Walking along the corridor to the lifts, Burbridge turned to Stanton. ‘Level with me Peter. Can we win this one?’
‘If we can contain them in the proposed area and starve them of DNA, they’ll turn on each other, we’ve already seen that happen. The strong turn on the weak, survival of the fittest. What we’d be left with defies imagination. Nevertheless, yes, I think we can. The slugs that were sprayed with diesel fuel dissolved into a black sticky substance, not unlike crude oil.’
They stopped at the lift. Burbridge pressed the button.
‘What about the flying ones, how will we contain those?’
‘The Air force are fitting their planes and helicopters as we speak, with rockets that fire wire netting to bring them down alive. They’ll be put into Plexi-glass cages and destroyed.’
The lift door opened. Burbridge went in first. He pressed the button.
‘As long as we can close the perimeter before any get through, we should be able to deal with what’s inside.’
‘Let’s hope to God that we can,’ Burbridge said. ‘Those bloody Yanks. Always fucking around with things they don’t understand. This one’s going to cost them big time.’
The lift door opened. They hurried from the building to a waiting car.