Crisis

country. A man near the end of his tether grabs a rifle and shoots his way on to the front pages of the dailys. We’ve read about it all before! Her Majesty’s Government is continually under pressure to review firearm regulations because of it!’

Bannerman had expected Allison to play things down; doing this was almost a government reflex, but he had to admit that Allison had a point. The man was good at his job; he had made a convincing argument and was now waiting to see the strength of the opposition. Bannerman steeled himself to keep his temper and said, ‘My feeling is that this incident, happening as it did in Stobmor, is just too much of a coincidence. I firmly believe that this latest death is connected with the others and that there might be more if we do nothing. We have to pursue the source of this outbreak and identify it.’

Flowers and Milne sat on the sidelines, waiting for Allison’s response. When he spoke there was a much colder, harder edge to his voice. He said to Flowers, ‘Until yesterday you were prepared to give Her Majesty’s Government a statement saying that there was no evidence of a direct link between brain disease in animals and similar conditions in man. Now, because of one man going off his head and running amok … are you saying that you won’t?’ Flowers said calmly, ‘I think we must wait a little longer before giving you the reassurance you seek.’ ‘How much longer?’ asked Allison. He enunciated each word as if giving an elocution lesson.

‘Until we are satisfied Mr Allison,’ replied Flowers, earning Bannerman’s admiration for his steadiness under strong pressure from the government’s man.

Allison too seemed to sense that Flowers could not be bullied into committing the Council to something that he wasn’t happy about. His manner relaxed a little and he said, ‘Will you at least concede that this latest death might be due to the factors I’ve outlined. The man could have simply gone berserk after some domestic upheaval?’

Flowers, Milne and Bannerman all nodded.

‘In that case,’ said Allison, ‘I have a proposal.’

Bannerman moved defensively in his chair but didn’t speak.

‘If we launch a major investigation right now,’ said Allison, ‘the press will have a field day — Killer Brain Disease Stalks Scottish Town — that sort of thing. The truth will be totally lost under banner headlines and the damage to the farming community will be inestimable.’

‘What do you propose?’ asked Milne.

I propose that we do nothing,’ said Allison.

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing, for an agreed period and if during that period there have been no further cases of people running amok and murdering their wives then we regard the Scrapie affair in Achnagelloch as an isolated incident which is now closed. You issue an interim report on brain disease in this country stating that, although there has been a rise, the statistics do not signify a connection with farm animals. If, on the other hand, there is another case, then you are free to go ahead and investigate in any way you choose.’

‘What do you say gentlemen?’ asked Flowers of Milne and Bannerman.

‘How long?’ said Bannerman.

Three weeks,’ said Allison.

‘Four,’ said Bannerman.

‘Agreed,’ said Allison, looking to Flowers and Milne. They both indicated their agreement.

Allison looked at his watch and said that he would have to rush. He left the room and Bannerman instantly felt more relaxed. He smiled and shook his head slightly. Men like Allison could steal your eye teeth and you wouldn’t notice until dinner time.

‘You don’t really think that Bell’s death could be coincidence do you?’ asked Flowers.

‘No I don’t,’ said Bannerman. ‘Mind you, I hope with all my heart that it was.’

The days passed and Bannerman felt himself being drawn back into the routine lifestyle that he had known before going to Scotland. His friendship with Stella had changed however. They did not see each other as often as before and he no longer felt that he could do things like ring her up in the middle of the night to discuss some problem. He supposed that it was inevitable that the relationship should change and he felt sad in a way, but on the other hand his feelings for Shona were undiminished. The highlight of each and every day was the phone call to Shona in the evening. For the first time in his life he wanted to tell someone everything. Matters that previously would have seemed too trivial to rate a mention had to be imparted to Shona in detail. He knew this made him vulnerable but it was a new and not unpleasant experience. He had been keeping people at arm’s length all his life.

‘Still no word from the north?’ asked Shona.

‘No,’ said Bannerman. That’s ten days now.’

‘Do you still think there will be other cases?’

‘Yes. I’m convinced Bell contracted the same disease as Buchan and the other two men. That means the outbreak did not end with the burial of the infected sheep on Inverladdie. If we can show there was some connection, then there is still a chance that the outbreak may be contained locally. If not, then there must be another source of the disease that we haven’t even thought of. There’s just so much about this whole affair that we don’t understand.’

Ts there nothing you can do in the meantime?’ asked Shona.

Bannerman said not. ‘It’s just a matter of waiting and hoping I’m wrong.’

‘I’ll hope with you,’ said Shona.

‘I think we all better do that,’ said Bannerman,

‘If there is another case, will you be involved in the investigation or will it be taken out of your hands?’ asked Shona.

Bannerman hadn’t considered the possibility of not being involved. He said, ‘I’m going to see it through whatever they say.’

‘I understand,’ said Shona.

‘Whatever happens, I’ll come up for a long weekend at the end of the month, if that’s all right with you? We’ve lots to talk about.’

‘Of course,’ said Shona gently. ‘I’ll count the days.’

‘I’m sorry it can’t be sooner,’ said Bannerman.

‘Come when you can,’ said Shona.

After almost three weeks with no word from the MRC, Bannerman began to think that his worst fears might not after all be realized. One more week and the government would get the statement it wanted from the Council and that would be the end of the matter. The government would be happy, the farmers would be happy. Everyone would be happy … except Ian Bannerman. For him the fact would remain that seven people had died and a terrifying new disease had been created, even if it had disappeared for the moment. The outbreak would be conveniently forgotten by those in charge, those he saw as ostriches, happy ostriches with their heads safely back in the sand.

Newsnight had just finished on television and Bannerman was about to go to bed when the telephone rang. It was Angus MacLeod in Achnagelloch. Bannerman knew immediately why he must be calling and lost all trace of drowsiness.

‘There’s been another case?’ he asked without preamble.

‘Yes,’ replied MacLeod.

Bannerman closed his eyes and swallowed. ‘Tell me.’

‘I was called out earlier this evening to see a young labourer. His wife called me because she thought he was behaving oddly. I recognized in him the same symptoms displayed by Gordon Buchan.’

‘But he’s alive?’

‘Yes,’ agreed MacLeod. ‘But for how much longer I don’t know. I’ve sedated him and had him moved to the cottage hospital at Stobmor. What do you think about a transfer?’

‘Where were you thinking of?’ asked Bannerman.

‘In view of what we both suspect, I thought we might try getting him admitted to the Department of Surgical Neurology at the Western General in Edinburgh but in another way I’m loath to do it.’

‘What’s the problem?’ asked Bannerman.

‘I think if we’re honest we have to recognize that there’s no chance of saving his life. We’d be moving him to