The Doomsday Carrier by Victor Canning by Canning Victor

Author:Canning, Victor [Canning, Victor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller
Amazon: B01FEPN2EQ
Goodreads: 128911894
Publisher: Morrow
Published: 1976-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

ALL THE NATIONAL daily papers carried the Charlie story that morning with photographs of the barn and the hole in the roof, and some with photographs of Duncan Sparrow to mark the interview with him. Without exception all of them wanted to know the truth about Charlie. Why were troops and helicopters being employed in the search for him—at the public’s expense? Was his mysterious, unrevealed private owner going to foot the bill for the search? Or was he really privately owned? If so, why was a distinguished micro-biologist from the Fadledean Research Station, a Miss Jean Blackwell—not available for interview—taking a prominent part in the search? Had Charlie escaped while on his way to Fadledean? Or had he escaped from Fadledean? The public was entitled to know since a great deal of their money was being spent on the search for him; a search which did not appear to be particularly competent since Charlie had now been free for almost a week. Many of the newspaper cartoonists, glad to forget political and international subjects, featured Charlie.

Grandison, standing in the window bay of the Minister’s room while the Minister spoke on the telephone at his desk, knew that before the day was out all the radio and television networks would be hard at work on the story and Charlie would be a national figure. So long as there was an element of mystery, or a chance to embarrass officialdom, the media would not let go.

He turned as he heard the telephone replaced. The day’s newspapers were spread over the great desk and the Minister sat behind them, a small, brisk, neat man with a thin, tired face, his top teeth working nervously on his lower lip. A rabbit, thought Grandison. They were all rabbits, though not all of them looked like them.

The Minister said, “I’m seeing the P.M. in an hour’s time. What do you suggest?”

Grandison let the monocle drop from his eye to clink against his coat buttons. Always this way, he thought. What do you suggest, as though they had no minds of their own. Politicians in office never went out on the ice until they had pushed others forward first to test it.

“What I suggested originally. Go as near the damned truth as you can. People these days know all about Chemical and Biological Warfare establishments. Fadledean, Porton, Fort Detrick in the States, and the Suffield Proving Grounds in Canada. . . every country has them. The public know they have to be but don’t want to think about them. If we’d made a simple statement at the beginning saying Charlie had escaped from Fadledean where he was the subject of, say, animal behaviour research or some such guff—then there would have been no trouble except for the cries of a few cranks who would have been ignored by the press because that kind of protest isn’t news.”

“And now?”

“Do it now. It cuts out all the mystery. Charlie must be put in the bag soon. The story will die.

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