ing to a sensationalist newspaper； and for all Ken Tyler cared that was where they could return。 He drove back into the yard adjoining his small cottage close to Castle Ring。 The bedroom curtains were drawn。 His wife still slept。 She would not be aware that he had even been outside the yard。 Nobody else had seen him； and he had passed no vehicles。
As he went inside the telephone was ringing。 It was the Fire Officer； advising him that part of the Castle Ring Estate was on fire。 They could only spare a skeleton force。
There was no chance of saving the large expanse of rhododendrons。
Throughout the county of Staffordshire firemen and volunteers fought blazes。 Brownhills mon was ablaze； and the A5 traffic had been halted。 A verge smouldered at Hilton； near Lichfield； and a couple of soldiers from Whittington Barracks watched over it； stamping out the flames which broke out periodically。 A more serious fire was threatening to destroy Sutton Park； where the bined fire…fighting forces of Staffordshire and Warwickshire were losing their battle。
All of these men saw the bats passing over； flitting through the drifting smoke； but it was well into the day before the reports reached the Biological Research Centre on Cannock Chase。
Chapter Seven
Professor Brian Newman's bungalow was situated on the outskirts of Cannock。 Small and pact； there was nothing to distinguish it from the other houses in the small cul…de…sac。 Yet its photograph had already appeared in at least one daily newspaper； the caption beneath it stating that 'this is the residence of Professor Newman； who developed the killer virus and allowed it to escape into the world'。
Newman glanced through the local evening paper which he had picked up on his way back from the Centre less than an hour ago。 His name was featured again in the bold front…page headlines。 He grimaced； and tossed it to one side。
'Well； they've really singled me out for the blame now；' he said； with bitterness in his voice。 'They have to have a scapegoat； though。'
'Then they're damned fools；' Susan Wylie replied hotly。 'They seem to overlook the fact the you're the one person who stands any chance of wiping out these bats。'
'I wish I could share your optimism。' Newman smiled wanly。 'Weeks of tests in an attempt to find an antidote for the virus； and still nothing to show for my efforts。'
'It'll e。' Susan assured him。 She moved across to where he was sitting； and slipped an arm around his neck。 'It's got to。 There has to be an antitoxin somewhere。'
'It's the latest reports that worry me；' Newman said； squeezing her hand gently。 'Large numbers of bats have been reported heading south…west； sighted at Brownhills； Lichfield and Sutton Park。 Now what the hell's going on？ A migration of some sort？ And what caused 'em to move？ There are no reports beyond Sutton Park； but my guess is that they won't settle there。 The whole bloody area is ablaze。 If they continue on their present course then our worst fears are confirmed。' The cities？'
'Yes。' He nodded。 'Birmingham； at a guess。 Then the panic will really start。 There've been no deaths lately simply because the bats have been hiding out in remote places away from populated areas。 Imagine what could happen。 Thousands of derelict slum dwellings for them to hide and breed in。 A dense population。 The hospitals would never be able to cope。 There would be widespread chaos； maybe even a breakdown of law and order。 A spread of anarchy。'
'You're a pessimist；' She kissed him on the forehead。 'Well； I'm an optimist。 Maybe the whole thing's over； and the virus is dead。 The bats might never be heard of again。'
Her attempts to raise his spirits were interrupted by a crashing and splintering of glass。 A heavy object thudded on to the carpet and bounced against the fireplace。 It was a jagged half…brick。 The curtains blew inwards as the warm breeze of a hot summer's night wafted through the smashed pane。
'What the hell！' Professor Newman was on his feet immediately。 A hail of stones crashed into the small living…room； smashing the remaining panes of glass in the window； their force retarded by the obstructing flapping curtains。
'e on out； Newman！' came a shout from outside。 'Show yourself； you bastard！' Someone was hammering and kicking on the front door。 'What's going on？' Susan breathed。 Newman pushed her behind him and moved to the window； parting one of the curtains slightly so that he could see outside。 The scene which met his eyes caused him to catch his breath。
There were some twenty youths gathered on the pavement outside。 Others were clustered at the front door； pounding with their fists。 'Show yourself； Newman！'
'e on out or we'll burn the bloody place down！' 'Who are they？' Susan was trembling。 'Yobs。 I'll bet the oldest one amongst 'em isn't more than twenty。 They're just looking for trouble； and dangerous。 If the football season had started maybe they wouldn't be here。' 'What are we going to do？'
Newman peered out again。 The houses around were in darkness。 Only a single streetlamp lit up the bizarre scene。 The residents were obviously not going to tangle with the youths。 He wondered if anybody was phoning the police。
'Dial 999；' he said pushing Susan gently away。 'I'll try and keep 'em talking in the meantime。'
'If you're not out in ten seconds；' a tall； well…built youth in a black leather jacket and jeans yelled； 'we're smashin' the door down and in' in！'
'What d'you want？' Brian Newman shouted； and dodged back as another stone came whizzing into the room。
'We want you。 You started this fuckin' disease； and if we've all gotta die then you're goin' to be the first！'
'Calm yourselves。' Newman tried to speak evenly。 'The matter is under control。 There is no need for panic。'
His reply was greeted with guffaws； and more of the youths began crowding into the tiny front garden。 One of them bad an axe； and he heard the woodwork of the front
door begin to splinter。 Susan was talking on the phone。 Time was running out。 Why didn't some of the locals do something？ Or were they in sympathy with these louts who sought revenge on the man who was responsible for the terrible mutated virus？
A denim…clad arm was thrust in through the flapping curtains。 The fingers gripped a rolled newspaper； the flames licking at the nylon material； igniting it instantly。
Newman struck downwards viciously with a heavy glass ashtray； catching the youth on the forearm。 There was a howl of pain； and the improvised torch fell to the carpet。 The professor stamped on it immediately。 More stones and bricks showered into the room。
There was a splintering crack from out in the hall； and he knew that the front door had yielded。 》Susan screamed and came running back into the room； slamming the frail door behind her。 There was no way of locking it…not that it would have been any use。 Newman pulled her to him； determined to shield her from the mob。 Flames were now leaping from the curtains on to the pine wall coverings； and choking black smoke filled the room。
'Did you 。。。 get through？' Newman gave way to a fit of coughing。
'Yes。' She wiped her smarting eyes。 'Gave them 。。。 the address。。。'
Then let's just pray they get here in time。'
Youths crowded into the room； young faces twisted into expressions of hate and fear。 Several of them had knives。 The big fellow； the one who had done most of the threatening and shouting； pushed his way to the front and grabbed Newman by the front of his pullover。
'Get your hands off me！' Newman hissed。
'Shut your trap！' The other struck the professor across the face with the back of his free hand； and Newman tasted blood in his mouth as he staggered back。
Three of them had hold of Susan； and were dragging her screaming out into the hall。
'Let go of her！' Newman's voice was lost in the shouting； and he felt himself being pulled along with the crowd。 The room was ablaze。 It was only a matter of minutes before the entire bungalow became an inferno。
Fists were pummelling him the whole time。 His eyes were smarting from the smoke； and only the coolness of the night air on his face told him that they were outside。 He was flung to the pavement。 Boots thudded into his body； and he groaned aloud。 It felt as though a rib was broken； but his main concern was for Susan。 He looked up； trying to see her through a forest of legs。 Then he heard her scream； 'Let go of me！ '
He tried to rise； but was kicked down again； rolling over； covering his head with his hands in an attempt to protect his skull；
'Dirty bastard！ Murderer！' 'Vivisectionist pig！'
There were a dozen different reasons for their hate； all merged into one action of lawless mob rule。 Susan Wylie struggled desperately； but she was totally helpless in the grip of four leering； lusting； angry youths。 They wanted her naked； but they weren't going to bother undoing buttons and zip…fasteners。 Garments