gns.theplutopact-第42部分
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thing a million times worse。 This was the Plutonium Society； indeed。
He folded up all the reports and dropped them back into the file。 He referred to it as the 'dead file'…the understatement of the century。
Just then the telephone rang。 Dyne recognised Tyler's voice at once。 The gravity of the other's tone warned him to expect the worst。 They had tolerated the usual one…degree daily rise。 It was too much to hope for even a steadying…certainly not a drop； until the new solidifying system was tried。
'Two degrees；' Tyler said。
Dyne sighed as he replaced the receiver。 Doomsday was one day nearer…Friday！
He phoned Canverdale at once。
When he replaced the receiver for the second time； that earlier sensation of drowsiness crept back over him。 Only this time it was different； a kind of numbing of his brain； a slowing down of his movements。 And something else 。 。 。 a strange sort of smug satisfaction that brought a slow smile to his thick lips； freezing them into a grimace like a child's halloween mask。
There was not even shock when full realisation filtered through to him； just sitting there at his desk with that same glib expression 。 。 。 knowing that which he had failed to recognise earlier。 And he remembered the dreams； too。 Understood them！
Winston Dyne laughed softly； a harsh sound like the croaking of a distant raven。 He knew why Section Eight was going to explode in a very short time。 Only he could stop the imminent holocaust。 But he wasn't going to！
At 10。30 p。m； Canverdale again spoke to the nation； this time from his secret headquarters in Hertfordshire。 His speech was the frankest he had ever made in his whole political career。 He did not； however； confess to the people about his former omission concerning the advance of D…Day from Monday to Friday。 He simply stated that because of an increased rate of escaping radioactivity…assuring them at the same time that it was being contained…Friday would be crisis day。 His cabinet would meet tomorrow； and on Thursday night a decision would be announced。
'Obviously；' he concluded； 'this radioactivity will not be released into the environment until the last possible moment when it is absolutely clear that an explosion is inevitable…the like of which cannot be prehended by mankind。 It has been pointed out to me that； in the event of this holocaust； the radioactivity will enter the atmosphere； anyway。 The margin hi deciding between the lesser of the two evils is minute。 Sanity must prevail。 Every one of us clings to the hope that the structure in which the vapour is at present contained can withstand the pressure； perhaps even beyond the limit our scientists have imposed upon it。 Work is continuing ceaselessly in an attempt to deal with the remaining nuclear waste and thus reduce the rate of escape。 It is a fight against time； a battle which can only be fought by a limited number of men within Section Eight。
Tomorrow night I shall disclose the locations of nuclear shelters situated in or near major cities。 Unfortunately； these places can only acmodate a small percentage of the population。 The Ministry of Environment will issue instructions about the most suitable evasive action for the less fortunate to take。 I beseech you…every single one of you…to remain calm； for only in this way can we avert the most terrible disaster in the history of mankind。 Mass hysteria will only hamper our efforts…and has already resulted in an alarming death…toll。'
Once his address had been delivered； Canverdale felt somewhat easier。 Of course releasing the radioactivity would be preferable to an explosion。 And if the rate of escape was consistent； the problem would be much easier。 Yet； twice the gauge had risen alarmingly and unexpectedly。 The reactor could go up at any minute…even before he had finished smoking this very cigarette。 He wondered if they would make it to Friday。
The phones rang incessantly； five secretaries taking the calls； and bringing him only the most urgent messages throughout the night。 Rioting everywhere…an infection now spreading to all corners of the globe。
Scotland had made panic…stricken attempts to evacuate itself。 'Flee south' was the cry that resulted in a twenty…mile tail…back of traffic over Shap； and on all other routes vehicles soon came to a total stand…still。 There was no longer any regard for the highway code。 A small minority drove north…the ghouls who head for any major disaster in quest of horrific spectacular。 This accounted for several head…on collisions； major accidents which blocked roads pletely。 Vehicles were abandoned； and their occupants set off on foot over fields and hills； trudging for miles along fast…flowing rivers in search of a shallow crossing place。 Some were drowned。 Whole families； totally exhausted； slept out hi the open with not even a blanket to cover them。 Many died during this pilgrimage of terror。 Towns were looted； battles raging between those fleeing from the north； and southern residents who were determined to protect their property at all costs。 Fires raged unchecked。
Wednesday； 3。30 a。m。 Canverdale received an offer from the Kremlin。 Fleets of airliners would be sent in the following day to evacuate as many people as possible。 Soviet troops would repel rioters at every airfield。 Canverdale rejected this offer with dignity； but was curtly advised that the rescue bid would still take place。 It was not a promise； but a threat…and； under present circumstances； it would be difficult to interpret as an act of war。 The cunning of the Soviet bear knew no limits。
The Prime Minister consulted three of his leading ministers immediately by telephone； and then called Washington。 It took him less than ten minutes to locate the President of the United States。
At 7。30 a。m。 the White House contacted the Kremlin； tactfully at first； voluntarily offering to take over the rescue bid。 The offer was abruptly refused。 America then sternly warned the USSR to desist from their scheme。 At lO。a。m。 the President of the USA telephoned Canverdale。
The Prime Minister's hands were visibly shaking as he addressed the crisis Cabinet Meeting half an hour later。
'Gentlemen；' he began； his voice disclosing the weariness now threatening to engulf him。 'We have another Cuba situation on our hands； and we are absolutely powerless to intervene in any way。 We are the meat in the sandwich for a Third World War。 I can offer neither suggestions nor a solution。 One way or another； Britain is finished。 Perhaps it would be best； after all； if Section Eight exploded！'
In his hotel bedroom； Kent listened to Canverdale's broadcast on the transistor radio。 Eventually he switched off； intending to retire to bed。 Then he had a change of mind which surprised even himself。 Instead of donning his pyjamas； he put on his three…quarter…length sheepskin coat； walked downstairs and outside to his parked Mercedes。
Every action was slow； with none of his usual decisiveness； even the way he drove； almost as though he was unsure of himself； even of his destination…a man who had finally lost hope and run out of ideas。
The streets were crowded； and twice he had to pull up to avoid a bunch of pedestrians idling in the middle of the road。 Gatherings； some small； some large； some quiet； others noisy。 Everybody had heard the broadcast。 Perhaps； like himself； they were trying to reach a decision； desperately seeking a way to escape death。
As the Mercedes nosed its way through the Square he slowed momentarily； taking in the scene before him。 Several hundred townspeople packed the cobbled area。 A man had climbed on to the pedestal of Burns's statue to address them。 He was a volatile speaker； fists clenched； gesticulating wildly； frequently pointing back towards the north end of the valley。 Constant cheers drowned his words。 A continual oration…an incitement！ Kent knew only too well that before long this ugly throng； joined by countless others； would be marching on the nuclear station。 David versus Goliath； only this time no well…aimed stone would win the battle。 It was lo
