Ken McClure - Pandora's Helix

Lawrence Fielding came in with Thomas Downy’s CT scan in his hand. The expression on his face said it all. “He’s cured,” he announced. “No sign of the tumour at all.”

Neef took it and examined it before saying, “Bloody marvellous.” He handed the scan to Pereira, checked his watch again and swore under his breath.

“Something wrong?” asked Fielding.

Neef told him about Neil and his own failure to contact Eve.

“Have you tried Public Health?” suggested Fielding. “Journalists seem to hang out there these days.”

Neef was about to pick up the phone when it rang. It was Eve.

“I just called home to check my machine and found your message. What’s the problem?”

“It’s Neil. Can you come right now?”

“On my way,” said Eve without further question but Neef heard the alarm in her voice. She was there within fifteen minutes.

“What’s happened?” she asked anxiously.

“I think he’s having to give in to his cancer,” said Neef. “He’s just had too much to cope with for too long. It was such an unequal struggle and now he’s tired himself out. He was asking for you.”

“But what about this new vector thing?” asked Eve, her eyes pleading the case.

“I think it’s come too late,” said Neef.

Eve swallowed and took a moment to compose herself before asking, “Can I see him now?”

Neef nodded. “Go on through. I’ll join you soon.”

Neef waited until Pereira had finished checking Thomas Downy’s scan before saying, “I’d like to have a talk, if you could spare me a few minutes?”

“I’ve got all day,” replied Pereira. “They closed down my lab, remember?”

“That’s partly what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Neef.

“There were three people who knew about Melanie Simpson living next to the Menogen labs. Me, Eve Sayers and the man who spotted the link in the first place, David Farro-Jones.”

Pereira’s eyes widened with what Neef construed as dismay but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ve noticed from time to time that you appear to dislike David. Would you mind telling me why?”

“He’s full of shit,” said Pereira. “All front and no substance.”

“I’ve always found him a pleasant and extremely helpful colleague,” said Neef.

“You’ve never been in direct competition with him,” said Pereira. “Lots of people are pleasant and charming when you’re not standing in their way or going after something they want.”

“I take it you have stood in his way at some time?” said Neef.

“When we were post-docs together in the States we were both in the running for a medal that the science faculty awarded annually to the most promising young researcher. David wanted it badly. To cut a long story short, it went to me.”

“And David wasn’t very pleased?”

“Outwardly he couldn’t have been more charming but later at a reception, he had a bit too much to drink and I met the real David Farro-Jones, the one who called me a little Jewish bastard and accused the awards board of being infested with kikes. That, he explained, was how I really got the prize.”

“Farro-Jones said that?” said Neef.

“It’s not the sort of thing you forget,” said Pereira. “Next morning he was back to being his charming old self again, behaving as if nothing had happened.”

“I see,” said Neef. “So you would have no problem with the notion that it was David Farro-Jones who leaked the story to the papers?”

“None at all,” said Pereira.

“Then the question is, how far has he been prepared to go to ensure that suspicion stays on Menogen,” said Neef.

“What d’you mean?”

“David was in charge of the hunt for the virus. When I suggested that his failure to find one put Menogen in the clear he brought up the possibility of a new kind of infectious agent, one you couldn’t see under the microscope. I think he called it a prion?”

“No chance,” said Pereira dismissively. “That was a red herring. Prion disease is nothing like we’re seeing here. If the agent is invisible, it’s invisible for another reason. Either it’s not there or... maybe it’s because we can’t see the wood for the trees...”

“What are you thinking of Max?”

“David wasn’t the only one looking for the virus was he?” asked Pereira, ignoring Neef’s question.

“No, he had a team working on it.”

“And none of them noticed anything out of the ordinary... Interesting. Was the original virology analysis on the early patients done by Farro-Jones’ lab?” asked Pereira.

“No, the hospital lab did it,” said Neef.

“Could you get me a copy of the reports on any of the patients? Preferably all of them.”

“I think so. Why?”

“I’ll tell you when I’ve seen them,” said Pereira. “I don’t suppose you can get me some lung samples?”

“From the cancer patients?”

“Yeah.”

“I can try.”

Neef arranged for copies of the virology reports to be sent up to the main office. Pereira was told he could pick them up on the way out. “Call me later about the lung samples,” said Neef.

Neef went along to join Eve in Neil’s room. When he entered he was amazed to see that there was a tiny spark of life in Neil’s eyes. Eve had captured his interest. She was telling him a story about Maxwell Gunn.

“Now if you are going to grow up and be a big strong fireman like Maxwell you are going to have to concentrate on getting better,” said Eve. “Isn’t that right?”

Neil nodded and Neef smiled. She was getting through to him.

“Get some rest now,” said Eve. “I’ll see you later and we’ll have another story.”

Neil nodded and closed his eyes. Eve stood up; Neef could see that there were tears starting to form in her eyes. She followed Neef outside.

“I could feel him slipping away from me,” she said. “I could reach him but I couldn’t hold on to him. It was as if he was being pulled away from me by some... power. It wasn’t malevolent just insistent and I didn’t know how to fight it.”

“You did really well,” said Neef. “You made contact. I couldn’t get near him at all.”

“I’ll be back later,” said Eve. She kissed Neef on the cheek.

When Neef returned to his office, he sat for a few moments in thoughtful silence before turning his attention to Pereira’s request. With Frank MacSween away on leave he had no idea how he could lay hands on any pathological material taken from victims of the outbreak. Apart from Frank, the only other person he had known in Pathology was Charlie Morse, and he was now a victim himself. After a few minutes he realised that the pathology department was not the only source of infected material. The electrician up in University College Hospital was a possibility. With any luck Mark Clelland, the physician who had looked after Charlie would be involved in the case.

Neef called University College and asked to speak to Clelland.

“Mark? It’s Michael Neef at St George’s.”

“Hello there,” replied Clelland. “I’ve been meaning to call you. I wanted to thank you for coming over the other day when we lost Charles Morse. I appreciate it. I’m sure his wife did too. What can I do for you?”

Neef hadn’t realised that Clelland had considered his going across a favour. This made things easier. “Mark, I was wondering if you could get me a lung biopsy from the electrician who was infected at the same time as Charlie?”

“Douglas Cooper? Hmmm, that could be a bit difficult. Normally it would be no problem but these ministry chaps who’re heading the investigation have put a ban on any pathological material being sent to any lab other than their own.”

“I see,” replied Neef. He hadn’t considered this difficulty. “Oh well,” he said, sounding disappointed. “I was hoping to have some new slides made for teaching purposes and the carcinoma in these cases is just so widespread that I thought they would be ideal. Still... if it can’t be done, it can’t be done.”