‘Such a promising career,’ crooned Stoddart, ‘and
all sacrificed on the altar of Venus.’
Bannerman looked at Stoddart sideways, won
dering if he’d heard right. ‘Professor,’ he said,
‘Lawrence Gill’s running off had nothing to do
with “Venus”. He did not run off to be with another
woman as you all thought.’
Then why?’
‘
I don’t know.’
‘Most peculiar,’ mumbled Stoddart.
‘
I don’t see Doctor Napier,’ said Bannerman look
ing about him.
‘No,’ said Stoddart. ‘She took the news of
Lawrence’s death very hard I’m afraid. I suggested
she have a couple of days off.’
Damn, thought Bannerman. He had hoped to
hear news of the animal experiments from Morag
Napier. Now he would have to glean what he could
for himself.
Bannerman was surprised to find the door to the ani
mal lab unlocked. He opened it and knocked gently
on the glass portion of the half open door; there was
no reply, so he went inside. He followed the sound of music coming from one of the back rooms until
he found signs of life. The animal technician on duty
was not the same girl that he had seen on his last visit
with Morag Napier. This was an older woman and
she was carrying out a post-mortem examination on a rabbit. The animal was spread-eagled on a wooden
board, its limbs secured to nails at the four corners
by strong elastic bands. The first incision had been
made, opening the animal from neck to crotch and
the technician was presently taking samples of lung
tissue. Music was coming from a small portable radio
propped up on a corner of the table.
Bannerman coughed quietly to attract attention.
The woman dropped the scalpel she had been holding and caught her breath. The instrument bounced off the edge of the table and clattered to
the floor. ‘God, you gave me a fright,’ she exclaimed.
‘Who are you?’
‘My name’s Bannerman. We haven’t met.’
‘Bannerman?’ repeated the woman, the tone of her voice indicating that the name meant nothing
to her. Her whole demeanour suggested fear and
uncertainty.
Bannerman smiled in an effort to put her at ease. ‘From the MRC,’ he said. ‘I’m working on Dr Gill’s
project. I’m sorry I startled you.’
The woman relaxed. ‘My fault,’ she said. The door
should have been locked but I forgot again. The Prof
will have my hide if he finds out; you won’t tell him will you?’
Bannerman shook his head. ‘No. Why the preoc
cupation with locked doors?’
The animal rights people,’ replied the woman. They’ve been active around Edinburgh recently.’
Bannerman watched as the woman used Lysol to
swab the areas of the table and floor that the dropped
scalpel had come into contact with. She discarded the
used swabs in a sterilizer bin.
‘Something nasty?’ asked Bannerman, noticing
the meticulous care she was taking.
TB,’ replied the woman. ‘It’s making a come-back
in AIDS patients.’
‘Why the rabbit?’
There was some question about this particular
patient’s strain being bovine or human in origin
so we did a guinea pig and rabbit inoculation. If
it’s bovine it’ll infect both, if it’s human it’ll only go
for the guinea pig, but I suppose you knew that?’
‘If I ever did, I’ve long since forgotten,’ smiled
Bannerman. ‘I haven’t come across a case of TB in
years.’
‘Lots of things are making a come-back in AIDS
patients,’ said the woman. ‘People with no immune
system are just what a whole lot of bugs have been
waiting for.’
‘Not a happy thought Miss… ?’ said Bannerman.
‘Cullen, Lorna Cullen. Have a look at the lungs
on this animal. They’re riddled.’
Bannerman took a closer look and saw the rash of buff coloured nodules over the rabbit’s lungs. ‘I see
what you mean.’
‘How can I help you, Doctor?’
‘Lawrence Gill inoculated some mice before he disappeared. I just wondered how they were getting
on. They were up here if I remember rightly,’ said
Bannerman, moving to where the relevant mice
boxes were on his last visit. He brought down the
first one and looked inside. In contrast to the last
time when he had seen nothing but healthy animals
the two mice inside had lost condition and had little
sense of balance or coordination. It was the same
story in the other two boxes.
‘How are they?’ asked Lorna Cullen, continuing
with her post-mortem. The words were muffled by
her protective mask.
‘Sick.’
‘What do you want done with them?’
‘Nothing. I’m going to check with the Neuro-
biology Unit first to make sure they are prepared to
receive samples, then either myself or Morag Napier
will kill the animals and remove their brains.’
‘Something nasty?’ asked Lorna Cullen, using
Bannerman’s own expression.
‘Very,’ replied Bannerman.
Bannerman phoned Morag Napier from upstairs.
She sounded very subdued when she answered,
saying, ‘I didn’t realize you were back.’
‘Last night,’ said Bannerman. ‘I’m sorry about
Gill.’
‘He was a nice man,’ said Morag.
‘I’ve just been down to the animal lab,’ said
Bannerman. The mice that Gill inoculated are look
ing very sick. I think they should be killed soon and
brain samples sent to Hector Munro’s lab.’
‘Did you find out anything about the deaths while
you were up north?’ asked Morag.
‘Very little, but I think the mice results will tell us
for sure. I’m going to kill them tomorrow.’
‘Would you like me to do it?’ asked Morag.
‘Are you coming back soon?’ asked Bannerman.
‘I’ll be in tomorrow,’ said Morag.
‘Why don’t we both do it. We’ll be able to get
the samples to Munro’s lab, by lunch-time and I
thought we could make a few microscope preps for
ourselves? If we see evidence of degenerative disease
we’ll
virtually
have the answer. Munro’s people can
fill in the technical details about incubation times and infectivity titres later.’
‘Very good,’ said Morag. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Bannerman called Milne at the Medical Research
Council to say that he was back in Edinburgh and
to give a progress report.
After initial pleasantries Milne asked Bannerman
how the investigation was going.
‘Before he died Lawrence Gill inoculated some
experimental mice with brain material taken from the
three men who died. I’m going to kill them tomor
row, if they’re not already dead, and give the brains
to Hector Munro for full
Scrapie
testing. That should
prove beyond all doubt whether or not the men died
of
Scrapie
and we can get started on characterizing the
agent fully. The circumstantial evidence that
Scrapie
was involved is already overwhelming.’
‘Is there anything we can do at our end?’
‘You can arrange for radioactivity monitoring
along the foreshore of Inverladdie Farm. I tried to
do it myself but I ran into some opposition.’
‘Opposition?’
‘
I was seen as a threat to jobs in the area.’
‘No violence I hope?’
‘A little,’ said Bannerman. ‘My car was vandalized
and somebody took pot shots at me on the beach.’
‘Good God, Bannerman. You’ve had an exciting
time.’
‘
I managed to monitor the boundary ground
between Inverladdie and the nuclear station and it
was clear, but there is a chance that contamination
came in from the sea further along the shore. If so,
that might have caused the sheep virus to mutate.’
There has been no further incidence of brain
disease in the area I take it?’
‘None,’ agreed Bannerman.
‘So there’s a chance that this may have been a
single isolated incident which may never happen
again,’ said Milne.
‘It’s possible,’ agreed Bannerman, thinking that
it was also possible that the new virus had already
been spread to every corner of the country and was
waiting to infect new flocks before slipping through
the food chain to the Sunday lunch tables of the land.
He had a mental picture of a crow on the wing, its beak dripping with blood from the sheep carcass it
had just gorged itself on.
‘I’ll ask Allison to brief the Health and Safety
Executive. They’ll carry out a full inspection,’ said
Milne.
‘What about Gill’s death?’ asked Bannerman.
‘Not much to report I’m afraid. I understand from Allison that the only lead they have is a description
of the man who called at the post office in Cairnish
pretending he was Gill, and it wasn’t particularly
helpful.’
‘Not a one-legged Chinaman with a scar?’ said
Bannerman.
‘Afraid not. Quite tall, medium build, fairish,
good-looking, and the post mistress thought he had
some kind of an accent but she couldn’t place it.’
‘As you say, not much to go on,’ agreed Bannerman.
‘What are your plans after tomorrow?’ asked
Milne.
‘Once I’ve got the brain samples off to Munro and
done the microscopy I’ll return to London and get
back to work at the hospital while we wait for the
results.’
‘We’re very grateful to you Doctor,’ said Milne.
‘What is Mr Allison saying to all this?’ asked
Bannerman.
‘I think the official line is to treat this whole affair
as an isolated incident.’
‘It’s a bit early to conclude that,’ said Bannerman.
‘And if it should turn out that the men died of
Scrapie,
we will have to face up to the fact that the disease can
pass to man.’
‘Mr Allison and his colleagues are taking the view
that if a
mutated Scrapie
virus is to blame then it is no
longer a
Scrapie
virus.’
That is outrageous!’ said Bannerman.
‘I think we must be positive Doctor, not alarmist.
You said yourself that
Scrapie
has been around for a
long time. If it had caused trouble before we would
have been aware of it.’
‘Not necessarily,’ argued Bannerman. The reason
you were carrying out the brain disease survey in the
first place was because we have no real idea of its
incidence in the population. A few deaths here and
there don’t get noticed. It’s only when you know
what you are looking for that things become clear.’
‘I don’t think we can realistically destroy our farming industry on the basis of a few unclassified deaths
here and there which may or may not have been due
to infected animals. Do you?’ asked Milne.
‘I don’t think we should cover it up either,’ said
Bannerman.
Milne said, ‘Mr Allison has assured me that
generous government funds will be made immediately available to investigate brain disease in the
population.’