‘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 having 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 surprise.’
‘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 fiance 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 animal was at a very early stage of infection. Perhaps it’s just not showing up on section analysis.’
‘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 behaving 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 doorway 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 disappeared 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.’