Ken McClure - Pestilence

“He kept asking about the ‘practical implications’ of the discovery,” replied MacQuillan.

“I hope you stressed the importance of having uncovered the true source of the epidemic,” said Saracen.

“Of course,” replied MacQuillan. “But I got the impression that he thinks things might just have gone too far already.”

Saracen felt a chill at what MacQuillan had said. “But he did agree to help?” he asked.

“He said he would,” said MacQuillan.

Saracen looked at the site with his notes in his hands. “That must be the bulldozer over there,” he said to MacQuillan and pointed to a silent, yellow machine near the Western edge of an apartment block. They donned their protective clothing and approached the bulldozer which was parked beside a small concrete bunker. Saracen asked what it was.

“It covers the air intake for the heating system in the flats,” said MacQuillan with a wry smile.

Saracen squatted down and peered between the tracks of the vehicle but could see nothing unusual. “Then we’ll have to move it,” said MacQuillan. MacQuillan climbed up on to one of the tracks and looked into the cabin. “The keys are in it,” he reported and climbed inside. The whir of the starter motor gave way to a roar and a cloud of diesel smoke rose into the air as the engine sprang to life. There followed a series of hydraulic jerks as MacQuillan tried a row of levers in turn before finding the gear stick. When he did the machine lurched forward ten or twelve metres before MacQuillan killed the engine and silence returned to the site.

“I don’t see anything do you?” asked MacQuillan as they both examined the ground where the bulldozer had stood.

Saracen was about to agree when he did notice something different. “These bricks,” he said. “They have been placed there.”

MacQuillan could see what Saracen meant. Bricks were hardly out of place on a building site but the six lying within a one metre area were the only ones on this side of the site. Someone had placed them there but for what purpose? Saracen moved them to one side and brushed at the dirt with his hands. Almost immediately he knew that he was on the right track because his fingers touched wood. MacQuillan helped him clear away the top layer to reveal a square block of chip board. Saracen prised it up and found a hole. “Well, well,” he said. “Edwards’ cave.”

“We’ll need torches.”

“Beasdale’s men should be here soon.”

A car drew up but it was not the army; it was Claire Tremaine. “Alan rang. I’ve brought the plans.”

“Thanks but it’s early days,” said Saracen. “All we’ve found is a hole in the ground.”

“I could help,” said Claire. “After all, holes in the ground are my speciality.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Saracen.

Claire put her hand on Saracen’s arm and said, “Please James, you know how much this means to me.”

“Did you inform your boss about this?” asked Saracen.

“No…there wasn’t time,” said Claire, taken by surprise at Saracen’s question.

“And being the first person in your team to find Skelmoris Abbey will do your career no harm at all,” said Saracen accusingly.

“All right, I admit there’s something in what you say,” conceded Claire.

An army LandRover arrived in a cloud of dust and interrupted them. Beasdale was in it. “I thought I had better come down and see for myself what was going on,” said Beasdale. He was speaking to Saracen but his eyes were questioning the presence of Claire Tremaine. Saracen realised this and introduced Claire. “Miss Tremaine is an archaeologist; she’s an expert on the abbey of Skelmoris and has agreed to help us with the excavations,” he said. Saracen saw the look of gratitude in Claire’s eyes and the questioning look in MacQuillan’s.

“Perhaps we can talk in the site office,” said Beasdale. “Just Doctor Saracen,” he added when MacQuillan and Claire showed signs of following. Saracen felt uncomfortable but there was no time to dwell on it. Beasdale closed the door behind them and said, “I’ve had Dr MacQuillan’s views on this new discovery now give me yours.”

“I’m sure they coincide,” said Saracen.

“Tell me anyway. I want a second opinion.” Beasdale smiled at his intended medical allusion.

“When we wipe out the source of the epidemic it will start to burn itself out.”

“But everyone will be dead by then,” said Beasdale.

“Not everyone,” said Saracen firmly. “A lot but not everyone.”

Beasdale adopted a pained expression as if what he had to say was difficult. “I don’t think you understand Doctor,” he said quietly.

“Understand what?”

“My position.”

“Tell me,” said Saracen though he feared that he would not like the answer.

“I believe that the situation in Skelmore will be out of control within seventy two hours if I let it.”

“How so?”

“Any policing operation, civil or military, depends on the co-operation of the majority. When it becomes generally known in Skelmore that the emergency services have broken down and that people are being left to die in their houses we will no longer have that co-operation. There will be an uprising and people will attempt to leave the town in large numbers. Under these conditions some would undoubtedly succeed and spread an incurable plague. I cannot allow that to happen.”

Saracen swallowed and said, “The disease has survived for centuries in these rats. If we don’t find the colony and wipe it out the chances are that it will survive any ‘misfortune’ that should befall Skelmore. Afterwards, of course, the colony might have to look for a new home…”

Beasdale’s face took on the hint of a smile. He said quietly, “All right Doctor, you have made your point. Find your colony, destroy it. I’ll give you every assistance I can. The only thing I cannot give you is time.”

Saracen nodded and said, “I understand.”

Beasdale got up and put on his cap. “I’ll leave a small detachment to help with the excavation,” he said. Keep me informed.”

Claire spread out the plans on the table in the site office and said, “After the fire little was reported to have been left of the abbey itself but it’s likely that the cellars and vaults survived. As you can see they were quite extensive.”

“And we know that there must be at least two outlets,” said MacQuillan.

“We do?” said Claire.

“The one the rats used before the excavations gave them a new one here on Palmer’s Green.”

“Of course.”

“Our immediate aim is to estimate the size of the labyrinth. Once we know that we can work out how much gas we are going to need to destroy the inhabitants, fleas and all.”

The talking was over and it was time to examine the entrance hole on Palmer’s Green. The three of them put on protective clothing, Claire’s having been provided from one of the two army Land-Rovers standing by. MacQuillan issued a warning. “If we should come across any rats, back off, give them room. On no account come between them and their escape route.” He looked at Claire and Saracen in turn to verify that his point had been taken.

“Let’s get started,” said Saracen. He removed the wooden cover that the boy Edwards had fabricated to safe-guard his find and shone his torch inside the hole before dropping down and examining the walls. Once more his hands touched wood. This time a piece of chipboard had been wedged into the side wall. He levered it out and handed it to MacQuillan who put it to one side.

“Can you see anything?” asked Claire as Saracen bent down to peer through the opening with the aid of the torch.