Read Online The Smog by John Creasey - Free Book Online Page A

door was open but beyond it was a thick canvas curtain. The man with Palfrey pushed this aside, and Palfrey stepped into a small decontamination chamber where two men stood, each carrying a miniature spray gun. One sprayed Palfrey, one the officer. The men nodded, and now Palfrey led the way into the next room.
    This was a pleasantly furnished living room.
    The whole of the window had been blacked out with gas-resistant, processed hessian, and there was a square cover built over the fireplace. Otherwise, nothing appeared to have been altered. In an ashtray by the side of an armchair were several cigarette butts, while in between two chairs was a low table with whisky, a soda syphon and two glasses.
    Both men removed their masks.
    â€œYou’d better have a regulation mask if you’re going to be here long, sir.” The officer, Lieutenant Hill, was probably half Palfrey’s age, fresh-faced, clear-eyed, obviously public school.
    â€œI shall indeed,” said Palfrey. “How did this particular bother start?”
    â€œCan’t be absolutely sure, sir. I was in here when I received a report that the concentration was much greater than it had been, between this spot and the Manor. And I didn’t lose any time coming to warn you.”
    â€œA good thing you didn’t,” said Palfrey. “What is the concentration like at the other end of the village?”
    â€œVery much as before. Care to come straight into the operations room or would you like some coffee or anything?”
    â€œI’ll go straight in,” Palfrey said.
    The ‘operations room’ was across a narrow passage, and was in fact the dining room. Here was a long refectory table set with chairs which looked very much like genuine William and Mary. On one wall were two lighting brackets which had been adapted by the army to take a couple of powerful lamps. A non-commissioned officer, sitting under the harsh brilliance, scrambled to his feet as Palfrey and the officer entered.
    The lieutenant picked up a small stick, rather like a conductor’s baton, and pointed to an Ordnance Survey map fastened to one wall. All over this there were red marks, tiny crosses – sometimes two, three or even four close together.
    â€œWhere the bodies were found,” he said.
    Palfrey nodded. “What are the green smudges?”
    â€œThey denote the deeper concentration of the stuff,” Hill said. “How many more reports since I left, sergeant?”
    â€œTwenty-seven, sir—you see where the area has been dotted?” The man pointed with a long forefinger and Hill waved the stick. “Between the north end of the village and the Manor, sir.”
    The whole of this area had been dotted with green. It was narrow, close to the village, and gradually widened, until it looked like a mass of dots encircling the Manor.
    â€œWell?” Hill asked.
    â€œThe reports are so numerous from that area, sir, that I dotted it—impossible to keep an accurate record.”
    â€œI see, yes.”
    â€œMeaning, exactly?” said Palfrey.
    â€œThat’s the area we walked through,” Hill said. “Any source discovered?”
    â€œNo, sir. But obviously it comes from underground.”
    â€œI like proof, not guesswork, sergeant.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWhat investigations are pending?”
    â€œThe blue areas indicate places where we are digging to find out if the source is underground, sir.”
    â€œAnd are there no reports in?”
    â€œNone, sir.”
    â€œWhere is the nearest dig?” asked Palfrey.
    â€œFifty-two yards from this safety zone, sir.”
    â€œIn the garden of this house, do you mean?”
    â€œIn a shed, to be exact, sir—a shed at the end of the garden.”
    â€œIs there a petrol-fired generator plant here?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œI’d like you to get some alternative source of light, and have the generator dismantled with