Going Viral

by Andrew Puckett

  She took a few moments to think about it. ‘I don’t think it’s either of the last two – unless they’re world class actors.’

  ‘I’ll tell you who might be a world class actor,’ Brigg said, ‘actress, rather, and that’s Sophie Rene.’

  ‘She’s very clever,’ Rebecca agreed. ‘But where does Mary Broomfield fit in?’

  Brigg grunted; ‘That reminds me –’ and picked up his phone. ‘Naomi, it’s me. Sorry about the delay, what have you got?’

  The phone crackled for a while, then he thanked her, put it down and turned back to Rebecca.

  ‘Not a great deal. Broomfield got very tearful when Naomi went for her with what Sophie said, admitted they were having an affair and claimed she and Sophie were together all that night. Naomi thinks that if she is involved, it’s only in supplying Sophie with an alibi.’

  ‘The kind of lie it’s easier to stick to,’ Rebecca said. ‘Can they prove they were together that night?’

  ‘No, which means they’re alibi-ing each other.’ He paused, went on, ‘So out of ten, for Sophie?’

  ‘I’d say eight.’

  ‘I agree. What about Marc?’

  She thought about it, then said, ‘He was cocky to begin with, then when we told him what had happened, he got all concerned and helpful. Then, he got cocky again, only more so.’

  Brigg nodded. ‘So?’

  ‘So he could be lying. The others, the ones who were killed, would have trusted him, not been suspicious over the champagne, so he could have done it. No real alibi. And I think a cold person underneath the charm.’

  ‘What charm?’

  ‘Oh, it’s there. I’ve known him longer than you.’

  ‘So what would you give him out of ten?’

  ‘The same. Eight.’

  ‘Hannah?’

  ‘I felt she was genuinely shocked by the deaths…’

  ‘Would they be in it together – Marc and Hannah?’

  ‘Could be, but I’m more inclined to think Marc on his own.’

  ‘Agreed. Six for Hannah?’

  She nodded.

  ‘OK, so that leaves us with Marc and Sophie. Or the nameless one. What would you give that out of ten?’

  She thought about it and shook her head. ‘I just don’t know. It would be strange for this person to remain so completely beneath our radar … I mean, you’d think they’d have some connection with BTA. And they must have been trusted by the four who were killed.’

  ‘One of the bit players in BTA?’

  ‘I can’t think of anyone.’

  Brigg let out a sigh. ‘We’ll start looking on Monday. Meanwhile, we’ll concentrate on Marc and Sophie tomorrow –’ He looked up – ‘Could it be both of them?’

  She shrugged helplessly. ‘Could be… We’re going to need to break their alibis, which means going for Hannah and Mary as well.’

  ‘Mm…’

  She’d noticed him glancing surreptitiously at his watch once or twice and could guess why. He went on.

  ‘Maybe knowing the buildings Malcolm worked on would help…’

  ‘One thing with that – would Marc or Sophie be able to get at the air conditioning of a hospital or whatever? Wouldn’t there be security?’

  ‘Probably easier for Marc than Sophie - ‘

  His phone went and he snatched it up – ‘Yes… hello doctor… oh…’

  As his face fell and eyes flicked at her and away again, Rebecca felt the shock expand in her head and down through her neck and body… she gripped the sides of the chair to prevent herself falling…

  ‘Yes… Yes, we’ll do that doctor… yes, I understand, thank you.’

  He switched the phone off and gently placed it on the table in front of him before turning to her.

  ‘I’m very sorry Rebecca, but he was HIV positive. Can I get you anything, some water?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  He quickly went out.

  She lay her head on her folded arms and tried to control the waves of nausea and faintness. Brigg came back –

  ‘D’you want to lie down?’

  She lifted her head. ‘No, I’m OK.’

  He handed her the glass of water and she drank half of it in one go. The coldness running down her throat made her feel better.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘More?’

  ‘Please…’

  He refilled her glass and handed it to her. Then he sat next to her, put an arm round her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. This surprised her; he wasn’t normally a tactile person.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘Herry Smith just told me that with one exposure, the chances are that you won’t get it. He also told me you can be vaccinated and treated with Zidovudine and immunoglobulin, which will help, but it needs to be done as soon as possible – now, in fact. He said he’ll be waiting for us outside his department.’

  Chapter 27

  As I drove to the hospital to meet them, the thought fleeted through my mind that she’d asked for it… then I whacked my palm as hard as I could on the wheel and cursed myself for a sanctimonious prig. My hand started swelling almost immediately, which served me right. I felt even worse when I saw her waiting with Brigg fifteen minutes later.

  She looked exhausted, miserable, and couldn’t meet my eyes. I keyed in the code and took them to my office.

  I gave her the injections, then found the Zidovudine tablets and counted out a dozen, three to take now and the rest to keep her going until tomorrow, when she’d have to go to the GUM clinic. I told her where it was and that I’d arrange an appointment for her in the morning.

  I said as little as possible. I told her I was sorry, and when she asked me whether the treatment would work, I said I thought so, but that she must talk to the GUM consultant about it.

  ‘The main thing in your favour is the fact that there was only the one exposure – it nearly always takes more than that. But the immunoglobulin and Zidovudine’ll certainly help if you did get the virus.’

  She nodded her thanks.

  But the truth was that she was outside the window for effective treatment. It should be started within 72 hours of exposure and in her case, it was nearer 90.

  Not my place to tell her. She’d probably be all right if it really was only one exposure, but it would be an anxious few months for her.

  Why, oh why hadn’t she used a condom?

  I asked how the investigation was going and they told me about the six suspects they’d arrested. I told them to ring if they needed me for anything, then we left. In the corridor, they went one way and I went the other.

  I had trouble sleeping. I’m sure she did too.

  *

  Late the next morning, Saturday, Sarah rang and said she was coming round. She’d left it until she was in the city before phoning, which gave me about twenty minutes to tidy the house and myself up.

  She brought Grace with her.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ I said as I let them in. Grace had obviously only just woken up and was grizzling.

  ‘Tea please, and I’m going to have to go straight upstairs to change her.’

  The pong had already told me as much, although it was nothing like what baby Sam had emitted a couple of days earlier.

  ‘Second left,’ I said, as she unbuckled her from the buggy.

  I went into the kitchen and put on the kettle. When it boiled, I made up a tray and took it into the living room as she came back down the stairs.

  ‘All nice and clean,’ she said. ‘I’d better give her a quick feed, if you don’t mind.’

  Grace was still grizzling, so it was probably a good idea.

  ‘I’ll hold on the tea then, shall I?’

  ‘I can do both.’

  I poured, watching from the side of my eye as she discreetly unbuttoned and latched Grace on. She, Grace, guzzled greedily and it occurred to me, not for the first time, that she, Sarah, was doing better at this than anyone would’ve given her credit for. When we’d first married, she used to tell
those who prattled coyly about the patter of tiny feet, ‘Oh, we might get round to it one day,’ in the sort of tone that suggested it would be never if she had anything to do with it.

  I put her cup on the table in front of her. She reached down with her free hand and took a mouthful.

  I was on the point of saying, To what do I owe… ? when I remembered I’d said it before. Besides, it would have been a bit graceless. (Sorry).

  Anyway, some sort of telepathy must have been going on because she said,

  ‘Dad’s being difficult.’

  ‘In what way? He’s not going to chuck you out, surely?’

  ‘No. He dotes on Grace and besides, Mum wouldn’t let him.’

  ‘Would she be able to stop him?’

  She looked at me. ‘Mum’s stronger than you give her credit for.’ Then, ‘No, he just keeps dropping hints about how it would be healthier if me and Grace had a place of our own, and how you should be helping me do it. He’s talking about getting his solicitor onto it.’

  I gave a soft grunt. ‘Well, he as good as told me he was going to make trouble for me.’

  ‘Yes...’ She hurried on – ‘Not that he had anything to do with what happened to you the other day. Are you feeling better, by the way?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘Any idea what it was about yet?’

  ‘No. The cops say they’re working on it, but I doubt they’re trying very hard somehow.’

  ‘Why not?’

  I shrugged. ‘No leads, no motive. No suspects, now that they’ve more or less eliminated Pops and Roland. Anyway –’ I changed the subject ‘– What do you want to do? About a place of your own?’

  She sighed. ‘I think I probably should, although I must admit it’s nice having Mum around to help.’

  ‘Get something not too far away, then.’

  She nodded. ‘Although I’d like to buy rather than rent, and you know what prices are like where we are.’

  We talked around it for a while, quite comfortably, because we both knew where we stood. I asked her about getting her money back from Charles and she said she thought he was dragging his feet. I suggested that that was where Pops should be aiming his lawyer.

  ‘Oh, he is,’ she said. ‘He’s aimed at both of you.’

  I said I thought I’d be able to give her some help and maybe she should start looking around the estate agents for something modest.

  She looked down at Grace, then back up at me.

  ‘I’ve been a bit disingenuous,’ she said. ‘I have seen a place I like, only it’s more than Charles owes me. But I thought that with some from you, some from Dad and maybe even a small mortgage, I could manage it.’ She paused. ‘I was wondering if you’d look at it, tell me what you think.’

  I gave another grunt, of surprise this time. ‘Wouldn’t Pops be better?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll have to let him to look at it as well, but I trust your judgement.’

  I smiled. ‘Well, you know I could never resist flattery. When?’

  ‘Now?’

  We used her car. The buggy rather neatly doubled as a car seat and Grace went straight into a coma like sleep.

  I looked at Sarah as she drove. Motherhood had matured her looks as well as her character; the planes of her face were more defined, and I’d noticed as we walked to the car that her figure had filled out, which suited her rather. I said,

  ‘You mentioned a mortgage – were you thinking of working?’

  ‘Oh, not full time – I meant it about being a proper mother. But with help from Mum and perhaps a crèche, I could do some temping.’

  We drove up the Exe valley to the place she had in mind. She had a key from the estate agent. It was a pair of semis that had been converted into four flats, one of them very small: bedroom, living room, kitchen-diner and bathroom. It could have done with redecorating, but maybe that was to the good, leverage for bargaining.

  ‘You’ll need a proper survey,’ I said after I’d poked round a bit.

  ‘Oh sure, but you think it’s all right?’

  ‘So far as I can see.’

  After that, we found a tea shop beside the river and had some late lunch. The water flickered and flashed over the rocky bed in the winter sunshine. I’d forgotten how beautiful it was round here. The fact that it was where Pops lived had put me off, rather.

  They lived in Newton-on-Exe, a pretty village that overlooked a bend a little way upstream.

  Grace, in the buggy beside us, woke up and bubbled and gurgled, much to the delight of a pair of elderly ladies nearby, who came over and made similar noises. Perhaps that’s how we all end up, I thought, conversing with babies in their own language. When they’d finished doing that, they gushed at us for a bit, telling us how lucky we were to have such a beautiful baby and how we must be very proud. We solemnly thanked them and at last, they moved away.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Sarah murmured.

  ‘Not your fault. And she is beautiful.’

  ‘You – who used to say all babies looked alike?’

  ‘You – who used to say there were no such things as maternal feelings. All in the mind, I seem to remember you saying.’

  We laughed, then she gave Grace a rusk to play with while we finished our lunch. I paid up and we left.

  We lingered a while by the river bank. The sun was dropping into smudgy cloud and spraying out colour like a fruit salad: grapefruit pink and yellow, pomegranate, medlar and grape all smashing into the water like a psychedelic trip. The sombre, skeletal valley, heightened the effect.

  ‘Makes me wish I had a camera,’ I said.

  ‘Makes me want to try painting again,’ she said.

  ‘Why don’t you?’

  ‘Mm,’ she said, obviously thinking about it. She’d been to Art College when she was younger and I’d thought she was pretty good – not that I know anything.

  ‘People usually paint in the summer,’ she said, ‘but it’s winter that’s got the real beauty.’

  ‘Also the cold,’ I said, feeling it feel its way through my coat.

  ‘Philistine.’

  ‘Practical bunch, the Philistines. A lot to be said for them.’

  ‘Really? You don’t see many of them around now.’

  I laughed gently. She said, ‘I think I will take it up again.’

  Grace was obviously feeling the cold as well, because she’d started grizzling, so we went to the car and Sarah drove me back.

  After we’d gone a little way, I said, ‘If Grace had been Charles’, d’you think you’d have stayed with him?’ I don’t know what made me ask.

  ‘No.’ After a pause, she went on, ‘He’s a selfish pig. He’s got a nasty streak as well.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

  I tried to think of something else to say, to lighten things, but I couldn’t.

  When we got to my place, I asked her if she wanted to come in, but she said she’d better get back.

  ‘She’s due a feed,’ she said, meaning Grace. ‘She’ll wake up any minute and start howling.’

  On cue, she did just that. I smiled and reached for the door handle. ‘Let me know how you get on. With the flat.’

  ‘I will,’ she said.

  Chapter 28

  I watched her drive away, then went inside. The message light was winking on the phone, so I picked up. It was Brigg, asking me to ring back.

  ‘Can we come round?’ he said.

  I let them in 25 minutes later and took them to the living room. They refused coffee or tea. Rebecca still had difficulty meeting my eyes.

  ‘We’ve got a problem,’ Brigg said.

  They were stuck. They had six people in custody and could keep them another five days, but they hadn’t got anywhere with them. There were two they particular suspected, but neither was budging, so they were going to try a different approach.

  ‘One of the dead men was an air conditioning engineer,’ he said, ‘could that be how
they were going to do it?’

  ‘Ideal,’ I said, and I looked at Rebecca. ‘We talked about this when you came to my lab – remember?’

  She nodded and I went on,

  ‘All they’d have to do is make an aerosol and then spray it into the system while it was running. Below the filters,’ I added.

  ‘Wouldn’t they just turn the system off?’

  ‘The aerosol would settle on the surfaces and you wouldn’t get an effective spread.’

  ‘Why below the filters? I thought viruses were very small.’

  ‘They are, but the pox viruses are the biggest. Anyway, there’d be a back pressure if you opened a port above the filters, which would blow any aerosol straight back out again.’

  ‘So it’s got to be a system with a port below the filters?’

  I nodded. ‘Or you could take any filters below the port out, of course.’

  He grunted. ‘I’d been hoping we could eliminate some of them.’

  He asked how they’d make the aerosol and I explained how the virus had to be grown in tissue culture, then macerated into tiny pieces.

  ‘Did they have the equipment to do that?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, and you could make the aerosol easily with an old-fashioned bulb sprayer. You know, the sort of thing ladies used to use to spray scent on themselves.’

  ‘Some still do,’ Rebecca said, speaking for the first time.

  ‘It’s what we were afraid of,’ Brigg said. He went on, ‘We think there’s a fifth member of the group, either one of the ones we’re holding, or someone we don’t know about, who killed the others because they got cold feet, and is intending to go ahead with it. In fact, they might’ve already done so.’

  I stared at him… ‘What, before the deadline? And they said they were going to infect just one to begin with, didn’t they?’

  He shrugged. ‘This fifth person might have a different agenda.’

  ‘Or might not exist.’

  ‘Which is our fervent hope, of course, but we can’t risk that.’

  They were going to find all the places that Malcolm North, the engineer, had worked in, then ask them if he’d been there lately. Or if anyone had been there lately wanting access to the air-conditioning...