Ken McClure - Resurrection

Wright got out of bed to get dressed while Dewar returned to his room and called Sci-Med in London. He spoke to the duty officer on the night desk. ‘Any idea why the WHO vaccine hasn’t reached Edinburgh yet?’ he asked.

‘I don’t have details but I know Mr Macmillan spoke to Geneva earlier this evening. He was worried about that himself.’

‘What did they say?’

‘Mr Macmillan didn’t say exactly but he was in a foul mood after he’d finished the call, something about being fobbed off with an office boy.’

Dewar looked at his watch and said, ‘I’ll call him when he comes in at nine.’

‘I’ll leave a note for him,’ said the man.

Dewar found Hector Wright downstairs. He was sitting at a table with his city street map spread out in front of him, tapping his pen nervously on the table while apparently deep in thought.

‘Seven more means things have changed,’ he said. ‘I think we may be forced to admit that it’s smallpox we’re dealing with. If one gets you seven, seven will get you forty-nine.’

‘Actually, one got us eight,’ said Dewar. ‘You’re forgetting about Tommy Hannan.

‘We’re going to have to open up a second centre before the end of the week and come clean with the relatives. I don’t see how we can avoid it.’

‘I’ve got an awful feeling the vaccine isn’t going to be here today,’ Dewar confided. ‘I haven’t spoken to Macmillan yet but something’s wrong, I know it is.’ We can’t tell people anything if we haven’t anything to offer them. They’ll panic. Contacts could spread faster than bad news.’

‘If you’re really serious about the vaccine not coming then we’ll have to go for physical containment,’ said Wright. ‘There’s no other way.’

‘You mean seal the whole area off?’ asked Dewar almost agog at the notion of isolating an entire housing estate with thousands of residents.

Wright nodded slowly. ‘I can’t see any other way of stopping it spreading if we don’t have the vaccine and stop it, we must. If we just admit that it’s smallpox that people have been going down with there will be a pause of about two days while people talk about it and come to terms with the news then they’ll start moving out of the affected area. Trains, planes and automobiles will do the rest. Smallpox will be back to roam the planet just like the old times when it regularly killed two million a year.’

‘Well, you can try putting that to the team,’ said Dewar sounding less than confident of a positive outcome.

‘Will you back me up?’

‘Yes,’ replied Dewar. ‘Not because I think it’s an attractive idea but because I think you’re right, there’s no other way. The big question will be, can the police manage it on their own or are we talking military help here?’

‘We’ll see what Tulloch has to say.’

‘What time’s the meeting this morning?’

‘Finlay said he’d try to get everyone here for nine thirty.’

There was no point in going back to bed. Sleep would be impossible and the dawn wasn’t that far away. Dewar decided he would go over to the isolation unit at the Western General at eight.He wanted to talk to Sharon Hannan. He called a taxi at seven thirty.

George Finlay looked exhausted. He’d been up all night with the new admissions. Grey stubble showed on his chin and he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

‘There were too many relatives and close contacts to put up in the unit so the Public Health people sent out decontamination teams to their houses and apartments; they’ve taken them back there and given them strict instructions that they were to remain indoors until further notice.’

‘Sounds sensible,’ said Dewar. ‘But will it work?’

‘There will be problems,’ conceded Finlay. ‘Social Services are going to contact them today to provide help and support during a period equal to the incubation time of the disease.’

‘Do they know what the disease is?’ asked Dewar.

Finlay shook his head and said, ‘I thought up a suitably complicated medical term for the condition which, so far, people have been accepting. They’re assuming it’s some awful new disease.’

‘You need sleep,’ said Dewar.

‘I’ll get my head down for a few hours after the meeting,’ said Finlay. ‘What are you doing here anyway at this time?’

Dewar told him about wanting to speak to Sharon Hannan. ‘How’s her husband doing?’

‘On a downhill slide,’ said Finlay. ‘Kelly will die soon and Hannan won’t be that far behind by the look of him.’

Sharon was eating cornflakes when Dewar knocked on her door and entered.

She smiled, pleased to see a familiar face, albeit one that had only recently become familiar. ‘How’s Tommy?’ she asked. ‘You won’t bullshit me like the nurses.’

‘He’s pretty ill,’ admitted Dewar. ‘But at least he’s in the right place. The doctors and nurses will do all they can for him.’

‘Can I see him?’

‘Maybe later. Could I ask you some questions, Sharon? It won’t take long and it might help a lot.’

‘What sort of questions?’ Sharon replied, looking suspicious.

‘First let me say, my only interest is in stopping this awful thing happening to anyone else. I’m not concerned with guilt or blame or criminal charges. I really don’t give a damn if any laws have been broken. I just have to get at the truth. I have to understand what happened. Okay?’

Sharon nodded.

‘I promise you that anything you tell me will go no further than this room. ‘Have you ever heard of a place called, the Institute of Molecular Sciences?’

Sharon shook her head. ‘No, never.’

‘It’s part of the university.’

Another shake of the head.

Tommy never mentioned it? Or anything about being at the university with Michael Kelly?’

‘Never.’

‘I know they’re no angels. Have either of them broken into any place in the last month?’

Sharon’s eyes grew sharp.

‘I meant what I said,’ Dewar reminded her. This is between you and me, nobody else.’

‘A newsagent’s shop. They did it about three weeks ago. Do you want to know where?’

‘No,’ replied Dewar quickly. ‘Tommy told you about this?’

‘He had lots of fags in the flat. He was getting rid of them down the pub. I asked him about it. He told me.’

‘Anything else?’

Sharon hesitated. Dewar suspected there was more to come. He waited patiently, not wishing to pressurise her.

‘Before he got the sack from his job, Mike Kelly helped some guy recover drugs from a stash he had hidden away somewhere. He stole some from the guy when his back was turned. He gave Tommy some.’

‘Kelly stole drugs from a dealer?’

‘I don’t know if the guy was a dealer; I suppose he was but that’s what Tommy told me anyway.’

Dewar thought for a moment. Maybe that was why Denise Banyon had jumped down his throat when he’d asked where Kelly had got his drugs. Stealing from a dealer could be a fatal mistake. ‘Anything else I should know about, Sharon?’

‘Nothing big. The pair of them have been doing odd straight jobs like and not telling the social security but everybody does round here.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘The usual. House removals, bit of rubbish clearance, Tommy painted a fence for a woman along Trinity way, that sort of thing.’

Dewar nodded and said, ‘I want you to think carefully again about the university. Are you absolutely certain that it never came up in conversation at any time between Tommy and Michael Kelly.’

‘I’m positive,’ replied Sharon. I’m sure I would’ve remembered.’

Dewar smiled and called a halt to the proceedings. ‘Okay, Sharon. If you do remember anything else, tell one of the nurses to contact me and I’ll come and see you,’ said Dewar. ‘In the meantime, enjoy your breakfast.’