"Harry Adam Knight - Fungus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Knight Harry Adam)

Frowning, she wondered how she could have cut herself. Then she remembered removing that sliver from
the gill segment for the microscope. She must have nicked herself with the scalpel. Oh well, it didnтАЩt
matter; the cut would have been well and truly cleaned by both the antiseptic gas and water. Not that there
was any chance of picking up a dangerous infection from anything in her lab. Despite all the elaborate
safety precautions, which were imposed on all the InstituteтАЩs genetic engineering facilities no matter what
the nature of their work, she knew that there was nothing potentially harmful among any of the artificial
micro-organisms that she and her team had created over the years.

Or so she believed. . . .

Unknown to her, several thousand microscopic mushroom cells still remained in the cut and under her
fingernail. They were dead or dying but the virus-like enzyme, which had been designed to survive for as
long as possible, was still active within all the cells.

And while the enzyme wasnтАЩt directly harmful to human life its indirect effects were to prove, very
swiftly, catastrophic.

Humming to herself Dr. Jane Wilson finished dressing and made her plans for the night. Though she
hadnтАЩt slept for the last 36 hours she was too excited to go home to bed. No, she wanted to celebrate, and


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sheтАЩd celebrate by having her first self-indulgent night out in years. She would go to a movie,
perhapsтАФpreferably a comedyтАФthen have an Indian meal and after that go to a pub and get quietly
drunk. She

would do all the things that she and Barry used to enjoy doing when they first met.

Damn, she was thinking about him again. She wondered if she should give him a call when she got home
and break the wonderful news. No, heтАЩd probably be typing away over there in Ireland even at that late
hourтАФwearing his stupid ear-plugs-and would accuse her of interrupting his тАЬflow.тАЭ That was if he even
bothered to answer the phone.

No, she decided, she wouldnтАЩt call him. He could read about it in the papers.

She left the Institute of Tropical Biology at 5.18 p.m. and a short time later was walking down Tottenham
Court Road. At 5.22 p.m. she bought a newspaper to check the cinema listings. She was looking at the
paper when she collided with Norman Layne...




6
Wednesday, 5.55 a.m.

Dr. Bruce Carter swore when he saw what time it was. A phone call before 6 a.m. meant two things:
trouble, and not enough sleep to cope with it.