Read Tunnels 05 - Spiral for Free Online Page B

itself was a large map of Scotland, with the highland and lowland areas depicted in pastel shades. With the exception of Mrs. Burrows, everyone’s gaze had come to rest on it.
    “Yes, you’re in Scotland,” Parry said, raising his voice to be heard over the printer. “Sixty miles due north of Glasgow, to be precise.” He aimed his walking stick at the point on the map. “Just about there.” The hairs pricked up on the back of Will’s neck; it obviously no longer mattered that they’d be able to identify the location of the estate, and that was a little ominous. Parry opened his mouth to talk, but then clucked. He swung to Mr. Rawls. “Put that bloody thing on pause, will you? Can’t hear myself speak.”
    Mr. Rawls swiped a switch on the printer as Parry perched on the edge of the desk and continued. “You’ll doubtless be wondering why Jeff and I have locked ourselves away in here for the last twenty-four hours.” He glanced at Mr. Rawls, who gave a small nod, then Parry tapped the floor twice with his stick. “I asked him to help because I needed someone to man the telex. I’m still on the distribution list for the COBRA bulletins.” Parry smiled, but it wasn’t out of amusement. “The powers that be keep me in the picture. In my former line of work, you never really retire.”
    Mr. Rawls saw that his son was frowning. “COBRA is a government committee convened whenever there’s a security risk to the country,” he explained.
    “Wouldn’t it be quicker to get the information over the net?” Will asked, looking from the aged printer beside Mr. Rawls to the computer screen.
    “The web is never secure,” Parry said. “The only way to trace this telex would be to dig up the miles of dedicated trunk line it’s connected to.” He took a deep breath. “So where do I start . . . ? My son — who you know by the preposterous moniker of Drake — has always steadfastly refused to allow me into his struggle against the Styx. He’s even been going around telling everyone I’ve popped my clogs, just to protect me.” Parry raised his eyebrows. “But my safety isn’t an issue anymore because the game’s changed. Would you take them through the latest COBRA bulletins?” he said to Mr. Rawls.
    “Of course. Just over a day ago, reports began to surface of incidents all over Europe — multiple assassination attempts on heads of state and key political figures. In France, the President and his wife escaped death by the skin of their teeth, but two further attacks on the Spanish and Italian parliaments killed several dozen politicians. And in Brussels a room full of assorted MEPs was taken out.”
    “But there wasn’t anything about this on TV last night,” Will said.
    “And we couldn’t even get the news this morning — most of the channels had this notice up that they’re not available,” Chester added.
    “I’m not surprised,” Parry said. “But first things first. Please go on, Jeff.”
    “Sure,” Mr. Rawls said. “The news of these assassination attempts has been suppressed because of the sensitivity surrounding them — they all originated from here.”
    “From Britain,” Parry clarified. “Ordinary English people have become suicide bombers. . . . They’ve turned into walking bombs. The nature of the explosives inside them — no ferrous components — means that conventional detection equipment is useless.”
    “Walking bombs? How does that work?” Mrs. Burrows asked, frowning.
    “A botched attempt at the German parliament in Berlin resulted in the capture of a live bomber,” Mr. Rawls said. “The woman was found to have had major body organs removed from her thorax and abdominal cavities.”
    Parry reached over to the opposite side of his desk to retrieve a printout from the telex, then put on his glasses to read from it. “
Lobectomy of the right lung.
” He looked up as he explained,
“
The medical inspection revealed that an entire lung had been surgically removed