Crisis (43 page)

‘I don’t have another one with me,’ said Bannerman.
‘I’ll bring one in tomorrow if that’s all right?’

‘Of course. Did Dr Munro set up animal tests?’
asked Morag.

Bannerman shook his head. ‘I was so disappointed
at the section result I forgot to leave him a sample,’ he
confessed.

‘Never mind,’ said Morag sympathetically. ‘I’ll
send up a full range.’

Bannerman thanked Morag for her help and
wished her goodnight. It started to rain as he crossed
the quadrangle to get into his car.

Bannerman was on his second gin and tonic in the
hotel bar before he realized how badly he was behav
ing towards Shona. He had hardly said a word to her
since his return. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It was just such
a disappointment. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

‘I understand,’ said Shona, giving his arm a
squeeze. ‘Why don’t you get plastered. You deserve
it.’

Despite promising not to, Bannerman periodically returned to the subject of the sheep brain, expressing
disbelief that fate could be so cruel.

‘You’ll just have to accept it,’ said Shona. This
particular sheep didn’t poison the men.’

Bannerman stared at the glass on the table and said
slowly, ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, you’d just have to accept it,’ said Shona.

‘No, the rest,’ insisted Bannerman.

‘I said the sheep didn’t poison the men, why?’

‘You used the word “poison”. I’d forgotten all
about the possibility of chemical mutagenesis of the
virus!’ said Bannerman. He got up from his chair, left the bar and ran upstairs. He came back down
with his coat on and his hands searching through
his pockets for his car keys. Shona watched him in the hall with wide eyes. ‘I won’t be long, I’ll explain
later,’ he said.

Bannerman disappeared through the front door
leaving Shona wondering what on earth was going on. Within seconds, he had reappeared in the door
way and was looking embarrassed. ‘I’ve had rather
a lot to drink,’ he said. ‘Will you drive?’

‘Don’t I always?’ said Shona, holding out her hand
for the keys.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked as she started
the car.

‘The Royal Infirmary.’

Shona stopped the car outside a shop that was still
open. She got out without saying anything and
returned a few minutes later with some chewing
gum and a packet of peppermint sweets. ‘Eat,’ she
said, handing them over. ‘If you go into the infirmary
smelling like a distillery they’ll call the police. Now
say after me, the quick brown fox jumped over the
lazy dog …’

‘That’s for typists,’ protested Bannerman.

‘It’ll do, clever dick!’

‘The … quick… brown fox… jumped over the
lashey dog.’

‘Close,’ sighed Shona. ‘Again!’

Bannerman continued with his elocution practice
until they reached the hospital.

‘Remember,’ said
Shona. ‘Speak slowly and don’t get excited. Do you
have your ID?’

Bannerman checked his inside pocket and said
that he had. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said and dis
appeared inside the building. He returned fifteen
minutes later.

‘Did they agree to do what you wanted?’ asked
Shona.

‘Yes,’ said Bannerman. They agreed. I’ll know
tomorrow. Thanks Shona.’ He leaned over and
kissed her gently on the lips.

‘Peppermint,’ she said. ‘Are you going to tell me
what all this is about?’

‘I used to be a great fan of old war films,’ said Bannerman.

‘So what?’ said Shona.

There used to come a point in just about all of them
when someone would say, “It’s a long shot but it might just work.” Well, this is my moment.’

‘I see,’ said Shona with an inflection in her voice
that made it clear that she didn’t.

Next morning, as they walked through Holyrood
Park after breakfast, Shona asked Bannerman when he would call the hospital.
‘After lunch,’ he replied.
‘What exactly did you ask them to do?’
The Royal Infirmary has a poisons reference
laboratory. When you used the word “poison” last
night it made me realize that chemical involvement
was something I hadn’t really considered. The
presence of the power station had blinkered me to
everything except radiation as a cause of mutation.
I had a look around the barn at the farm but that’s
about all.’

‘So you think that the
Scrapie
virus was altered by
some chemical agent?’ said Shona, without much
enthusiasm.

‘It’s possible,’ said Bannerman. ‘But, unlike radia
tion damage, traces of the chemical might be present
in the tissue samples.’

‘But there was no sign of
Scrapie
in the brain samples yesterday,’ said Shona.

‘It occurred to me that the mutant virus acts
so quickly that there wouldn’t be time for the
brain pathology to develop the signs that we nor
mally associate with
Scrapie.
That’s why the slides
appeared normal yesterday! But if the samples are
injected into mice I bet they’ll be dead within days.’

‘But the slides that were sent to London showed
typical
Scrapie
brain damage,’ protested Shona.

‘Quite so,’ said Bannerman, thoughtfully. The
slides that Gill sent us. I think I just might be able
to explain that too.’

Their walk took them down past Holyrood Palace
where the Royal Family would stay when in the
Scottish capital. At the moment only a handful of
workmen were in evidence in the courtyard which,
in the summer months, would be thronged with
tourists anxious to be led through the rooms where
Mary Queen of Scots had once collected her tears in a
small glass bottle. They came back on to the high road
which climbed up the side of Arthur’s Seat, the hill -
an extinct volcano - which lay like a recumbent lion in
the park. Several joggers from the nearby university
halls of residence complex passed them by as they stopped to admire the view across the Firth of Forth to Fife, and the Kinross Hills beyond.

‘You haven’t explained how the first slides were
different,’ said Shona.

‘
I think there was something wrong with them,’
said Bannerman. ‘I think that’s why Gill tried to send
the brains to the MRC when he was on the run.’

They stopped on the south side of the hill to look down at Duddingston Loch, a nature reserve which
was clad in the grey hues of winter. A few ducks
paddled their way through the reed beds like busy
tug boats while two swans sailed serenely past in
open water, too elegant to notice.
‘What was wrong with them?’ ‘I don’t want to say just yet. I need to think.’
‘We haven’t talked about us,’ said Shona.
‘I know,’ said Bannerman.
‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know where to begin,’ confessed
Bannerman. ‘I don’t know where we go from
here. Do you?’

Shona smiled and Bannerman asked her why.
‘Like I said,’ she replied, ‘the easy way is never
for you.’

‘What is the easy way, Shona?’

‘Follow your heart,’ said Shona.

Bannerman opened his mouth to reply but Shona
put her index finger on his lips. ‘Ssh!’ she said softly.
‘You are about to tell me that it isn’t that easy.
Don’t.’

Shona made to walk on but Bannerman called after
her. She turned round and Bannerman said, ‘I do
love you, you know, very much.’

‘I know,’ said Shona.

They turned to the hotel to be met in the lobby by two
men in dark suits. Bannerman had noticed the desk
clerk nod to them as he came through the door.

‘Dr Bannerman?’

Bannerman nodded.

One of the men flicked open an ID wallet and
Bannerman saw the photograph and read the name.

‘I’m Inspector Morris. This is Sergeant West. We’re
from Special Branch.’

‘What can I do for you?’ asked Bannerman, quite
bemused.

‘We’d like you to come with us, sir,’ said Morris.

‘Am I being arrested?’ exclaimed Bannerman.

‘No, sir,’ replied Morris evenly. ‘We’d just like to
ask you a few questions.’

‘About what?’

‘Later, sir.’

Bannerman shrugged his apologies to Shona.
‘When will I be back?’ he asked Morris.

‘Can’t say, sir.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Shona … ‘I’ll wait for you.’

Bannerman was shown out to an unmarked, dark
green Austin Montego and ushered into the back. Morris got in beside him. West sat in the front
passenger seat and said something to the driver -
also in plain clothes - which Bannerman couldn’t
quite catch. He felt that there would be no point
in asking where they were going and assumed
that it would be the police headquarters. He was surprised therefore when the car turned in through
the west gate of the Royal Infirmary. Bang went
his theory about it having something to do with
the disappearance of Colin Turnbull’s body. The
car drew to a halt and he was invited to get out.

SIXTEEN

Their footsteps echoed along the corridor that took
them to Seminar Room eight. There was no mistaking
that they were in a hospital. Even if he had been
blindfolded, Bannerman would have recognized the
distinctive smells of anaesthetic and disinfectant that
pervaded hospitals the world over.

‘In here, sir,’ said West as he opened the door and
stood back to allow Bannerman to enter.

There were three men inside. They were seated at
a plain wooden table but got up when Bannerman entered.

‘Good of you to come Doctor. Please sit down.’

Bannerman remained standing. He said, ‘You
know who I am but I’m afraid you have the advantage
of me.’

The two men in suits looked at each other and then
said, ‘I’m Jackman.’

‘And I’m Mildrew.’

Mildrew indicated to the white coated man on his
left, This is Dr Mellon of the poisons bureau.’

‘Are you Special Branch too?’ asked Bannerman.

‘No we’re not,’ replied Jackman.

‘
Then who are you?’ asked Bannerman.

‘I can vouch for these gentlemen, sir,’ said Morris,
attempting to defuse the tension.

‘I want to know who they are,’ said Bannerman,
evenly.

‘We are from the Ministry of Defence,’ said
Jackman with an air of reluctance.

‘Special Branch and the Ministry of Defence,’ said
Bannerman slowly. Then presumably this is not in
connection with a parking offence?’

Mildrew ignored the comment and said, ‘You are
Ian Bannerman, consultant pathologist at St Luke’s
Hospital in London?’

‘Correct.’