‘Sure, he stays in the stair next to my brother. Number thirty-seven.’
‘Thanks,’ said Dewar, feeling well pleased with himself. He lingered on for a bit, talking about this and that so that Bruce wouldn’t be too conscious of the fact he’d been pumped for information. He left shortly after nine thirty.
The air was cool and damp on his face when he emerged from The Bell. but after all the tobacco inside it seemed sweeter than a mountain breeze. The street lights were reflected in puddles on the ground. He hadn’t realised it had been raining while he was inside. Now he had to find out what ‘round the corner’ meant in real geographical terms.
He walked along Salamander Street looking at the street names off to his left but stopped after four hundred yards, feeling he was out of ‘round the corner’ range. He retraced his steps and started out in the other direction. Jutland Street was the first opening he came to.
There were no names or entryphone tags outside the common entrance to number 37 but on the other hand, there was no lock on the front door either. It was propped open with a wooden wedge. Dewar entered and found that there was no lighting. He figured this was why the door had been jammed open — to let some light from the lamppost outside filter into the passageway. There was enough light to see that neither of the names on the two ground floor doors was the one he was looking for so he climbed the stairs to the first landing. ‘Hannan’ was on the second door. It was written in biro pen on a piece of white card and sellotaped to the wood. Dewar pushed the buzzer.
‘Who is it?’ asked a female voice from inside.
‘My name’s Dr Dewar. I’m from the hospital. It’s about Michael Kelly,’ he lied although it was only a white lie.
The rattle of a chain guard gave way to a creak as the door opened against hinges that needed some attention. ‘Mike? What about him. What’s the problem?’ asked a short woman with spiky hair, wearing jeans and a tight white top.
‘Can I speak to Tommy?’ said Dewar.
‘He’s ill. Tell me instead.’
‘Ill? What’s wrong with him?’
‘None o’ your bloody business. Now, what the hell do you want?’ retorted the woman angrily.
‘If Tommy has the same problem as Mike, he’s in serious trouble. He could die. Is he here?’
‘Who wants to know? Here, are you polis?’
‘No, I’m a doctor. All I’m interested in is saving his life,’ insisted Dewar.
‘It’s just a bad trip, that’s all,’ said the woman. ‘He’ll get over it. It’s no’ the first.’
‘Can I see him?’
The woman considered for a moment then stood back slightly to allow Dewar inside. The flat smelt of onions.
‘He’s in here.’
Dewar entered a small bedroom where the bed, an old fashioned double bed with polished wood headboard and bottom panel, took up 90 percent of the floor space. The woman clicked on the light. It got a groan of protest from the man lying there. His well-muscled upper body was naked, white and had a film of sweat on it even though the room was cold. He put up his hand to shield his eyes from the light but Dewar could see enough of the eruption on his face to recognise the rash.
‘He’s very ill,’ he said. ‘He’s got to go to hospital right now. You may be in danger too.’
‘Danger?’ exclaimed the woman. ‘I don’t even take the bloody stuff. As for this silly bugger, he promised me he was coming off too and then what does he go and do to himself? Stupid bastard!’
Dewar called the hospital; on his mobile phone and arranged for one of the special ambulances assigned to the Wellcome Trust Suite to come for Hannan.
‘Is he going to die?’ asked the woman, suddenly regretting her outburst of temper.
‘Are you his wife?’ Dewar asked.
‘Aye, God help me. Three years.’
‘Mrs Hannan …’
‘Don’t remind me. My name’s Sharon.’
‘Sharon, this isn’t a drug reaction. Tommy’s very ill. You might be affected too. The people at the Western will do their best for him but we need your co-operation Will you come with us?’
The woman fetched a jacket and put it on without saying anything.
‘Maybe you could pack a few things for yourself? Night-dress, toothbrush, that sort of thing.’
Sharon looked at Dewar directly and suddenly he saw the fear and vulnerability in her eyes. All earlier feistiness and bravado had gone.
‘Right.’
As they waited for the ambulance to come, Dewar noticed that Sharon’s hands were shaking. ‘It shouldn’t be much longer. Are you okay?’ he asked kindly.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she put both hands between clenched knees and hung her head. ‘God, I’m scared,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do if Tommy dies.’
Dewar put his hand on her shoulder as somewhere outside, the wail of a siren started to get louder.
‘Well done,’ said George Finlay to Dewar as they met up in Finlay’s office after admitting Tommy Hannan and seeing Sharon settled for the night.
‘A bit of luck,’ said Dewar. ‘And a few whiskies. Apparently Kelly and Hannan were great friends.’
‘Why did you want to keep Sharon and Denise apart?’ asked Finlay. Dewar had made this request when he arrived in the ambulance with Tommy and Sharon.
‘I think Sharon trusts me. I hope she might tell us more about the movements of Kelly and her husband. She might not if Denise Banyon gets to work on her.’
‘Good point,’ said Finlay.
‘You know, it’s interesting, said Dewar thoughtfully. ‘Sharon Hannan though her husband’s condition was some kind of drug reaction too.’
‘Bizarre,’ said Finlay.
‘But interesting.’
SEVENTEEN
DAY THREE
Dewar was wakened at four in the morning. It took him a few moments to register the phone ringing and adjust to his surroundings. He’d forgotten where he was. Finlay’s voice brought him quickly back to reality.
‘Bad news. It looks like the lull is over. We’ve had seven admissions to the unit during the night. I’m pretty certain they’ve all got it.’
‘Shit,’ murmured Dewar. ‘All from Muirhouse?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s something I suppose.’
‘Not unless we get the vaccine very soon. Mary says there’s still no sign of it. She thinks she’s being fobbed off every time she inquires. What are these people playing at?’
‘I’ll try again to find out,’ Dewar assured him.
Dewar went next door to wake Hector Wright and tell him the news. Wright sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He cursed, ‘God damn it, I was hoping we might have got through one more day before this
