Following the successful conclusion of the tests and for about twenty years after – between the late Forties and late Sixties – scientists from Porton Down regularly collected soil samples, and in all that time the levels of contamination around the test sites did not reduce.
In 1979 responsibility for the testing passed to the Chemical Defence Establishment and a survey was undertaken, which proved the island to still be just as contaminated as in the Forties. In the early Eighties more extensive surveys of the island were undertaken, along with research into possible decontamination techniques. These surveys revealed the main areas of anthrax contamination were limited to about three acres, corresponding to the areas near the blasts and anthrax dispersal sites.
Following Operation Dark Harvest in 1981 (yes, that really happened too) and pressure from Scotland, the government finally started to do something about the island. Actual decontamination commenced in 1986, a huge operation involving the removal of vegetation and the bagging up of the worst-affected topsoil. The contaminated areas were separated into grids with perforated hoses through which nearly three hundred tonnes of formaldehyde diluted with seawater was pumped.
In late 1987 the soil in these areas was sampled and no anthrax was found. Local sheep were grazed on the island and inspected regularly, and when after half a year none were found to have contracted anthrax, the flock were returned to the mainland.
Finally, on 24 April 1990 – forty-eight years since the island had been declared off limits – Conservative Junior Defence Minister Michael Neubert visited the island and ceremonially removed the rusting MoD warning signs. With the island no longer under quarantine, the government sold it back to the family they’d bought it from, for the same £500 they’d been charged in 1942.
At this point I must apologise to Porton Down, anyone linked to biological weapons research, and anyone involved with the decontamination – I’m sure they did a sterling job, this is entirely a work of fiction, after all.
Although some people are still sceptical about the decontamination, given the long life and extreme hardiness of anthrax spores.
A study by the American Journal of Public Health concluded that anthrax vaccines were one of the contributing causes of Gulf War Syndrome, and that they should only be used in the most dire of circumstances. The word ‘anthrax’ strikes fear into the public like no other toxin, and its use in terror attacks makes instant headline news. Despite research and improved vaccines, anthrax today remains as potent a threat as it did back in the early 20th century, when it was first isolated and weaponised.
So, despite the clean-up, you still wouldn’t catch me camping on Gruinard Island.
Acknowledgements
There are a few people in particular I’d like to thank, whose contributions have varied but are all alike in one respect: without any one of them there would be no book.
Jules, my first ever reader, sitting at my kitchen table for hours going through all those notes on his phone years ago, for what was at that time a very different novel. All that time watching shit old films and Bond marathons was worth it! Bob, my second reader, always encouraging and enthusiastically asking after updates. Fordy, who despite piss-taking borne of a quarter of a century’s friendship, has been incredibly supportive. My parents, who always encouraged me to read and always ensured we had shelves full of books.
Jaz Carpet (nom de guerre; a wanted man in twenty-three countries – his real name cannot be printed for legal reasons, like those pictures of the SAS with black bars over their eyes). My military advisor who supplied me with some fantastic anecdotes and details, all the cool stuff that adds the spice. As is often the way, anything I got wrong here was my error rather than his, and just means I should have bothered him even more.
Mari, the kindest and officially hardest-working writer out there, always making time and giving so much of herself to others. She told me not to give up and ended up mentoring me, pulling me up, digging out my voice, and driving me forward.
Agent Phil was down with it immediately: he plucked me from a pile, encouraged me, supported me, fought for me – definitely the man I’d call if I was on Millionaire with an obscure old film question.
Everyone at Canelo, and in particular Craig, who turned a manuscript into a book. His suggestions lifted it up, his comments were hilarious, and he probably stopped me being sued, which is nice.
Vic Watson and Simon Bewick, the duo behind Newcastle Virtual Noir at the Bar and Bay Tales, where lockdown gave me the opportunity to give the first ever reading of my work and which led directly to the book you’re holding. Thank you for the opportunities, the kind words, the support, and for all the great work you’ve done and will do in future to give people a platform.
The Robs (Rob the nicest dinosaur-fancier you’ll ever meet, and Rob who let a stranger tag along at Harrogate and drink his booze), the first real authors to ever ask to read my stuff, and whose words of support spurred me on when I really needed it. Of course the bundt of veracity, 95 per cent pictures of food, 4 per cent memes, the occasional scrap of writing advice. Thank you all for keeping me sane through 2020.
Will at New Writing North and Aki at The Literary Consultancy, huge thanks due for the fantastic work they do to help writers from all backgrounds get the support they need to realise their dreams. Doug, for those insightful comments on an early draft – this book is the result of that advice.
Bloody Scotland, Theakstons Crime Fest, Newcastle Noir for providing opportunities for readers to meet their heroes, but also for the work they do to help readers become writers. Dr Noir in particular for throwing an unpublished northerner in at the deep end on his first panel.
Saving the best for last, Louby; without her encouragement I’d never have started writing, and without her unending support I’d certainly have stopped a long time ago. Thank you for your help, patience, love (very much reciprocated even though I’m not right good with words), but above all else, thank you so much for the endless stream of dubious character names. XXX
About the Author
D. L. Marshall was born and raised in Halifax, West Yorkshire. Influenced by the dark industrial architecture, steep wooded valleys, and bleak Pennine moors, he writes thrillers tinged with horror, exploring the impact of geography and isolation. In 2016 he pitched at Bloody Scotland. In 2018 he won a Northern Writers’ Award for his thriller Anthrax Island.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
31 Helen Road
Oxford OX2 0DF
United Kingdom
Copyright © D. L. Marshall, 2021
The moral right of D. L. Marshall to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Ebook ISBN 9781800322745
Print ISBN 9781800322752
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Map by Daniel Jarrett
Look for more great books at www.canelo.co
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