‘I’ve just come back up to town.’
Dewar glanced at his watch. It was coming up to five o’clock. ‘What d’you say we meet for coffee? Then I’ll run you over to Public Health in time for your meeting.’
‘What about the cafe in the Royal Mile?’
‘Fifteen minutes.’
They met up in a small coffee shop in the Royal Mile which they’d frequented on previous visits to Edinburgh, usually on Sunday mornings after walking in the old town and before returning to London after spending the week-end with Karen’s mother.
There was only one other couple sitting there when Dewar arrived five minutes late. Karen was sitting in the opposite corner nursing a cappuccino. She got up and he hugged her. ‘Good to see you but I still wish you hadn’t come. More coffee?’
‘No, I’m fine and no lectures please.’
Dewar smiled. There was no point in arguing.
‘The city seems remarkably calm,’ said Karen, when Dewar returned from ordering black coffee at the counter.
‘The Scots aren’t big on panic,’ said Dewar with a smile.
‘I know we’re not but I did expect people to be a little less laid-back over something like smallpox.’
‘So far, we’ve been lucky,’ said Dewar.’ The problem’s remained confined to the Muirhouse estate.
‘You mean things might be different if it broke out in Morningside or Comely Bank?’
‘Call me cynical.’
Karen smiled. ‘You look tired,’ she said.
‘I’m okay.’
‘You said you’d made progress?’
Dewar nodded. ‘I more or less stumbled over the reason for the outbreak. I found the virus cultures that started the whole thing off.’ He told Karen the story of the cat rescue. ‘Trouble is, I only found the vials Kelly gave to Hannan. The others are still hidden in Kelly’s flat. ’
‘So you were right about a laboratory source. Well done. What’s the institute saying about the egg on its face?’
‘The virus didn’t come from the institute,’ said Dewar.
‘You’re kidding!’ exclaimed Karen.
‘I know, it’s almost unbelievable but it didn’t.’
‘So where … ‘
‘The vials contain freeze-dried virus from forty or fifty years ago.’
‘Freeze dried?’
‘One of the best ways of storing viruses long-term.’
‘I know. I went to medical school too,’ said Karen. ‘I was just trying to think who would want to do that.’
‘Steven Malloy suggested the Ministry of Defence. I’ve asked Sci-Med to check out any interest the MOD might have had in smallpox in these parts in the past.’
‘As if they’d admit it,’ said Karen.
‘Macmillan carries a lot of weight in Whitehall. If anyone can get it out of them, he can.’
‘But at the moment, you’ve no idea where these vials came from?’
‘In a local sense, yes. Kelly was working as a digger driver on a new housing development when some man approached him and asked him to do a bit of private digging on the side. According to Kelly’s girlfriend, he unearthed a store of these vials for this character. Kelly, being Kelly, assumed they contained drugs. He went back later and helped himself. You can fill in the rest.’
‘My God. He injected? …’
‘Both he and his pal, Tommy Hannan.’
‘God, what a nightmare! So where was this place? And the man? Who was he?’
‘I’m trying to find that out.’
Karen looked at the clock on the wall. ‘I’m sorry. It’s time I was making a move.’
Dewar paid the bill and drove Karen over to Public Health headquarters. The pavement outside was crowded with volunteers — about thirty in all, who’d come in from all over the country and were converging for their introductory briefing from Mary Martin. Karen saw some people she knew and, kissing Dewar on the cheek, she went off to join them. Dewar was about to drive off when he saw Mary Martin in the rear view mirror pull up behind him in her Volkswagen Passat. He got out to exchange a few words.
‘Did Malcolm get in touch?’ she asked, locking her car door — a task made difficult by the fact she was carrying a briefcase and a number of files tucked under one arm. She seemed harassed, an impression heightened by her hair blowing over her face in the wind.
‘He did but unfortunately he didn’t come across what I hoped he might. I’m going to have to go to Kelly’s flat myself.’
‘You can’t,’ said Mary flatly. ‘It’s in the no-go area.’
Dewar stood there, stock still, as she brushed past him, greeting the volunteers and apologising for being late. Karen, who, like the others, had turned to witness Mary Martin’s arrival, noticed the look on Dewar’s face and came back over to him as the crowd filed inside. ‘Something wrong?’ she asked.
‘I’ve just been told the yobs have control of the virus.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘I didn’t realise Kelly’s flat was in the no-go area. I’d been assuming it had been left safe and secure after the Public Health people had dealt with it. Now it’s under threat from any yob who cares to break into it. With a bit of luck, they won’t realise what’s in there but this changes everything.’
‘What are you going to do?’
Dewar looked at her distantly. ‘I’ll have to find some way of getting in there to recover the vials.’
For once, heavy town traffic was welcome as Dewar drove back to the Scottish Office. He needed time to think. He hadn’t even considered that Kelly’s flat might be in the area controlled by the yobs. He tried convincing himself that there was no reason for them to break into it but, on the other hand, Kelly was a known addict; he associated with known addicts. Someone might just have reasoned that he might have had drugs hidden away there and, as he wouldn’t be needing them any more, … It was too risky to leave to chance. He’d have to recover the vials as soon as possible. But how?
Instead of driving straight back to the Scottish Office he took a detour to Fettes police headquarters and sought out Grant. ‘I’ve got a problem,’ he said.
‘Join the club,’ replied Grant.
‘I’ve got to get in to the no-go area in Muirhouse. I’ve got to get into Michael Kelly’s flat.’
‘Then you want the Brigade of Gurkhas,’ said Grant sourly.
‘I’m serious.’
‘I can see that,’ said Grant. ‘Are you sure this is absolutely necessary? I mean a matter of life and death. Absolutely no alternative?’
Dewar shook his head. ‘Believe me, there must be a million things on this earth I’d rather do,’ he said. ‘Kelly left some glass vials in the flat. They contain pure, concentrated smallpox virus.’
Grant’s eyes widened. ‘How the f …’
‘Don’t ask. But you can see why I’ve got to get them back.’
‘Bloody hell,’ murmured Grant. ‘Have you told old Cammy Tulloch about this?’
Dewar shook his head. ‘No, I wanted to hear what you had to say first. ’
Grant sighed and swung his feet up on the desk. He thought for a moment before saying, ‘Tulloch would go by the book; he knows no other way. In the circumstances that would probably mean a full scale assault on the block using armed officers. He’d figure that something as big as this would warrant it. We could be talking big time casualties here. World war three maybe. The trash maybe don’t have guns but by God they’ll make up for it with bricks, bottles and Molotov cocktails. They’ll burn the flats down rather than surrender them.’
‘Paradoxically that would be an acceptable outcome,’ said Dewar. ‘At least fire would destroy the virus.’
‘Maybe one problem solved,’ said Grant. ‘But as I see it, the trouble would spill out into other areas and there’s a real chance we’d have widespread anarchy by morning. No law and order at all.’
‘We’ve got to keep what order we have,’ said Dewar. ‘It’s vital that the vaccine programme goes ahead or we can kiss good-bye to the city.’
‘Then you’re talking an under-cover operation with just a few people,’ said Grant.
‘I suppose I am,’ agreed Dewar. ‘In fact, I’m thinking just two. What d’you say?’
Grant looked at Dewar without expression. He said, ‘You’re asking me to engage in a covert operation without my superior officer’s knowledge, knowing that he’d be totally opposed to it?’