by Ken McClure
‘And now you, Doctor,’ said van Gelder.
Bannerman swung the rat cage round and threw it hard at the Dutchman. It caught him on the face and knocked him over backwards, where he hit his head off the wall and slid to the floor. The cage burst open when it struck him and the rat was now perching on his face, sniffing around his mouth and nostrils.
Bannerman saw that van Gelder still had hold of the gun; he was not totally unconscious. He was groaning and lifted his left hand up lazily to brush the rat off his face as if it were a playful kitten disturbing his sleep on a sunny afternoon. Bannerman gambled on making a bid to get the gun, and failed. He was still a metre away when van Gelder opened his eyes and levelled the gun at him. ‘You’ll pay for that,’ he grunted, his eyes red with anger. ‘I’ll blow your bloody knees off first.’
There were four rat cages on the bench above where van Gelder lay. Bannerman reached up and shoved the one nearest to him so that it pushed the others off the end and down on to van Gelder. The Dutchman cursed and struggled to free his gun arm from the tangle while Bannerman made a lunge for the door. It was locked. He turned to see van Gelder getting to his feet. A rat was attacking his ankles. He kicked it across the room.
There were half a dozen animal watering bottles on the table next to the door. Bannerman started throwing them at van Gelder but the Dutchman avoided them with ease and they smashed harmlessly off the far wall. Van Gelder raised the gun and Bannerman closed his eyes. He opened them again when he heard van Gelder let out a scream.
Morag Napier was on her feet behind him and she had just plunged a full syringe of emulsified sheep brain into van Gelder’s back. Bannerman had never seen such hatred in anyone’s eyes. It was clear that hate was the only thing that was keeping Morag Napier alive. Even as van Gelder hit the floor she kept pushing the plunger of the syringe into his back.
When the entire contents had been injected into the prone Dutchman she looked up briefly at Bannerman and smiled enigmatically. It only lasted a split second before her eyes glazed over and she fell backwards to the floor.
Bannerman approached van Gelder’s body cautiously. He wasn’t quite sure whether he was dead or not. It was possible that Morag had managed to hit something vital with the needle and kill him or it may just have been shock that had caused the Dutchman to pass out. The gun was lying about half a metre from van Gelder’s right hand. He reached down slowly to pick it up. His fingers had almost touched the butt when van Gelder’s hand shot out and clamped Bannerman’s wrist in a grip of iron. One look at van Gelder told Bannerman that he was totally deranged. He deduced that the contents of the syringe must have been injected directly into his spinal canal, giving the agent immediate access to his brain. Van Gelder’s eyes had a quality that filled him with fear. People in this state could sometimes command superhuman strength. Bannerman swung his foot round and thumped it into van Gelder’s chest to provide a firm base to pull his arm free. He did so with difficulty and staggered backwards as he broke away.
Van Gelder’s body jerked in muscle spasm as he tried to get to his feet. He writhed and scratched himself as if plagued by an itch. Bannerman was pleased to see that he no longer had an interest in the gun, but he backed away as van Gelder’s gaze settled on him. He was appalled at the sight of the Dutchman. What had been a handsome man a few minutes before was now a feral monster.
Bannerman’s plan was to circle round the bench keeping van Gelder coming after him. If he kept moving in a clockwise direction, as he was doing, he would come back to the spot where the gun lay on the floor. He reckoned he could pick it up and fire before the Dutchman reached him.
Van Gelder, or whoever the deranged creature in van Gelder’s body was, grew tired of edging forwards and made a lunge at Bannerman. Bannerman moved easily out of range but stumbled over one of the animal cages behind him on the floor. He fell over backwards and lay spreadeagled and helpless. Above him, van Gelder loomed into view. He threw himself at Bannerman.
Bannerman felt his hand touch something metal on the floor. He brought it round between van Gelder and himself. It was the scalpel that Morag Napier had tried to attack van Gelder with earlier. The Dutchman impaled himself on it.
Bannerman had to struggle to free himself from the dead weight lying on top of him. The first thing he did when he had finally got to his feet was to rush to the sink and be sick. He sluiced cold water up into his face again and again until the horrors of the last few minutes stopped threatening his sanity. When he could breathe evenly again he picked up the telephone and called for help.
Bannerman enjoyed three days of rest and relaxation with Shona in Edinburgh before Special Branch, in the shape of Inspector Morris, called on him again.
The scale of the operation took our breath away,’ admitted Morris. They were bringing the stuff in by sea to the terminal at Inchmad. Ostensibly they were loading road stone on to the ships but in reality they were unloading toxic waste from the ships and bringing it by rail up to the quarry in containers disguised as fuel trucks. God knows what we’re going to do with it all. We’re not even sure if we’ve found all the underground dumps.’
‘I think I can help you there,’ said Bannerman. He brought out Colin Turnbull’s survey charts from his bag and said, ‘A young man named Colin Turnbull prepared these geological charts of the area. I think they’ll help.’
‘I’m sure they will,’ said Morris. ‘I’ll pass them on.’
‘When you’ve finished with them, see that they are returned to Julie Turnbull; she’s the primary school teacher in Stobmor. I think she’d appreciate knowing what a help they’d been.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ said Morris.
‘What about Sproat and the vet, Finlay,’ asked Bannerman.
‘It’s pretty much as you suspected,’ said Morris. They both knew about the chemical leak from the quarry which happened about a year ago. Van Gelder came clean at the time and bought their silence. He had to, because the chemical killed the sheep nearest to the leak outright. When the others developed a form of Scrapie a year or so later and started dropping like ninepins they suspected that the chemical had been involved. Van Gelder bought them off again. The new cars were a dead give-away.’
‘Bastards,’ said Bannerman. ‘That’s why the Sproats sent May Buchan away on holiday. Conscience money.’
‘Take a look at life again soon,’ said Morris.
‘Can I go now?’ asked Bannerman.
‘Not exactly,’ said Morris.
‘What does that mean?’ asked Bannerman.
‘I have a message for you from Mr Allison. He says that he would like to see you in London as soon as possible.’
‘I see,’ said Bannerman.
‘And one more thing, sir, he says to remind you that you signed the Official Secrets Act and that everything to do with this affair is covered by it.’
‘Why?’ snapped Bannerman angrily. ‘A bloody Dutchman starts using Scotland as a dump for all the world’s shit. A sheep virus starts killing people and Whitehall wants to keep it an official secret!’
‘Best discuss that with Mr Allison, sir,’ said Morris.
‘Something wrong?’ asked Shona, when Bannerman emerged from his conversation with Morris.
‘I have to go to London,’ said Bannerman.
‘Have to?’ asked Shona.
‘I’m not running away,’ said Bannerman softly. The establishment wants a word with me.’
‘And then what?’ asked Shona quietly.
Bannerman looked at Shona and said, ‘I feel as if I’m walking a tight-rope and I’m going to fall at any moment.’
‘But the important question is, on which side?’
‘Come with me?’ said Bannerman, taking her into his arms and resting his cheek against her hair.
Shona remained silent in his arms for a few moments and then drew back again to smile and shake her head. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I’m beginning to miss my island. I’m going home.’
Banner
man nodded and said softly, ‘I’ll call you.’
Shona just smiled as she turned away. Take care,’ she whispered.
The taxi carrying Bannerman across London ground to a halt in heavy traffic for the umpteenth time. ‘A bit busy today,’ smiled the driver.
Bannerman smiled at the blind optimism that prevented the driver from seeing that it was like this every day. ‘Park Crescent you said?’ ‘The Medical Research Council.’ ‘Doctor, are you then?’ ‘A pathologist.’ ‘Like that, do you?’
Bannerman found himself lost for words. It was a simple question but there seemed to be no simple answer. ‘It’s a living,’ he smiled.
‘Just like me mate,’ said the driver. ‘Life begins when you clock off.’
Bannerman ripped the driver well and returned his wave as he drove off. He sighed as he looked at the official Rover parked near the entrance to the MRC. It was Allison’s car.
‘My dear Doctor Bannerman, how nice to see you,’ exclaimed Allison when Bannerman was shown in,’ He rose to shake Bannerman’s hand warmly. John Flowers and Hugh Milne got up to do the same.
‘I can’t tell you how grateful we are to you for clearing up this awful business,’ said Allison.
Flowers and Milne sat quietly while Allison conducted the proceedings. Bannerman watched the government man’s eyes. The rest of him was animated and exuding bonhomie but his eyes remained cold and calculating.
‘I know it sounds strange in view of the terrible circumstances up north but Her Majesty’s Government is profoundly relieved.’ ‘Relieved?’ exclaimed Bannerman in surprise.
‘That the deaths had nothing to do with natural Scrapie.
‘Natural Scrapie?’ repeated Bannerman.
‘You know what I mean,’ said Allison, waving his hands. ‘These poor men died from this mutant monster thing that the chemical created.’
‘But nevertheless it was created, Mr Allison. There is now a form of Scrapie which will infect people.’
‘But the government has seen to it that every sheep on Inverladdie Farm has been slaughtered and disposed of by incineration. There is no further source of the agent.’
Bannerman was lost for words for a moment. He couldn’t believe the aura of complacency about the man. ‘But it’s what happened before we found out the truth that matters!’ he exclaimed.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that sheep carcasses were lying around all over the place because Sproat was too mean to dispose of them, and for God knows how long!’
‘I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,’ said Allison condescendingly.
‘One bird feeding off one infected carcass a few weeks ago will by now have spread the virus to another part of the countryside. Sooner or later a new flock will become infected and just maybe a few infected lambs will make it to market before the regulations step in. Then what happens?’
‘I feel we are moving in to the realms of fantasy here Doctor,’ said Allison. ‘You can’t seriously be suggesting that we quarantine every sheep in the land?’
‘I’m suggesting that you tighten up the regulations immediately. You make Scrapie a notifiable disease and you offer compensation to farmers for infected sheep at a level above market value so there will be no “slipping through the net” before notification.’
‘If we do that then it will appear that something is wrong,’ said Allison.
‘Something is wrong!’ insisted Bannerman.
Allison thumped his hands angrily on to the table. ‘No,’ he exclaimed. ‘This is over the top! You’ll be suggesting next that we ban people from crossing the road so that road accident figures will drop!’
Bannerman recognized Allison’s attempt at blustering to gain the initiative. He remained calm and said. That is not the same thing and you know it.’
Allison changed tack. He suddenly became reasonable. ‘Look Doctor, we both know that very little is known about the spread of slow virus infection. A lot more research needs to be done. Her Majesty’s Government has agreed to fund an extensive programme of research. The programme will be administered by the Medical Research Council who will set up a new board specifically for that purpose. We would all be delighted if you would chair that board.’
Bannerman felt as if he was being swept along by a freak wave. He shook his head and looked down at the table in silence.
‘At least think about it,’ said Allison, getting to his feet.
Bannerman held up his hands arid said, ‘Not so fast.’
The silence that ensued could have been cut with a knife. ‘You have not said one word about the business at the quarry,’ said Bannerman.
‘What’s there to say?’ asked Allison. ‘Thanks to you we’ve been able to put a complete stop to it.’
‘What about charges, Mr Allison? A foreign company has been using our country as a dump for some of the most dangerous substances on earth and there has not been one mention of it in the papers or on the radio or on television. Why not?’
For the first time Allison displayed real vulnerability. He sat down again slowly and Bannerman noticed a small smile flicker across the lips of Flowers, who had remained silent throughout.
‘Frankly Doctor, the government believes that it would be in the best interests of the people of this country if the full extent of this outrage was not made public. Don’t you agree?’
‘No, I do not!’ said Bannerman forcefully.
‘Doctor, you force me to remind you that …’
‘I signed the Official Secrets Act. Yes, I get the picture and “D” notices will fly like confetti while you and your cronies conduct yet another cover-up of what really goes on in this country!’
‘We have to do what we think best,’ said Allison.
‘Why Allison? Tell me that. There’s got to be more to it than “the best interests of the people”. Just tell me why?’
Allison laced the fingers of his hands together in front of him and took a deep breath. Even then, there was one false start before the words started to come out. ‘The waste … the toxic chemicals …’
‘Yes?’
‘They were British.’
‘British?’ exclaimed Bannerman in disbelief. He saw that Milne and Flowers had already been told this.
‘The government awarded a disposal contract to a Dutch company we believed to be reputable. As it turns out they were not.’
Bannerman’s mouth fell open as he realized what had been happening. ‘You mean that you were loading it on to ships at one end of the country and unloading it at the other? God, what a farce! So to save your blushes, you hush it all up?’
‘There’s more,’ said Allison, avoiding Bannerman’s eyes. The chemicals were manufactured in this country at a time which puts us in contravention of an international agreement banning such work. The Dutch company knows this.’
‘My God,’ said Bannerman, shaking his head.
‘The Russians broke the agreement, the Americans too; everyone knows they did,’ said Allison.
Though it was never proved,’ said Bannerman. ‘But if you pursue the Dutch they’ll crucify you on the world stage. Am I right?’
‘More or less.’
‘I need some fresh air,’ said Bannerman, getting to his feet.
Flowers and Milne shrugged their embarrassment at him.
‘You will think about that offer I mentioned earlier,’ said Allison. ‘You are the man for the job.’
Bannerman left without replying. He returned to St Luke’s and called Shona from his office. She answered after the third ring.
‘I’ve fallen off the tight-rope,’ he said.
‘On which side?’
‘Can I come up?’
‘I’ll be waiting,’ laughed Shona.
‘Do you think the island could use a GP?’
‘I’m sure,’ said Shona. ‘But we’ll talk about that later. When are you leaving?’
‘Now,’ said Bannerman. ‘I love you,’ said Shona.
‘I’
m so glad that you do,’ said Bannerman softly.
‘Get a move on.’
Bannerman put down the phone and cleared out his desk. Without looking back he left the building and was nearly at the front gate when he heard his name being called. It was the hospital psychiatrist, David Drysdale. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages,’ said Drysdale.
‘Really?’ asked Bannerman.
‘It’s about that problem you had, you know, with the nightmares and the feelings of uncertainty and lack of confidence.’
‘What about it?’
‘We all thought it was down to mid-life crisis at the time but it wasn’t. I’ve finally worked it out. You may find it hard to believe but … you don’t like being a pathologist. You never did. It’s just unfortunate that you’re so good at it. It never occurred to you to change.’
Bannerman broke into a broad smile. ‘Tell me about it,’ he said as he walked away and out through the gates.
As the train slid out of the station for the long journey north Bannerman took out his newspaper and started to read. The lead story concerned a man in a Norfolk village who had slaughtered his entire family with an axe before taking his own life. There were family snaps of his wife and three small children at the beach. ‘In happier times,’ said the caption. ‘He was a quiet man,’ said one of the neighbours. ‘He kept himself to himself,’ said another. Everyone in the village was stunned by what had happened, said the story.
‘Tragic,’ said the man across from Bannerman who had been reading the same story. ‘Seems to happen a lot these days.’
Bannerman nodded and put away his paper to look out of the window. You ain’t seen nothing yet, he thought to himself.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-126e0b-3168-1f43-0ea9-06d1-7251-92cd3d
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 06.02.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.37, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
Ken McClure