brief as I can. But I must convince you." He paused, then went on slowly. " This is the nuclear age. This is the age when tens of millions go about their homes and their work in daily fear and dread of the thermo-nuclear holocaust which, they are all sure, may come any day, and must come soon. Millions cannot sleep at night for they dream too much—of our green and lovely world and their children lying dead in it."
He drew deeply on his cigarette, stubbed it out, at once lit another. He said through the drifting smoke, " I have no such fears of a nuclear Armageddon and I sleep well at nights. Such war will never come. I listen to the Russians rattling their rockets, and I smile. I listen to the Americans rattling theirs, and I smile again. For I know that all the time the two giant powers are shaking their sabres in the scabbards, while they're threatening each other with so many hundreds of megaton-carrying missiles, they are not really thinking of their missiles at all.
They are thinking, gentlemen, of Mordon, for we—the British, I should say—have made it our business to ensure that the great nations understand exactly what is going on behind the fences of Mordon." He tapped the brickwork beside him. " Behind this very wall here. The ultimate weapon. The world's one certain guarantee of peace. The term
'ultimate weapon' has been used too freely, has
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