Ken McClure - Crisis

Bannerman enjoyed three days of rest and relaxation with Shona in Edinburgh before Special Branch, in the shape of Inspector Morris, called on him again.

The scale of the operation took our breath away,’ admitted Morris. They were bringing the stuff in by sea to the terminal at Inchmad. Ostensibly they were loading road stone on to the ships but in reality they were unloading toxic waste from the ships and bringing it by rail up to the quarry in containers disguised as fuel trucks. God knows what we’re going to do with it all. We’re not even sure if we’ve found all the underground dumps.’

‘I think I can help you there,’ said Bannerman. He brought out Colin Turnbull’s survey charts from his bag and said, ‘A young man named Colin Turnbull prepared these geological charts of the area. I think they’ll help.’

‘I’m sure they will,’ said Morris. ‘I’ll pass them on.’

‘When you’ve finished with them, see that they are returned to Julie Turnbull; she’s the primary school teacher in Stobmor. I think she’d appreciate knowing what a help they’d been.’

‘I’ll see to it,’ said Morris.

‘What about Sproat and the vet, Finlay,’ asked Bannerman.

‘It’s pretty much as you suspected,’ said Morris. They both knew about the chemical leak from the quarry which happened about a year ago. Van Gelder came clean at the time and bought their silence. He had to, because the chemical killed the sheep nearest to the leak outright. When the others developed a form of Scrapie a year or so later and started dropping like ninepins they suspected that the chemical had been involved. Van Gelder bought them off again. The new cars were a dead give-away.’

‘Bastards,’ said Bannerman. ‘That’s why the Sproats sent May Buchan away on holiday. Conscience money.’

‘Take a look at life again soon,’ said Morris.

‘Can I go now?’ asked Bannerman.

‘Not exactly,’ said Morris.

‘What does that mean?’ asked Bannerman.

‘I have a message for you from Mr Allison. He says that he would like to see you in London as soon as possible.’

‘I see,’ said Bannerman.

‘And one more thing, sir, he says to remind you that you signed the Official Secrets Act and that everything to do with this affair is covered by it.’

‘Why?’ snapped Bannerman angrily. ‘A bloody Dutchman starts using Scotland as a dump for all the world’s shit. A sheep virus starts killing people and Whitehall wants to keep it an official secret!’

‘Best discuss that with Mr Allison, sir,’ said Morris.

‘Something wrong?’ asked Shona, when Bannerman emerged from his conversation with Morris.

‘I have to go to London,’ said Bannerman.

‘Have to?’ asked Shona.

‘I’m not running away,’ said Bannerman softly. The establishment wants a word with me.’

‘And then what?’ asked Shona quietly.

Bannerman looked at Shona and said, ‘I feel as if I’m walking a tight-rope and I’m going to fall at any moment.’

‘But the important question is, on which side?’

‘Come with me?’ said Bannerman, taking her into his arms and resting his cheek against her hair.

Shona remained silent in his arms for a few moments and then drew back again to smile and shake her head. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I’m beginning to miss my island. I’m going home.’

Bannerman nodded and said softly, ‘I’ll call you.’

Shona just smiled as she turned away. Take care,’ she whispered.

The taxi carrying Bannerman across London ground to a halt in heavy traffic for the umpteenth time. ‘A bit busy today,’ smiled the driver.

Bannerman smiled at the blind optimism that prevented the driver from seeing that it was like this every day. ‘Park Crescent you said?’ ‘The Medical Research Council.’ ‘Doctor, are you then?’ ‘A pathologist.’ ‘Like that, do you?’

Bannerman found himself lost for words. It was a simple question but there seemed to be no simple answer. ‘It’s a living,’ he smiled.

‘Just like me mate,’ said the driver. ‘Life begins when you clock off.’

Bannerman ripped the driver well and returned his wave as he drove off. He sighed as he looked at the official Rover parked near the entrance to the MRC. It was Allison’s car.

‘My dear Doctor Bannerman, how nice to see you,’ exclaimed Allison when Bannerman was shown in,’ He rose to shake Bannerman’s hand warmly. John Flowers and Hugh Milne got up to do the same.

‘I can’t tell you how grateful we are to you for clearing up this awful business,’ said Allison.

Flowers and Milne sat quietly while Allison conducted the proceedings. Bannerman watched the government man’s eyes. The rest of him was animated and exuding bonhomie but his eyes remained cold and calculating.

‘I know it sounds strange in view of the terrible circumstances up north but Her Majesty’s Government is profoundly relieved.’ ‘Relieved?’ exclaimed Bannerman in surprise.

‘That the deaths had nothing to do with natural Scrapie.

‘Natural Scrapie?’ repeated Bannerman.

‘You know what I mean,’ said Allison, waving his hands. ‘These poor men died from this mutant monster thing that the chemical created.’

‘But nevertheless it was created, Mr Allison. There is now a form of Scrapie which will infect people.’

‘But the government has seen to it that every sheep on Inverladdie Farm has been slaughtered and disposed of by incineration. There is no further source of the agent.’

Bannerman was lost for words for a moment. He couldn’t believe the aura of complacency about the man. ‘But it’s what happened before we found out the truth that matters!’ he exclaimed.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that sheep carcasses were lying around all over the place because Sproat was too mean to dispose of them, and for God knows how long!’

‘I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,’ said Allison condescendingly.

‘One bird feeding off one infected carcass a few weeks ago will by now have spread the virus to another part of the countryside. Sooner or later a new flock will become infected and just maybe a few infected lambs will make it to market before the regulations step in. Then what happens?’

‘I feel we are moving in to the realms of fantasy here Doctor,’ said Allison. ‘You can’t seriously be suggesting that we quarantine every sheep in the land?’

‘I’m suggesting that you tighten up the regulations immediately. You make Scrapie a notifiable disease and you offer compensation to farmers for infected sheep at a level above market value so there will be no “slipping through the net” before notification.’

‘If we do that then it will appear that something is wrong,’ said Allison.

‘Something is wrong!’ insisted Bannerman.

Allison thumped his hands angrily on to the table. ‘No,’ he exclaimed. ‘This is over the top! You’ll be suggesting next that we ban people from crossing the road so that road accident figures will drop!’

Bannerman recognized Allison’s attempt at blustering to gain the initiative. He remained calm and said. That is not the same thing and you know it.’

Allison changed tack. He suddenly became reasonable. ‘Look Doctor, we both know that very little is known about the spread of slow virus infection. A lot more research needs to be done. Her Majesty’s Government has agreed to fund an extensive programme of research. The programme will be administered by the Medical Research Council who will set up a new board specifically for that purpose. We would all be delighted if you would chair that board.’

Bannerman felt as if he was being swept along by a freak wave. He shook his head and looked down at the table in silence.