'Let me go in,' said Kate, taking the suit from the female agent. 'I'm used to wearing these things.'

'Be careful,' said Paul.

'Don't worry, it's fine.' She kissed him. 'We make a good team, Paul. Now all we have to do is find Jack.'

'Any news on Dr Maddox's son and husband?' Harley asked.

French frowned. 'No. But everyone right up to the PM has been informed of the danger. The army have been mobilised. Everybody is out looking for them. Everybody.'

CHAPTER 49.

In a small, stuffy room in a two-star hotel on the perimeter road of Heathrow Airport, Vernon Maddox surveyed with displeasure the mustard-coloured walls and grimy cream bedspread. Red lights, flashing around the edges of the blinds at the window, caught his attention, and he walked over and peered out.

'What in h.e.l.l's going on out there?' he wondered aloud.

Despite the fact that it was four in the morning, the road was full of armoured vehicles. Police and army in flak jackets were jumping out of cars and vans, and the crackle of walky-talkies punctuated the still pre-dawn air.

'Jeez,' said Vernon. 'Look, Jack soldiers!'

Jack didn't respond. He was sitting on the double bed, his thin knees drawn up to his chest and his eyes heavy with bewilderment and lack of sleep.

'Soldiers, Jack!' insisted Vern, with more enthusiasm than he felt.

'Don't care about soldiers. I want Mummy,' came the response.

Vernon exhaled gustily. 'We've been through this, Jack. You can't talk to Mommy right now, it's the middle of the night.'

'She told me I could call her anytime,' said Jack, too worn out even to sound petulant.

'Come on, son, let's get some sleep. I'll just turn on the TV here, see if it says anything about what-all's going on outside.'

The hotel room television, however, did not run to cable 24 hour news channels, and all that Vernon found, when he flicked through the stations, was some men playing poker; a chat show discussing exploding breast implants; and a late-night music show featuring footage of a band he didn't recognize on stage at some open-air festival. Vernon picked up the phone by the bedside and dialled zero, watched listlessly by Jack.

'h.e.l.lo? This is room 242. What's going on there? Some kind of bomb scare or something?....Huh....Right... OK. For how long? Oh. Yeah. Goodnight.'

He looked at his son, who was fiddling with Billy's on-off switch. 'c.r.a.p. It's some kind of security alert, they didn't know what. All flights grounded till at least mid-morning. Oh well, nothing we can do about it, is there, pal? Let's get a few hours' sleep, and we can get something figured out in the morning. Get into bed there, Jack. I'm just gonna use the bathroom, then I'm joining you.'

Before disappearing into the bathroom, Vernon turned up the music on the television. Some guy with long hair was singing about how someone had come along on a glorious day. Even in front of his son, Vernon was squeamish about the sounds of bodily functions being overheard through thin walls, and his gut had been playing him up all day.

Jack gazed at the band on TV. Then he stretched out a small hand to the telephone and dialled zero, just as he'd seen his father do. The receiver was still warm and smelled of his dad.

A lady answered.

'h.e.l.lo,' said Jack. 'I want to speak to my mummy please.'

The night receptionist, a young, artificially-enhanced Irish woman called Sheila, had been watching with interest the chat show about the exploding breast implants until the kerfuffle outside distracted her. She was new in the job, and when she heard Jack's request, was unsure what the rules were, regarding the a.s.sistance of small children to make phone calls. She had noticed Jack when they checked in, though, and thought how sweet he was, clutching his robot, and how exhausted he looked.

'It's direct dial, sweetheart,' she said, hoping that Al Qaeda weren't about to launch a suicide attack on the airport. There had been some staying at the hotel last night who looked like Muslims. Foreigners, anyway. Maybe she should tell the police. 'I think you'd better ask your daddy to do it for you.'

'He's in the bathroom. He takes ages, and I have to talk to her now.'

Sheila heard the tremor in the boy's voice. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she thought, I hope that man hasn't abducted him. Surely there was no harm in helping the boy speak to his mammy?

'Do you know the number, darling? I can help you ring it, shall I?'

Jack solemnly recited a long telephone number. 'That's the country code as well,' he said, with a hint of pride. 'Mummy made me learn it.'

'Good for your mammy,' said Sheila, baulking slightly when she realized it was an international cell phone number. Would she get into trouble for this?

'I want my mummy,' came a plaintive little voice on the line, and Sheila sighed. She'd just have to risk his father's wrath not that she'd get it directly, though she was to go home at six thirty when her shift ended. If she was still alive then. She crossed herself discreetly.

'OK, darling, it's ringing for you now,' Sheila said, putting him through.

She looked nervously out of the hotel's front doors. Perhaps she ought to have taken that job in Tesco's after all. The pay had been much worse, but at least the hours were reasonable, and there wouldn't have been armed soldiers parading up and down outside, in the middle of the night...

Kate's mobile rang as she sat close to Paul in the back of the unmarked car, speeding towards London. The anti-virus was safely in the possession of Agent French. The screen flashed up 'private call', as she pulled it out of her jacket pocket, held her breath, and pressed 'answer.'

'Mummy?'

'It's him!' she said to French and Harley. French immediately took out her own mobile and made a quick call.

Kate held back her tears, trying to sound as natural as possible while Jack whined about how he wanted to see her and how daddy was in the bathroom doing a smelly poo and Billy was bored.

'I'm coming to find you, Jack,' she said.

'What about that scary man?'

She hesitated. Should she tell him Sampson was dead? 'The police got him, sweetheart. He can't get you. Where are you, Jack?'

'I'm in a hotel. There are soldiers outside. Oh, daddy just flushed the toilet. I'd better go. See you soon, mummy.'

Jack hung up.

Kate looked expectantly at French, who nodded.

'Traced him,' she said.

Less than half an hour later, Kate, Paul, and Agents Harley, French and Donahoe were in a police helicopter, swinging towards Heathrow Airport, the only object flying in the entire airs.p.a.ce of the British Isles.

Twenty minutes after that, Sheila the receptionist was chatting to Ernesto, the night security guard, speculating about the nature of the terrorist threat outside their hotel and, by the looks of it, the whole airport.

She was re-attaching one of her stick-on fingernails when the front doors of the hotel burst open and a team of armed police charged in, followed by a young woman with wild dark hair, flanked by three young men and a woman in an expensive suit.

'Vernon Maddox,' barked one of the men. 'What room's he in? Him and his son. Quick!'

Sheila dropped her false fingernails.

'Two...four...two,' she stammered, her mouth hanging open as she watched them running full-pelt up the stairs towards the second floor.

Odd, she thought. The woman appeared to be carrying a syringe.

Harley knocked on the hotel room door. The moment Vernon opened it, one of the armed policemen grabbed him and pulled him out into the corridor.

'What the h.e.l.l? Kate? What's going..?'

'Shut up Vernon,' Kate said, pushing past him into the room.

As Vernon was escorted out of the building, shouting about his human rights and how the US Amba.s.sador was gonna hear about this, Kate approached her son. Jack was sitting on the bed, looking up at her and all the strangers with wide eyes. Billy was cradled in his lap.

Kate hugged him tight, and kissed his scalp. The Pandora Virus was inside him, not contagious yet, but there were only minutes remaining before it became so. And surely the safe period couldn't be predicted to the exact minute. He might even be contagious already. Kate knew that she, Vernon and everyone else in this room were in danger; they would all have to be treated and quarantined.

'Mummy, I was scared,' Jack said. 'And I'm so tired.'

'There's nothing to be afraid of any more,' she soothed. But as she said this she was aware of the syringe in her hand. And as if Jack could read her thoughts, he turned his head and saw it. He immediately pulled away.

'Mummy, why have I got to have a shot?'

She tried to pull him closer. 'Jack, I'm so sorry, but you need it.'

'No!' he screamed, wriggling and pulling away. She held on to him as he struggled. She had already prepared the syringe just before entering the building.

'Do you need a hand?' asked Paul, who was standing in the doorway.

'No. He won't let anyone else near him when he's in this state.'

Paul hesitated. She could tell he really wanted to help, to do something, but this was down to her.

'Jack, if you let me give you the injection I'll take you to McDonalds.'

'I don't wanna go to McDonalds.'

'I'll buy you another robot to be friends with Billy.'

'I don't want another robot.'

'I'll get you anything you want.'

'Will you and daddy be married together again?'

She flinched. 'I can't promise that, Jack. But we'll both always love you, you know that.'

'I don't want you to love me.'

She laughed. 'I'll give you a big, wet kiss.'

'Yuk!'

She stroked his hair. 'I want you to be really brave now, Jack. Like a big boy.'

'But injections hurt.'

She wasn't going to lie to him. 'Only for a second. And it will be a bit sore afterwards. But remember when you got stung by that yellowjacket? It won't hurt as much as that.'

'It will.'

'No, it won't. I promise.'

He shook his head and closed his eyes, and as he did she grabbed him and pulled him over her lap, pulling down his trousers and pants. He screamed, but she had to do it. He might hate her for a while but he'd recover. She just prayed the anti-virus would work. As Jack wriggled and tried to punch her, she sunk the needle into the soft flesh of his bottom. Then she let him scamper away, pulling up his pants, tears streaming down his red face. He clutched Billy the robot while she carefully put the syringe aside and took her son in her arms, cuddling him until he stopped struggled.

Now all she could do was wait, and pray it had worked.

EPILOGUE.

1.

The cremation took place on a Wednesday, the hottest day of the year; one of the hottest days ever recorded in England, in fact. Kate and Paul sat in the front row, holding hands as the coffin slid behind the purple curtain. There were only four people there: Kate and Paul, and Paul's parents, who were still in a state of shock. Paul's mum, Eileen, was clearly on medication. Before the service, Paul's dad, Michael, had stood outside in the full glare of the sun smoking cigarette after cigarette, occasionally patting his bald head with a handkerchief. He'd started smoking again despite quitting for the second time ten years before.

Not many people have to bury their son twice.

'I hope Jack's okay,' Kate fretted, half to herself. She had felt constantly on edge since the events of the previous week.

'He'll be fine.'

'I just keep thinking about what happened last time I left him with Miranda.'

'Kate, nothing's going to happen to him now. Sampson and Gaunt are dead and Vernon's back in Boston. I don't think he'll be in a hurry to come back to England for a while.'

'I know...It just makes me twitchy being apart from Jack at the moment, even for one day.' She paused, shading her eyes with the hand that wasn't holding Paul's. 'I'm going to have to get used to it though when he starts his new school. Next month! I hope he's not going to be too traumatised, he's been so clingy...'

Paul hugged her. 'Kate, please try to stop worrying, OK?'

They fell into contemplative silence. Kate wondered if she'd ever be able to stop worrying again; at least where Jack was concerned.

After giving him his injection, Kate had been forced to endure hours of further torment, waiting to see if the anti-virus had worked. She, Jack, Paul and Vernon were taken into quarantine, to a place very much like the hospital where Leonard and Dr Gaunt had kept her after the fire. This time, though, she wasn't disorientated and drugged. Instead, a frightening clarity kept her awake, as she waited and waited. Jack had been quite happy: he was put in a little room next to Kate's with a TV and a Playstation and loads of toys, and was given as much chocolate milk as he could drink. Even Vernon stopped complaining after a short spell of threatening to call his lawyer, the Amba.s.sador, CNN and the President.