Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,75

back at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I wanted to take a look around upstairs.’

He watched her closely.

Her anger seemed to have softened a touch. He took a chance.

‘Feel like showing me around?’

Across the street, a man watched the pair walk into the building. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialled a number.

‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘I checked out the lab. It’s clear. The bitch arrived a moment after I got out. She just went inside.’

‘Alone?’

‘Some asshole is with her. He just showed up. They’re going up together. Young guy.’

‘Is it rigged up?’

‘It’s been prepared. I used the bug and keypad like you showed me. When they go in the main lab, they’ll die.’

‘Good. Using what’s left and what we don’t need to get rid of her. I like it. Well done.’

‘What about Kruger?’

‘Wicks couldn’t get to him. There were detectives in the corridor outside his apartment.’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘No. Won’t be an issue. Get back across the water. I’ll see you at Kearny.’

‘Are you OK.’

‘I’m fine. The pigs arrested me but my alibi checked out.’ Pause. ‘Nice work brother.’

*

Flood Microbiology occupied the 17 and 18 floors in the building. Once the lift arrived on 17, Archer and Maddy stepped out and walked towards the entrance to the lab complex. Downstairs, the building security had changed to the night shift, but the guy behind the main desk had barely looked up from his newspaper as they walked in.

Up on the 17 floor, there was another reception desk but no one was manning it. Straight ahead was the entrance to the lab. The door and the walls were all made of transparent glass, which meant Archer could see inside. It was dark, lit only by faint green and red glows from equipment around the complex, but even in the poor light Archer could see that everything was clean, polished and sterilised. Maddy pulled a key card and swiped them in, pushing the door back.

‘Let’s go to Dad’s office,’ Maddy said, as Archer followed.

She led him all the way down the main corridor, then turned right. Dr P Flood was printed on a gold-coloured tag pinned to the door of a private room. It was already unlocked and she pushed it open. The office was of average size, containing a desk with a comfortable-looking chair behind it. Filing cabinets were standing against the wall to the right beside a series of clothing hooks for lab-coats. Books were stacked neatly on shelves on the wall to the left, medical journals and such, nothing Archer recognised. He moved to the right and pulled open the top drawer of one of the filing cabinets. Everything inside was labelled alphabetically.

‘Did he have a file on the virus?’

‘He did. But he destroyed it.’

‘Paper shredder?’

‘No. Burned. That’s why he was up on the roof in the first place.’

He turned.

‘When we arrived this morning, we saw that all but one of the vials were missing,’ she explained. ‘Then we got a call from one of your people saying that a man had been gassed and killed in Central Park. When they described how he died, Dad immediately put the two together and knew it had to be his virus.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He went into a frenzy and started destroying everything. Then I found him up on the roof, torching all his papers in a trash can. I turned my back for a moment and when I looked back he was standing on the edge of the building. Then you and your partner showed up.’

Archer nodded and slid the drawer of the cabinet shut. He moved around Peter Flood’s desk and sat down in the swivel chair. The padded leather gave a slight wheeze as it took his weight, the air decompressing. It was comfy. The desktop was sparse, save for a computer screen and a picture frame to the right. It was a shot of Peter with Maddy on what had to be her graduation day. Dressed in a black gown, a mortar-board on her head, she was holding a scroll. Her father had his arm around her and they were both smiling proudly at the camera.

‘Yale,’ she said. ‘Five years ago.’

Archer’s mind flashed back to the expression on Peter’s face up on the roof. The fear. The red-rimmed, tired eyes behind those thick glasses.

Thousands of people are going to die.

He looked up at her. ‘I’m sorry about what happened. I mean it.’

‘I know.’

Turning his attention to the computer, Archer grabbed the mouse and gave it