Malloy shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said. ‘What’s good news for the institute is bad news for you.’ He looked at the vial in his hand again. ‘This vial is really old … in fact, I’d even suggest that these numbers on the strip inside the vial … four and nine, forty-nine stand for 1949, well before the institute was even built and certainly before Pierre Le Grice was born.’
Dewar closed his eyes and said in a flat monotone, ‘That means there is another source of the virus out there and we’ve no idea where it is.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Malloy.
‘Sweet Jesus Christ,’ muttered Dewar.
‘We could be sailing up shit creek here. Government secrets and all that.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘It was before my time of course, but you hear these stories about so-called defence initiatives at the time of the second world war when the government experimented with all sorts of disease-carrying bombs. I suppose I’m thinking of Gruinard Island off the west coast of Scotland, the one they infected with anthrax and consequently put the island out of commission for over half a century.’
Dewar nodded. ‘I think there was some kind of accident with plague too on Salisbury Plain if I remember rightly,’ he said.
‘That sort of thing,’ said Malloy. ‘A lot of it went on in the forties and fifties.’
‘So now we have to consider that somebody has stumbled across a stash of secret wartime biological weapons,’ said Dewar.
‘Just an idea,’ said Malloy.
‘But at exactly the same time the Iraqis come to Edinburgh, trying to persuade people to make smallpox for them? I don’t think I buy that.’
‘I agree, it’s stretching coincidence a bit far,’ conceded Malloy.
‘Even so, I’ll get Sci-Med to check out your idea but getting any information out of the ministry of defence can break your heart. They’ve turned stone-walling into an art form. But whatever they say, there’s still a linking factor in all of this,’ said Dewar. ‘One that involves the institute.’
‘If you say so,’ said Malloy.
‘As for getting more information right now …’Dewar took a deep breath and said, ‘I guess it’s going to be all down to Denise Banyon now, bless her little cotton socks.’
‘Anything I can do?’
‘If you’re still willing to take the cat, I’ll give you the address. Maybe you can go over and pick her up? Her name’s Puss.’
Malloy left to drive over to Jutland Place and Dewar called George Finlay at the Western.
‘She’s complaining of a sore arm at the moment, the flu-like symptoms shouldn’t be far behind.’
‘Good, I don’t want anyone reassuring her, not you, not the nurses, not anyone. I want her to dwell on things. I want her to think about it and worry.’
‘Understood.’
Two black Bedford vans were leaving the hospital grounds when Dewar arrived a couple of hours later. He suspected they would be taking bodies of smallpox victims to the crematorium and mentioned this to George Finlay who confirmed it.
‘We’ve lost seven patients today,’ said Finlay. ‘I’m expecting twice that number tomorrow but thankfully we’ve not been having the trouble I anticipated over disposal of the bodies. I think people are just too frightened to make a fuss. You said you thought the source was still out there?’
‘I’m afraid so. All along I thought the virus had escaped from one of the university labs; I even thought I knew which one, but it turns out it didn’t. I need Denise Banyon to tell me where her man, Kelly stole what he thought were drug capsules when in fact, they were freeze-dried cultures of smallpox virus.’
‘My God.’
Dewar told Finlay about Kelly and Hannan injecting reconstituted virus, believing it to be heroin. Finlay screwed up his face in horror. ‘What a thought.’
‘Denise is probably our last chance of finding out where they got them in the first place,’ said Dewar.
‘Good luck and God help us all,’ murmured Finlay.
‘I think He could do with some help from a vaccine right now,’ said Dewar. ‘Any word of it?’
‘Nothing yet.’
A nurse came into the room and said, ‘Sorry to interrupt Doctors but Dr Dewar is wanted on the telephone.’
Dewar followed the girl to the unit’s main duty room and picked up the phone.
‘Malcolm Ross here, public health laboratory service, Dr Martin said you wanted to speak to me urgently. I was in charge of the squad who did the decontamination on Kelly’s flat. Is there a problem?’
‘No problem,’ said Dewar. ‘But I wanted to know if you came across a number of glass vials in the flat, small, round capsules about four centimetres long and half a centimetre in diameter; they contained a crystalline white powder?’
‘No, we didn’t,’ replied Ross without hesitation.
‘You’re quite sure?’
‘Absolutely certain. What is this?’
Dewar could understand Ross becoming defensive. He was bound to think he was being questioned about drugs that had gone astray. He didn’t want to tell him what was really in the vials so he simply said, ‘Thanks, that’s all I wanted to know.’
‘Bad news?’ asked Finlay who had followed him along to the duty room and had heard the one word expletive Dewar had used when he’d put down the phone.’
‘Not good,’ said Dewar. ‘It makes Miss Banyon’s contribution more important than ever.’
‘Anything you need?’
‘Protective clothing including visor, an injection site swab, some pyrogen-free, sterile saline and a ten ml. syringe,’ replied Dewar.
A second nurse came into the room and Finlay said to Dewar, ‘Staff nurse Flynn has just been in to see Denise. ‘How is she?’
‘Feeling sorry for herself. She’s convinced people are keeping something from her. Says there’s a conspiracy and we’re all the same. Stuck-up shitheads, to use her exact words.’
‘So, no change there,’ said Dewar. ‘Good. Couldn’t be better.’ He went along to the changing room and donned full protective gear before proceeding to Denise Banyon’s room. Outside the door he stopped and listened. The television was on as usual but it wasn’t too loud. Dewar had hoped her headache might persuade her to turn the volume down. For once, things were going his way. He started to have a loud, false conversation outside Denise’s door.
‘No, I’m sorry nurse,’ he said firmly. ‘There simply isn’t enough American vaccine to go round. Some patients will just have to take their chance with the disease. I’m sorry, I know how you and your colleagues must feel. I know it’s rough but that’s what difficult choices are all about.’
Dewar waited a few seconds then entered Denise Banyon’s room.
Denise’s eyes opened wide when she saw the protective gear Dewar was wearing. He had the visor down.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ she exclaimed, holding her sore arm and shrinking back into the chair she was sitting in.
‘I’ve just come to see how you are, Denise,’ said Dewar. ‘Any problems with headaches? Stiff limbs?’
‘I’ve got it, haven’t I? I’ve got this bloody disease. That’s why they wouldn’t tell me anything. Bastards!’
‘Tell me about the headache. Is it bad? Is your neck stiff and sore?’
‘Yes,’ bleated Denise. ‘Oh Christ I’ve got it. I’m going to die!’
‘If I can just take your pulse,’ continued Dewar without contradicting her.’
‘Wait a minute, I know you. You’re the bugger who came before.’
‘I told you at the time I was a doctor, not a policeman,’ said Dewar evenly. ‘But if you’re declining medical help I’ll go now and leave you alone. You have the right.’ He made to back away.
‘No, wait. I don’t want to die. I want this American vaccine stuff. I need it. I’ve got the disease!’
‘The American vaccine? No, I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Denise, but if you take it easy and do what the doctors and the nurses tell you I’m sure you’ll have more than a fighting chance.’
‘A figh … I don’t want a fucking fighting chance, I want the vaccine. Why won’t you give me the vaccine, you bastard. It’s because you think I’m rubbish, isn’t it. Fucking is.’