Crisis (42 page)

Shona returned with the brandy and the information that the man with van Gelder was his son,
Peter.

‘His son?’ exclaimed Bannerman.
‘I asked the barman,’ said Shona.
Then I must have been mistaken,’ said Bannerman.
‘I’ve never met his son.’

‘Good looking chap. How are you feeling?’

‘Much better.’

‘You’d better get some sleep.’

Bannerman nodded.

‘You look all in,’ said Shona, coming over to him.
She kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘See you in the
morning.’

For once the weather was kind to them. The sun
shone down on Stobmor from a blue sky and fluffy
white clouds raced each other in a stiff breeze. There was a strong smell of the sea in the air as Bannerman
loaded the polystyrene box containing the samples
into the boot of the car and checked that it wasn’t
leaking. He had opened it earlier to replace the ice.

Shona and Bannerman made good time on the
journey down to Edinburgh, stopping only twice on
the way. Once to have lunch and fill the tank with
petrol and the second time to have coffee and stretch
their legs in mid-afternoon. Bannerman phoned the
Medical Research Council to keep them appraised of
his whereabouts.

Once in Edinburgh, they booked in to a small hotel
on the south side of the city and Bannerman called Hector Munro at the Neurobiology Unit.

‘Can I bring the samples over?’ he asked.

‘We’re all waiting,’ replied Munro. He gave
Bannerman directions on how to find the unit
which was situated in the university’s science
complex at Kings Buildings in West Mains Road.
Before he left, he thought it polite to call Morag
Napier at the university medical school and tell her
that he had succeeded in getting some infected brain
samples.

That’s good news,’ said Morag. ‘How did you
manage it?’

Bannerman told her about the sheep carcass that
had escaped the lime pit.

‘What a piece of luck,’ said Morag. ‘Will you set up
the tests yourself?’

Bannerman said that he was giving them to Munro
at the Neurobiology Unit but if she would like some
to complete the mouse experiments that her depart
ment had started then he would see to it that some tissue was sent to her.

‘
Thank you Doctor,’ replied Morag. ‘Perhaps you
could tell me what tests you are asking Dr Munro to
do so that we don’t duplicate our efforts?’

Bannerman said that a stained brain section was
a first priority. Subsequent tests would depend very
much on that.

‘Call me when you know,’ said Morag.
Bannerman said that he would.

Bannerman spoke into the grille at the side of the entrance door and said who he was. The electric
security latch was energized, arid he was allowed to
enter. At the top of the stairs he met Hector Munro,
who was waiting to greet him.

‘Whatever happened to you?’ exclaimed Munro,
when he saw Bannerman’s face.

‘A long story,’ said Bannerman, ‘and it would
do me no good to relate it. This is what you’ve
been waiting for.’ He handed over the polystyrene package containing the sheep samples.

This is exciting,’ said Munro. ‘Will you wait for the
brain section report?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ smiled Bannerman.
The samples were taken away by two technicians
who had been briefed on what was to be done
to them.

‘Coffee?’ asked Munro.
‘Please.’
As the two men sipped their coffee in Munro’s
office, Bannerman broached the subject of the MRC
report on brain disease. He told Munro what Milne
had said about classifying the Achnagelloch agent as
a new virus. Munro smiled and said, ‘I suppose he’s
right in a way. We can hardly classify this thing as a
slow
virus if it has an incubation time of two to three
weeks.’

‘But the point is that it is a form of
Scrapie’
insisted Bannerman.

‘We’ve yet to prove that,’ said Munro.

‘Agreed,’ conceded Bannerman. ‘But if your tests
show that to be the case, can I count on your support
in making the point forcibly to the government?’

Munro looked at him thoughtfully over the rim of
his coffee cup. Take on the government?’ he said.
‘And the farmers? You’re not asking much are you.’

‘All I’m asking is that we tell the truth,’ said
Bannerman.

‘Ah yes, the truth,’ said Munro slowly. ‘Wouldst
it were so simple.’

‘Isn’t it?’ asked Bannerman.

‘I don’t think it is. We have to consider what is
right in this case as well as what the truth of the
matter is. We are talking about half-a-dozen deaths
here, probably as a result of some freak, biological
accident. Against that, we have the whole future of
the meat trade in this country.’

‘But if it has happened once it could happen
again.’

‘Maybe,’ said Munro, looking down at his desk.

‘
Then I can’t count on your support?’

‘Look around you, Doctor; this unit exists on
government grants …’

Bannerman smiled ruefully.

‘Let’s wait and see what the tests tell us,’ said
Munro.

Bannerman nodded with an air of resignation.

The buzzer on Munro’s internal phone sounded.
He answered it and held a brief conversation before
saying to Bannerman, ‘Excuse me, there’s a prob
lem.’

Munro returned ten minutes later and stood in the
doorway of his office. He said, ‘I don’t quite know
how to tell you this.’

Bannerman turned to face him.

‘My people have done a couple of brain sec
tions …’

‘And?’ asked Bannerman.

‘
They’re quite normal. No sign of
Scrapie
damage
at all.’

‘But that’s impossible!’ protested Bannerman.
‘Come and see for yourself.’

Munro led the way through to a laboratory where
one of the sections was set up under the microscope.
Bannerman sat down and examined the preparation
for himself. It seemed perfectly healthy. ‘I just don’t
believe it,’ he murmured.

‘We’ve also carried out an antibody test for
Scrapie
associated fibrils. It was negative.’

‘Shit,’ said Bannerman, feeling utterly deflated.

‘Sorry,’ said Munro, removing the slide from the microscope. ‘Back to the drawing-board.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ stormed Bannerman.

‘I think you have to,’ soothed Shona. ‘Unless you are going to suggest that Dr Munro is part of the conspiracy to cover this thing up.’

Bannerman looked at her and Shona regretted hav
ing said it when she saw Bannerman was seriously
considering the possibility. ‘The other samples!’ he
said.

‘What other samples?’ asked Shona.

‘I kept some back to give to Morag Napier at the
medical school for ethical reasons. I could do some
preps myself!’

‘Aren’t you being a little paranoid about this?’
ventured Shona.

Bannerman thought for a moment before saying,
‘I just cannot believe that three men died after eating
this sheep and the sheep had nothing to do with it.’

Shona conceded that he had a point. ‘Do what you
have to do,’ she said.

It was just after eight in the evening when
Bannerman drove into the quadrangle at the medical
school. He was counting on the fact that most of the staff would have left by now and probably only the
duty technicians and perhaps a night security man
would be around. He did not want to explain why he
was repeating tests that Munro’s people had already
carried out.

Having been a recent visitor, the technician who answered the bell recognized him and let him in
without question. ‘Working late, Doctor?’ the girl
asked. She hadn’t realized that he had been away.

‘A couple of hours,’ smiled Bannerman.

Bannerman turned the corner at the end of the
ground floor corridor and found himself face to face
with Morag Napier.

‘Dr Bannerman?’ she exclaimed. This is a sur
prise.’

‘
I was hoping I might catch you,’ said Bannerman, recovering well from his shock.

Morag had on her coat and was obviously just
about to leave. ‘What can I do for you, Doctor?’
she asked.

Bannerman came clean about the tests. ‘Munro’s people found no sign of
Scrapie
infection at all,’ he
said. ‘I just wanted to be absolutely sure.’
‘I’ll help you,’ said Morag, taking off her coat.
“There’s really no need,’ insisted Bannerman. ‘I
can manage if you don’t mind me using your lab?’
Bannerman felt uncomfortable, knowing that Morag
must have worked out that that was what he had
intended doing anyway.

‘It’s no trouble,’ said Morag. ‘It’ll be quicker if
I help, and I wasn’t doing anything this evening
anyway. My fiancé is away at the moment.’

That’s very kind of you,’ said Bannerman. ‘I
appreciate it.’ He removed the brain sample vial from
his pocket and handed it to her. They walked back to
her lab and she laid the sample down on the bench while she donned her lab coat and put on surgical
gloves. Bannerman felt a tingle of anticipation grow
inside him as he watched Morag prepare the section. ‘I just find it so hard to believe that there was no sign
of infection,’ he said.

‘Are you sure this came from one of the infected
sheep?’ asked Morag.
‘Yes,’ replied Bannerman. ‘Then we’ll see,’ said Morag.

Bannerman grew nervous as they waited for the final
staining procedure to complete. After a few minutes
the electric timer sounded and Morag rinsed away the stain with fresh distilled water. He was pleased to see her hasten the drying procedure by placing
the slide under the bulb of an anglepoise lamp for
a couple of minutes instead of allowing it to dry naturally in the air like all the books said.

‘Now then,’ Morag murmured, as she set up the
slide under the microscope and adjusted the focus.
‘Let’s see what we have here …’

It took less than thirty seconds for the feelings of
excitement to die inside Bannerman. He read the
expression on Morag’s face as she got up to let him take a look for himself. Each new field he turned to confirmed what Munro had said. He was looking at
normal, healthy brain tissue.

Bannerman had been angry and confused when
Munro’s people had come to this conclusion, but now
he was just thoroughly fed up. He jettisoned the slide
into a contaminated-waste container and let his head
slump forward on his chest for a moment while he
thought.

‘Most peculiar,’ said Morag.

‘I just don’t understand,’ said Bannerman.

‘If you have another sample with you I could
set up animal tests,’ said Morag. ‘Maybe this ani
mal was at a very early stage of infection. Per
haps it’s just not showing up on section analy
sis.’