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The characters and events described inthis bookare fictional. Anyresemblance betweencharacters andanyperson,livingor dead,ispurelycoincidental.
Map- The ScillyIsles Map– LightIsland Key- LightIsland
CHAPTER1
CHAPTER2
CHAPTER3
CHAPTER4
CHAPTER5
CHAPTER6
CHAPTER7
CHAPTER8
CHAPTER9
CHAPTER10
CHAPTER11
CHAPTER12
CHAPTER13
CHAPTER14
CHAPTER15
CHAPTER16
CHAPTER17
CHAPTER18
CHAPTER19
CHAPTER20
CHAPTER21
CHAPTER22
CHAPTER23
CHAPTER24
CHAPTER25
CHAPTER26
CHAPTER27
CHAPTER28
CHAPTER29
CHAPTER30
CHAPTER31
CHAPTER32
CHAPTER33
CHAPTER34
CHAPTER35
CHAPTER36
Aboutthe author
for the world,whichseems Tolie before us like a landof dreams, Sovarious,sobeautiful,sonew, Hathreallyneither joy,nor love,nor light, Nor certitude,nor peace,nor helpfor pain; Andwe are here as ona darklingplain Sweptwithconfusedalarms of struggle andflight, Where ignorantarmies clashbynight
Matthew Arnold,OnDover Beach
ChapterOne
It was strange, Aleksey reflected, as he strode over the dry, yellowed turf with Ben, what could be contagious. He’d always thought it was things like the fluor smallpoxor the plague that youcaught. But no. Apparently the concept of sleepovers could be spread as well. Once Molly began them, appearing in her pyjamas once a week with fixed determination, earlier and earlier each appointed day,now heretheywere,heandBen,goingona…sleepover.
They’dbeeninvited.
The professor, shy, anxious, proud, and stuttering, had invited them over dinner and stay the nightofcourse…house warming…notthatitwas his house, obviously. Butnice summer walkacross Dartmoor…probablytoolatetowalkback.Spareroomall finishednow…
So,here he was,goingtospendthe nightinthe cottage.Aplace thatheldmixedmemories for him. He glanced slylysideward, wonderingjust how intuitive Benwas. Apparently, a lot. Benstirred out of his reverie, swished his stick against some bracken and observed a little gloomily, ‘I hope this nightisbetter thanour lastonethere.’
Aleksey laughed and messed up his dark hair, pleased with this connection they shared. Bodies and now thoughts. Well, some of them. It wouldn’t do for Ben Rider-Mikkelsen to know all his secrets,evennow.
‘Onthefloor,Iseemtorecall.Andcold.’
‘And…notlovingmeverymuch.’
‘Huh.Yes,that’swhyIwasonthefloor andcold,Ben becauseIdid not loveyou.’
Benpoked his ribs thenoffered more cheerfully, ‘Ihope Tim’s notgone to too muchtrouble, butI kindathinkhehas.’
‘Trouble?How doyoumean?’
Ben glanced at him disbelievingly. They were climbing some rocks around the base of a tor, wading through the summer-withered bracken. ‘You do know he’s…totally in awe of you, yeah? Everythinghedoesrevolvesaroundwhatyou’ll thinkor sayor do.’
‘Ithoughtthatwasyou.’
Ben made a small scoffing noise, quite audible, and continued, ‘He’ll have cooked and…well, gonetoalotoftrouble asIsaid.Sobenice.’
Bengavehimaswift,suspiciouseyeflick.‘What?Where?It’snotsomethingweird,isit?’ Aleksey only smiled to himself and waited for Radulf to catch up. PB was keeping close to his heels already. He sometimes did that these days on their Dartmoor walks the level of his anxiety seemingtodependonwhichdirectiontheytook.
‘How’stheleg?Anddon’taskwhatleg.It’sannoying.’
‘It’sfine.Honestly.Incaseyouhaven’tnoticed, you havemystick.’
‘It’s my bracken sword.’Ben demonstrated this concept with a particularly accurate and vicious swipe,beheadinganinnocentlycurledfern.Itdidclear thepathnicelythough.
‘Do notmake a sour face and sayohGod, butIhave beenthinking. Thatface is unnecessarytoo. I
have been thinking that we should maybe get a caretaker for the island. A fulltime job for someone whowouldliketheopportunitytolivethereand,well,takecareofit,Isuppose.’
‘I agree, but we can’t be there enough to tend the grass, look after the garden and glasshouse plants.’
‘Maybesomeonewouldbewillingtotravel over fromStMary’sonceaweekor something?’ Alekseynodded. ‘Maybe.’ Maybe not. If you wanted to keep something secret, the fewer people whoknew aboutitthebetter.
They came in sight of the cottage sitting bathed in sunshine on the southern slope of the tor. In winter, as he’d only just recalled, the place had been nightmarish, a situation not helped by the ruinous stateoftheoldfarmbuildings atthe time.Now itwas unrecognisable.Notonlyhadhebuilta large extension of oak and glass which formed the kitchen and main living area, he’d had a granite wingadded whichhoused the bedrooms and bathrooms, the roof of whichhad huge skylights that let the sunshine stream in. What had been the single bedroom above the tiny old living area was now merelyceilingspacewithamezzaninegallerylinedinbookshelves,reachedbyaspiral staircase.
The old one-up, one-down farmlabourer’s hovel was no more. Only that week the bespoke oak garage,whichhadreplacedthe oldbarnformingone side ofthe courtyard,hadbeensignedoff.Inthe end, rather thanlaya moderndriveway, they’d left the old cobbles and drainage channels, had them blasted clean, and turned theminto a feature patio, whichnow formed anoutside room, consistingof teakfurnitureunder asolidoakpergola,withanimpressivelylarge,butoftennecessaryfirepit.
However, as they approached up the sheep track, this area now appeared to be covered by… vehicles.‘Whyaretherelotsofcars,Benjamin?’
Ben gave a small poke of his stick to Radulf who was eating horse-dung. ‘It’s a house warming. Hementionedhemightinvitesome…friends.’
‘This is why I didn’t tell you! They might be from the university, yes. Can you not say things. Please.’
‘Whatdoyoumean?Saywhat?Ishall bemycharmingself.’
‘That’s exactly what I mean. Don’t talk about the war. Or the government. Or that American Imperialists fakedthemoonlandings andyoucanproveit.Anddon’tgooffonarantaboutanything.’ ‘Iamdeeplyoffended.Well inthatcase,youdon’ttalkabouttheisland.Or zombies.’
‘Whynottheisland?’ ‘Because.’
‘Uhhuh.’
Timwas waitingfor thematthe door. The dogs pushed pasthim, regardless ofsocial niceties, and headed in, heads downona food mission. Bengrinned athis friend and handed over a bottle ofwine he’dcarriedintheir overnightduffle.
Alekseysmirkedinwardlyandgavehimaverysmall wrappedparcel.‘Happyhousewarming.’ ‘Oh, thank you. You shouldn’t have…well, obviously, I mean, it is your house after all…but thanks.’He laid the little package downonthe patio table. ‘Come inand meeteveryone…Michael is, err…anyway…comein.’
Ben gave Aleksey a final eyes-narrowing of warning for good behaviour and they stepped in together.
ChapterTwo
Aleksey was used to the sensation of entering places with Ben Rider-Mikkelsen now. He’d been doing it one way or another for fifteen years, after all. He was also not entirely unaware that Ben’s attractions were somewhat mirrored, enhanced, byhis own. He hadn’t always thought this, had once deliberatelykepthimselfphysicallyand metaphoricallyinthe shadows, believingthateveryone who lookeduponhimwouldsee whathe saw inthe mirror: a murderer wearingthe face ofhis victim.But now heenjoyedtheeffecttheybothmade.Apair.HelikedenhancingBen.Hetriedtodoitoften,was intendingtodoitthatnightas well,despitebeinginTimothyWatson’s special guest suite. Bendidn’t do anythingto draw all eyes to himother thanwalkinto the room, buthe had thatkind ofrare beauty that caused pauses in conversation. He, being also six-foot four, could hardly be overlooked either, andhesupposedscarred,blond-haired,rangyVikingswereprettyrarefor Devonaswell.
Maybe they were all just alarmed by the dogs. Awolfhound and a husky helping themselves to a plate of cocktail sausages (whichwas not onthe floor), would be somethinga little different for the average professorial housewarming.
It was fairly clear to Aleksey why Tim had been unable to complete his comment about his boyfriend. The moronwas dressed ina suit, neatlyshaved, hair styled, and was standingchattingto a groupofwhatheassumedwereTim’sex-UniversityofExeter colleagues.Squeezygavehimatinylip quirkand introduced him. ‘Sir, this is Madeline, anold friend of Tim’s fromhis department, and her husband,Austin.ThisisAleksey,our bossinANGEL.’
Aleksey was entirely floored how to respond to this, so murmured, ‘I think my age has finally caughtuptome.Sorry,whoare you?’
Squeezy clapped him amusingly on the shoulder, old buddies and their jokes, and asked in his apparentlynew cut-glassEnglishaccent,‘CanIgetanyoneanother drink?Austin?’ Heretreatedtothebar whichTimhadsetuponthekitchenisland. Alekseyfollowed.
‘How come it’s always fucking us that has to not say things, hey? Fucking hell. I’d like to take these poncy prats and stick them in a shell scrape somewhere and see what their fucking topics of conversationwouldbethen.’
‘Save me. Get me the fuck outta here,I’dassume.’
Squeezyturned and hooked his elbows over the bar, surveyingthe room. ‘How does he do it? Our little Benjie. He knows fuckingnothingaboutanythingbutlookathim: he’s gotthemeatingoutofhis bleedinghand.’
‘Ithinkit’sbecausehe’snice.’
‘Yeah.Reckonthatmustbeit.’
‘Iwonder whatthatislike.’
‘What?Beingnice?’
‘Hmm.’
‘Dunno. Youshould see himwhenhe’s at our charitywhatnots withthe veterans. Those poor old bastardsareoutonthestreetsbecausetheytriedtohavefuckingconversationsaboutthingsnofucking bugger wantedtohear,especiallytheir bleedingwives.Theylookathimandseehopeor something;I don’t fucking know. They look at me and think why the fuck isn’t he sitting here with us? Or maybe one day, Matey, one day. ’
‘Ah, almonds, no thank you.’ Madeline held up her hand at the offered snack. ‘I only eat food I know isethicallysourced.Youhavetobesocareful thesedays.’
‘Dorabbitscount?’
Austinappeared to pickup onAleksey’s accent, ifnothis joke, or he mayhave beenforewarned, for he asked, ‘What do you, as a Russian, think about the PM’s stance on Ukraine? You must have someinterestingthoughtsonitall.’
Instead, he employed a tactic he’d used manytimes withPhillipa’s friends and family. Itworked a treat, regardless of what subject was being discussed. He hung his head thoughtfully, toed the beautiful slate slabs, whichhe was fairlysure were notparticularlyethical, and murmured, ‘Maywe liveininterestingtimes.’
‘Yes, we snapped up one of the new apartments on the canal off plans. It’s rather nice entirely green. Almost doubled in value since we bought it. Maddy’s a rower.’He gazed thoughtfully at his wife's backas she chatted to another couple nextto them. ‘Veryhandyfor her to practise the whole complexhasitsowndock.’
‘Maddycompetes internationally. She’s got a race ina couple of weeks. She’s goingto be…’He quirked his lip, as if seeking for a word, and was berating himself for not being able to find it. ‘Standingout, too. Yes, Ithinkshe’ll be standingout.’He shookhimselflightlyand glanced out once moreattheview.‘Doyouliveinthecity,too?’
Aleksey was going to query worked? but amended this to, ‘London? Yes, occasionally.’ He was struggling.‘Doyouteachattheuniversity?’
‘No, I ownmyowncompany: BelleroponLabs. Tim’s luckyto be out of it though, if youaskme. Althoughhe'sabitvagueaboutwhathedoesdonow.He’sdoneamarvellousjobwiththishouse.We had absolutely no idea. The interiors are superb. We just adore the Florentine brocade on the armchairs and sofas. Obviously, we wouldn’thave it ours are upholstered inorganic hemp. Butthe oak framing…Tim assured us it was a local sustainable hardwood? Although, I believe he also let sliponcethathejustrents?Bitofapuzzlereally.’
Alekseywasn’tgoingto enlightenhimand changed the subject. ‘Do youhave children?’He could usually find something amusing to relate about Molly that didn’t fall into Ben’s your usual bullshit embargos.
Madeline spoke again. She’d tuned back into their conversation and had been staring at Aleksey intensely.‘No.Wedecideditwasn’tenvironmentallyfriendly.’
Alekseyfrowned.‘What?Sex?’
Her eyebrows rose in a quick shiver as if she’d bitten into a lemon. ‘Reproduction. We’re antinatalists. ’
Five minutes. Five fucking minutes of trying to be nice and here he was unable to translate and having no fucking clue what anyone was talking about. Why couldn’t you eat fucking almonds? ‘Interesting.’ It was a shorter version of his Chinese philosophy tactic, but usually worked just as well.
Noticinghis confusion,however,Madeline helpedhimout.She was a professor.Alekseyassumed being informative was contagious too. ‘We’re committed to voluntary human extinction. We believe procreationis actuallyjust child abuse it’s entirelyunethical to bringchildreninto a world where theywill inevitablysuffer. Populationgrowthcauses environmental degradation, resource depletion, povertyandinequality.’
‘His entire bodyofworkdoesn’tevencompare to one tiger. We’re workingtowards changingthe futureoftheplanet.’
‘Ah. I heard someone else claim that recently. I helped him out, actually well, with the human extinctionpartanyway.’
‘Tim says it’s time to eat.’ Ben had a very firm grasp on his arm. He had apparently been surreptitiously monitoring him. Aleksey turned his winning smile on Sunny Boy and informed him cheerily,‘Iwasjustgoingtotell Madelineaboutyour flyinglessons,Ben.’Heturnedback.‘Benjamin is becoming a pilot. Then I’m going to buy him a plane.’ He was dragged away before he could mention the off-road Mercedes, the Maserati and Ben’s Monster Diesel. He was extremely annoyed he’dbeenconnedintowalkingover now andsuspectedanother plotconcoctedbehindhisback.
ChapterThree
At dinner, which was actually just a relaxed supper around Tim’s kitchen table, Aleksey found himself sittingnext to a womanwho introduced herself as Rachel, a friend of Tim’s fromhis animal rights days. Her brother, Maxwell, was sitting on the other side of the table, next to Ben. Aleksey didn’t tell Rachel, for obvious reasons, the exact details of how he came to know their mutual acquaintance. He wasn’ttoo sure whathe thoughtaboutanimals havingrights, and decided to consult Radulfonthisconceptlater.
The silence was a little awkward, buthe had no particular reasonto wantto breakher resistance, soaskedpolitely,‘Areyouandyour brother lecturerstoo?’
‘Ithas its moments. Idid some workonRichard III’s remains lastyear. Thatwas terriblyexciting. Chanceofalifetime.’
‘Ihad to read thatatschool. I’mnotsure Shakespeare translated all thatwell. Our tutor seemed as confusedaswewere.’
‘They think now that the entire play was little more than propaganda for Elizabeth to bolster her family’s Tudor claims by knocking the last of the Plantagenets that Richard wasn’t a hunchback at all.Andmostcontemporaryaccountswritteninhislifetimeseemtobear thatout.’
She was asked to pass the wine by the man on the other side of her. She topped up her own first and thentheybeganto discuss the view of the sunsettingonthe tor, whichwas a splendid backdrop to the dinner table. Alekseyglanced over to see whatBenwas up to. He wasn’tso possessive thathe had to monitor Ben’s every move, of course not, that would be immature and suggest insecurity. He was merely curious. He knew Ben knew he was being observed. That’s just the way they were together.
It was actually amusing how strenuously Ben was not catching his eye. Aleksey assumed he was beingstudiouslyignored inpunishmentfor breakinghis don’t say anything rules. Benhadn’tenjoyed being followed to the table and lectured by Madeline on the carbon footprint of his new hobby. AlekseyhadbeenfairlysureBenhadbeentemptedtomutter,‘Idon’tusemyfeet,’andpossiblynotin jest either. Ben didn’t do deep subjects, and if he did, it wouldn’t be a discussion on fossil fuels. Ben’s need for speed was definitelynotelectric-friendly. AlthoughAlekseywas amused and pleased inequal measure just how muchBengenuinelyenjoyed readingmore challengingfictionthese days. His subjects of interest were deepening. And he’d also done as Alekseyhad hoped he would he’d beguntofoster Molly’sinterestinbookstoo.
She could actually read quite well, although she was only three. But like most children, she preferredtobe read to.Privately,sheadmittedsheliked his made-up stories aboutthe secretlives of Radulfand PB best, because he did their voices infunnyaccents, but they’d mutuallyagreed to keep this little nugget to themselves. They both thought Ben reading bedtime stories to her on her special nightwasanexcellentideawhichshouldbeencouraged.
Maxwell appeared as intense as all Tim’s other guests. He was listening to something Ben was saying, chinonhand, engrossed. It was entirelypossible it wasn’t Ben’s topics that were fascinating him.
Thesubjectofthetor now apparentlyexhausted,Rachel turnedbacktohim,andhereluctantlytook hiseyesoffBen.‘Sorry,whatwerewesaying?’
‘Humps or lackof.Areyouahistorian?Isthatwhatyouwereresearching?’
‘Oh, no, they had some forensic anthropologists in the teamstudying the bones for deformities. I waslookingatthesoil aroundthebody.’
‘Wasitnice?’
She smiled. Faintly. ‘I'm a microbiologist. So's Max. And that’s how he met Austin. I study and collectpathogens thatmightstill bepresentinplaceslikeancientburial sites.’
‘Yes, but his remains were found on top of a much older monastery burial pit where they found skeletons ofmonks who seemed to have died ofsyphilis yes, sorry, hardlya topic for dinner, is it? Occupational hazard. And it doesn’t say much for the religious vows. I was on contract to the universityfor a three-monthstudy. Theywanted to find proofthatsyphilis, rather thantravellingfrom theNew WorldtotheOld,wasactuallytakentotheAmericasfromEurope.So,iftheydatethefindto beforeColumbusthey'vegotagoodchance.Itfitinwithmyownareaofstudy,soIagreedtodoit.’
Aleksey had once heard of people who were sewage divers. Literally, they dived into human waste pits withno protective gear to clear blockages. He’d always thoughtthatwas the worstjob in the world until meetingthis womanwho apparentlydugaround insyphilis-infested muck. He moved his mackerel pâtétooneside.Rachel saw this,frownedalittleandofferedtotopuphis glass.Heput hishandover it,sosheemptiedtheremainder ofthebottleintohers.
‘Anddidyou? findproof?’
‘Not definitive. I ran out of time. Such a shame because it's very rare that something like that comesuponpublicland mostlyoldmonasteryruinsareprivatelyowned.Crownestatesusually.’
‘Sorry,I'mnotfollowingyou.’
‘Well, obviously, whenHenrydissolved all the monasteries it wasn’t because he didn’t like God he just wanted all the land and the enormous revenues attached to the Church to fund his French wars. And our Royal Familystill owns mostofthose old estates. There’s one or two thatsurvived Buckfast Abbey, for example, just down the road of course. But the rest we can’t get access to. Sometimesthings dopopup.I’verecentlyheardofonethatmightbecomeavailablefor adig.Fingers crossed. I’ve just come back from Ukraine, so I’ve not had a chance yet to follow up on my spy’s information.Isupposeyou’vebeenfollowingwhat’shappeningover there?’ ‘Iknow theyhaveablueandyellow flag,yes.’
‘Oh. Well the war crimes investigations being done at the mass graves in Mariupol turned up lower level burial pits withmucholder skeletons. So, itwas too good a chance for me to miss, even thoughitwas a bitscarygoinginto a war zone to be honest. Butbug-ladyhere it’s mymission, my HolyGrail.’
‘HolyGrail?’
‘Well, Ukraine, or Gallicia-Volhynia as it was when these deaths occurred, was known as the epicentre for the spread throughout Europe. It came across fromwhat is now Crimea over the Black SeafromTurkey.’
‘Again,Iamnotfollowingyou.Sorry.Whatcamewhere?’
Shedrainedher glass.‘The Black Death.Sorry,didn’tIsaythat?It’squiteabitmoreexcitingthan thepox.Theremains thathavebeendugupwerefrombubonicplaguepits. Yersinia pestis.It’s one of
themostfascinatingbacteriumyoucanimagine.’
He sent his pickled onion the same way as his pâté. ‘It’s not something I spend much time imagining.’Whichwas another lie, he supposed;he oftenrecalled a tale ofsixhundred bleedingmen stridingacrossDevon,tearingtheir skinwithnails.
‘Mostpeopledon’t.Butnothingever reallydies.’
‘Anddidyoufindit?’
‘Oh,yes.Ifoundyour bog-standardbubonicplague.’
‘You found…?’ Aleksey had shifted away from people at dinners once or twice before. He supposed it was anoccupational hazard whenyoumixed withthe kind of people he had inthe past, especiallythe Royal Family, but this felt like a good time to declare a Radulf emergencyand leave. She was stretching over the table to liberate another bottle of wine as he asked, hesitantly, ‘Is it still…catching…?’
‘Oh, absolutely, it wiped out over half the world, remember fifty million people in some estimates. Seventypercentdeathrate atleast. We’re nottoo sure ofthe numbers for England as there was no official census until muchlater inthe century, buttheyextrapolated the estimates we do have from deaths of clergy, which were always recorded. But they had no antibiotics available then, of course. Don’t worry, Y. pestis still pops up all the time all over the world maybe a couple of thousandcasesayear?It’susuallyprettyquicklytreatedwithantibioticsnowadays.’
‘Oh,good.’
‘Yes.’
‘No?Youdon’tsound…happyaboutthat.’
‘Haveyouheardofthetermgainoffunction?’
‘Ibrokemylegrecently.Ihearditalotthen,yes.’
Shemulledthisover for amomentthenreassuredhimwithasmile,‘Ithinkthat’sregainfunction well Ihopeitwas.’
‘Why?Whatisthisother thing?’
‘That’s how we met Tim, actually.’She glanced down the table to where he was sitting chatting animatedlyto Madeline. Alekseywondered whattheywere findingso fascinating. TimWatsonmight havehadhimmarkedasahumaninneedofextinctiononceor twice,now hecametothinkaboutit.
Rachel was tapping the table lightly with her fork, drinking absentmindedly, apparently deep in thought about this subject. ‘Gain of function is the cutting edge of microbiology. It increases the transmissibility, lethality and virulence of pathogens. If you can break down the gene sequence of a virus or bacterium you can splice it, combine it, enhance it and increase its function you can createachimera.’
‘Chimera? Is that not a…?’She offered to top up his glass but he shookhis head once more. ‘I’m sorry.Isometimesstruggletotranslatewords.Didyoujustsayyoumakepathogens more lethal, more transmissible?’
‘Hah, yes. But other thanthis drivingto and fromlocations, what else might youwant your car to do?Afuturisticcar,ifyoulike.’
‘Youmean…fly?’
‘Why stop there? What about a submarine function too? So, someone able to make those
modifications to a basic car would be increasingits functionality. That’s whatwe do withpathogens. We enable themto do things theycan’tcurrently. Whatwas the mainspreader ofthe medieval plague, doyouknow?’
‘Ibelieveitwasbitesfromfleascarriedbyrats.’
She made a finger like a gunand pointed it at him. ‘Almost right. It was actuallyflea vomit. Isn’t thatincredible? Y.pestis bungs uptheir guts,sototryandclear the blockage theyvomitandflushthis incrediblydense plugofplague out, and thatflood ofhugelyconcentrated bacteria goes into the bite. So,toincreasetransmissionandlethality,whatwouldweneed?’
‘To be utterlyinsane first, I would think, but thenmore nauseous fleas? You’re goingto create an army of queasy plague-infected fleas and release them? I know someone who would read a book aboutthat,ifyouwantedtowriteone.’
She smiled. ‘It’s funnyyoushould saythat. It’s actuallyalreadybeendone and not infiction. In 1940,theJapanesemixedplaguefleasinabathtubwithwheat,andbombedChinawiththelethal mix. The wheat grains attracted rats, which then got infested by the infected fleas…I know, sounds like luridfiction,doesn’tit?Butthinktheother wayaround.’
Aleksey considered this for a moment. ‘Change the function of the plague so it does not require transmissionbyfleas…?’
‘Yes!As Isaid, we have outbreaks ofplague all the time incountries now, but mainlyplaces that have massive populations and lots ofpovertyand prettygrimhygiene i.e., lots ofrats and fleas for easy transmission. But here in our affluent societies, such as America and the UK, an outbreak of plague is always quicklycontained because it’s so difficultfor itto spread. When’s the lasttime you cameintocontactwithaflea?Imeanseriously?’
Alekseyheard a rumble fromunder the table, but gave Radulfthe benefit ofthe doubt he was just snoring.
‘Oh, no, that’s notgood atall. We needed to find a wayfor itto spread inplaces where itdoesn’t currently.So,wedidn’tactuallyconcentrateon bubonic plague.It’stoo…commonplace.’ ‘Huh.That’ssomethingyoudon’thear everyday.’
‘No, I know, isn’t it fascinating? Most people haven’t and yet untreated it still has a one hundred percent lethality rate and, more importantly, it is human-to-human transmissible without intervention needed by something like a flea. And the treatment has to be in the first twenty-four hours or it’s useless.What’sonethingeveryhumanhasincommon?’
Alekseywas seriouslystrugglingnow. He could thinkoflots ofthings, butnone thatseemed good topics for a dinner party. But this was a party about pox and plague, apparently, so he ventured, ‘Sex?’
She shook her head, but smirked, pleased, as if she’d expected him to say this. ‘Nope, that’s voluntary,or canbemadesafefor transmissionofviruses.Guessagain.’ ‘Breathing?’
‘There you go. Primary pneumonic plague is spread by breathing.’ Again with the smug look. ‘I know whatyou’regoingtosay.’
‘Iseriouslydoubtthat.’
‘Oh, but if there was an outbreak, we’d just issue masks or something, or respirators? Or keep everyoneinenvironmentallysafebuildings?’
‘Did theynotdo this intheir ownwayinthe middle ages locked people intheir houses? Nailed theminandleftthemtodie?’
‘Well, yes but we couldn’t do that today. Well, I suppose we could. Anyway, we probably wouldn’t.Butthereal downsidetothepathogenis thatit’ssusceptibletoheatandlight.Itwouldhave initial devastating effects, but then gradually all those measures would be enacted in some form or another and it would be contained. So what’s the next thingeveryone has to do?’She didn’t wait for his inputthis time. She was clearlyona roll. ‘Food!Everyone has to eat. So, imagine, ifour primary pneumonicplaguewassplicedwithsomethingthatjumpedspecies tosomethingweate!’
‘Yes, let’s imagine.’ There wasn’t much left on his plate to push to one side, but he neatly separated outa prawnand putthatwiththe onionand brownmush. Ifhe were animaginative sortof man, or just one with food issues he still fought on a daily basis, he might say it resembled a very large,skinnedflea.Shepolishedoffanother glassofwine.
‘Doyouknow anythingaboutbiological warfare?’
‘Absolutelynothing.’
‘Oh,well,youseemostpeople suspectmanyrogue countries aroundthe worldhave bio-weapons, butprobablywonder whytheydon’tusethemmore.’
‘Really?’
‘Whatwouldbeyour guesswhynot?’
‘Oh,justa randomstab,Iknow nothingaboutthis as Isaid,butI’d guess theytried itbutitproved toodifficulttocontainonabattlefield?Tookoutour their owntroopsaswell?’
‘Exactly. That’s what most analysts believe. But we’re into a new era now: bioterrorism, and thoserestraintsnolonger apply.’
Alekseyleaned backinhis chair consideringthis. ‘No care for collateral damage to the enemyor tothemselves.’
‘Yes,butnotonlythat,itsortoflinksinwiththewholepointofterrorisminthefirstplace.’ ‘Toforce your enemytobringinmeasures tocontainyouthatrestricttheir citizens’freedoms more thanyour actionscouldever do.’
‘Oh,yes,that’sright.Youdoknow abitaboutthis.’
‘Imayhavereadabookaboutitonce.’
‘HaveyouseenthatfilmWar of the Worlds withTomCruise? Abouta MartianinvasionofEarth?’
‘Wells wrote that book in 1897, but when they first broadcast a dramatised version of it on the radio inthe 1930s people believed it was real. That the Martians were actuallyinvading and they fled their homes inpanic. There was utter pandemonium. Mass hysteria. Awave of terror and panic swepttheentirecontinent.Butnothinghadactuallyhappened.Justwordsspokenonaradio.’
She helped herself to some more wine, but once more he refused a top up. It wasn’t the hardest thinghe’dever done,butitrankedupthere alongwiththem.Butas he’dalreadydiscovered,although there was no observable monitoringoccurring, it actuallywould be. Promises made. Promises kept.
Althoughhe couldn’t swear to it, he had a feelinghis loquacious companionwas beingveryclosely observed by her sibling too, although Maxwell couldn’t, apparently, hear what she was saying. Perhapsshewasjustknowninthefamilyastheonewhoalwaystalkedabouttheplague.
‘What was I saying? Oh, yes, the food. This is lovelywine, bythe way. I’mprobablytalkingtoo much. Am I talking too much? But see, you’d want our wee beastie to jump species into the food chain, particularlythe meat and dairyindustry cows, sheep, goats, camels, buffalo, pigs and then be endemic and permanent. The easiest functional gain therefore would be our primary pneumonic plague spliced with something that already has that level of lethality to ungulates that’s hoofed animals.Apicornavirus like footand mouthdisease, or perhaps somethinglike bacillus anthracis anthrax.’
Alekseysincerelywishedhe’dfollowedBen’s imperatives now andnotspokentoanyone.He and Radulfcould have satinthe corner and talked to eachother. Fortunately, Rachel gotdistracted bythe mannexttoher oncemorewhowasofferingher thechoicefromaplatter ofcheese,sohewasableto scrutinise the Ben-and-another-mansituationonce more. Benwas now listeningintentlyto something Maxwell was saying. Alekseytried to stretchout his legand connect, but all he managed to do was kick Radulf who was curled up by his feet. He took some cheese when it was offered to him and passed it down under the table in surreptitious apology. He wanted to know what the conversation acrossthetablewasabout.Benwasnow showingthemansomethingonhisphone.
AlekseyhopeditwasdirectionsbacktoExeter.
ChapterFour
‘HaveyouheardofGruinardIsland?’
Aleksey reluctantly brought his thoughts back fromBenjamin Rider-Mikkelsen and onto Rachel’s questionandwastemptedtotell her thathe’dnotbutthathe had heardofa verynice one calledLight Island,andthathewishedhewascurrentlythere.
‘Soil was illegally collected there forty years later in the ’80s and dumped at a military lab by terrorists,anditwasstill lethal!’
‘So, you would have this primary-pneumonic-anthrax plague in the food chain, but as you have alreadysaid,easilycontainedbyantibiotics?’Please say yes.
‘Ah, well, no, that’s the second of the gains you’d give it splice that new hybrid, our chimera, with a CRE that’s a strain of bacteria totally resistant to antibiotics and we have a depressingly increasingcatalogueofthoseavailable.Human-to-humantransmission,onehundredpercentlethal,no cure,all thefoodchainpermanentlyinfected.’
‘Ah, someone else corrected me aboutthatonlyrecently. Ibelieve it’s also called food insecurity. Yousaidsecondgain?Thereisanother?’
‘Absolutely. The actual power of a virus doesn’t lie in its virulence how quickly it can kill its host but in the longevity of its asymptomatic incubation period how long the host unwittingly carries itaround infectingothers before theysuccumb themselves. Have youever heard ofthatpuzzle abouta chessboard and a grainofrice? Ifyouputone grainonthe firstsquare and doubled itfor the next square to two grains, and kept doing that for all sixty-four squares, how much rice would you have,doyouthink?Akilogramme?Maybeabitmore?’
‘I usually consult my resident genius on such issues, but, please, do enlighten me. I suspect more thanakilogrammethough.’
‘Exactly. That’s called the seduction of the exponential curve.’ She had trouble saying this, and slurred a little. Another visitto the wine glass helped things along. ‘Picture our patientzero, our first personinfected withthe chimera. We don’twanthimto die rightaway, do we? Oh, no. We wanthim infectious bututterlyunaware ofthis so he’s travellingaround the place as muchas possible. All of the countries thatgotthe plague inthe 1300s gotitthroughships bringingthe rats andfleas withthem. EvenIceland, of all places. Theytried to keep the sailors offshore and didn’t let the boats dock, but the rats swamto land for the better food sources, and thus the plague came withthem. Buttoday, our patientzero could getinfected thentravel to Heathrow, take a plane to, say, Australia, transitthrough Singapore, land in Sydney, and behind him on the plane and at Changi airport he leaves hundreds, even thousands, of infected travellers and aircrew going to other countries. Exponential growth. It’s perfect. If you could splice that delay factor into the chimera it could spread to almost the entire
‘The best weapon of terror it’s not the actual virus or bacteria necessarily, but the fear and instability you can create in the population. And as you said: the restrictive measures necessary to contain it are sometimes worse than the disease itself. You’d have to lock people in their homes, restrict their food, possibly put them in mandatory quarantine facilities. And who would enforce it all? The armywould be decimated inthe firstwave. ThinkaboutAmerica. They’ve gotfour hundred millionguns.Who’sgoingtocomeandtakeanyofthemtoafacility?’
‘Sixhundred naked menina line whippingthemselves withscourges tipped withnails to cleanse thelandofplague.’
‘Oh, my God, you’ve heard that story too! Isn’t it fantastic? Well, horrible, too, obviously. They marched right across Europe, swelling their ranks with survivors of the Black Death traumatised, disfigured, raving. They marched two-by-two in a column through towns, singing hymns as they flagellatedthemselves.Prettyghastly.’
She twirled her glass for a moment, staringinto the liquid as it swirled around, perhaps picturing an apocalyptic landscape broken only by a chain of bloodied men marching. ‘Do you know, an Americanscientistonce predicted thatitwould onlytake twentyyears before gainoffunctiongenetic engineering would effectively make all our current antibiotics or other treatments completely ineffectiveagainstbiological warfareattacks.’
‘Whendidhepredictthis?’
‘Twentyyearsago.’
‘Ah.’
‘So, anyway, my brother is glaring at me that I’m talking too much. I can feel the waves of disapproval.Tell meaboutthestuffTimdoesnow for youwithyour charity.I’mfascinatedtoknow.’
Aleksey supposed he would be, too, if he actually knew. ‘But this is all theoretical, yes? This super-plague. This chimera? This is just stuff youbelieve to be possible but would obviouslynever do.’
‘No, I said we met because of them. He and his cell raided the lab I worked at. Fortunately, they onlypenetratedtheLevel 1facility;althoughI’mnotsuretheyentirelygotthat.Ithinktheymighthave releasedamousewithasniffle,butthatwasit.’
‘You…areyoutellingmeyou’ve actuallymade this super-plague thing? I’msorry,again,Istruggle totranslatesometimes.Please,don’ttell meyouactuallywentaheadandmadethisthing?’ She thoughtaboutthis for a momentandreplieda little testily,‘No,we were makinga vaccine for it.’
‘Oh, good.’ He pondered this for a moment, staring at Ben’s beautiful tousled hair, then asked, ‘Whywouldyouneedavaccinefor somethingthatdoesn’texist?’
Testy turned to snippy. ‘Well, yes, obviously, you have to make the new pathogen first. Then you attempt to make a vaccine.’ Snippy turned to outright tetchy. ‘We believed we needed to have vaccines ready in case someone else made it. Hello, remember? Bioterrorism? To make a vaccine you have to make the functionally improved virus or bacterium first. Your lot, the Russians, weaponised Marburg, so no one atthis table has gotanycause to be smugand censorious, have they? They made a vaccine-resistant strain of anthrax, too. The Americans tried to get a sample, but they
couldn’t, so they had to make it then. I have these kinds of conversations a lot, by the way; nothing you’re saying surprises me. It’s very hard to explain the necessity for this research to laymen. Forty members ofal-Qaida were found dumped onthe roadside inIraq in2009, dead ofbubonic plague huh, Iwonder how theyjusttripped over that.’She hiccupped. ‘Excuse me. Whatdo youthinkwould happen if someone else made this gain of function chimera before we have a chance to make the vaccine?’She drew a line across her throat in a rather un-microbiologist way, Aleksey thought, and murmured, ‘Seventypercentofthe global populationkilled inthe firstwave throughhuman-to-human transmission, then the remaining thirty percent facing a food chain permanently infected and lethal. Thenthattiny,traumatisedthirtypercentwouldstarve.’
‘Wait,didyousay have a chance.Youhavenotactuallymadeavaccine?’
She tooka deep breathand thenacknowledged, ‘Yes, well. We couldn’t. We tried for years. Inthe end, we destroyed our chimera and left that lab. We’d met Timthen, yousee. The ethics of what we were doingseemed all wrong. We leftand setup our ownlaboratory. Maxand Austinrunit. I’mjust a majority shareholder. They’re working on a drug for tinnitus at the moment that’s a dreadful conditionthatdoesn’tgetenoughattention. Butmyinvestmentinthe companyfunds myprojects a bit, although I still take the occasional contract work like the syphilis study. Ironically, the lab we worked for in Middlesex closed not long after we left. But my whole experience there, and meeting Tim,iswhyI’mnow doingwhatI’mdoing.’
Alekseywastemptedtomurmur what, scaring the fuck out of me?
‘HaveyouheardoftheOrder oftheLight?’
‘No.SomethingtodowithFlorenceNightingale?’
She smiled. ‘No, she was the ladyofthe lamp, butIsuppose there is a connection. Remember the sixhundredflagellants? Theytriedtoridthe landofdeathwithwhatwas nothingmore thanmedieval barbarismand superstition. Well, there was another group travellingthroughEurope atthe same time calledTheOrder oftheLight.Theywerethoughttobeasplinter groupofalarger religious order,the Carthusians.’
‘Monasteries, yes. Exactly. When they find monastery burial sites across Europe that date from 1345 to 1348 the second Black Death pandemic all the skeletal remains show signs of death by plague except for some. In every mass grave, they find one or two bodies that didn’t die in the pandemic,infactappear tohavenoindicationwhatsoever ofdisease.Theywereentirelyhealthy.’
‘But…dead.Sowhatdidtheydieof?’
‘It appears in all cases they were tortured to death, hideously mutilated some showed signs of trepanation holes drilledintotheir skulls whiletheywerealive or theywerebrokenonthewheel. And in every single case where these bodies have been found, if there are contemporary records available, the medieval scribes talkofthe light thatmenoflightrobed inwhite came to the village and lived and worked withthe dying. That these mendid not get sickat all, despite pullingthe dead fromhouses, eating the infected animals as the villagers were doing, burning corpses, trying to tend andheal.’
‘Menoflightrobedinwhite?Pleasedon’ttell meyouthinktheywereangels.’ She actually blushed. It was surprisingly attractive. She swirled her wine thoughtfully. ‘No, of course not. Gold-star atheist here. But I do have a religion of sorts, I suppose: science. And if you separate out all the myth and fear, you have a curious correlation between accounts of this plague-
‘I’msearchingfor the place the few survivingmembers ofthe order ended up. We didn’thave the technologyinthe pastto make use ofthe remains whentheywere found. Now we do. I do. I want to find the Order of the Light, and I want to find out what made themimmune to bubonic plague and, it seems,all other pathogensaroundatthetime.’
‘All other pathogens?’
‘Yes, you see the really odd thing about these corpses is that they have tested to be well over a hundred years old...possiblya lotmore. No disease. Itmaybe thattheywere justmore scrupulous in their hygiene for some reason. I often think of baptismand its association with, well, bathing. Who knows if ancient people saw that those who’d been baptised as part of a religious ceremony were healthier and that helped spread the myth that the spiritual aspect of the baptismwas what gave you thathealth?Causationversuscorrelation.’Shetookasipofwine.‘Areyouareligiousman?’
I see dead people and lights from empty lighthouses, so what the fuck do I know? ‘No,butIhave annoyingfriends.’
She quirked her lip. ‘Jointhe club. Myname, Rachel mypeople come fromthe HolyLand, and there’s a subsetofJewishpeople alive todaywho have a recessive gene thatmakes themresistantto plague. My grandmother used to explain this by saying that anyone who touched Yeshua after his resurrectionwasimbibedbypower.TheBibledoessayhisfollowerswerechanged.’
‘Ah, there you’d be wrong.’ She actually admonished him by tapping him on the arm. She was flirtingwithhim. He suddenlywondered if no one had told her. But onthe other hand, it had beena strange conversation for a pick-up line. He’d never been chatted up over syphilis, plague, and flea vomitbefore.‘Somedo itwasGod’strial runfor our Messiahyettocome,accordingtoher.’ He found himself tapping his own fork on the table and stopped. ‘Do you know that Jesus is believedtohavecometoCornwall?’
She gave hima lookthat confirmed his recent suspicions. She clearlydidn’t realise his boyfriend was sittingacross the table fromhim. ‘Yes, Ido. Ibelieve that’s whymy men of the light those that were left, came here. At the end. He was there at the beginningfor them, and theywanted to be near himagainattheend…’
Alekseyshookhimself. ‘Youare talkingabout 1348, yes? One thousand three hundred years after thecrucifixion?’
‘Yes,Iknow.It’shardtotakein.Look,I’velostall credibilityinmyprofessionnow.I’mseenasa loose cannon, a conspiracytheorist, butmaybe, justmaybe, these are all justdifferentversions ofthe same entirely rational truth: that there’s a strain of immunity passed down through a tiny group of consequentlyverylong-lived people who were spiritual and lived pure lives: possiblyjust washing more.Havingless sex? Whoknows? There are accounts inthe JewishBible ofa mandyingwhowas nearly a thousand years old. Perhaps these long-lived people joined religious organisations such as the Carthusians, and whenever plagues broke out, they were there, helping with advice on quarantiningpeople,keepingthingsclean…’
‘And they were tortured and persecuted for this knowledge and for their…purity. Their ability to
