‘I’ll take your word for it,’ said Grant sourly.
‘Thanks for letting me know. Hear any more on Siddiqui?’
‘Huge embarrassment all round. He entered the UK as a delegate to an international scientific conference in Birmingham. It was a pretty clever way to come into the country, using his academic credentials without any reference to diplomatic status. Story is he came through Cyprus, Schippol and into Birmingham as one of a large contingent of scientists bound for the meeting; they used a charter flight. I wouldn’t like to be the guy who was on passport control that day. He’s gonna finish up as a lollipop man in Caithness. Apparently Siddiqui came up to Edinburgh after the meeting ended, ostensibly to visit Iraqi science students and see how they were getting on. All quite legal and above board.’
During the night the weather changed. The wind got up and rain came in from the north west in great heavy but intermittent downpours. It was the sound of rain being driven against the window at 3am that woke Dewar. He got up to look out at windswept, deserted streets bathed in yellow sodium light with water pouring down the gutters in fast-flowing streams. It collected in pools above storm drains that were blocked with autumn leaves, creating a series of mini lakes that the occasional car ploughed through with caution.
For some reason he started to think of Ali Hammadi and wondered where he had been buried. He supposed there must be a Moslem cemetery in Edinburgh. He seemed to remember that Moslems were traditionally buried as quickly as possible after death but couldn’t remember anything about how the faith viewed suicide, if he’d ever known. He wondered if it had excluded Hammadi from some promise of afterlife or affected his right to the ritual and ceremony of a funeral. He felt sorry for Hammadi, as far as he could determine, the evidence pointed to his suicide having been an act of bravery rather than guilt. He had laid down his life rather than take part in something that might have caused the death of many millions. Maybe some day the full story would be told. For the moment the thought of rain water gathering in puddles on Hammadi’s grave as he lay in a strange land thousands of miles from home, it accentuated the fickleness of fate as it applied to all mortals.
He closed the curtains again and went back to bed but sleep was elusive as the rain kept up its tattoo on the window. He lay in the darkness thinking about what Grant had said about the involvement of other agencies in the watch on Siddiqui. He would contact Sci-Med in the morning and ask that they make these agencies aware of Sci-Med’s interest in the man and his activities. This should be allied to a request that they keep their surveillance low key. On the other hand Siddiqui and Abbas should most definitely be stopped when they left the country. The pretext didn’t matter, it was a question of making sure they weren’t carrying anything on them of a biological nature. They may not have handed over all their stocks of smallpox DNA fragments to Hammadi. If not this would be a good opportunity to get hold of them and destroy them. If by any chance — and against all the odds — Hammadi had actually done what they’d asked of him and had delivered the goods before killing himself it would also be the moment to stop either viral DNA or even live virus leaving the country. He would feel a lot happier with such a safeguard in place.
In the event, Sci-Med asked him to report in person when he contacted them in the morning. He caught a flight at lunchtime and was at the Home Office by two thirty. He went straight there; there was no time to go to the flat so he left his travel bag and computer case in Jean Roberts’ office while he went in to see Macmillan.
‘So you think there was something in this smallpox scare after all?’ said MacLean.
‘I’m afraid so,’ replied Dewar. ‘Hammadi working with fragments of the virus and having the necessary skills, the presence of Siddiqui in the city, Hammadi’s subsequent suicide. It all adds up.’
MacLean nodded sagely. ‘But you’re convinced nothing came of it?’
‘I’m as sure as I can be in the circumstances,’ replied Dewar. ‘I think if Hammadi had delivered the goods Siddiqui and his sidekick would have left immediately. As it is, they’re still there.’
Macmillan raised his eyebrows and Dewar said, ‘I know, that raises another question but anything that Hammadi had been working with was either destroyed or re-allocated after his death.’
‘It’s a pity they didn’t find any incriminating evidence of what he’d been asked to do,’ said Macmillan.
‘The scientist who cleared out Hammadi’s reagent bottles certainly didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary,’ said Dewar. ‘But he concedes that there were unlabelled tubes and also tubes with labels that he couldn’t decipher among Hammadi’s stocks. In the circumstances I don’t suppose Hammadi would have put warning signs and a skull and crossbones on them.’
‘You mean he might have devised a code to disguise what they were?’
‘I’m not suggesting anything elaborate. The staff there often use their own initials to label tubes along with sequential numbers so AH1, AH2 etc would have meant something to Hammadi but not necessarily anything to anyone else.’
‘I see and you say they were all destroyed?’
‘They all went into the bio-disposal system at the institute.’
‘What does that entail?’
‘Discarded glassware and their contents are steam sterilised in an autoclave before washing and being put back into circulation Plastic tubes are autoclaved too but they melt at that temperature so they’re not re-useable. The deformed plastic residue is destroyed later by incineration.
Macmillan looked thoughtful. ‘Why did the bastards have to try it in the UK,’ he murmured. ‘I fully expected to be reporting to WHO that there was no problem at our end.’
‘Sorry about that,’ said Dewar.
Macmillan smiled. ‘You did well,’ he said. ‘As long as we’re sure that the attempt failed?’
‘We can’t be one hundred percent certain but all the signs are pointing to failure. Siddiqui didn’t get what he wanted.’ said Dewar.
‘Good.’
‘But he’s still there.’ said Dewar. ‘And that worries me,’ he confessed.
You think it conceivable he could still do it?’
Dewar gave an uncomfortable shrug. ‘I think it would be naive to assume that the Iraqis gave their entire stock of virus fragments to Hammadi so I think we should assume they probably still have the capacity.’
‘Has Siddiqui any chance of persuading someone else in Edinburgh to take Hammadi’s place?’
‘There are no other Iraqi nationals in the institute. I checked.’
‘If coercion isn’t a possibility that leaves money as an incentive,’ said Macmillan.
‘I can’t see any scientist being persuaded to do something like that for money. Far too risky and totally immoral.’
‘But if the price were right … ‘ mused MacLean.
‘I suppose so.’ Dewar understood too much about human nature to argue the point. But even if such a person could be found there would be practical difficulties, he pointed out. They’d presumably want to live to spend the money. That would mean having to use the high containment facilities at the institute and that would mean attracting attention. They would be noticed — even if they did it at night. Research isn’t a nine to five job. There are always people around.’
‘Nevertheless … if the money were right … ‘ persisted MacLean. ‘I think you’re right to be concerned about Siddiqui’s continuing presence. He could be negotiating with someone or he could be past that stage and waiting for more fragments to arrive.’
‘I take it security has been stepped up after the balls-up over his entrance to the country?’ asked Dewar.
‘Tighter than a gnat’s rectum,’ said Macmillan.
‘What would you like me to do?’
Macmillan thought for a moment. ‘Let’s err on the safe side. Go back to Edinburgh and wait it out with Siddiqui. You know the people at the institute. You know who’s capable of doing what and who’s not. That could prove invaluable. I’ll have a word with the other agencies and request that they do nothing without running it past you first.’