Ken McClure: Crisis

‘Most peculiar,’ said Morag.

‘I just don’t understand,’ said Bannerman.

‘If you have another sample with you I could set up animal tests,’ said Morag. ‘Maybe this animal was at a very early stage of infection. Perhaps it’s just not showing up on section analysis.’

‘I don’t have another one with me,’ said Bannerman. ‘I’ll bring one in tomorrow if that’s all right?’

‘Of course. Did Dr Munro set up animal tests?’ asked Morag.

Bannerman shook his head. ‘I was so disappointed at the section result I forgot to leave him a sample,’ he confessed.

‘Never mind,’ said Morag sympathetically. ‘I’ll send up a full range.’

Bannerman thanked Morag for her help and wished her goodnight. It started to rain as he crossed the quadrangle to get into his car.

Bannerman was on his second gin and tonic in the hotel bar before he realized how badly he was behaving towards Shona. He had hardly said a word to her since his return. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It was just such a disappointment. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

‘I understand,’ said Shona, giving his arm a squeeze. ‘Why don’t you get plastered. You deserve it.’

Despite promising not to, Bannerman periodically returned to the subject of the sheep brain, expressing disbelief that fate could be so cruel.

‘You’ll just have to accept it,’ said Shona. This particular sheep didn’t poison the men.’

Bannerman stared at the glass on the table and said slowly, ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, you’d just have to accept it,’ said Shona.

‘No, the rest,’ insisted Bannerman.

‘I said the sheep didn’t poison the men, why?’

‘You used the word “poison”. I’d forgotten all about the possibility of chemical mutagenesis of the virus!’ said Bannerman. He got up from his chair, left the bar and ran upstairs. He came back down with his coat on and his hands searching through his pockets for his car keys. Shona watched him in the hall with wide eyes. ‘I won’t be long, I’ll explain later,’ he said.

Bannerman disappeared through the front door leaving Shona wondering what on earth was going on. Within seconds, he had reappeared in the doorway and was looking embarrassed. ‘I’ve had rather a lot to drink,’ he said. ‘Will you drive?’

‘Don’t I always?’ said Shona, holding out her hand for the keys.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked as she started the car.

‘The Royal Infirmary.’

Shona stopped the car outside a shop that was still open. She got out without saying anything and returned a few minutes later with some chewing gum and a packet of peppermint sweets. ‘Eat,’ she said, handing them over. ‘If you go into the infirmary smelling like a distillery they’ll call the police. Now say after me, the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog …’

‘That’s for typists,’ protested Bannerman.

‘It’ll do, clever dick!’

‘The … quick… brown fox… jumped over the lashey dog.’

‘Close,’ sighed Shona. ‘Again!’

Bannerman continued with his elocution practice until they reached the hospital.

‘Remember,’ said Shona. ‘Speak slowly and don’t get excited. Do you have your ID?’

Bannerman checked his inside pocket and said that he had. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said and disappeared inside the building. He returned fifteen minutes later.

‘Did they agree to do what you wanted?’ asked Shona.

‘Yes,’ said Bannerman. They agreed. I’ll know tomorrow. Thanks Shona.’ He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.

‘Peppermint,’ she said. ‘Are you going to tell me what all this is about?’

‘I used to be a great fan of old war films,’ said Bannerman.

‘So what?’ said Shona.

There used to come a point in just about all of them when someone would say, “It’s a long shot but it might just work.” Well, this is my moment.’

‘I see,’ said Shona with an inflection in her voice that made it clear that she didn’t.

Next morning, as they walked through Holyrood Park after breakfast, Shona asked Bannerman when he would call the hospital. ‘After lunch,’ he replied. ‘What exactly did you ask them to do?’ The Royal Infirmary has a poisons reference laboratory. When you used the word “poison” last night it made me realize that chemical involvement was something I hadn’t really considered. The presence of the power station had blinkered me to everything except radiation as a cause of mutation. I had a look around the barn at the farm but that’s about all.’

‘So you think that the Scrapie virus was altered by some chemical agent?’ said Shona, without much enthusiasm.

‘It’s possible,’ said Bannerman. ‘But, unlike radiation damage, traces of the chemical might be present in the tissue samples.’

‘But there was no sign of Scrapie in the brain samples yesterday,’ said Shona.

‘It occurred to me that the mutant virus acts so quickly that there wouldn’t be time for the brain pathology to develop the signs that we normally associate with Scrapie. That’s why the slides appeared normal yesterday! But if the samples are injected into mice I bet they’ll be dead within days.’

‘But the slides that were sent to London showed typical Scrapie brain damage,’ protested Shona.

‘Quite so,’ said Bannerman, thoughtfully. The slides that Gill sent us. I think I just might be able to explain that too.’

Their walk took them down past Holyrood Palace where the Royal Family would stay when in the Scottish capital. At the moment only a handful of workmen were in evidence in the courtyard which, in the summer months, would be thronged with tourists anxious to be led through the rooms where Mary Queen of Scots had once collected her tears in a small glass bottle. They came back on to the high road which climbed up the side of Arthur’s Seat, the hill — an extinct volcano — which lay like a recumbent lion in the park. Several joggers from the nearby university halls of residence complex passed them by as they stopped to admire the view across the Firth of Forth to Fife, and the Kinross Hills beyond.

‘You haven’t explained how the first slides were different,’ said Shona.

‘I think there was something wrong with them,’ said Bannerman. ‘I think that’s why Gill tried to send the brains to the MRC when he was on the run.’

They stopped on the south side of the hill to look down at Duddingston Loch, a nature reserve which was clad in the grey hues of winter. A few ducks paddled their way through the reed beds like busy tug boats while two swans sailed serenely past in open water, too elegant to notice. ‘What was wrong with them?’ ‘I don’t want to say just yet. I need to think.’ ‘We haven’t talked about us,’ said Shona. ‘I know,’ said Bannerman. ‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know where to begin,’ confessed Bannerman. ‘I don’t know where we go from here. Do you?’

Shona smiled and Bannerman asked her why. ‘Like I said,’ she replied, ‘the easy way is never for you.’

‘What is the easy way, Shona?’

‘Follow your heart,’ said Shona.

Bannerman opened his mouth to reply but Shona put her index finger on his lips. ‘Ssh!’ she said softly. ‘You are about to tell me that it isn’t that easy. Don’t.’

Shona made to walk on but Bannerman called after her. She turned round and Bannerman said, ‘I do love you, you know, very much.’

‘I know,’ said Shona.

They turned to the hotel to be met in the lobby by two men in dark suits. Bannerman had noticed the desk clerk nod to them as he came through the door.

‘Dr Bannerman?’

Bannerman nodded.