by Ken McClure
Bannerman made his way through the clutter and found Stoddart talking to two men in plain clothes. They were taking notes and Bannerman could not make up his mind whether they were police or press. He saw Morag Napier nearby and went over to ask her about the drama.
The Animal Rights People had a go at us last night,’ said Morag.
‘Good God, is there much damage?’
The animal lab was completely gutted and the whole bottom floor is awash with water.’
The animal lab?’ repeated Bannerman. ‘You mean the animals were …’
‘Wiped out,’ said Morag.
‘Gill’s mice?’ asked Bannerman.
‘Incinerated.’
Bannerman was devastated. ‘I thought these damned people cared about animals!’ he exclaimed.
‘Care?’ exclaimed Stoddart, who had come across to join them. They’re just a bunch of terrorists. They don’t care about anything!’
‘Apparently they gained access to the building through the animal house because the door had been left unlocked,’ said Morag. They couldn’t get any further however, because the connecting door to the main building had been locked, so they tried to burn the place down by setting fire to the animal lab.’
The last of the firemen left the building and the quadrangle began to clear, leaving Bannerman feeling utterly dejected. His last chance of proving the relationship between Scrapie and the men’s deaths in Achnagelloch had gone. He walked slowly round to the entrance to the animal lab and saw the blackened wall outside. There was broken glass underfoot and several slogans proclaiming the innocence of animals, and the evils of science had been daubed along the wall adjoining.
Although everything inside was dripping wet and there was at least two inches of water on the floor, the air smelled strongly of burning flesh. It grew stronger as Bannerman picked his way among the blackened cages with unrecognizable messes inside. The inner portion of the lab had been roped off because the ceiling above it had collapsed and there was a danger of further falls. Bannerman could see up into the room above where books and papers had fallen through the hole into puddles on the floor. Shafts of sunlight came in through the windows highlighting dust particles from the debris. There was an eerie silence about the place; it was how he imagined a battlefield might be when the fighting had stopped and the living had gone home. The land had been left to the dead.
ELEVEN
The clean-up operation was beginning in the building as Bannerman went upstairs to his room. It had been untouched by the fire; only the smell of burning told the tale. He called Milne at the MRC and told him what had happened.
‘Damned people,’ said Milne. ‘As if we didn’t have enough to contend with, we get a bunch of lunatics running around with fire bombs.’
‘Unless the missing human brain material turns up the mice were our last chance of getting to grips with the infective agent,’ said Bannerman.
‘What do you think the chances are of recovering that material?’ asked Milne.
‘Practically nil,’ replied Bannerman. ‘I suspect it was all destroyed in order to stop any investigation of it.’
Milne sighed and said, ‘Then I suppose we will just have to resign ourselves to the fact that we will never know for sure what caused the deaths in Achnagelloch.’
Bannerman could not help but feel that an awful lot of people might be quite happy with that state of affairs; the government, the nuclear lobby and maybe even Milne himself. It was never easy to tell people what they didn’t want to hear, especially if they happened to control your purse strings. The Medical Research Council were autonomous but they were funded from central government.
‘Will you return to London today?’ asked Milne.
Tomorrow,’ replied Bannerman.
Bannerman thought it right that he should lend a hand with the clean-up in the rooms affected by the fire. Many of the labs contained dangerous chemicals as well as stocks of bacteria and viruses which demanded skilled handling. Portering and domestic staff would work on the corridors and common-rooms. He put on protective clothing, borrowed from the post-mortem rooms, and asked Morag Napier where he could be most useful.
Morag looked at him as if she hadn’t heard and he repeated his question.
‘Sorry, I was thinking about something,’ she said. The tissue culture suite is in a bit of a mess. Perhaps you’d care to salvage what you can?’
Bannerman said that he would do what he could.
A junior technician interrupted to ask Morag something and she almost snapped the girl’s head off, then looked embarrassed when she realized that Bannerman had witnessed her behaviour. She made some excuse for leaving and walked quickly away.
‘Doctor Napier is upset,’ said Bannerman to the technician. ‘Perhaps you could give me a hand in the tissue culture suite?’
With the mess cleared up from the tissue culture room floor and having thoroughly disinfected it, Bannerman and the technician set about salvaging what glassware they could and packed it into bins for washing and re-sterilizing. When they had filled the last of the bins Bannerman suggested, ‘Why don’t you go have a cup of tea?’ The girl readily agreed.
Bannerman closed the door behind him and started walking along the corridor. Half way along he paused when he thought he heard the sound of a woman crying. There was no mistake. He looked into the room the sound was coming from, half expecting it to be Morag Napier because of her earlier nervous state, and found someone else. It was Lorna Cullen, the animal technician he had met yesterday.
Bannerman felt awkward. It wasn’t a situation he felt comfortable dealing with but there was no one else around he could call on. He approached the woman and sat down beside her. ‘It can’t be that bad,’ he said gently.
The woman looked up at him and said bitterly, Tell me about it. I’ve just been fired.’
‘Why?’
The professor blames me for all this.’
‘What?’
‘He says I left the door to the animal lab unlocked and that’s how the terrorists got in.’
‘Oh,’ said Bannerman, remembering that the door had been unlocked yesterday.
‘But I didn’t!’ protested the technician. That’s what’s so unfair!’
‘But can you be sure?’ asked Bannerman gently.
‘Yes damn it! I can! You gave me such a fright yesterday when you walked in on me that it was fresh in my mind. I made very sure I locked the door when I left. I even remember trying the door after I had locked it to make certain.’
‘I see,’ said Bannerman. ‘So how did they get in?’
The woman looked at him again, her face showing that she knew she would not be believed when she said, They must have used a key.’
Bannerman’s face betrayed the fact that he found this unlikely and the woman conceded it herself. ‘But that’s the only explanation,’ she said, wringing her hands helplessly. They must have. I locked the door. I know I did.’
‘Do you live far from here?’ asked Bannerman.
‘Leith.’
That’s down by the sea isn’t it?’
The woman nodded.
‘Do you have a car?’
The woman shook her head.
‘Get your coat. I’ll take you home.’
Still holding her handkerchief to her face, Lorna Cullen went off to fetch her coat while Bannerman sought out Morag Napier and told her what he was going to do.
‘Why?’
‘Stoddart fired her.’
Bannerman walked off leaving Morag Napier staring after him, wide-eyed but silent.
By seven in the evening Bannerman had packed up all his belongings and was ready to return to London the next morning. He had taken the car back to the rental company, cleared his desk in the medical school and had thanked Stoddart for his hospitality. He couldn’t find Morag Napier to say goodbye to her but had asked Stoddart to do it for him and to thank her for her help. He had tried to put in a good word for Lorna Cullen but Stoddart was un
willing to move on the subject. The damned woman was always leaving the place open,’ he maintained.
Bannerman stood quietly at the window looking out over the lights of the city and noting for once that the wind had dropped. The dark silhouettes of the trees in Princes Street Gardens were motionless. The stars had come out in a clear sky and there was a suggestion of moonlight behind the castle rock. He wished that he could have felt better about his trip, but the truth was that he felt thoroughly dejected. His investigation had been thwarted at every turn, leaving him feeling empty and frustrated. There was only one thing he wanted to do now, and that was get drunk.
He was about to leave when the telephone rang. Fearing that it might be George Stoddart asking him to dinner, Bannerman prepared his excuse for not going and picked up the receiver. It was Shona MacLean.
‘Hello, Ian. I’m back home on the island.’
‘Oh God it’s so good to hear your voice,’ he blurted out.
‘I’m glad you said that,’ said Shona, ‘because I don’t have a good reason for calling. I just wanted to hear your voice.’
‘That’s good enough,’ said Bannerman quickly, knowing that if he slowed down his response he would start considering his replies and editing them. If he answered quickly there was a chance that the truth might get out. “There was so much I wanted to say this morning and didn’t. I’ve got to see you again.’
‘But how?’
‘I don’t know how,’ said Bannerman. ‘Just tell me that you want to see me?’
‘Yes,’ said Shona. ‘I want that.’
‘Then we’ll work something out,’ said Bannerman.
‘I’m so glad I phoned,’ said Shona.
‘You’re glad?’ laughed Bannerman.
‘Did you get your experiments finished today?’ asked Shona.
Bannerman told her about the fire.
‘That’s awful!’ exclaimed Shona. ‘You won’t be able to prove that Scrapie was to blame.’
‘No,’ agreed Bannerman. ‘It’s all been one big waste of time.’
‘Maybe you should get drunk,’ said Shona.
That’s exactly what I intend doing,’ said Bannerman. ‘You caught me just as I was about to leave.’
‘Then I won’t hold you back any more,’ said Shona. ‘Call me tomorrow?’
‘You bet.’
After a couple of drinks Bannerman’s euphoria over Shona’s call and his relief at his honesty in telling her how he felt, began to subside. He had no doubts about his feelings for Shona but he began to see some of the problems he was creating. How could he hope to carry on a relationship with Shona when he worked in London and she lived on a remote island? One of them would have to move and he could imagine Shona’s thoughts about a move to London. Bannerman’s head started to protest under the relentless assault of his own questions. He dealt with them, temporarily, with a third drink and then decided to find something to eat.
There was a Greek restaurant not too far from the last pub he had been in, so he opted for that. He ordered a traditional dish and asked for a carafe of the house red. When it came, the wine wasn’t good, but it didn’t matter so long as it continued to dull the cutting edge of reality. He sipped it slowly while waiting for his food and amused himself by looking at the obligatory travel posters of Greece on the walls.
They’d make it seem a lot more like Greece if they’d heat the bloody place properly, he thought as the door opened and another blast of cold air swept in. He looked round at the new arrivals and was surprised to see Morag Napier standing there. She was with a man who Bannerman deduced must be her fiance. He got a brief glimpse of a handsome man in his twenties before Morag walked over to his table and said, ‘Dr Bannerman, what a surprise. I didn’t think I’d get a chance to say goodbye. Professor Stoddart said that you’d left already.’
‘I’m going back to London in the morning,’ said Bannerman, hoping he wasn’t slurring his words. ‘Perhaps you and your young man would care to join me?’
That’s very kind but we just popped in on our way past to book a table for tomorrow,’ said Morag. ‘We’re on our way out.’
‘Well thank you for all your help, Dr Napier,’ said Bannerman, making to get to his feet.
‘Please don’t get up Doctor,’ insisted Morag. ‘And bon voyage.
‘Thank you,’ said Bannerman, watching her walk back over to her fiance and take him by the arm to turn him round and usher him out of the door. A waiter was left looking bemused as the door closed behind the couple.
It was obvious to Bannerman that the story about them having come in to book a table had been a lie. Morag Napier had not wanted to stay in the restaurant when she had found out that he was there. Was he really that drunk? he wondered.
Bannerman finished his meal and left. Despite the fact that he had drunk a fair bit over the course of the evening he felt stone cold sober, yet had no desire to drink any more. That was the trouble with alcohol, he mused, it only exaggerated the mood you’re in, and he was feeling low.
The temperature had fallen because of the clearness of the sky and there was a suggestion of frost in the air. He decided to walk for a bit before returning to the apartment. This would be his last chance to look at the city by night, unless he came back here at some time in the future. He walked to the head of the Mound, once literally a mound of earth that had been piled up to connect the old town of Edinburgh, high up on the back of the castle rock, to the Georgian new town lying below. Traffic formed strings of light on the steep hill.
Bannerman rested his hands on the railings near the top and looked at the lights spread out below. It was a beautiful city, he thought; when the weather allowed you to love it, when the wind dropped and allowed you to hear its heart beat. He could smell ‘the earth in the gardens, feel the silence, sense the sharpness of the frost. A boy and girl were walking slowly up the hill with their arms wound round each other, totally absorbed in each other’s company. They wore heavy coats and university scarves. A nice city to fall in love in, thought Bannerman. He pulled up his collar and silently wished them well. He walked slowly back to his apartment.
The phone was ringing inside but by the time he had unlocked the door and switched on the light it had stopped. Something else to wonder about, he thought, but it would have to take its place in the queue. At the moment it was well down the list of questions that kept niggling away at him. The question of why Morag Napier had been so anxious to get out of the restaurant earlier was near the top, but at the very top was the fact that the animal rights people had succeeded in murdering all the animals in their attack on the department.
There was a contradiction in that which worried Bannerman because it could not be argued that the animal deaths had been accidental. The terrorists had entered the building through the animal house itself so they had had every opportunity to release the animals before setting fire to the place … but they hadn’t.
It was just conceivable that there had been an element of social responsibility in this. The terrorists just might have been bright enough to acknowledge that releasing experimental animals into the wild was an act fraught with danger. The animals might be carrying all kinds of diseases which they would spread into the community. On the other hand and despite frequent warnings, the animal liberation people had not taken much notice of this in the past.
The electric kettle came to the boil and Bannerman went into the kitchen to make coffee. He spooned coffee grounds into the cafetiere while he faced the fact that paranoia might be playing a part in his thoughts. It seemed such a cruel quirk of fate for a fire to destroy all Gill’s experimental animals and with them, the Achnagelloch disease. Almost too cruel to be true.
Despite acknowledging this feeling, Bannerman was left with one simple but unanswered question: could such dedicated animal lovers, as the rights people claimed to be, have calmly set fire to a room full of animals and burned them alive? And if he thought that question was difficult, it was nothing to the can of worms he
would open if the answer should turn out to be, ‘No’.
‘Shit!’ he said out loud, as he put his head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, searching for inspiration. In his heart of hearts he knew that he wasn’t angry with himself because he couldn’t think of answers. He was angry because he could. It was facing up to them that was difficult! His mind baulked at the evil it was being invited to consider. But one subversive corner kept urging him on to do just that.
It said, Maybe the attack on the department had not been carried out by the animal liberation people at all? Maybe it had not even been an attack on the department! Maybe it had been a deliberate attack on the animal lab in order to destroy Gill’s experimental animals and, with them, evidence of the new disease! According to his thinking, Gill had been murdered not only to stop him talking but to stop the authorities getting their hands on infected brain material. Perhaps the same motive had been behind the fire?
The water Bannerman was wading into was getting perilously deep and cold but there was no going back. Once again he asked himself who had the most to lose by having the true nature of the brain disease in Achnagelloch revealed? His experience at the nuclear power station had left him with little love for the place, but he simply could not bring himself to believe that the management and workers could be involved in a conspiracy involving arson and murder. But if they weren’t, who was? Maybe he had been too localized in his thinking? True, the nuclear industry would take a bit of a bashing if it turned out that leaks from one of their stations had been responsible for the deaths in Achnagelloch. But wouldn’t even larger bodies like the agricultural industry and perhaps the government itself, have even more to lose if it were revealed that animal brain diseases could spread to man! The thought did little to put him at his ease.
Bannerman arrived back in London on the following evening after spending the morning doing some last minute shopping in Edinburgh. He did not call anyone when he got back, not even Stella. The flat seemed strange and unwelcoming and his efforts at making it cosier through warmth and lighting only succeeded in making it seem claustrophobic. He tried going to bed early but that proved to be a mistake. He tossed and turned, switched the light on and off, picked up and laid down a book so many times he lost count.