Ken McClure - Crisis

‘But surely the authorities and the MRC will insist on a full autopsy being performed?’

The “authorities” will be only too happy to see this affair kept as low key as possible. They won’t make waves if we don’t.’

‘I see,’ said MacLeod thoughtfully. ‘Well, if you’re sure that you can get enough material I think you should go ahead. What do you need?’

Bannerman gave him a short list of his requirements.

‘When will you do it?’

Bannerman walked over to the window. He could see the two power workers standing across the street watching the building. He said, ‘Not now. I think I had better be seen to leave soon. If it’s all right with you I’ll come back later and do the biopsy, when the “guard” has been lifted.’

MacLeod joined him at the window and took his meaning. He said, ‘I’ll give you a key and show you where everything is. Could I be of any assistance later?’

Bannerman said not. ‘It really shouldn’t take long. I’m assuming these two aren’t going to squat over there all night.’

MacLeod said, ‘Why don’t you go back to your hotel; I’ll stay on for a bit and telephone you when they leave.’

Bannerman agreed. He went to his hotel and had a bath before getting something to eat. He had just finished his meal when MacLeod phoned. ‘Sorry,’ said MacLeod. They’re still across the street and I’ll have to leave now myself.’

Bannerman thanked him and said that he would wait for a couple of hours. He couldn’t believe that the men would mount an all night vigil over the body. As he said it, the words, ‘unless someone put them up to it,’ came into his head.

Bannerman dismissed the thought for the moment and phoned Shona who, as he thought, was stuck on the island because of the ferry cancellations.

The wind has dropped a good deal,’ said Shona. There’s a good chance I’ll get to the mainland tomorrow.’

That is the nicest thing I’ve heard all day,’ said Bannerman.

‘How’s the patient?’

‘He died shortly before I got here.’

‘I’m sorry. That must alter your plans.’

Bannerman was wary about mentioning anything about a post-mortem examination of the body over the phone. He couldn’t be sure that the hotel switchboard was ‘safe’. ‘I’ll be going to Edinburgh next, to see the people at the Neurobiology Unit,’ he said. He didn’t say what he would be taking there. ‘Come with me?’

‘All right,’ said Shona, without taking time to consider. That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all day.’

‘Good,’ said Bannerman. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Bannerman came downstairs to the hotel bar. He felt a chill come over him when he opened the door and saw Mitchell, the head of security at the power station, sitting there with another man. Mitchell looked up and smiled in a way that put Bannerman on edge. ‘Well Doctor, still looking for nuclear skeletons in the cupboard?’ he asked.

The smug look on Mitchell’s face brought Bannerman’s dislike for the man almost to boiling point, but he remained outwardly calm. The cupboard smells of detergent,’ he replied.

Again the smug grin on Mitchell’s face. ‘Just a routine precaution Doctor. We do it every so often.’

‘Of course,’ said Bannerman, leaving Mitchell and going up to the bar where he ordered a tonic water. He stood with his back to Mitchell, indicating no further desire to continue their conversation. Mitchell returned to the conversation he had interrupted when Bannerman had come in. Bannerman watched them in the mirror behind the bar and deduced from the head movements in his direction that he was the current subject of their talk.

Was Mitchell’s presence here a coincidence? he wondered, or was there something more sinister behind it? Could it be that he, as well as the hospital, was being watched to make sure that no one interfered with Turnbull’s body?

Bannerman slid on to a bar stool and passed the time of day with the barman to create the impression of being a normal guest in the hotel. He was simply having a couple of drinks before going upstairs to his room for the night. There was no reason for Mitchell to know that he was only drinking tonic water, to keep his head clear. There was no reason for anyone to suspect that he was going to sneak out later, go to the cottage hospital under cover of darkness and perform an illegal autopsy on Colin Turnbull. But every time he glanced at Mitchell in the mirror he found that Mitchell was watching him.

Could the feeling possibly be prompted by paranoia? Bannerman wondered. It was true that Mitchell did seem to look a lot in his direction but that could be a legacy of their previous meeting. Having come to blows with someone in the past did tend to make one hyper-aware of their presence on subsequent occasions. He decided on an experiment. He would go to the lavatory down the hall to see if he would be followed. As he prepared to move he suddenly saw the door to the bar open and the two power workers who had been watching the hospital came inside. Mitchell nodded to them and one stopped to speak while the other came up to the bar to order drinks. He stood at Bannerman’s elbow.

‘Thought you’d be on your way by now,’ said the man.

‘Really?’ said Bannerman dryly.

There’s nothing here for you to do,’ said the man.

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ said Bannerman.

‘Julie will be the judge of that,’ said the man. ‘Don’t you forget it or it’ll be more than your car that gets hurt this time.’ The man paid for his drinks and left the bar to join his companion and Mitchell.

So that’s who they are, thought Bannerman. They were the two yobs who had vandalized his car on his last visit and Mitchell was pulling their strings.

Bannerman went to the lavatory. No one followed. As he washed his hands he began to think about how long he would have to wait before it was safe to return to the hospital. Pub closing time in the north was notoriously, or wonderfully, lax, depending on your point of view. He was beginning to think of the small hours of the morning. He dried his hands and opened the washroom door. His way was barred by one of the power workers.

This was the man who had stopped to speak to Mitchell while his companion had come to the bar counter. He was shorter than the other man but broad shouldered and stocky. His red hair was dry and frizzy and receded in the front although he could not have been older than mid-twenties.

‘Excuse me,’ said Bannerman, making to move past the man.

The man moved to bar his way and stood there staring at him.

‘I said excuse me,’ said Bannerman.

‘Did you now,’ said the man, his voice low with menace.

‘Move!’ said Bannerman firmly.

The man stood still. ‘You are not wanted in this town,’ he hissed.

‘Believe me. I’ve got the message,’ said Bannerman ruefully. ‘But this isn’t Tombstone Arizona and you’re not Wyatt Earp. I have a job to do and I’m doing it, so unless you really intend following a course of action which will end up with you inside Peterhead Prison, I suggest you move aside and let me past.’

The man considered for a moment before pursing his lips and reluctantly moving to one side to let Bannerman out through the door.

Bannerman went upstairs and locked his room door. He stood with his back against it for a moment, letting his breathing return to normal. His heart was thumping against his chest. He reflected for a moment that things might have been so much easier had he not got off on the wrong foot with Mitchell. After that first meeting there was just no point of contact between them. He steeled himself to keep vigil by his room window with the lights out.

Mitchell left an hour later and got into his car alone. It was another forty minutes before the two power workers came out into the street. The one Bannerman had left in the toilet was very drunk and was being supported by his companion. As they made their way down the street, the drunk struggled to turn round. He shouted back at the window of the hotel, ‘I’ll get you, you bastard … you see if I don’t.’