assurance that you’ll be allowed to sit with her as soon as possible. Please, just bear with me a little longer.’
The couple seemed satisfied if more than a little taken aback at what Dewar had told them. They sat down and Dewar left them alone with the nurse again.
‘Okay?’ asked Sellars.
‘For the moment,’ replied Dewar. ‘Can I see her now?’
Sellars led the way.
‘Sandra! Can you hear me?’ asked Sellars loudly.
Sandra moved her head on the pillow as if annoyed at the insistence in Sellars’ voice. ‘Go away,’ she murmured.
‘Come on now Sandra. Open your eyes.’
Sandra’s eyes opened like those of a toy doll that had been moved into an upright position. ‘How many fingers Sandra?’ asked Sellars, holding up three fingers.
‘Three, ‘ replied Sandra.
‘How many now?’ Sellars held up four.
Sandra moved her head from side to side again in a gesture of annoyance. ‘Four,’ she mumbled.
‘Good. Who’s the prime minister?’
‘Leave me alone.’
‘Come on now, Sandra. Tell me who the prime minister is.’
‘Blair,’ mumbled Sandra.
‘Who? Louder.’
‘Blair. Tony bloody Blair.’
‘All yours,’ said Sellars to Dewar.
FOURTEEN
Sellars left Dewar alone with Sandra and the machines that monitored her every breath, their gentle bleeps and clicks creating a soothing background, the coloured LEDs complementing the subdued night-lighting in the room. He moved a chair up to side of the bed and sat down facing Sandra with his elbows resting on the edge.
‘Sandra, do you remember me?’ he asked. Unlike Sellars he didn’t raise his voice; his face was very close to hers.
Sandra’s eyes flicked open then closed again. A good ten seconds passed before she replied, ‘Dewar.’
Dewar felt elated. There was nothing wrong with Sandra’s long-term memory. There was of course, still the possibility that accident trauma had wiped out memory of the incident with the car and possibly for some time before it. This was very common.
‘Sandra, do you remember what happened to you?’
Again Sandra’s eyes flickered open momentarily then closed again as if she’d found her eyelids too heavy. ‘Hospital,’ she said slowly.
‘Do you know why you’re in hospital?’
Sandra made a sound as if she were about to answer then she stopped and exhaled. She did the same twice more then uttered, ‘No.’
So there was memory loss. This was bad news. If she couldn’t remember anything about the accident right now, there was no guarantee she ever would. It was impossible to predict what might happen in cases like this. She might remember everything within a couple of days or nothing at all for the rest of her life. The big question now was, how much of what had gone on before the accident could she remember?
‘You had an accident on your bicycle, Sandra.’
‘Bike,’ repeated Sandra. The word did not seem to trigger any special memory for her.
‘You don’t remember?’
‘Bike. No.’
‘Do you remember Pierre, Sandra? Pierre in the lab.’
‘Pierre, know Pierre … French.’
‘That’s right. He’s French. Tell me what else you remember about him.’
‘In the lab. He was in the lab.’ Sandra moved her head uncomfortably. Dewar felt encouraged. He’d pushed the right button.
‘When was he in the lab, Sandra? The last time you were there?’
‘Last time … yes.’
‘I think you came across him doing something wrong in the lab, Sandra. Is that right? What was he doing?’
‘The sequence,’ replied Sandra as if she was recalling something unpleasant. She frowned and tried opening her eyes again. This time she managed a few seconds before closing them again.
‘What sequence?’
‘DNA … Smallpox DNA. Not ours.’
Dewar felt his throat tighten a little with excitement. ‘Not yours?’ he said gently. He desperately didn’t want to upset Sandra’s train of thought.
‘Not our fragments.’
‘How did you know that, Sandra?’ he asked. ‘How did you find that out?’
‘Computer … Pierre left sequence in computer. I ran … database check. Not our smallpox.’
‘Let me see. You found a DNA sequence in the computer. It had been entered by Pierre and it was the sequence of a smallpox fragment that your lab was not supposed to have. Have I got that right?’
Sandra nodded her head on the pillow. She seemed pleased and relieved to have got it across successfully.
Dewar had understood what she’d said but he didn’t quite understand the implications. He frowned and said, ‘But the sequence of the smallpox virus is available to all scientists. Anyone can access it in the DNA database. ‘What was odd about finding a bit of it on the computer?’
This time Sandra shook her head as if to signify a misunderstanding. ‘Pierre’s sequence,’ she said. ‘Not from database.’
Suddenly Dewar realised what she meant. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t a sequence he’d taken
A relieved nod from Sandra.
‘So Pierre was working in the lab with smallpox fragments that he shouldn’t have had access to?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you confronted him about it?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Angry … told me … keep mouth shut.’
‘He wanted you to keep quiet about what he was doing?’
A nod.
Dewar could sense from Sandra’s restlessness that unpleasant memories were starting to flow back at an unwelcome rate. The bleep rate on the heart monitor had started to increase but he had to keep questioning her before she tried to shut them out.
‘What was he doing with the fragments, Sandra? Where did he get them from?’
‘Ali’s.’
