Shona reached out her hand and smoothed the hair away from Bannerman’s forehead. ‘What really happened out there?’ she asked.
For some reason, Bannerman did not even consider lying to her. ‘Someone took a shot at me.’
‘The same someone who killed Lawrence?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Bannerman.
‘Do you know why?’
‘They obviously didn’t want me poking around that area of Inverladdie Farm.’
‘Because it’s contaminated with radioactivity?’ said Shona.
‘I suppose so,’ agreed Bannerman. ‘But the truth is that I had found no evidence of that at all.’
‘What if you had?’ asked Shona.
‘I would have reported it to the authorities and presumably action would have been taken.’
The station would be closed?’
‘I suppose that’s a possibility.’
‘Then it’s not difficult to see who wouldn’t want that,’ said Shona.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Bannerman, with an attempt at a smile. ‘Half the workforce of Achnagelloch for a start.’
‘But finding radiation wouldn’t have cleared up the mystery of the cause of the men’s deaths would it?’ asked Shona.
‘No. I need the results of lab tests in Edinburgh for that, but if I’d found radiation then almost certainly that would have been specified as the cause for a mutation occurring in the virus.’
‘It seems that someone is going to extraordinary lengths to see that the nuclear industry doesn’t get the blame for that.’
Bannerman shrugged but didn’t say anything. They were both considering whether or not these lengths included murder. ‘What are you going to do now?’ asked Shona.
‘I’m going back to Edinburgh. Lawrence Gill inoculated some experimental mice with brain material taken from the dead farm workers.’
‘Why?’ asked Shona.
‘To grow the infecting agent so that we would have a source of it to test and identify.’
‘You’ll be able to tell if it’s a new form of the virus?’
‘Yes. We’ll be able to find out everything about it. Its host range, its incubation time, its virulence, everything. It’s important to know your enemy.’
‘Will you be fit to drive back to Edinburgh?’ asked Shona.
Bannerman had been wondering this himself. The thought of changing gear several hundred times with his injured left leg did not fill him with pleasurable anticipation. He moved his knee under the blankets and winced. ‘I’ll manage,’ he said.
Shona smiled and said, ‘I’ll make a deal with you.’
‘What?’
‘If we can go to Inverness first, I’ll do the driving and take you back to Edinburgh.’
‘You’re serious?’ said Bannerman.
‘Of course.’
‘But why?’
‘Because I want to,’ said Shona. ‘It’s ages since I’ve been in Edinburgh. What do you say?’
Bannerman didn’t know what to say.
‘Of course, if you don’t want my company …’
‘Oh no, far from it,’ insisted Bannerman. He took Shona’s hand and said, ‘I think that would be absolutely great and thank you. Apart from that, I understand that I owe you my life.’
‘Nonsense,’ scoffed Shona. Tm sure the landlord would have raised the alarm on his own without any prompting from me.’
Bannerman smiled. ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘but the fact remains that we’ll never know that for sure. You were the one who did it. Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome,’ smiled Shona. ‘See you in the morning.’
Bannerman felt his eyelids become heavy. The feeling of warmth, after having been so cold, was still a sensation to be savoured and relished. Angus MacLeod had given him some analgesic for his aches and pains, so they did not interfere with the feeling of well-being which was now being joined by another pleasurable thought; Shona MacLean was just next door.
‘Good morning,’ said Shona when Bannerman came down to the dining-room for breakfast. She was wearing a tight-fitting navy blue sweater with a white scarf at her throat and a pair of light blue ski pants. They were the only two guests in the hotel and there was a slight chill about the room at this time in the morning. This was partially off-set by the fact that the weather was bright and sunlight was streaming into the room through French windows. ‘I didn’t think you’d be up for ages yet.’
‘Good morning,’ said Bannerman, returning the smile and moving slowly across the floor to join her. ‘I never could lie in bed.’
‘Sore?’ Shona asked.
‘You name it, it hurts,’ replied Bannerman, easing himself painfully down into a chair.
‘Are you sure you want to leave today? Maybe you should take it easy. I can get the bus to Inverness.’
Bannerman insisted that he felt well enough. There is one problem however,’ he added.
‘What?’
‘My car. I left it up at Inverladdie Farm yesterday. It’s still there.’
‘I could collect it?’ suggested Shona. ‘You don’t look as if you are in any fit state for a hike.’
‘Perish the thought,’ said Bannerman, rolling his eyes upwards.
The phone rang in the hall and they heard the landlord answer it. Bannerman heard his name being mentioned so he wasn’t surprised when the man came into the room and said, That was the police Dr Bannerman. They’re bringing your car down from Inverladdie.’
That’s good of them,’ said Bannerman. ‘We were just discussing how we were going to deal with that problem.’
The landlord moved his head uneasily as if embarrassed and said, ‘I think there’s some problem, sir.’ Without waiting to be quizzed on what he meant he made an excuse to leave the room.
‘I wonder what that’s all about?’ said Bannerman.
Shona shrugged her shoulders.
Bannerman’s car was not driven back from Inverladdie; it was delivered on the back of a police car transporter. When Bannerman and Shona went outside to meet it they could see why. The car’s tyres had been slashed and the bodywork had been defaced by copious amounts of red and black spray paint. There was a message to be extracted from the mess which Bannerman, by leaning his head this way and that, managed to read out a word at a time. Tuck off… bastard … leave … our jobs … alone …’
Two policemen from an accompanying Panda car came to join Bannerman. ‘Sorry about this Doctor,’ said one of them. ‘If it’s any comfort we’ve got the pair who did it.’
‘You have?’
‘It’s a small place. It didn’t take us long to find out who’s been buying spray paint recently. They still had it on their hands.’
‘Who are they?’ asked Bannerman.
‘Couple of local lads, Turner and Ferguson. They work at the power station. The story’s been going around that you are trying to close it down.’
‘I wonder who started that,’ said Bannerman, thinking of C. J. Mitchell.
‘These two cretins thought they would take matters into their own hands, make their own protest so to speak. I take it you’ll be pressing charges?’
‘It’s not my car,’ said Bannerman. ‘Ask Hertz.’
‘I see, sir, then presumably you won’t want it left here.’
Bannerman shook his head, looking at the sorry state of the Sierra. He was wondering how far disgruntled workers would go to see off a threat to their jobs. Was that what was behind the shooting up on the shore yesterday? he wondered. ‘I’ll call the car company, Officer, and ask them to deal with it.’
‘Very good, sir. It’ll be in the police station yard at Stobmor.’
Bannerman called the rental company and was pleased to hear that they weren’t at all put out by his tale. Would he like them to deliver another car to him from Inverness? Bannerman consulted Shona and they decided that they would travel down to Inverness by bus and pick up the new car there after Shona had completed her business. ‘I’ll have it waiting,’ said the clerk.
‘The bus will be here at ten-thirty,’ volunteered the landlord. ‘If you miss that you’ll be here another day.’
This was a threat that Bannerman took notice of. He was packed and waiting at the stop with Shona shortly before twenty-five past the hour. Three other people boarded the bus at Achnagelloch bringing the total aboard to eight. Two more were picked up from outlying farms on the twisting roundabout route the bus followed to reach the A838 before heading south.