‘I’m sorry, but it’s true.’
‘Bollocks! You lot are always so full of shite. You think I don’t know what you’re really thinking but I do. You think the likes of me and Mike are rubbish, little pieces of shit for you to smarm up to when it suits you, just until you get what you want. Treat her like a lady and she’ll think Prince Charming’s arrived on his bloody horse. The silly cow’ll tell you everything, shop her mates, drop them in it, drop her drawers for you too if you fancy a bit of rough. Dead easy. Well, you’ve picked the wrong one here, pal. Now for the last time, … FUCK OFF!’ The look of loathing in Denise’s eyes made Dewar accept defeat and leave the room.
The drive back to the Scottish Office was a time for facing facts. The wipers cleared away light rain as he recognised he wasn’t going to get any more out of Hannan or Denise Banyon — Hannan because he’d be too ill or even dead by the morrow and Denise because she was absolutely determined not to tell him anything. He doubted that Sharon Hannan would have any more to add to what she’d already said so that meant he had all the information he was going to get. It wasn’t much.
Two drug-addicted petty criminals had come into contact with a live culture of smallpox virus. God knows how. Both men had ascribed their illness to bad drugs. Neither man had any known connection with the Institute of Molecular Sciences or any of the staff there. It definitely wasn’t much.
Dewar phoned Karen when he got back.
‘You don’t sound too happy,’ she said.
‘I’ve got nothing to be happy about. Things are going from bad to worse up here.’
‘I caught the news,’ said Karen. ‘Your “mystery illness” seems to be getting a hold.’
‘It looks like it,’ agreed Dewar.
‘I had a vaccination today,’ said Karen.
‘What for?’ asked Dewar, sounding alarmed.
‘We had an internal request for Public Health Service volunteers to come to Edinburgh. I volunteered.’
‘Jesus,’ said Dewar.
‘That’s it? That’s all you have to say?’
‘God, I don’t know what to say … I’m proud, I’m pleased … I’m scared stiff and I wish to God you hadn’t done it.’
‘Well, I have. ‘I’ll be up the day after tomorrow. I’ll stay at Mum’s until they tell me where I’ll be most useful. My briefing also said you lot were going for physical containment of the disease?’
‘We don’t have an alternative. Starts tomorrow before daybreak.’
‘The sort of thing that could go very wrong,’ said Karen.
‘We won’t know until we try it.’
‘I’ll be thinking of you.’
‘Karen, I love you.’
‘I love you too. Take care. I’ll see you soon.’
Dewar put down the phone and walked over to the window. It was raining heavily now. There was no wind; it was falling like stair rods.
DAY SIX
The rain persisted throughout the night and was still falling heavily when the police, wearing their yellow, wet weather gear, put up the first of the barriers at three am and started stopping traffic. At the same time, 24 hour news channels and all night radio gave out first news of the smallpox outbreak, thereafter at fifteen minute intervals.
As the barrier system was completed, buses were stopped from entering Muirhouse and turned round to return to the city. Their passengers, mainly shift workers returning home, were allowed to continue home on foot after being told to tune into their radios and televisions as soon as they got in. At six am, police cars equipped with loud speakers started touring the streets, giving out details of the containment order and advising people to tune in to local radio stations for more information. The radio stations carried the Scottish Office press release, announcing that the mystery illness affecting people in Muirhouse had been identified as Smallpox. To ensure that the disease did not spread people would not be allowed to leave Muirhouse for the next week or so. This was regretted but the authorities felt sure that citizens would understand. Vaccine for everyone was on its way but in the meantime everyone should remain indoors as much as possible and keep tuned to their radios and televisions for up-dates on the situation.
The Scottish Office had set up special phonelines for people with particular problems. The numbers would be given out in later broadcasts but people were urged to use them as little as possible to prevent jamming. and to co-operate fully with the medical and social work teams working in the area. If everyone displayed good sense, as the authorities were confident they would, the outbreak would be contained quickly and life would be back to normal in no time.
The special phonelines were jammed from eight o’clock onwards. Crowds of people gathered at police barriers to argue their case for being allowed to go to work. The police remained polite but firm using their extensive pre-duty briefing to deal with the more common points. No one was going to be sacked because they didn’t turn up for work because of the order. Those who maintained they had sick relatives to visit and care for were instructed to give details to the social work teams who would see that the situation was covered for them. The awkward questions like, Why isn’t the vaccine here right now? were fielded with, ‘The medical people know what they’re doing.’
Crowds built up throughout the morning and there was apprehension at police headquarters when it was thought that the duty officers might not be able to hold the barrier lines but the heavy rain which had streamed down their waterproofs from the word go, seeking out weaknesses and sneaking in through collars and zips proved to be their greatest ally. The crowds might have been even bigger had the weather been better and the people who were arguing tended to drift off after a couple of hours of getting soaked to the skin. By mid afternoon, the crisis time had passed and people were staying indoors.
NINETEEN
Dewar decided to call Ian Grant at police headquarters at a quarter to seven. There was going to be a meeting of the team at seven and he was interested to hear Grant’s assessment of the police role so far.
‘The honeymoon period,’ said Grant when Dewar said he’d heard things were going well. ‘People are confused, a little bit afraid. They don’t understand what’s going on yet so they’re watching television to find out. Tomorrow if it’s dry they’re going to go out and start talking to each other in earnest. They’ll fuel off each other’s dissatisfaction. They’ll complain about being kept in the dark. Leaders will emerge and we can expect some concerted opposition.’
‘You don’t expect trouble tonight then?’
‘Oh, yes,’ countered Grant but just from the yobs not the ordinary folks. As long as Tulloch realises that and doesn’t get too heavy, they should be able to head off trouble where and when it looks like happening although there’s no denying it could get a bit unpleasant. There’s nothing nastier than a bunch of yobs who think they’ve come up with a good reason for behaving like they usually do anyway. Piece of trash to urban hero in one easy step. It’s important not to fuel their self delusion by taking them on head to head. You’ve got to play it by ear, back off when it seems right, be prepared to lose a little face even.’
‘And the Superintendent knows this?’
‘He’s read the book and done the course,’ said Grant.
‘What does that mean?’
‘There’s a big ravine between book learning and reality in most situations.’
Dewar knew what he meant.
Cameron Tulloch was the last to arrive for the meeting at eight minutes past seven. Rain-water formed a puddle round his feet as he took off his waterproofs in the hallway and hung them up on a peg. He entered the room, rubbing his hands but exuding confidence. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late.’
George Finlay smiled and said, ‘How are things, Superintendent?’
‘Everything’s been going very smoothly, thank you. I think we’re on top of the situation. We’ve made our presence felt and I think people have accepted that law and order will prevail.’