Crisis (29 page)

‘Right after you tell them what they want to hear,’
mumbled Bannerman under his breath.

‘Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that,’ said Milne.

‘It wasn’t important,’ said Bannerman with resig
nation.

‘Perhaps you would like to apply for an MRC
project grant for your own department to carry out
some of the work?’ said Milne.

Bannerman closed his eyes and kept rein on his
tongue. ‘Perhaps,’ he said and put down the phone.

Bannerman was still in a bad mood when Shona
arrived back at the apartment early evening.

‘Bad day?’ she asked, noticing Bannerman’s pre
occupation.

‘You could say that,’ he smiled. ‘How about
you?’

‘Oh, so-so,’ said Shona. ‘I seem to have spent
most of my day listening to former friends speak of
nothing but babies and mortgages and what Roger
or Harry likes for his tea. They used to be interesting
people!’ complained Shona. ‘Whatever happened to
them?’ ,

The Age Fairy,’ said Bannerman.

The what?’

‘I have a theory. One night we go to bed and the
Age Fairy comes and taps us on the shoulder. When
we wake up we’re old and boring.’

Shona smiled and asked, ‘At what age does this
Age Fairy come to call?’

‘No set age,’ replied Bannerman. ‘It can happen
to some people when they’re in their twenties or in
some cases not even by their sixties.’

‘Dare I ask … ?’

‘I woke up one night and saw it there,’ said
Bannerman. ‘It scared me.’

‘But it didn’t touch you. I can tell,’ said Shona.

‘I’m not so sure,’ said Bannerman.

‘What made your day so bad?’ asked Shona.

‘Dealing with the establishment.’

‘What do you mean, “the establishment”?’ asked
Shona.

‘People with power. The people who run things
in this country. Sometimes their behaviour is little
short of downright dishonest.’

‘Never,’ said Shona sarcastically.

Bannerman looked at her and said, ‘Oh I know
it’s popular to suggest that everyone in power is
corrupt and self-seeking but I never really believed it. A few maybe, but I thought that basically, truth,
honesty and integrity prevailed and operated in our
best interests.’

‘And now you don’t?’

‘It’s what they
perceive
to be in our best interests
that worries me,’ said Bannerman.

‘Such disillusionment calls for large quantities of
medicinal alcohol,’ said Shona. ‘It’s my last night. Let me buy you a drink?’

‘No, no,’ protested Bannerman. ‘I’m indebted to
you for driving me down here. I don’t think I
could have made it otherwise. I insist on tak
ing you out to dinner, unless you’ve made other
arrangements?’

Shona smiled and said, ‘No, no other arrange
ments.’

Shona and Bannerman were on the verge of leaving
the apartment; Bannerman was checking his pocket
for the keys, when the doorbell rang. ‘Who on earth
…’he muttered, pulling open the door. Lawrence Gill’s wife was standing there.

The department gave me your address; I hope
you don’t mind, I understand you were the one
who found Lawrence’s body?’

‘Er, yes, that’s so Mrs Gill and I’m very sorry, you
have my deepest sympathy. I was actually going to
come and see you before I left …’

Vera Gill was obviously waiting to be asked inside
and Bannerman was acutely aware that Shona was
standing just to the left of the door in the hallway.
He felt embarrassed. ‘I was just on the point of going
out,’ he said, uncomfortably aware of how callous
he must appear.

‘I just wanted to know something about the place
where he died,’ said Vera Gill. ‘I know it must sound silly but I’d like you to describe it to me, so I could
picture it in my mind.’

‘Hello Vera,’ said Shona quietly coming out from
behind Bannerman.

‘You!’ exclaimed Vera Gill, her eyes filling with
suspicion. ‘What the … Oh I see, you’ve lost
Lawrence, you’re after him now!’

‘Nothing like that,’ said Shona, with what
Bannerman thought was admirable calmness. ‘It’s
true
I was once in love with your husband and I did
have an affair with him, but that was many years ago.
Lawrence did not run away to be with me. He didn’t leave you Vera; he loved you; that’s why he broke it
off with me.’

Vera Gill stared wild-eyed at Shona and said,
‘Lying bitch! He was overheard on the phone
making arrangements to come to you just before
he disappeared!’

Bannerman tensed himself, preparing to inter
vene between the two women should it become
necessary.

‘He did phone,’ said Shona, ‘and he did come to
the island, but it was because he wanted a place to
hide! Lawrence didn’t leave you Vera. He ran away
because he was frightened. He was in great danger.’

‘Frightened? Danger?’ scoffed Vera Gill. ‘What
rubbish!’

‘It’s true,’ said Bannerman. ‘Your husband thought
someone was trying to kill him.’

Vera Gill’s initial anger subsided and was replaced by confusion. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Lawrence
was a doctor, why would anyone want to kill him?’

‘You had better come in Mrs Gill,’ said Bannerman,
putting an arm round Vera Gill’s shoulders and
guiding her gently inside. Shona went to the kitchen
to make tea.

‘When your husband disappeared, Mrs Gill, he
was looking into the deaths of three farm workers.
We think that he found out something about their
deaths that someone else was prepared to kill to
keep secret. Somehow Lawrence knew that his life was in danger, so he contacted Shona and asked for
her help in providing him with a place to hide out
for a while.’

Vera Gill took a moment or two to digest what
she’d heard and to consider the implications. Making
an obvious effort to control her emotions, she said,
‘Are you saying that my husband’s death was not
an accident?’

‘Lawrence fell to his death from the cliffs on
Barasay Mrs GUI. That’s what we know for sure,
but we have reason to think that he may have been
pushed. We have no proof of this but the authorities
are aware of our suspicions and will investigate.’

Shona came back into the room carrying tea on
a tray. Vera Gill accepted a cup with a look that
signalled peace between the two women. She sipped
it slowly and deliberately, her eyes betraying that
her mind was still reeling. ‘I don’t know whether to
laugh or cry,’ she said, half apologetically. ‘Lawrence
didn’t leave me after all.’

‘No he didn’t,’ said Shona.

‘Who told you about your husband’s call to
Shona?’ asked Bannerman.
‘Morag Napier.’ Bannerman nodded.

By the time she had finished her tea Vera Gill had
regained her composure and was ready to leave.
She thanked Bannerman and Shona and even shook
hands with them both, although she diverted her
eyes when taking Shona’s hand.

Shona let out a long sigh when Bannerman
returned from seeing Vera Gill to the door. ‘I didn’t
reckon on that,’ she said.

‘Me neither,’ agreed Bannerman. ‘I thought you
said that it was you who broke up the affair
with Gill?’

‘It was,’ said Shona.

‘You’re a nice person.’

‘Can we eat?’

The confrontation with Vera Gill put a bit of a damper
on the evening for Bannerman and Shona. Up until
Vera’s arrival it had seemed that the pair of them
might be able to forget the deaths for a while to relax
and enjoy each other’s company, but now the subject
of Gill’s death and those of the men of Inverladdie
was again uppermost in their minds.

‘Have you still no idea at all why Lawrence was
murdered?’ asked Shona.

‘I’ve thought about it a lot,’ said Bannerman. ‘But
I end up going round in the same circles. Gill was
desperate to send off the package which we presume
contained the missing, infected brains. From what
he told you, he thought he would be safe as soon
as that happened. That must mean that whoever
received the package would know all there was to
know about the deaths. It was addressed to the
MRC, so presumably he meant the MRC to analyse
them. But he’d already sent samples of the brains to
the MRC! And they had already been analysed! We
knew about the
Scrapie
involvement!’

‘And he knew that you knew,’ added Shona.

‘Exactly,’ said Bannerman.

‘So there must have been something else in the
brains that wouldn’t have appeared on the slides,’
suggested Shona. ‘Something else that he wanted
you to know about.’

‘Like what?’ said Bannerman slowly. He was
addressing the question to himself.

‘If radiation had caused the virus to change, would
that show up in the brain samples?’ asked Shona.

‘No,’ replied Bannerman, shaking his head. ‘No
it wouldn’t.’ Did that mean that any connection
between the nuclear industry and Gill’s death could
be discounted? he wondered.

‘So the people at the power station would have
nothing to gain by stopping any further analysis
on the brains?’ said Shona as if she had read
Bannerman’s mind.

‘Agreed,’ said Bannerman.

‘
I think you’re up against something much bigger than a few bully-boy workers afraid for their jobs,’
said Shona.

Bannerman who suddenly felt afraid said, ‘I think
you’re right.’

Shona put her hand on top of Bannerman’s and
said, ‘It’ll be out of your hands after tomorrow. You
can go back to your hospital and this will all be just
a bad dream.’

Bannerman looked at her and gave a little nod. ‘It’s not all been such a bad dream,’ he said. ‘Some
of it has been very nice.’ He took Shona’s hand and
held it to his lips.

‘Come on,’ said Shona softly, ‘drink up, andlet’s go
home.’

In the morning Bannerman drove Shona to the sta
tion where she would catch the train to Inverness, on
the first leg of her journey home. He found himself very reluctant to say goodbye and insisted on seeing
her on to the platform where they stopped by an
open carriage door.

‘I can’t thank you enough for driving me down,’
said Bannerman.

‘It was nothing,’ said Shona. ‘It’s been ages since
I’ve been in Edinburgh and it was nice to see how
my friends were getting on.’

‘I’ve enjoyed being with you,’ said Bannerman,
his eyes saying more than the awkward words.

‘I’ve enjoyed it too,’ said Shona. ‘I wish you
luck.’

‘You too,’ said Bannerman. ‘Safe journey.’
Shona climbed on board as the guard blew his whistle and doors began to slam along the line.
‘Keep in touch. Let me know what happens.’