Crisis (22 page)

‘I’d like to borrow it,’ said Bannerman. ‘I want to
take a look at the boundary land between the station
and Inverladdie Farm.’

‘By all means,’ said MacLeod. He got out of his chair and slid open the bottom cupboard door of a
bookcase that held volumes of medical text books.
He brought out a wooden box fitted with brass
catches, which he unclasped. There we are,’ he
said, removing the cylindrical monitoring probe.
‘Better check the batteries.’

EIGHT

Bannerman decided that it was about time that he
took a look at Stobmor, Achnagelloch’s neighbour
ing community. He ascertained that it boasted a
hotel, then arranged by phone to have dinner there
at eight o’clock. He left his own hotel at six and drove
the seven miles over to Stobmor, leaving himself
plenty of time to look round.

In many ways Stobmor was little different from
Achnagelloch, although it did possess a small office
block, an unimaginative concrete box with signs
saying that it was the headquarters of the Dutch
quarry company, Joop van Gelder. Further along
the road Bannerman found the cottage hospital that MacLeod had mentioned although, at the moment,
it seemed empty and showed no lights. There was a
board outside giving emergency telephone numbers.
In the main street he found the local job centre with
a lighted window and looked at the cards for a while
to see what was on offer in the area.

There were ten vacancies. There was a post for an
electrician at the quarry - preferably with knowledge
of electric motors. Three further jobs at the quarry
were for labourers. There were openings for two
security guards at the power station - ideally with
a services background - and there was a lab technician’s job in the monitoring section. The remaining
positions were for domestic help and for a shop
assistant’s post in the local mini-market. There was
one farm job on the board: it was for a sheep worker
at Inverladdie.

As he walked the streets Bannerman passed the
primary school with its child paintings stuck up
proudly in the windows. Road safety appeared to
have been the theme, with traffic lights and Zebra
crossings well to the fore. One window was entirely
taken over by a cardboard cut-out policeman holding up traffic with a hand that appeared to have sausages for fingers.

Bannerman noticed that there was no shortage of
cars parked in the streets, many with registrations
younger than three years old. He took this as a
barometer of the prosperity of the town. The quarry
and the power station had ensured full employment
in the area. He wondered how long Inverladdie
might have to wait before a man opted for a
farm labourer’s wage instead of the more lucrative
alternatives.

Bannerman’s theory of general prosperity seemed
to be reinforced by the fact that the houses seemed
well-cared for and the gardens tidy and meticulously
tended. Many of the houses appeared to have under
gone recent upgrading; their doors and windows
had been replaced. This was a working community,
well ordered and probably quite content, thought
Bannerman. He made his way towards the Highland Lodge Hotel in Main Street and a dinner he was now
ready for.

The dining-room of the hotel was empty when
Bannerman went in, although he noticed that
another table had been set for half a dozen people.
It was cold in the room and he rubbed his hands
together and shivered as he sat down and took
the menu from the girl who had showed him in. Happily she took the hint and lit a butane gas fire
that stood in front of the fireplace with its empty
and cheerless grate. The butane burner made a
noise like a propeller driven aircraft approaching
from afar. It made Bannerman think of the war film,
The Dambusters.

‘You’re not from round here,’ said the girl when
she came back to hover, with her pad and pen at
the ready.

‘Does that mean that local people wouldn’t dream of eating here?’ asked Bannerman, immediately
regretting his mischief-making when he saw the
girl blush deeply.

‘Oh no,’ she exclaimed. ‘I just meant that it was unusual to see a tourist at this time of year. Lots of
people eat here, honestly.’

‘
I’m sorry,’ said Bannerman. ‘I’m sure it will be
very nice.’

‘Mr van Gelder, himself, is giving a dinner party
here later,’ said the girl, indicating to the set table.

‘A more than good enough recommendation I’m sure,’ said Bannerman, wishing that he hadn’t upset
the girl in the first place and resolving to give her a
big tip whatever the food was like. He guessed that
she was a high-school girl making some money with
an evening job. She had an openness and innocence
about her that made him feel old.

‘Would you like a drink while you’re deciding?’
she asked.

‘I’d love a gin and tonic,’ replied Bannerman with a distant smile.

The meal proved far better than Bannerman had
dared hope and was without doubt the best meal
he had eaten since the one Shona MacLean had
cooked. He found himself reluctant to leave the
dining-room, which had warmed up considerably,
and gladly accepted the offer of a second refill to
his coffee cup to go with another cigarette. He was
thinking about Shona MacLean when the all male
dinner party arrived. He found that he recognized
one of them. Jack Sproat, the owner of Inverladdie
Farm was the second man to come into the room.

The newcomers were all laughing at something
but the smile faded from Sproat’s face when he saw Bannerman sitting there. He detached himself from
the party and came over.

‘
I didn’t expect to find
you
here Doctor,’ he said.

‘I fancied a change,’ replied Bannerman, evenly.

‘How is your investigation going?’

‘It’s not really an investigation,’ replied Bannerman.
‘‘I’m just checking to see if anything was overlooked
at the time.’

‘Who is your friend, John?’ asked a voice with a
pronounced accent.

‘This is Dr Bannerman, Joop,’ replied Sproat. ‘He’s
from the Medical Research Council. He’s looking
into the deaths of my workers.’

‘Won’t you join us, Doctor?’ asked the man with
the accent.

“Thank you but I’ve just eaten,’ replied Bannerman,
looking at the smiling man with the short, cropped
fair hair. Bannerman thought him to be in his early fifties, although he looked younger at first glance
because of his good teeth and a smooth, slightly
tanned skin. It was a complexion he associated with
wealth.

‘Just for a drink perhaps?’

‘All right, thank you,’ replied Bannerman, and he
got up to join the others.

‘I’m Joop van Gelder,’ said the smiling man,
getting up to shake Bannerman’s hand and bring
another seat for him. Bannerman was introduced
to the others in turn. Two of the remaining men
were Dutch; the other three local farmers and
land-owners.

That was a terrible business at Inverladdie,’ said
van Gelder. ‘Meningitis seems to be on the increase
these days.’

‘I think Dr Bannerman believes my sheep killed
them,’ interrupted Sproat. There was an embarrass
ing pause before the others laughed.

‘Surely not?’ said van Gelder, who hadn’t joined in the laughter.

The truth is that we don’t know where the bug
came from Mr van Gelder, something my profession
is always reluctant to admit. In the end we will
probably call it a virus infection; we usually do in
these cases, and then the public thinks how clever
we are.’

The men laughed again and this time van Gelder
joined them. ‘How refreshing to find a doctor who
doesn’t take himself too seriously,’ he said. ‘We must
have another drink.’

Bannerman declined this time, saying that he had
to be going and that they must all be hungry. He
wouldn’t delay them any longer. ‘I recommend the
fish,’ he said, getting up from the table.

“Then I will have it on your recommendation,’ said
van Gelder, getting up and shaking Bannerman’s
hand again. ‘Nice to have met you Doctor.’

Bannerman turned to Sproat and asked, ‘If it’s all
right with you, I’d like to visit Inverladdie again
tomorrow?’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Sproat.

Bannerman had a night cap back in the bar of his
hotel. The quarry worker he had met on the previous
evening was sitting at the counter and he chatted to
him for a while before going upstairs. He looked at
his watch and dithered for a moment before deciding to phone Shona MacLean. She replied after the third
ring and sounded sleepy.

‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

‘Oh it’s you!’ exclaimed Shona.

‘I thought I’d better check that you didn’t have
any problems with the police?’

‘No, not at all. I called them when you left and
told them about finding Lawrence’s body at the foot
of the cliffs. They arranged for it to be taken back to
the mainland.’

They treated it as an accident?’

‘I think so.’

‘‘
I’ve told the people in London that it wasn’t.’

‘Good,’ said Shona. ‘He didn’t deserve to die like that. How is the investigation going?’

‘All right, I suppose,’ said Bannerman. ‘I had a
talk with the local vet who seemed . .
thick.’

‘Thick?’

‘
The more I think about it the curiouser it becomes.
I’m the second investigator from the MRC who
has been up here to ask him questions about
the
Scrapie
outbreak at Inverladdie Farm where
the men died and he still hasn’t twigged to what we’re getting at.’

‘Maybe he’s being deliberately obtuse?’

‘But why?’

‘Can’t help you there,’ said Shona.

The local GP was quick enough to figure it out.
He’s a wily old bird. I liked him a lot. I think he
twigged to some kind of
Scrapie
involvement from
the first time he was called out to the patients.’

‘What’s the next move?’

Tomorrow I’m going to examine the land between
Inverladdie Farm and the nuclear power station, to
see if I can find any trace of a radiation leak having
occurred.’

That sounds dangerous.’

‘It only
sounds
dangerous,’ said Bannerman.
‘Actually it involves little more than going for a walk with a torch-like thing in your hand.’

‘All the same, I think you should be very careful.’

‘‘
I will,’ said Bannerman.

‘You will let me know how you get on?’

‘If you want me to,’ said Bannerman.

‘‘
I do,’ said Shona.

Bannerman lay back on the pillow and reflected on
how nice it had been to talk to Shona again and how good it was to know that they would be in
touch again. All in all it hadn’t been a bad day.
On the bedside table lay the Geiger counter that
Angus MacLeod had loaned him for examining the
boundary area tomorrow. He moved it slightly to one
side and switched out the light. The room wasn’t
completely in darkness; light from a street lamp across the way made patterns on the ceiling as it
shone through the waving branches of a tree outside
the window. He thought about Shona’s plea that he should be careful, and a cloud crossed his mind as
he remembered the broken body of Lawrence Gill
lying on the rocks.