Going Viral (8 page)
I crawled like snail, unwilling, to work. I don’t know whether I had a shining morning face or not.
Maybe I did, because Tim looked at me rather strangely when he came in to tell me about the labs he’d visited, although he didn’t comment.
Security in the Bath labs had been pretty good, he said, nearly as good as Exeter, with Gloucester, Bristol and Plymouth not far behind. ‘Which brings us to Bristol Cabot,’ he said, with a certain relish.
‘Go on.’
‘Lax,’ he said, ‘to say the very least…’
Apparently, it hadn’t changed much since he’d been there six years ago, with research students still wandering in and out at will.
‘What about the equipment?’ I asked. ‘Would it be possible to grow Variola there?’
‘Oh, easily.’
I looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I do get the impression that you’re not exactly unhappy to be putting the boot into them… are you sure you’re being objective?’
He laughed a trifle unwillingly. ‘Yes, I am being objective, they really do deserve a kicking for their security.’ He paused. ‘But no, I’m not unhappy to be putting the boot in.’
I said, ‘Did you see any actual evidence of anything going on?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Did you say anything to them about their security?’
‘Just that I might be back for a closer look.’
‘Did they say anything about that?’
‘Didn’t seem to bother them much, not the people I spoke to, anyway. But
they
wouldn’t be the ones up to no good, would they?’
I thought for a moment. ‘If you went back there – to Bristol Cabot – what would you tell them? How would you go about it?’
‘That now I’d finished the preliminary checks, I wanted to inspect more thoroughly. I’d spend a day or two there and really take them apart.’
‘But wouldn’t they be forewarned?’
‘I pitched it pretty low key this time, so I don’t think so.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Let me think about it.’
He nodded and asked if there was anything else.
‘One more thing,’ I said, and told him we still had to bear in mind the possibility of a clandestine lab somewhere. ‘I’ve told them it’d have to be at least half the size of this room, say ten by ten, but I’m wondering if it could be a bit smaller than that.’
He thought for a moment. ‘I’d say if anything you were underestimating … although I suppose if they
were
doing it without a hood, then ten by ten might just do it. It’d be a squeeze, though.’
After he’d gone, I phoned the number Rebecca had given me. It went to voicemail, so I asked her to ring me back. She did, ten minutes later.
‘I’ve got some news,’ I said.
‘So’ve I. You go first.’
I told her what Tim had said about the Bristol Cabot lab. ‘He wants to go up again next week to take a closer look.’
She said slowly, ‘I’m not sure about that… Let me talk to the boss about it. Meanwhile, I’ll tell the team in Bristol that we need some names, urgently.’
I said, ‘Tim also thinks that ten by ten is the very least you’d need for an outside lab.’ I explained his reasoning.
She said, ‘I know what he’s found in Cabot looks promising, but I’m not writing off a hidden lab round here yet… like I said before, it
feels
right.’
In fact, she went on, would I mind drawing up a plan of what I thought it might look like, and find some photos of the sort of equipment it would need? ‘Then I can pass them round so that we’ll all have a better idea of what we’re looking for.’
I said I would, then asked what her news was.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘only that the boss agreed to your idea. Our two uniformed friends from last night are calling at the flat, perhaps even as we speak.’
‘Do
they
know what they’re looking for?’
‘Yeah… actually, your photos might’ve come in handy there…’
‘If there were a lab, it’d hardly be in full view.’
‘No, but it might have given them an idea of the sort of space they’re looking for. Never mind. Look, can I come round to your house tomorrow? You can give me the pictures and I can bring you up to date on everything.’
We agreed on noon.
*
Saturday morning. As before, she was on the dot - the bell rang just as the pips were going on the radio. I switched it off, let her in and made some tea.
‘I talked to the two cops this morning,’ she said when she’d sat down. ‘The ones from Thursday night. They weren’t greatly amused, especially when I couldn’t tell them what it was all about.’
‘Policeman’s lot,’ I said.
‘Yeah. Anyway…’
They’d called at the flat in the evening in order to catch them both in. The couple, whose names were Emma Read and Will Cummin, had told them they’d heard noises, so they’d rung the police. They seemed to have nothing to hide. One of the cops asked for the loo and had a quick look round. He hadn’t actually gone into their bedroom because the baby was sleeping in it, but nothing had seemed suspicious.
‘They said the place was quite pokey, not much room to hide anything.’
‘So what now?’ I asked.
‘We’re going to have a good look at Bristol Cabot, obviously…’ She hesitated… ‘The boss thinks
you
should go up there with a Health and Safety Inspector.’
‘You can’t just tell a Health and Safety Inspector to do that.’
‘We’ve got a tame one. She’ll liaise with you and fix up a date. You can meet her at the station.’
‘All right. But you’re going to go on looking round here?’
She nodded. ‘The boss has been running checks on the BTA names we’ve got, and I want to look at those who’ve got history first –’
‘History?’
‘Form. For instance, Hannah Bell – she’s the secretary of Exeter BTA, also the wife of the chair – she’s been very active in the past…’ She told me about Hannah’s record of vigorous protest and the tale of the policeperson’s ball.
‘Some of the others have form as well, although not as much as her. Anyway, I want to poke around some of their gardens to see if there’re any likely outhouses or sheds – so if you’ve got the plan and pictures, I won’t need to involve you anymore.’
As I handed her the file I’d made, it occurred to me that, on reflection, I wouldn’t mind being involved a bit more…
‘I’m available if you need me,’ I said nonchalantly.
‘Mm?’ She looked up. ‘Oh, thanks, I’ll bear it in mind. These are good – did you take them yourself?’
Yesterday afternoon, I told her.
‘And this is the Safety Cabinet you were telling me about?’ She held one up.
‘Yeah.’ I put my cup on the floor and went to sit next to her to explain how it worked.
‘But you don’t think they’d be able to get hold of one?’
‘Even if they could, there’s the small matter of plumbing it in –’ The doorbell went...
‘Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses,’ I said, getting up. ‘They usually come on Saturday.’ I went into the hall and opened the door…
Framed against the winter sun was the long blonde hair of my wife, Sarah. Behind her, a pram stood on the path.
‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me in?’ she demanded.
Stunned, I stood to one side as she manoeuvred the pram over the shallow step. Still in a daze, I indicated the living room and shut the front door. Rebecca had got to her feet. Sarah hesitated a mini-second as she saw her, then pushed the pram inside.
‘Er – Sarah,’ I said, ‘this is Rebecca, a colleague of mine… Rebecca, this is Sarah, my wife.’
Both said hi, neither of them smiling nor sounding especially enthusiastic, but each appraising the other – in minute detail, in seconds – the way women do.
Rebecca’s eyes snicked over to me – ‘I think we’d more or less finished here Herry, so I’ll leave you to it. Goodbye,’ she said to Sarah as she passed her. Sarah didn’t reply.
I walked Rebecca to the door. ‘I’ll phone you,’ I said.
She nodded. I didn’t blame her for going; Sarah had piercing blue eyes that beamed toxic rays at you down her nose… I watched Rebecca down the path, then gently closed the door. Took a breath, swallowed and went back to the living room. Sarah was sitting in an armchair, the pram in front of her.
I began, ‘To what do I owe this –?’ Just as she said –
‘Well, you certainly haven’t wasted much time.’
The effrontery left me speechless – for a few seconds, anyway…
‘She’s a colleague, and besides, it’s none of your business. To what do I owe –’ I began again –
‘I’m your wife, remember?’
‘My wife who walked out on me.’
‘And whose fault was that?’
‘Yours.’ I said curtly. ‘You were having an affair, you got pregnant, you walked out. Or had you forgotten?’
‘And
why
did I do all those things, husband dear?’
‘I know what you told me, just as I’m sure you’re about to tell me all over again.’
‘Because you ignored me. I might as well have been alone for all the attention you paid me, so it’s no wonder I looked elsewhere…’
‘Right. Shall we play the tape again, or can I turn it off now?’
We stared at each other in dislike.
‘How’s Charles?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I imagine.’
I waited. She went on,
‘I’ve left him – and no husband dear, you needn’t look so alarmed – I wouldn’t come back to you if you were the last human being etc. etc.’
I waited. She said, ‘Your turn. You’re supposed to say Then to what
do
I owe –?’
‘Then to what
do
I owe?’
‘I thought you ought to meet your daughter. And before you go into denial mode, I brought the DNA profile with me…’
She hadn’t left Charles of course, he’d kicked her out when he’d discovered the baby wasn’t his.
I suppose I’d better tell you about my wife.
Some people like to say that public school students are snobs. They don’t know the half. Far worse is the snobbery between the
ranks
of public schools. Sarah’s was in the first rank, mine was in the second. All right, third – yeah, yeah, you can see the chip on my shoulder…
My father was a sergeant in the army, which is the only reason I went to public school in the first place – the army paid for it because of all the moving round soldiers do.
I’d met Sarah at a party when I was a senior house officer. She was seven years younger than me. People told me she looked like Kiera Whatsherface, which is perhaps why a chill still ran down my vertebrae whenever I heard the music of
Pirates
of
the
Caribbean
.
Whatever, she
was
good looking and had probably known it since she was about three. Her father was a top surgeon and on the management committee of the hospital as well as having money of his own, and thereby hangs another tale. Or rather, thereby hung me.
He was delighted when Sarah and I got together, probably because I made such a pleasant change from the pond life she
had
been associating with. She did it to annoy him. Her sister still did. It was her way of showing her independence.
Anyway, Pops was so pleased at meeting someone he could actually hold a half-intelligent conversation with (and, of course, showed some deference) that he did all he could to encourage the relationship, so it’s a miracle we stayed together at all. Pops’ approval should have been the kiss of death.
At our wedding, he said:
I
have
not
lost
a
daughter
,
I
have
gained
a
son
. The trouble was – he meant it. He never called me Herry, but always My Boy. He meant that, too. I’m fairly certain he pulled strings to get me the director’s job in Exeter.
There, I’ve admitted it. It would be nice to think I’d have got it anyway, but I’m really not sure I would. The fact is, Roland Wade-Stokes probably did have a sound reason for his resentment.
That, of course, wasn’t the only problem. Having got the job, together with the lurking suspicion that I didn’t really deserve it, I was determined to justify it. I really did work.
Sarah, to be fair, had calmed down a bit – she was nothing like as feral as her sister – but she still wanted to socialise. To party.
There are those irritating types who can party all night and still do a day’s work in the morning. I am not one of them. I couldn’t do justice to the job and lead the kind of social life Sarah wanted. So she started going on her own, just occasionally with a girlfriend, she said.
Things deteriorated and we stopped sleeping together. Literally – I moved to the spare room, which is why when she became pregnant, we both assumed it was Charles’. But there had been one night when for some reason she’d come to me, and for some reason, I’d performed.
Nasty word, performed. Anyway, that must have been when it happened – assuming she was telling the truth about the DNA. Sarah didn’t lie, mostly because she couldn’t be arsed to make the effort a good lie requires.
Anyway, when Charles had demanded the paternity test, so confident had she been that he was the father that she’d agreed without a thought…
‘So what d’you require from me?’ I asked her now.
‘Money.’
I let out a snort. ‘You’ve already had half the house – you agreed that was the end of it.’
‘That was before I knew who Grace’s father was – that’s your daughter’s name, by the way, since you haven’t asked.’
‘What happened to all the house money?’
‘We put it on the new house. Oh, I’ll get some back, Charles has already put it on the market. But I’ll need something to live on.’
‘You could always work.’
It was a stupid, spiteful remark and she looked at me with the contempt it deserved.
‘No. I intend to be a proper mother to Grace, no nurseries or boarding schools.’
Since I was sure that was part of the reason she was so screwed up, I understood her attitude. What I doubted was her ability to carry it through…
‘D’you want to see the DNA test?’ she asked.
‘How did you get a sample from me?’
‘One of your jumpers found its way into my stuff and I took a hair from it.’
‘But is it
my
hair?’ Spiteful again.
‘It was short, blonde, and I hadn’t slept with anyone other than Charles and you. Unless, of course,
you
had…’
I shook my head. It didn’t occur to me to doubt her.
‘Have you tried Pops?’ I asked.
‘Yes. You don’t think I’ve enjoyed coming here, do you? He says it’s your child, so you should pay for it. He’s funny like that.’
No doubt… ‘How much d’you want?’
‘I suggest our solicitors work it out between them, based on what the Child Support Agency recommend.’
‘I’ll talk to her first,’ I said, meaning my solicitor. ‘Subject to what she says, I broadly agree.’
‘Good,’ she said.
There was a silence, then she surprised me by saying, ‘D’you want to hold her? Grace. Your daughter.’
I surprised myself by saying, ‘Yes.’
She unstrapped her from the pram, lifted her out and gently placed her in my lap.
Holding the baby…
I looked down at her. She looked like any other baby. When you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them… then her face screwed up, she yawned and opened her eyes. They were blue. They fixed onto mine.
Did I feel a sudden rush of fatherly devotion, of love? That this was my daughter, my flesh and blood, the fruit of my loins?
No. She still looked like any other baby. But…
At that moment, when she stared up at me, it did come to me that she was a
person
, another human being. And, like it or not, I was at least partly responsible. Silently, I told her that I accepted that responsibility. She can’t have been hugely impressed by this noblesse, because she let out a howl. Sarah reached out and I handed her back.
‘D’you mind if I feed her?’ she said. ‘Or would you rather I took her out to the car?’
‘Feed her here. Can I get you a tea or coffee?’
For the first time, she smiled. ‘Tea would be nice.’
I went out and made it, taking my time. When I came back in with it, there was another surprise – Sarah was breastfeeding her. I really hadn’t thought her the type. I commented on it.
‘When I said I was going to be a proper mother, I meant it.’
I nodded slowly. Perhaps I
had
underestimated her…
No, gentle reader, do not assume that everyone’s going to end up happy ever after. The gulf between us was too wide, the hurt too recent and deep. There’s a saying that the people you hate most aren’t those who have hurt you, but those whom you have hurt. I
think
I understand that, and maybe we were both feeling
both
kinds of hate…
Anyway, Grace went to it with a will – there was nothing wrong with her appetite – and soon she dropped off again. Sarah put her back in the pram and said,
‘Let me know when you’ve spoken to your solicitor, and we’ll arrange for them to get together. I’d better have the details of yours…’
We swapped solicitors, then I said, ‘What’s your address?’
‘I’m staying with Mum and Dad at the moment. You’ve still got the number?’
I nodded.
I opened the door while she manoeuvred the pram out and watched until she drove away. Went back inside and slumped on the sofa.
I sat and let it all wash over me for half an hour or so, wondering what to do. If anything.
Talk to solicitor first thing, but that wouldn’t be till Monday…
I supposed I ought to let Fenella know, but I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I’d said I’d phone Rebecca, but didn’t feel up to that, either.
As though to admonish me for my lack of moral fibre, my mobile went. It was Rebecca.
‘We hadn’t quite finished, had we?’ she said.
‘Hadn’t we?’
‘Do you think the problem with the Safety Cabinet necessarily means they won’t have a hidden lab? If they had somewhere like the cellar we found, for instance…’
‘No, I don’t think that. I thought I’d already said that they could well have one.’
‘I think so too,’ she said, ‘so I’ll go on looking.’
There didn’t seem to be much to say after that, so I said, ‘OK. Let me know how you get on.’
She said, ‘I didn’t know you had a child.’
‘Neither did I,’ I said without thinking.
She said, ‘Does that mean you do or you don’t?’
So of course I told her.
‘Blimey,’ she said. ‘No wonder you’re a bit off-key.’ Pause, then, ‘D’you think you’d better tell Prof Mason, in case she thinks it might affect your…?’
‘My capability? Yes, I was about to call her.’
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said.
Fenella asked me exactly the same question – whether it affected my capability, and I said no.
‘I’ll take your word for that,’ she said. ‘But I can tell you that if Roland finds out, he’ll make trouble. Can we keep it from him?’
‘Well, I’m not telling anyone.’
‘Then you’d better ask Inspector Hale to do the same. Do it now, Herry.’
I tried to ring Rebecca, but she was ‘Unable to take your call’. I left a message and she rang me back fifteen minutes later.
‘I’ve already told the boss,’ she said. ‘He agrees with me that to replace you now would only make things worse.’
‘Then you’d better get back to him and tell him to keep it to himself,’ I said, and explained why.
‘Has this Dr Wade-Stokes really got that much clout?’ she asked.
‘He’s got His Nibs’ ear,’ I said. ‘Sir Colin’s.’
‘I’ll do it now,’ she said.
She came back a few minutes later to say it would remain between the four of us. It didn’t, of course.
