Whiteout by Ken Follett Read Free Book Online Page A

work it out.”
    Toni frowned. As a former cop, she could guess what was going on. Odette had intelligence indicating that some group was interested in Madoba-2. A suspect might have mentioned it under interrogation, or the virus had come up in a bugged conversation, or someone whose phone lines were being monitored had typed the name into a computer search engine. Now, anytime a quantity of the virus went astray, the antiterrorist unit would suspect that it had been stolen by fanatics. “I don’t think Michael Ross was a terrorist,” Toni said. “I think he just became attached to a particular laboratory animal.”
    â€œWhat about his friends?”
    â€œI found his address book, and the Inverburn police are checking the names right now.”
    â€œDid you keep a copy?”
    It was on her desk. “I can fax it to you right away.”
    â€œThanks—it will save me time.” Odette recited a number and Toni wrote it down. “How are you getting on with your handsome boss?”
    Toni had not told anyone how she felt about Stanley, but Odette was telepathic. “I don’t believe in sex at work, you know that. Anyway, his wife died recently—”
    â€œEighteen months ago, as I recall.”
    â€œWhich is not long, after nearly forty years of marriage. And he’s devoted to his children and grandchildren, who would probably hate anyone who tried to replace his late wife.”
    â€œYou know the good thing about sex with an older man? He’s so worried about not being young and vigorous that he works twice as hard to please you.”
    â€œI’m going to have to take your word for that.”
    â€œAnd what else? Oh, yes, I almost forgot, ha ha, he’s rich. Listen, allI’m going to say is this: if you decide you don’t want him, I’ll have him. Meanwhile, let me know personally if you find out anything new about Michael Ross.”
    â€œOf course.” Toni hung up and glanced out of the window. Stanley Oxenford’s dark blue Ferrari F50 was pulling into the chairman’s parking space. She put the copy of Michael’s address book into the fax machine and dialed Odette’s number.
    Then, feeling like a criminal about to be sentenced, she went to meet her boss.

8 A.M.
    THE Great Hall was like the nave of a church. It had tall arched windows that let in shafts of sunlight to make patterns on the flagstone floor. The room was spanned by the mighty timbers of an open hammer-beam roof. In the middle of this graced space, incongruously, was a modern oval reception desk with high counters. A uniformed security guard sat on a stool inside the oval.
    Stanley Oxenford came through the grand entrance. He was a tall man of sixty with thick gray hair and blue eyes. He did not look the part of a scientist—no bald dome, no stoop, no spectacles. Toni thought he was more like the kind of actor who plays the general in a movie about the Second World War. He dressed well without seeming stuffy. Today he wore a soft gray tweed suit with a waistcoat, a light blue shirt, and—out of respect for the dead, perhaps—a black knitted tie.
    Susan Mackintosh had placed a trestle table near the front door. She spoke to Stanley as he came in. He replied briefly then turned to Toni. “This is a good idea—buttonholing everyone as they arrive and asking when they last saw Michael.”
    â€œThank you.” I’ve done one thing right, at least, Toni thought.
    Stanley went on: “What about staff who are on holiday?”
    â€œPersonnel will phone them all this morning.”
    â€œGood. Have you found out what happened?”
    â€œYes. I was right and you were wrong. It was the rabbit.”
    Despite the tragic circumstances, he smiled. He liked people to challenge him, especially attractive women. “How do you know?”
    â€œFrom the video footage. Would you like to see it?”
    â€œYes.”
    They walked along a