Bad Medicine- A Life for a Life; Bed of Nails; Going Viral

by Puckett, Andrew

  ‘You mentioned a mortgage – were you thinking of working?’

  ‘Oh, not full time – I meant it about being a proper mother. But with help from Mum and perhaps a crèche, I could do some temping.’

  We drove up the Exe valley to the place she had in mind. She had a key from the estate agent. It was a pair of semis that had been converted into four flats, one of them very small: bedroom, living room, kitchen-diner and bathroom. It could have done with redecorating, but maybe that was to the good, leverage for bargaining.

  ‘You’ll need a proper survey,’ I said after I’d poked round a bit.

  ‘Oh sure, but you think it’s all right?’

  ‘So far as I can see.’

  After that, we found a tea shop beside the river and had some late lunch. The water flickered and flashed over the rocky bed in the winter sunshine. I’d forgotten how beautiful it was round here. The fact that it was where Pops lived had put me off, rather.

  They lived in Newton-on-Exe, a pretty village that overlooked a bend a little way upstream.

  Grace, in the buggy beside us, woke up and bubbled and gurgled, much to the delight of a pair of elderly ladies nearby, who came over and made similar noises. Perhaps that’s how we all end up, I thought, conversing with babies in their own language. When they’d finished doing that, they gushed at us for a bit, telling us how lucky we were to have such a beautiful baby and how we must be very proud. We solemnly thanked them and at last, they moved away.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Sarah murmured.

  ‘Not your fault. And she is beautiful.’

  ‘You – who used to say all babies looked alike?’

  ‘You – who used to say there were no such things as maternal feelings. All in the mind, I seem to remember you saying.’

  We laughed, then she gave Grace a rusk to play with while we finished our lunch. I paid up and we left.

  We lingered a while by the river bank. The sun was dropping into smudgy cloud and spraying out colour like a fruit salad: grapefruit pink and yellow, pomegranate, medlar and grape all smashing into the water like a psychedelic trip. The sombre, skeletal valley, heightened the effect.

  ‘Makes me wish I had a camera,’ I said.

  ‘Makes me want to try painting again,’ she said.

  ‘Why don’t you?’

  ‘Mm,’ she said, obviously thinking about it. She’d been to Art College when she was younger and I’d thought she was pretty good – not that I know anything.

  ‘People usually paint in the summer,’ she said, ‘but it’s winter that’s got the real beauty.’

  ‘Also the cold,’ I said, feeling it feel its way through my coat.

  ‘Philistine.’

  ‘Practical bunch, the Philistines. A lot to be said for them.’

  ‘Really? You don’t see many of them around now.’

  I laughed gently. She said, ‘I think I will take it up again.’

  Grace was obviously feeling the cold as well, because she’d started grizzling, so we went to the car and Sarah drove me back.

  After we’d gone a little way, I said, ‘If Grace had been Charles’, d’you think you’d have stayed with him?’ I don’t know what made me ask.

  ‘No.’ After a pause, she went on, ‘He’s a selfish pig. He’s got a nasty streak as well.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

  I tried to think of something else to say, to lighten things, but I couldn’t.

  When we got to my place, I asked her if she wanted to come in, but she said she’d better get back.

  ‘She’s due a feed,’ she said, meaning Grace. ‘She’ll wake up any minute and start howling.’

  On cue, she did just that. I smiled and reached for the door handle. ‘Let me know how you get on. With the flat.’

  ‘I will,’ she said.

  Chapter 28

  I watched her drive away, then went inside. The message light was winking on the phone, so I picked up. It was Brigg, asking me to ring back.

  ‘Can we come round?’ he said.

  I let them in 25 minutes later and took them to the living room. They refused coffee or tea. Rebecca still had difficulty meeting my eyes.

  ‘We’ve got a problem,’ Brigg said.

  They were stuck. They had six people in custody and could keep them another five days, but they hadn’t got anywhere with them. There were two they particular suspected, but neither was budging, so they were going to try a different approach.

  ‘One of the dead men was an air conditioning engineer,’ he said, ‘could that be how they were going to do it?’

  ‘Ideal,’ I said, and I looked at Rebecca. ‘We talked about this when you came to my lab – remember?’

  She nodded and I went on,

  ‘All they’d have to do is make an aerosol and then spray it into the system while it was running. Below the filters,’ I added.

  ‘Wouldn’t they just turn the system off?’

  ‘The aerosol would settle on the surfaces and you wouldn’t get an effective spread.’

  ‘Why below the filters? I thought viruses were very small.’

  ‘They are, but the pox viruses are the biggest. Anyway, there’d be a back pressure if you opened a port above the filters, which would blow any aerosol straight back out again.’

  ‘So it’s got to be a system with a port below the filters?’

  I nodded. ‘Or you could take any filters below the port out, of course.’

  He grunted. ‘I’d been hoping we could eliminate some of them.’

  He asked how they’d make the aerosol and I explained how the virus had to be grown in tissue culture, then macerated into tiny pieces.

  ‘Did they have the equipment to do that?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, and you could make the aerosol easily with an old-fashioned bulb sprayer. You know, the sort of thing ladies used to use to spray scent on themselves.’

  ‘Some still do,’ Rebecca said, speaking for the first time.

  ‘It’s what we were afraid of,’ Brigg said. He went on, ‘We think there’s a fifth member of the group, either one of the ones we’re holding, or someone we don’t know about, who killed the others because they got cold feet, and is intending to go ahead with it. In fact, they might’ve already done so.’

  I stared at him… ‘What, before the deadline? And they said they were going to infect just one to begin with, didn’t they?’

  He shrugged. ‘This fifth person might have a different agenda.’

  ‘Or might not exist.’

  ‘Which is our fervent hope, of course, but we can’t risk that.’

  They were going to find all the places that Malcolm North, the engineer, had worked in, then ask them if he’d been there lately. Or if anyone had been there lately wanting access to the air-conditioning...

  ‘Or asks for it in the next few days,’ he finished.

  ‘So what did you want from me?’

  ‘To know if it’s feasible, which you’ve already answered, but also what kind of building they’d go for, and with what result?’

  I thought about it. ‘It depends on what result they want. The bigger and busier the building, the more people’d get infected.’

  ‘But it would be two weeks before we saw any cases?’ Rebecca.

  ‘At least.’

  ‘Suppose they did it on a floor of a department store –’ Brigg again ‘Would everyone there get infected?’

  ‘Unlikely. The nearest to the outlet would be the most likely, reducing the further you got away from it.’

  ‘Out of a hundred people, say?’

  I let out a groan. ‘It depends on so many variables: the size of the shop, the size and concentration of the aerosol…’

  ‘Guess.’

  I shrugged. ‘A quarter of them?’

  ‘How long after the virus had been put in would there still be a risk of infection?’

  ‘Oh, certainly several days, more... until you’d fumigated
the place – bombed it,’ I said, looking at Rebecca.

  They looked at each other with a mix of dismay and resignation, then she said,

  ‘So even with quite a small shop, a lot of people could be infected?’

  I nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  Brigg said, ‘And you’re telling us there’s no way of knowing what kind of place they’d choose?’

  ‘As I said, it would depend on what result they wanted.’ I thought for a moment. ‘Now that the engineer’s dead, they’d be more likely to go for somewhere with easy access, wouldn’t they? Maybe even one they could get at without having to ask?’

  Brigg nodded slowly. ‘We’ll ask the company whether they’ve got any like that.’

  They left not long after. I’d have liked to ask Rebecca if she’d seen a GUM specialist yet, but didn’t want to in front of Brigg.

  *

  The doorbell went the next morning at around half ten and I recognised Sarah’s silhouette. She barged past me to the living room. When I caught up with her, she said,

  ‘What is it with you and Dad? He’s got it in for you more than Charles.’

  ‘Good morning, Sarah. Nice to see you, too. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it?’

  She went on talking as she lowered herself into an armchair... ‘When I told him about the flat and what we’d worked out, he said you should make up the entire shortfall. He said I shouldn’t have to get a mortgage or pay a penny towards it.’

  I sat down facing her. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘That I shouldn’t have to work. I’m happy to do some part-time work, Herry…’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘He said you should pay me enough alimony and child support to live on.’

  ‘I said I’d pay what’s reasonable. That’s not reasonable.’

  ‘No. What is it between you and him? You thought he was behind that attack on you – why?’

  ‘Well, we’d just had a row and –’

  ‘What was it about?’

  I shrugged. ‘You, mostly. He…’ I realised I didn’t want to tell her it was because I’d refused to consider trying again with her, so I said, ‘He read me a similar list of demands to the ones you’ve just told me about, and I said no.’

  ‘He had no right to say anything like that behind my back.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘There’s got to be more to it than that…’ She got up again and started pacing around … ‘He was telling me this morning that you were on the slippery slope – you know how he loves that phrase. He said your goose was cooked, and –’

  ‘Mixing his clichés – he must have been exercised.’

  ‘He said I should get as much money out of you as I could before you went under.’ She stopped in front of me. ‘Are you in some sort of trouble?’

  How much to tell her…?

  ‘You know I was telling you about SCRUB the other day?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Well, there’s been a lot of in-fighting recently, a power struggle, I suppose…’ I told her about the battle between Fenella and Blake.

  ‘I liked Fenella, the time I met her,’ she said.

  ‘Well, it seems that Sir Colin knows your father –’

  ‘How?’

  I shrugged. ‘He knows a lot of people. Anyway, just after the row, an attempt was made to replace me as Area Head with Roland, who also knows your father.’

  She stared at me – ‘Maybe it’s him behind it…’ She went on. ‘What reason was given for trying to get rid of you?’

  ‘That I was involved in a custody battle over Grace and that my divorce was turning very nasty, and that these things would distract me from my job.’

  ‘But none of that’s true...’

  ‘No,’ I agreed.

  Her eyes turned away as she thought about it… ‘You know, what I can’t get my head round is that this distraction, even if it existed, would hardly interfere with SCRUB… I mean, it’s not as if it’s particularly onerous, is it?’ She looked back at me… ‘Unless there’s something going on –’ she saw it in my face – ‘There is, isn’t there?’

  ‘No, and –’

  ‘SCRUB’s about using smallpox as a terror weapon, isn’t it? Which would never happen, you told me… But it has, hasn’t it? Or something like it.’

  ‘ – you know I can’t talk about anything like that with you.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then.’ She sat down again. ‘Would you make me a coffee, please?’

  ‘I hear and obey.’

  ‘A real one,’ she called as I went to the kitchen.

  Actually, I was quite glad of the respite, which is probably why she’d done it – to give us both one.

  As I handed it to her a few minutes later, she said,

  ‘Was the attack on you something to do with SCRUB?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I can imagine Dad getting at you by trying to mess up your position in SCRUB. I can imagine him – just – trying to mess up your career. But he would never mess around with something like smallpox.’

  ‘In no circumstances whatever?’

  ‘No. I can’t speak for Roland, though… is there anyone else it could be?’

  ‘Can’t think of anyone.’

  ‘I know you can’t tell me any details, but there is a threat, isn’t there?’

  I said nothing.

  ‘Yes, then. No wonder you’re not at your best. Is that what the little brown dolly bird was about?’ She went on without waiting for an answer – ‘I suppose I should be grateful you’ve given me and Grace as much time as you have.’

  She emptied her coffee cup, put it down and came over to me.

  ‘Poor old you.’

  She bent and kissed my mouth.

  Nothing about it suggested anything more than a gesture of sympathy, but as she turned away, I caught her hand, pulled her to me and kissed her. I don’t know why.

  She didn’t respond and I let her go. She looked back into my face, then very slowly, leaned toward me and touched her lips against mine.

  She wasn’t wearing any perfume. She smelled only of soap and… of babies, I suppose. Our mouths touched again and stayed together. Moved gently against each other.

  Her jumper felt soft, as did her skin. It was the most charged kiss I’ve ever known.

  She drew back, our mouths an inch apart. She whispered,

  ‘Are you sure about this, Herry? I betrayed you. How do you know I won’t do it again?’

  ‘I don’t…’

  Upstairs, our clothes lay in heaps on the floor. Dim light filtered through the curtains, but enough for me to see a tiny bead of milk on one of her nipples. It was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

  We lay in bed. Her body glowed, the bits I could see and the bits I couldn’t.

  There was no need to hurry. We had time. Our fingertips explored. Her body was familiar, and yet completely new. It was magic, precious… it was old… new… secret, satin, marble molten flesh and blood –

  *

  Later, she said, ‘Serve you right if you’ve got me pregnant again.’

  ‘Didn’t think you could if you were breastfeeding.’

  ‘Don’t bank on it.’

  I wanted her to stay, but she said she had to get back to feed Grace.

  Chapter 29

  On Sunday morning, Josh and Dan went a’ hunting – for Clive Prout, the manager of Airflow, the company Malcolm had worked for. They eventually ran him to earth, or at least tee, on the golf course, whence they escorted him, protesting volubly, to the company offices, which were in a trading estate on the outskirts of Tiverton. Here, Prout reluctantly produced the records of all the sites Malcolm had visited in the last year.

  There were a lot, nearly a hundred: hospitals, supermarkets, offices, scattered all over the South West. To some he’d gone just for a quick check, to others for more substantial maintenance or overhaul.

  Yes, Prout admitted, Malcolm
had been a very experienced engineer and understood all the systems inside out. In fact, he didn’t know how they were going to cope without him.

  Were any of the systems accessible from outside, Josh asked?

  ‘How should I know? That’s something you’ll have to find out for yourselves. I’m afraid,’ he added.

  ‘That’s exactly what we will be doing, Mr Prout,’ Josh replied levelly. ‘In the company of one of your other engineers.’

  Prout stared at him. ‘Are you out of your mind? Didn’t you hear what I just said? It’s going to be hard enough coping without Malcolm, never mind another engineer.’

  ‘We’ll be back tomorrow morning with a warrant,’ Josh said.

  Which they were. Then, accompanied by Kevin Lamb, allegedly the next most experienced engineer, they started on a tour of Airflow customers.

  On most of the sites, the systems were clearly inaccessible from outside. With these, they asked if anyone had requested access recently. When they got the answer no, they asked them to be on the lookout for such requests.

  Half a dozen were fairly easily accessible and they examined them carefully for signs of recent tampering. They visited twenty five sites in all that day and found nothing obviously suspicious.

  Brigg and Rebecca meanwhile, having got nowhere with their interrogations, decided to try something else. Stella, who’d been questioning Mary Broomfield in Bath, came down. She’d had previous experience penetrating groups like BTA and knew how to empathise with them.

  She started with Hannah, who not only spoke to her, but broke down in tears, saying she wanted her son back. She told Stella everything she knew, which wasn’t much.

  She then saw Marc, followed by Sophie. Both were more suspicious of her, but eventually seemed to cooperate.

  ‘I’m as sure as I can be that Hannah’s got nothing to hide,’ she told Brigg and Rebecca at the end of the day. ‘Marc and Sophie, I’m not so sure about. Sophie, on balance, I tend to believe. Marc…’ She wiggled her hand in a fifty/fifty gesture.

  ‘Is it possible they’re good actors?’ Brigg asked.

  She shrugged. ‘It’s possible. Anything is.’