Famine by John Creasey

Lozania.
    â€œI heard of this emergency only fifteen hours ago,” the Prime Minister went on, “and I believe that Dr. Palfrey, whom you all know, had no reason to suspect the seriousness of the situation until a few hours before he asked me to convene this meeting.”
    In some parts of the room, the name ‘Palfrey’ caused an uneasy consternation. Practically everyone looked towards him, as the clear, precise voice went on.
    â€œIt is vital that no rumour of the true reason for this meeting is released to the Press, and following my statement of British Policy on World Food Shortages last night, I believe we should allow it to be thought that this meeting concerns that shortage. As in a way it does.” The Prime Minister turned to Palfrey, and went on: “Here is Dr. Palfrey, who needs no introduction to any of us.”
    As Palfrey stepped forward, the silence was absolute.
    He talked for fifteen minutes, feeling quite sure as he did so that he had never put a situation more lucidly nor more comprehensively; at least that was a cause for satisfaction. When he finished, the hush was as great as it had been when he had started, until the Italian ambassador, tall, dark-haired, elegantly bearded, spoke in a high-pitched voice: “If these creatures are so widespread, on several continents, then no country is safe from them. Do you know what they are doing? Why they are here?”
    â€œAll we know is that they eat ravenously,” Palfrey said. “There is no indication that they have taken any course of action except in order to get food—and to protect themselves. They appear to be at varying stages of intellectual development. You will know from what I have told you that some have highly developed intelligence, while others seem to be primitive. They have many human characteristics.”
    â€œWhat are they like?” demanded Taza, the ambassador for Lozania, the smallest South American state.
    Palfrey said: “Let me show you.” He stood aside, and the man at the projector switched off the lights, and switched on the machine. Pictures of the dead creatures found on Fordham’s farm flashed vividly onto the screen in colour.
    As the company watched, there was a strange, almost awestruck silence.
    There were twelve pictures in all, and each was left on the screen for half-a-minute. Then they were taken away, as Palfrey went on: “Copies of these are being made as quickly as possible and will be available by tomorrow morning. You’ve noticed the marked difference between the fur-clad creatures, and those which are like midgets. As far as we can judge the furry ones are guards, or killers; and they seem to have a highly developed intelligence, although they appear to act stupidly from time to time.
    â€œHow do you mean – stupidly?” asked Conlon, the American ambassador.
    â€œThey don’t attempt to conceal themselves, but make an attack and rely on their physical strength to get away.” When no one commented, Palfrey went on: “We know some appear as rabbits, at least one as cat, so they might adopt other disguises to make themselves less noticeable.”
    â€œThey’ve a hell of a lot of courage,” Conlon said. “Palfrey, what is your assessment of the danger?”
    Palfrey answered briskly: “Ten of these creatures in this room could probably kill us all. If the colony found near Salisbury is the only one in England we might be able to find and contain it, but, if there are others, food stocks throughout Britain will soon be in danger, and so will any people who attempt to protect them.”
    â€œThis is absurd. They must be found and exterminated.” The voice was that of Hertz, the South African ambassador.
    â€œWhere are they from?” Halik of Russia asked in his heavily-accented English.
    â€œAre they human?” another demanded.
    â€œCould they come from another planet?”
    â€œNow,