‘But didn’t have the Delta 32 mutation,’ said Macmillan.
‘All ready and waiting,’ said Lukas.
The implausibility of the scenario brought about a silence that lasted until Steven’s face broke into a broad grin and he exclaimed, ‘No, they didn’t. They swapped them for samples taken from the patient. That wouldn’t have been a problem: they already had those. The samples they gave us back came from Patient X. The only difference between him and Michael Kelly was the fact that Kelly was Delta 32 and that’s what they were trying to hide. Louise had analysed the correct donor samples and noticed the difference so she had to go.’
‘Well, we got there in the end,’ sighed Macmillan. ‘Now all we need is for Lukas to tell us why. Can you?’
Lukas smiled. ‘Actually, I can. The Delta 32 mutation is the answer to a scientific riddle,’ he said. ‘For some years scientists have known that certain people were immune to the HIV virus. It didn’t seem to matter how often they were exposed to the virus or what lifestyle they led, they never become HIV positive and as a consequence never developed AIDS. This, of course, is hugely interesting to medical science because there’s no cure on the horizon and not much hope of a vaccine either. It turns out that the HIV virus uses the CCR5 receptor to gain entrance to its victims’ T4 cells and set up the infection. If you don’t have CCR5, the HIV virus can’t get in. It’s as simple as that. If you get Delta 32 from one parent but not the other, you’ll have a reduced risk of infection. If you get Delta 32 from both, you’ll be totally immune.’
‘So Michael Kelly was totally immune to the HIV virus,’ said Macmillan. ‘Why should that matter to a leukaemia patient?’
‘Because the recipient wasn’t a leukaemia patient,’ said Steven, shaking his head as he suddenly realised what the whole affair had been about. Lukas nodded his agreement. He’d seen it too. ‘They were trying to change the HIV status of someone who was HIV positive… someone who was very important… someone who was worth killing several people for.’
Macmillan appeared shocked. ‘Can you do that?’ he asked. ‘Is such a thing possible?’
‘It is just possible,’ said Lukas. ‘A German doctor carried out the procedure in Berlin a couple of years ago. His patient was an HIV positive man, dying from leukaemia: he desperately needed a bone marrow transplant. As an experiment, he was given a transplant from a donor who happened to be Delta 32 from both parents. The patient’s HIV status changed to negative. As far as I know, it has remained that way. There wasn’t too much press coverage about it because the medical establishment made it clear that this kind of procedure could never become the norm.’
‘That would explain the wide search for a donor,’ said Steven. ‘That’s why they had to cast the net so widely, hunt through all the civilian and military records. They weren’t just looking for a perfect match for a marrow transplant: they were looking for a perfect match who was also Delta 32 from both parents.’
‘So now we know,’ murmured Macmillan.
‘It’s still a very risky thing to do,’ said Steven. ‘For this kind of marrow transplant, the patient’s own immune system has to be destroyed by whole body irradiation over many hours.’
‘So it would be a dangerous thing to do to a patient who didn’t have otherwise terminal leukaemia?’ asked Macmillan.
‘Incredibly so,’ agreed Steven.
‘But evidently someone — or some people — thought the risk was justified to do just that to Patient X?’
‘Apparently.’
‘So they brought in the best brains that money could buy, found the best donor and took over the best facilities to carry out the procedure. Well,’ announced Macmillan, ‘they’re not getting away with it. They’ve left a trail of destruction across the country and by God, they’re going to pay for it. Of all the arrogant…’ Words failed him.
THIRTY-SEVEN
‘So what’s our first move?’ asked Steven.
‘Now that we know what’s behind it all, we use the proof we have that Michael Kelly was infected in St Raphael’s and that his lack of aftercare contributed significantly to his death to call in the Met and force the hospital to reveal the name of Patient X and the names of those responsible for his care — if you can call it that.’
‘We shouldn’t underestimate the strength of the opposition,’ said Steven. ‘They may not be “official” but they’ve shown they have enormous power and influence.’
‘I don’t give a damn,’ said Macmillan. ‘I want them outed, every single last one of them.’
‘If Patient X turns out to be a foreign potentate they may invoke diplomatic immunity or even the Official Secrets Act to neutralise any police inquiry.’
‘My line will be that defence of the realm involves defending its citizens, not maiming and killing them,’ said Macmillan. ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Steven. He enjoyed seeing his boss on his high horse. ‘I just think we should both be aware of what we could be up against when things turn really nasty. It’s not just those who’ve been calling in favours who’ll be after our blood, it’ll be those who granted them too. The guys at Rorke’s Drift probably faced better odds than us.’
‘Doing the right thing is never easy, Steven,’ said Macmillan. He let out a long sigh. ‘It’s been a long day. Can I offer you gentlemen a drink at my club?’
‘Make mine a large one,’ said Steven.
‘My mother-in-law is staying with us at the moment,’ said Lukas. Steven and Macmillan looked at him to see what this piece of information would translate into. ‘A drink sounds good.’
The three men left the Home Office and started the ten-minute walk over to Macmillan’s club. ‘Have you heard if Dr Motram’s making any improvement?’ he asked Steven.
‘I phoned his wife a couple of nights ago,’ said Steven. ‘The hospital is being very conservative with its prognosis but Cassie thinks he may have recognised her the last time she visited. The problem is that no one’s certain about the long-term effects of the toxin. It could still prove to be a false dawn. Even if it isn’t, it’s going to be a long process.’
‘Poor woman,’ said Macmillan. ‘One day you’re married to one of the brightest scientists in the country, next you’re wondering how you’re going to teach him to read and write.’
As they entered the park, Steven stepped in front of the other two so that they wouldn’t be walking three abreast and taking up too much room on the path while there were joggers about. Many seemed to be more concerned with looking at some instrument on their wrists than looking where they were going.
‘At least they’re not on bloody bicycles,’ growled Macmillan, who seldom missed an opportunity to have a go at what he saw as a particularly self-righteous section of society, hell-bent on impeding his progress through the city.
One jogger, coming towards them, threw his empty plastic water bottle into the bushes in front of them and let out a great, hacking cough as he passed.
‘Typical,’ snapped Macmillan. ‘Whatever happened to…’
He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he collapsed to the ground and was unconscious by the time Steven got down on his knees beside him, frantically seeking a pulse. ‘Call an ambulance, Lukas, would you? He must be having a heart attack.’
The ambulance was there within three minutes and two green-clad paramedics took over from Steven, who answered Lukas Neubauer’s question as he got up with a simple, ‘I’m afraid I don’t know. There were no warning signs: he didn’t complain of any chest pain or even feeling unwell. He just seemed to go out like a light. The sooner they get him to hospital the better.’
Macmillan’s unconscious body was loaded gently into the back of the vehicle and the driver held the door while Steven got in. Lukas seemed hesitant and had just started to say that he didn’t think he would come along when the other paramedic jumped down from the vehicle. ‘It may be swine flu, sir,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘You’ll need to come along and be given protection.’ He more or less pushed Lukas inside and slammed the doors shut.