The Health of Strangers

by Lesley Kelly

  The Team Leader leaned his considerable bulk against his desk, and gestured a thumb in the stranger’s direction.

  ‘This is Doctor Toller.’

  The three of them shook hands, which involved a fair bit of manoeuvring, given the limited dimensions of the office. Mona sat on the plastic chair that Paterson had swiped from the canteen some months ago. Bernard looked round for somewhere to sit, and in the absence of options, stayed standing.

  ‘Toller here works for the German Government and is investigating a Missing Person. Heidi Weber, eighteen years old, exchange student at Edinburgh University. Showing up on our Defaulter List for the first time today.’ He passed a case file across the desk which Mona grabbed and started reading. ‘I want you to give Doctor Toller every assistance in locating this young lady.’ Paterson pointed his finger at each of them to emphasise the point. ‘Every assistance.’

  Mona spoke without looking up from the file. ‘Can I ask why she is of interest to you, Sir?’

  The Doctor smiled. ‘She is not, of herself, of particular interest.’ His English was good, but tinged with a German accent. ‘We are concerned about the Health Status of all our nationals who are living abroad. As you know our infected population is much lower than yours, which is twenty-eight per cent, I believe?’

  ‘Twenty-eight per cent average, lower for older people and children, higher for young adults.’

  Paterson coughed. Bernard ignored the hint and carried on.

  ‘But the infection rate is falling year-on-year. We’re anticipating an eight per cent infection rate next year.’

  A thin blonde eyebrow was raised by the German. ‘Yet you still have mortality of 2.5 per cent?’

  ‘2.4 per cent, to be precise.’

  ‘Bernard . . .’ Paterson had a familiar tone of warning in his voice. He wasn’t a big fan of Bernard’s ability to remember facts and figures relating to the Virus. Bernard was torn between avoiding his boss’s wrath and defending his country’s public health record. Patriotism won.

  ‘And twenty per cent of the population is already immune.’ He finished the sentence as quickly as he could.

  ‘In Germany we have mortality of less than two per cent.’ The Doctor smiled and folded his arms. ‘You can see why we are concerned about any health risk that our citizens may be encountering.’

  Before Bernard could open his mouth to pursue the point, Mona spoke up. ‘She hasn’t been reported missing by her parents.’ She waved the case file in the air. ‘Although they have expressed concern that they hadn’t heard from her?’

  Paterson jumped to his feet. ‘Doctor, I think my colleagues have enough to go on. I need to brief them about a couple of things, then the three of you can make a start on locating young Heidi.’ He yanked opened the door, causing the walls of the office to vibrate.

  The Doctor stayed seated for a moment staring at Paterson, then slowly stood up. ‘I wish to use the lavatory before we leave. I will meet you in the main entrance.’ He stopped and turned to address Mona and Bernard. ‘I am not overly concerned about this young woman. We made a check of her room, and all her documents were there, including her passport.’

  Paterson smiled expansively at his guest and extended an arm in the direction of the exit. He waited until the door shut behind the German. ‘Dickhead,’ he said, making only a slight attempt to lower his voice.

  Bernard wondered about the sound insulation properties of MDF, but Doctor Toller didn’t look back.

  ‘So, what was all that about, Guv?’ Mona had joined the HET from Edinburgh CID, and had brought both Police jargon and respect for hierarchy with her. ‘Something about this isn’t right. Her parents are concerned about her but haven’t reported her missing? She’s not been seen for the best part of a week. The Police should be dealing with this as a Missing Person.’

  There was strict protocol on this point: the Police dealt, or chose not to deal, with people who had been reported missing. The HET dealt only with people who had not turned up for their Health Check, but were not listed as missing persons. In Mona’s experience, there was usually a reason that nobody had missed a Health Defaulter.

  Paterson cut through her protests. ‘Ignore all the bollocks about health concerns. Heidi’s the daughter of a member of the – crap, what did he call it? The Brundiesdag?’

  ‘Bundestag?’ suggested Bernard.

  ‘What?’ Paterson squeezed past Bernard to get to the kettle, managing to hit him on the head with his mug on the way past.

  Bernard rubbed his temple. ‘The German Parliament?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the thing. He’s like an MP, only German. So his lassie, well, she’s probably shacked up with some boyfriend or other, but it’s a major embarrassment for Herr Weber if his daughter’s found to have skipped a Health Status test, especially after the German Chancellor made a big deal about the UK having such high infection rates.’

  ‘And she has missed a Health Check?’ asked Mona.

  ‘Yup.’ Paterson smiled. ‘Missed her Health Check on Friday, and a week later it lands on our desk. And if you are about to ask me why it took a week to get here, don’t, because I don’t know the answer.’

  ‘Can we talk to Herr Weber?’ asked Bernard.

  ‘Yes. Herr Weber and his wife are staying at The George Hotel and Toller’s waiting to take you there. They’ve already passed Heidi’s laptop on to us, so check with IT what they’ve found on it.’

  ‘Anything else, Guv?’ Mona was already on her feet.

  ‘Yeah – pull your fingers out and get this lassie found. One morning of Doctor Tosser has been more than enough for me.’

  He followed Mona back to their desks. She was reading the files as she walked.

  ‘Do you suppose Doctor Toller’s driving, or do you think he’s expecting us to provide transport?’ His colleague shrugged on her waterproof and reached for her bag. ‘Should we sign out a pool car?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Lending half an ear to her, Bernard logged into his computer.

  ‘Bernard! Are you listening?’

  ‘Yep. Pool car. Good idea. Just give me two minutes.’ Ignoring the look of impatience on Mona’s face, Bernard called up a search engine. He typed ‘German Chancellor’ into Google. The computer failed to react.

  ‘Hurry up, Bernard!’

  ‘Hold on,’ he jabbed the Enter key several times, ‘it’s not my fault we’re still on Windows 7. Would it have killed them to splash out on an upgrade?’

  He hit Enter a couple more times, and, finally, he was reading the German Chancellor’s much-publicised attack on the Scottish response to the Virus.

  ‘Mona – listen to this. “The lax response by the Scottish Government to the Virus has put the whole of the European Union at risk. The reliance on a monthly health check-up, compared to weekly or fortnightly across most of Europe, has led to high levels of infection. Inadequate policing of Health Defaulters means a hardcore of resisters with no known Health Status which endangers the wider population . . .”’

  Mona snorted. ‘Bullshit. We’d never get away with the kind of regime they’ve got on the Continent. Remember all the outcry when the idea of Health Checks was first suggested?’

  ‘Yup.’ Bernard had watched the demos on TV, fascinated by the mixture of protest banners – Amnesty and Socialist Worker, of course, but all the new groups as well. Teenagers Against Health Checks had been all over the news, partly because of the photogenic nature of the girls involved. ‘But you can see why Toller’s worried. I mean, what’s his boss going to say when they find out his daughter’s a “hardcore resister”?’

  Mona grinned. ‘Let’s find the Doctor and ask him.’

  As she turned to leave, she almost crashed into Carole Brooks, and dropped her car keys.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Their colleague didn’t move.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Bernard thought back to the conversation he’d overheard earlier.

  ‘They’re sending my son home from school. His temperature’s up.�
�

  ‘What to?’

  ‘38 degrees.’ She stared at Bernard.

  ‘Kids get temperatures all the time. It’s probably nothing.’

  ‘He’s coughing a lot.’

  ‘Could just be a cold. Kids still get colds, even in this day and age.’

  ‘Mm.’ She didn’t sound convinced. ‘Can you make sure Maitland lets Mr Paterson know I’ve gone?’

  Bernard patted Carole’s arm. ‘Yeah, don’t worry about that. We’ll see he gets the message.’

  They watched her disappear through the office door.

  ‘I take it her boy isn’t immune then?’ Mona asked. ‘I just assumed her whole family would all have had it.’

  ‘Nah, I heard she got the Virus on a hen week with her sister. Ended up quarantined in Ayia Napa.’

  ‘Oh dear. How old is her lad?’

  ‘Fifteen or sixteen.’ Bernard thought for a moment. ‘I’m not sure exactly.’

  Mona stooped to pick up her keys. ‘Still, at least you reassured her.’

  Something in her tone betrayed a certain insincerity.

  ‘Well, I tried.’ His tone was defensive, but he could guess what Mona was thinking. He’d done his best, but Carole was an ex-nurse, and Bernard knew he hadn’t had any reassurance to give.

  Mona elbowed him and pointed in the direction of the door. ‘C’mon. We’ve got somewhere to be.’

  The three of them had been in the car for fourteen minutes, according to Bernard’s watch, and no-one had yet spoken.

  He stared through the windscreen, willing the traffic on the Mound to move faster. The number 23 bus in front of them indicated that it was pulling into the bus stop opposite the National Galleries. A couple of schoolgirls wearing brightly coloured mouth masks dived across the road in front of them, bumping the bonnet in a doomed attempt to catch the bus. Mona cursed under her breath, and the car ground to a halt. Bernard couldn’t stand it any longer and turned round to Doctor Toller with the intention of making small talk. This wasn’t made any easier by the soundproofed Perspex window separating them. Bernard’s finger hovered over the intercom, but, as on the previous two or three times he had considered speaking, the Doctor was staring out of the window in a manner that suggested he was not open to pleasantries. Bernard resigned himself to the atmosphere.

  The bus moved and the car inched forward again, only to stop when the traffic lights turned red. His mind wandered. He wondered what his wife was doing; she’d still been in bed when he left the house that morning. Not, he suspected, actually asleep, but hermetically sealed within her duvet and ignoring all conversational attempts. People, it seemed to Bernard, went to great lengths to avoid speaking to him. There was a hammering on the Perspex, causing him to jump. He turned to see Toller pointing out of the window. He reached forward and pressed the communication button.‘Your public health information is out of date,’ said the German.

  ‘Sorry – what?’

  Toller extended a long, elegant finger in the direction of a laminated sign attached to a lamp post. ‘Remember to cover your mouth when you cough. Throw away your tissues immediately. Wash your hands frequently . . .’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Bernard laughed. ‘Those were all supposed to have been removed ages ago. A legacy of our Duck-and-Cover days.’

  The German stared at him, puzzled. ‘Duck-and-Cover?’

  ‘You know – once upon a time we thought we could deal with a nuclear attack by hiding under the table.’ Bernard did a little mime, sheltering under his hands. He pointed at the poster. ‘This was about as effective in stopping the Virus spreading.’

  Toller’s thin lips pulled into a smile. ‘I see. Very droll.’

  Bernard smiled. He started to turn back in his seat when the doctor spoke again.

  ‘You are not very popular, I think.’

  ‘Me?’ Bernard’s tone betrayed his slight feeling of panic. What had Toller heard? Had Paterson said something about him?

  The German gave his narrow smile again. ‘You misunderstand me. I mean the HET is not very popular.’

  ‘I’m not sure I would say that . . .’

  Mona snorted, and Bernard gave up attempting to defend his organisation’s reputation.

  ‘I have noticed that many of your public health billboards have been defaced,’ Toller stared at him, ‘likening your Health Enforcement Team to, of all things . . .’

  Bernard closed his eyes, aware what was coming.

  ‘Nazis.’

  The lights changed, and Bernard swivelled gratefully back toward the front. Mona drove up Hanover Street, turned right round the statue of George IV, and into the street that bore his name. She bumped the car up on the pavement outside The George Hotel, ignoring the double yellow lines.

  Bernard looked at her in horror. ‘You’re not going to leave it parked here?’

  ‘Why not?’ She slid the gears into neutral and opened her door. She tapped the HET sticker on her windscreen. ‘It’s not like they are going to fine us. We are the Police after all.’

  ‘Except we’re not. We’re the Health Enforcement Team,’ said Bernard, to Mona’s back.

  ‘Whatever.’ She rapped on the internal window. ‘Can you show us to the Webers’ room, Doctor Toller?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He slid out of the car and walked briskly in the direction of the hotel, leaving Bernard to worry about the parking arrangements.

  Herr Weber was in his fifties, thin, and wearing what Bernard thought looked like a very expensive suit. He shook each of their hands in turn.

  ‘It is very good of you to come and see us.’ Unlike Toller, his English bore almost no trace of a German accent, but had a slight American twang. ‘Please, sit.’

  The Webers were staying in one of The George’s finer suites, with a separate lounge and bedroom. The room was tastefully decorated with muted shades of green, its gleaming oak furniture a testament to intensive levels of housekeeping. It was quite unlike any of the hotel rooms Bernard had ever stayed in, most of which had been located near motorway intersections. In one corner of the living area there was a meeting space already set up for them. They settled themselves at the table, while Toller lolled in one of the armchairs, hiding himself behind the room’s complimentary copy of The Telegraph. Bernard read the headlines. Industry Chiefs Call for an End to Virus Restrictions. It was a familiar theme. Almost as soon as the Virus infection rates had started to fall, business leaders had begun agitating for relaxations on Green Cards, group meeting restrictions and Health Checks. It wasn’t an easy time to be running a business, unless you were an online provider of home entertainment. He leaned forward a little to read Professor Bircham-Fowler’s case for the defence. The evidence indicates that regular Health Checks reduce the infectivity potential of Virus-infected individuals by half . . . Perhaps the HET was useful, after all.

  ‘Can I get you a coffee, or perhaps a cup of tea?’ Herr Weber hovered anxiously by the kettle. With polite murmurs they declined the offer.

  ‘Shall we make a start, Sir?’ asked Mona.

  ‘One moment, please.’ Herr Weber walked to the bedroom door and knocked gently on it. ‘My wife will be joining us.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She is extremely upset.’

  ‘Understandably, Sir,’ said Mona.

  Frau Weber was around the same age as her husband, but considerably larger. She had obviously made recent efforts to put on make-up, which, unfortunately, was not responding well to her distress. Mascara was cascading down her cheeks, like two black railway sleepers.

  Herr Weber took her by the hand. ‘My wife does not speak much English, I’m afraid, but she was very keen to meet with you.’

  Bernard and Mona smiled at her. She gave them a little wave, then returned to dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  Bernard opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Frau Weber began to talk.

  ‘She says that her daughter has never done this before.’ The Doctor put down his newspaper, and translated from his armch
air. ‘She says Heidi always rings her on a Sunday evening, every week without fail. She says she tried to call her but the phone went straight to voicemail.’

  Mona smiled sympathetically in Frau Weber’s direction, then asked Toller, ‘Have we found her mobile?’

  ‘No,’ Herr Weber responded to Mona’s question. ‘We searched her room and found her passport and her diary, but no phone. I assume you will want to look for yourself?’

  ‘Yes. So, to clarify, she didn’t phone on Sunday, and then missed her Health Check on Monday. Does her diary give any idea of her movements?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ Herr Weber replied. ‘We’re having it translated for you at the moment. She seemed to frequent a couple of pubs in Edinburgh – Morley’s and the Railway Tavern. Her last entry mentions plans to meet friends at Morley’s. Are you familiar with these establishments?’

  Mona nodded. ‘I’m certainly familiar with Morley’s. Useful leads, Sir.’ She turned to Doctor Toller. ‘Could you please tell Frau Weber that it is very unlikely that anything has happened to her daughter, and that she will probably turn up unharmed?’

  Herr Weber answered. ‘I hope for all our sakes that you are right.’

  ‘Mona.’

  Paterson appeared out of his office the second they walked into the room, red-faced and purposeful, like an overheated shark. He strode toward them, and Mona noticed Bernard take a half-step behind her.

  ‘You’re a woman.’

  ‘Very nearly,’ piped up Maitland, cheerfully.

  They all turned and glared at him. He smirked and ducked down behind his computer.

  ‘Shut up, Maitland.’ Paterson returned to his theme. ‘You are a woman, and good at all that touchy-feely crap.’

  Mona stared at her boss, and wondered if in the past six months he had learned anything about her at all. ‘I wouldn’t really say those were my particular strengths, Guv. Perhaps Bernard would be a better choice for whatever you’ve got in mind?’