He left word on Olive’s desk that if the MRC were
to phone she was to tell them he was already on his
way to Scotland and would be in touch later in the day. His last act in the lab was to assemble a few post-mortem instruments. He didn’t think he would
have to take a full set with him, but concentrated
on the type of instruments that the cottage hospital would not have. He left out the knives and scalpels
that pathology and surgery had in common.
He knew that the ironware would present a prob
lem at the airport when he went through the metal
detector but he was carrying plenty of identification
and was quite happy for the knives to travel in the
hold of the aircraft. With a last look round, he turned
out the fluorescent lights and locked the door. He was on his way.
Bannerman breakfasted lightly at Heathrow, more
to break the monotony of waiting than through any feeling of hunger. Afterwards he telephoned Shona
to say that he was travelling north. He apologized
for phoning so early but she insisted that she was
up and dressed and had already been for a walk on
the beach.
“Then the weather’s fine up there?’ said Bannerman.
‘At the moment,’ said Shona, ‘but there’s a storm
coming in from the west. It may stop the ferry sailing
but if it doesn’t I’ll come across to the mainland and
meet you in Stobmor.’
‘I hoped you’d say that,’ said Bannerman.
Shona’s predicted storm swept across Scotland an
hour later and was in full song when Bannerman’s
aircraft crossed the Perthshire hills; the captain
apologized for ‘turbulence’ during the approach to
Aberdeen airport. Bannerman lost contact with his
stomach more than once during the descent, the
worst moment being when the aircraft seemed to
crab sideways on the final approach before steadying
at the last moment to thump down on the tarmac.
There were sighs of relief all round in the cabin and Bannerman even noticed a little smile pass between
two of the stewardesses as they unbuckled their belts
and stood up to prepare for disembarkation.
A ‘mix-up’ in the paperwork meant that his hire
car was not waiting for him and he had to wait thirty
minutes while uniformed girls made telephone calls
and a car was eventually brought out from the city.
He passed the time drinking lukewarm coffee at a
plastic table in the airport cafe, watching the rain
pass horizontally across his field of view outside the
window. If it was like this in the west, the ferries
would certainly not be running.
The car arrived and Bannerman set off on the road north. The rain changed to sleet just north of Huntly,
in distillery country, and became snow as he skirted
Inverness, heading for the north-west. The snow was
lying on the minor roads and it took him over ninety
minutes to negotiate the last twenty miles of the journey. It was six in the evening when he reached
Stobmor. He dumped his things in his hotel bedroom
and made straight for the cottage hospital.
Bannerman knew from the sound of sobbing as soon
as he entered the hospital that he was too late.
Through a half-glazed door, leading off the entrance
hall, he could see Angus MacLeod comforting a
woman he thought must be Colin Turnbull’s wife.
She had her back to him and MacLeod held up his
hand to signify that he should stay outside for the
moment. Bannerman nodded and moved along the
hallway to the next room where he found a nurse
making tea. He introduced himself.
‘
I’m Sister Drummond. Dr MacLeod expected you
earlier,’ said the nurse, putting the lid back on the
tea pot.
The weather,’ said Bannerman.
‘It is bad,’ conceded the nurse.
‘
I take it Colin Turnbull’s dead?’ said Bannerman.
‘Fifteen minutes ago.’
Bannerman could see, although the nurse was
trying to give out signs of normality, that she was
clearly upset. There was a definite quiver in her
cheeks. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked gently.
The woman nodded but put a hand up to her face
as if checking that there were no tears on her face.
She swallowed as if preparing to speak. Bannerman waited.
‘
I have never …’ she began, ‘I have never seen
anyone die that way …’ The words seemed to act as a relief valve. She let out her breath and tears started
to flow freely down her face. ‘It was horrible …
quite, quite horrible; he seemed possessed …’
The door opened and Angus MacLeod joined them. ‘How’s that tea coming along?’ he asked.
‘It’s ready,’ said the nurse.
‘Perhaps you would sit with Mrs Turnbull for a
bit Sister?’
‘Of course Doctor.’
The nurse left the room and MacLeod said, ‘Just
too late I’m afraid.’
Bannerman nodded. He said, ‘I hear it wasn’t a
very pretty end.’
‘He was totally deranged. The sedation wasn’t
enough to keep him under. It wasn’t easy to listen to.
I only wish that Julie could have been spared that.’
‘Where’s the body?’ asked Bannerman.
‘Downstairs in the cellar, we’re using it as a makeshift mortuary. Do you want to see him?’
‘Yes,’ said Bannerman.
‘I’ll just check that Julie’s all right,’ said MacLeod.
He was gone for only a moment before returning and
saying, ‘It’s this way.’
MacLeod led the way through a heavy wooden
door that led to a flight of stone steps. Bannerman
noticed an immediate change of temperature as they
left the centrally heated hospital to descend into the
unheated stone cellar.
MacLeod clicked on the cellar light, a single bulk
head lamp surrounded by a wire cage, drenched in cobwebs. It seemed to fill the room with shadows
rather than light. Turnbull’s body lay in the middle of
the room on a slatted wooden bench; it was covered
with a sheet which had been tucked in around the
contours so that it was quite obvious what lay under
it. The scene made Bannerman think of discoveries
in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, but Turnbull was
no ancient pharaoh; he was currently the only clue
to a terrible disease.
Bannerman walked over to the body, untucked the
sheet from the head and pulled it back. He recoiled
at the sight. Turnbull’s eyes were open and his teeth
were bared as if poised to leap up at him and grab
his throat. But it was simply a death mask, the death mask of a man who had died in the throes
of agony.
‘I’m sorry, there wasn’t time to do much about that,’ murmured MacLeod. ‘I had his wife to take
care of. She was very upset.’
Bannerman tried to close Turnbull’s eyes but found the skin stretched too tightly across his
eyelids. ‘Strange,’ he said. ‘Some kind of early
rigor, maybe connected with the disease.’ He found
the same problem with the cheek muscles; they
had contracted to tighten the skin at the sides of
Turnbull’s mouth. ‘Will you ask Mrs Turnbull for PM permission?’ he asked MacLeod.
MacLeod was obviously reluctant. ‘She has just
been through the most horrific experience,’ he said.
‘Could it wait until morning?’
Bannerman looked at the corpse, now re-covered
with the sheet, and said, Td rather you did it now, if you think it at all possible.’
MacLeod shrugged and said, ‘I’ll see what sort of
state she’s in when we go upstairs.’
‘What on earth …’ exclaimed MacLeod as he
opened the door at the head of the cellar stairs and
heard voices in the hallway. When Bannerman came
out into the light he saw that there were three men
talking to Sister Drummond inside the front door.
He recognized one of them as the Dutchman, van
Gelder; the other two were strangers, workmen by their appearance. The nurse stopped talking to the
men and came over to MacLeod. She said, ‘Doctor,
Mr Turnbull’s employer and two of his friends have
come to see how he is.’
‘You’ve told them?’ asked MacLeod quietly.
‘Yes Doctor. They’d like to see Mrs Turnbull.’
‘Ask them to wait in the side room would you?’
said MacLeod.
As the nurse turned away MacLeod said to
Bannerman, ‘I’ll see if Julie will sign the permission
form.’ He left Bannerman standing in the hallway.
Van Gelder saw him and smiled a greeting. He came
over to shake hands saying, ‘Good to see you again
Doctor, I thought you had left the area.’
‘I had,’ agreed Bannerman.
‘But no need to ask why you are back, eh? Another
tragedy. What a terrible business. Turnbull was one
of my most reliable workers. When are you chaps
going to get to the bottom of it?’
‘Soon I hope,’ said Bannerman.
The other two men were looking across at them
talking. The nurse was holding open the side room door, waiting to usher all three of them inside.
Bannerman was aware that the look on the men’s
faces was distinctly hostile. He wondered why; he
didn’t know them.
‘Are these men Colin’s workmates?’ he asked van
Gelder quietly.
‘
I met them outside,’ said van Gelder. They’re
old friends I understand,’ replied the Dutchman.
‘They’re employed at the power station. One of
them told me he was in Turnbull’s class at school.’
‘
I see,’ said Bannerman. He remembered how
Turnbull had once warned him about the ill feel
ing he was generating among the nuclear power
workers. This was how he had known. Some of his
friends worked at the station.
‘Is everything all right Doctor?’ asked van Gelder.
‘Yes,’ replied Bannerman distantly.
Everyone in the hall was suddenly startled by the
sound of a female voice raised in anger. It was Julie
Turnbull. Embarrassed glances were exchanged as the sound of her voice grew louder and louder until she was screaming, ‘No! No! On no account! Just
leave my Colin alone!’
Julie Turnbull came bursting out of the room
where she had been with MacLeod. She saw the
two power workers and threw herself into the arms of one of them. ‘They want to cut Colin’s head off!’
she sobbed. They want his brain!’ ‘Jesus,’ said one of the men with open disgust.
‘No one is going to touch Colin,’ said the other
man, holding Julie close to him.
Bannerman and MacLeod exchanged uneasy looks.
MacLeod shrugged his apologies.
‘Mrs Turnbull,’ began Bannerman. ‘Believe me, no
one is going to cut…’
The man holding her interrupted him with a
stream of abuse. ‘Fucking doctors! What fucking
use have you been, huh? Why don’t you just piss
off and leave us all alone!’
Bannerman backed off, sensing that the situation
was beyond saving for the moment. Van Gelder
stepped forward diplomatically and intervened. ‘My
dear Mrs Turnbull,’ he said, ‘perhaps you would
allow me to drive you home? My car is just outside.
Or perhaps there is somewhere else you would
rather go? A relative or friend?’
Thank you,’ replied Julie, recovering her compo
sure. She turned to MacLeod and said, Tm sorry
Doctor … but I meant what I said.’
MacLeod nodded and gave her a reassuring
smile. Julie made a point of ignoring Bannerman
completely and left the hospital, supported by van
Gelder. The two power station workers followed
behind. Both of them gave Bannerman looks that
suggested he might be wise to steer clear of them
on dark nights. One said, ‘No one touches Colin’s body. Understand?’
Bannerman did not dignify the threat with a reply.
He just stared at the man balefully until the man
broke eye contact and left.