Going Viral

by Andrew Puckett

  ‘And I can’t see them working without one,’ he said. ‘Not unless they’re mad.’

  ‘Which by definition, they probably are.’ I said. ‘Anyway, they’ve probably got themselves vaccinated or protected by cowpox.’

  ‘Getting hold of a vaccine isn’t that easy.’ he said. ‘And would you be happy playing around with live Variola just because you’d fondled a cow’s udder?’

  ‘How elegantly put.’ I said, then, ‘Actually, I might – if I had confidence in my diagnostic skills and was sure I’d had cowpox.’

  ‘You think one of them is a medic?’

  ‘No, I’m thinking they’re probably not such perfectionists as you. If they had a secure enough space, I think they’d do it, vaccinated or not.’

  He shrugged. ‘You could be right.’

  I asked if he’d fixed up visits with any other labs.

  ‘Yes, but there’s a problem. Cabot say they can only see me on Monday, which is when you wanted to have the meeting. Otherwise, it means waiting till the next week.’

  ‘Do it Monday.’ I said. ‘We can’t wait that long.’

  ‘Will you put off the meeting? Bearing in mind we’re all supposed to there. I can just see Roland making a fuss about it…’

  ‘No, that can’t wait either. Roland’ll have to lump it.’

  He nodded his approval. ‘Anyway, I’ve fixed up Bath for Tuesday, Plymouth Wednesday afternoon and Gloucester Thursday.’

  I told him to let me know how he got on, and he left.

  At five thirty, I logged out and drove back to my mean little box in the dismal little estate on the edge of town. Rebecca Hale was waiting outside for me. I took her to the sitting room and asked her if she wanted tea or coffee.

  ‘Sorry to be precious, but d’you have any skimmed milk?’

  I did, and she asked for tea.

  When I came back in with a tray, she was by the bookcase glancing through the titles.

  ‘Detective work?’ I said as I put the tray on the coffee table.

  She smiled. ‘It’s amazing what you can tell about someone from their living room.’

  I sat down, poured. ‘But not a lot from mine.’

  ‘No, not a lot. You like reading, you’ve got catholic tastes, but you haven’t lived here long, have you?’

  ‘Fifty points.’ I paused, went on, ‘When my wife and I separated, we sold the house and I moved into this one.’

  ‘It’s rented?’

  I nodded and she said, ‘Explains the lack of character.’

  ‘Could be that I lack character, of course. Sugar?’

  ‘Could be.’ she agreed. ‘Just milk, please.’

  I handed her cup and saucer. She sat on the sofa and took a sip.

  I gave her the list of the virologists I’d found so far and explained why it wasn’t complete, then told her how Tim was going to look for others when he inspected the university labs.

  She put her cup down. ‘I wish you’d asked me before letting him in on this – how much does he know?’

  ‘Only that you need the names of the virologists to compare with the charity members,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t you remember the commander saying he didn’t want the teams knowing about the police operation?’

  ‘That’s hardly a major part of the police operation,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Even so…’

  ‘Besides, like us, Tim’s signed the Official Secrets Act and to be frank, I don’t think we’re going to find out where they’re doing it without his help.’

  I showed her the list of equipment Tim had made, and how he thought the need for a safety cabinet meant they were more likely to be doing it in a university lab than have their own.

  ‘All right,’ she said, ‘I take your point, but another time, could you ask, please?’

  I nodded curtly. ‘All right.’

  After a pause, she said, ‘Do you agree with him? That it’s more likely to be in a bona fide lab than a hidden one…’

  ‘Not sure.’ I thought for a moment. ‘I think they’re mad enough to do it without a hood – especially if they’ve got somewhere secure.’

  She nodded. ‘I think so too.’

  She told me how she’d managed to get on the BTA committee and how she was hoping to find excuses to look round all their homes. Then she finished her tea, thanked me for the lists, and stood up.

  At the door she said, ‘Your first name’s Herry, isn’t it?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Rebecca.’ she said, and held out her hand. ‘Oh, I was going to give you my mobile number, now that I’m in with BTA.’ She wrote it down for me.

  After she’d gone, I fed it into my mobile, gave it a speed-dial code, then sulked a little, despite the olive branch she’d offered before leaving. There’s nothing quite like being told off by a good looking female for deflating the male ego.

  Then I spent the weekend vegetating.

  Sad, isn’t it – someone of my age and (putative) intelligence slopping round in a dismal little box all weekend, but there it is. The fact was that since my wife Sarah had walked out on me last year, I hadn’t had the energy or enthusiasm to do much else. I suppose I was still in shock at her betrayal – is betrayal too strong a word…? No, I don’t think so.

  By now, both my parents had been dead for some time and my brother, Redd, a government engineer, was on secondment in Canada. He and I got on well, but I didn’t have any other family worth speaking of. Oh, I suppose I had friends, but some of them were Sarah’s as well, while others were colleagues at the hospital,and there, I felt so beleaguered I didn’t know who I could trust. Siege mentality, I suppose.

  *

  Monday morning. The SCRUB team meeting...

  ‘As a point of protocol, Herry, isn’t this meeting invalid without Tim’s presence?’ Roland was looking at me with that mix of sincerity and helpfulness that is entirely false.

  ‘Tim’s presence in Bristol is more important than his presence here, Roland,’ I replied evenly.

  He shrugged. ‘Not a lot of point in having rules unless we’re going to observe them.’

  I regarded him. He was only about four years older than me, but his baldness and spectacles made him look more. As did the superciliousness lurking round his mouth. I said, ‘Another rule is that only two people from the team should be away at any one time. Last week, you made it three.’

  ‘It was Southampton Herry, and we sorted that out then. This is now. I move that this meeting is invalid.’

  The two women, Anne and Helen were looking down at their hands, their embarrassment at the bickering of two adult males palpable.

  ‘Tim’s absence has been approved by Commander Brigg of the Home Counter Terrorist Unit, which I think is all the validation we need.’ Stretching the truth, but who cared…?

  He shrugged. ‘I nevertheless wish to have my objection noted.’

  I scribbled a note. ‘It is. Shall we proceed?’

  As I outlined the situation, all three of their faces betrayed their shock, Roland’s most of all.

  But the little smirk hovering over his lips afterwards made me wonder if he’d already known. And it told me with certainty that any slip I made would be reported, and that he’d be one step ahead of me with the banana skins.

  Why did I let him treat me like this? Why didn’t I put him in his place , wherever that was?

  Well, about a month ago, a gift had fallen into his lap. A girl of 18 had been admitted one night with what looked like meningitis. A sample of cerebrospinal fluid was taken and rushed to the lab, where it was examined and viral meningitis diagnosed. Roland, who’d examined the patient, said he simply didn’t believe this – the symptoms didn’t match. James West, the registrar on-call had backed up the scientist. Eventually, Roland had taken another CSF (a thoroughly unpleasant procedure) and brought it personally to the lab and waited while it was examined.

  It turned out Roland was right – it was meningococcal meningitis, not viral. Fortunately, the g
irl recovered, although a cock up like that could have easily cost her life. We still hadn’t got to the bottom of what had gone wrong. I’d backed up James, which is why he owed me, but shit’s sticky stuff and Roland had chucked a farmyard of it at me…

  Chapter 5

  The Quakers’ Meeting House was as discreet as the Quakers themselves, tucked down an alley a little way off the city centre.

  You’d never notice it if you weren’t looking for it, Rebecca thought, peering at the small white notice on the door. She looked for a bell push, but couldn’t see one. She tried the door and it opened.

  She was in a dimly lit panelled hall. She could hear voices and followed them to a small room on the right.

  Five people sat round a wooden table. Marc got up.

  ‘Rebecca – come in. You found us, then?’

  ‘Of course she did, or she wouldn’t be here, would she?’ This was Hannah, sitting next to him. Marc hadn’t mentioned that she was on the committee.

  He ignored her and found Rebecca a chair.

  ‘Hannah, you know already. She’s the secretary. This is Sophie, who organises our events.’ A woman with glasses and long dark hair, thirtyish, a bit blue stocking, Rebecca thought… ‘Craig, who’s our liaison;’ also about thirty with a cheerful, boyish face; ‘and Alan, ex-treasurer and supernumerary.’ Around 50, overweight, with a round face, glasses and thinning grey hair.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, glancing round with what she thought was the right degree of shyness.

  The others murmured Hi or Hello, then Marc declared the meeting open. The first item was the treasurer’s position.

  ‘I take it you’re still interested, Rebecca?’

  ‘I am, yes.’

  ‘OK.’ Marc smiled. ‘So why don’t you tell us something about yourself?’

  She laughed nervously… ‘What a terrible question. All right, I’m Rebecca Hale, I’m 27 and I’ve just moved down to Exeter from London.’ She explained how she’d been working in NHS admin for five years and was hoping to find something similar here. ‘I’ve always wanted to get involved in an overseas aid charity, but my partner – my ex–partner, disapproved of that sort of thing.’

  Sophie let out a rather unladylike snort.

  Rebecca continued, ‘Anyway, now that I’m single again and re-starting my life…’ she smiled and shrugged… ‘Here I am.’

  ‘Why us?’ Alan asked, echoing Marc a few days ago. ‘Why not Unicef, or one of the others?’

  She told them how she’d looked at all the groups’ websites and had been attracted to BTA’s practical approach.

  Hannah said, ‘NHS admin covers a multitude of sins… what did you actually do?’

  ‘I was in the salaries and wages department.’

  ‘As a clerk?’

  ‘Administrative Officer.’ Realising that this was a bit blunt, she went on, ‘I spent most of my time in the section dealing with agency staff.’

  ‘So you’re used to dealing with figures?’ Craig said.

  ‘Yes. Well, getting a computer to deal with them for me, anyway.’

  ‘Were you qualified?’ – Hannah again.

  ‘My degree was in Business Studies and Management.’

  ‘A bits and pieces degree, then?’ Hannah said. Marc looked at her as she went on. ‘Don’t take offence, mine wasn’t much better.’

  ‘You’re right, anyway,’ Rebecca agreed ruefully, wondering what her degree was in. ‘Which is why I ended up in NHS admin.’

  There was a chuckle and a release of the slight tension that had built up.

  Sophie asked why she hadn’t joined an overseas aid group at university. Rebecca said that she had, but it had been so badly organised that she’d dropped out.

  ‘Which group was it?’

  ‘Unicef, actually. It wasn’t they who were badly organised, it was the students who tried to set it up.’

  Marc asked if there were any more questions. There weren’t. He looked at her apologetically. ‘Would you mind giving us a few minutes…?’

  She got to her feet. ‘Of course not.’

  She pulled the door to behind her. There was nobody else about in the building so far as she could tell… She had to listen, but couldn’t risk being caught at the door…

  She tried the next room. A small kitchen… she eased open a cupboard and found a glass, two glasses. She filled one with water, put the other to the wall and put her ear to it…

  ‘…I’m just a bit bothered about taking someone off the streets, that’s all.’ Hannah.

  ‘Oh, come on –’ Craig, she thought – ‘She’s hardly that…’

  ‘But we’ve always had people we know on the committee, people who’ve been members for a while. We should ask them first.’

  ‘But we have,’ said Craig, ‘and no one’s interested.’

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing –’ Alan – ‘I’m not doing it any more, not now we’ve had a perfectly good offer.’

  Short silence, then Marc said, ‘Sophie?’

  Pause… ‘I know what Hannah means about having someone we know, but… she seems OK to me.’

  Hannah again. ‘Is her commitment that great if she let a boyfriend stop her?’

  Another Sophie snort. ‘You don’t know some men.’

  Alan, impatiently – ‘I move we put it to the vote, Chair.’

  ‘All right. Those in favour? Against? Three to one.’ Rebecca thought she could detect relief in his voice that he didn’t have to use his casting vote. ‘I’ll tell her.’

  She quickly replaced the empty glass, moved away from the wall and took a mouthful from the other as Marc appeared at the door –

  ‘Ah, there you are – would you like to come back in?’

  ‘I’ll just rinse out the glass.’ She did so and followed him.

  ‘Well,’ Marc said as she sat down, ‘we’d like to have you as our treasurer. Which means you can stay for the rest of the meeting, if you like.’

  Alan said quickly, ‘Doesn’t it have to be formally offered and accepted?’

  Marc formally offered, she formally accepted and Marc formally and ironically welcomed her.

  She looked quickly round. ‘Thanks, everyone. Are there any books, accounts, that sort of thing?’

  ‘It’s all on disk,’ Alan said. ‘I take it you’ve got a PC?’

  She nodded.

  Hannah said, ‘Is your computer secure? Only, there are membership lists, which are confidential.’

  Rebecca kept her face immobile. ‘It’s a laptop, but it is secure. I used to keep work information on it.’ Can it really be this easy…?

  ‘Well, that’s settled then,’ said Marc. ‘Let’s move on.’

  What’s the betting he gets an earful tonight, she thought, and wondered what it was Hannah had against her… female rivalry, or something else…?

  They went quickly through the minutes of the last meeting and matters arising. Craig shot her a quick smile. She responded demurely. The meeting moved on to whether they should join a demonstration organised by The Anti-Slavery League on the site in Bristol where the slaves used to be sold. They decided they should send a representative.

  Next was an announcement from Craig that he was meeting the local MP at the end of the week, hopefully to finalise his agreement to chair a forum he was organising on the theme of Starvation – the new slavery?

  Treasurer’s Report: Alan told them there was £2157 in the deposit account and £977 in the current. Then he grinned, ‘So it’s over to you, Rebecca. He went on, ‘You and I need to get together some time so I can give you the disks and explain it to you.’

  She thought he sounded a shade too keen on the prospect… but needs must.

  ‘Sure,’ she said.

  Marc said, ‘Any other business?’ There was a resigned tone to his voice, so Rebecca wasn’t surprised when Hannah said yes.

  ‘I’ve had an approach made to me by Open Door in Bath that we should join them in protesting against the new immigration laws.’


  There was a groan from Alan. ‘I thought we’d agreed to be agnostic over this,’ he said. ‘For the sake of peace.’

  ‘Some of us feel very strongly about it,’ Hannah began, but Alan cut across her –

  ‘BTA is about feeding the many in Africa, not bringing a few into this country.’

  Craig nodded his agreement.

  Sophie said, ‘What about asylum seekers, people who are sick?’

  ‘I think you’ve just given us as good a demonstration as any of how divisive it is’ said Alan.

  ‘It’s a matter of conscience,’ said Hannah. ‘I feel we should at least put it to the general meeting so that members can decide on an individual basis.’

  ‘OK, let’s put it to the vote,’ said Alan.

  Marc said quietly, ‘I’m abstaining, and that’s final.’

  The vote was two all.

  ‘Rebecca?’ said Alan.

  Hannah said quickly, ‘Rebecca knows nothing about this – it’s not fair she should be asked.’

  ‘I agree,’ Rebecca said, equally quickly.

  ‘Deuce,’ said Alan.

  Hannah looked at Marc, and Rebecca realised she was trying to force his hand … Then Sophie said suddenly,

  ‘I’m changing my vote. I abstain. Sorry Hannah, but it’s just too divisive. We can’t afford that.’

  Marc said, ‘The motion falls. We say nothing to the meeting.’

  He was still going to be for it when they got home, Rebecca thought.

  Marc closed the meeting. ‘Who’s coming for a pint?’ he said.

  ‘I’m going home to relieve the babysitter,’ Hannah said… I will not be placated… ‘Can you find your own way back?’

  ‘I could give you a lift, if you like,’ Rebecca said, not too quickly, she hoped… but the risk of annoying Hannah was outweighed by potential of info from Marc…

  ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  Hannah left, while the rest went to a pub round the corner. Rebecca accepted a polite half from Marc. They sat. Alan had manoeuvred himself next to Rebecca.

  ‘We’d better arrange a date,’ he said. ‘Shall I come to you?’

  Not on your life… ‘No. Thanks, but I need to learn to find my way around. What’s your address?’ She took pen and notebook from her bag.