Resurrection

a trained doctor and there would be plenty for him to do even if it was only, as Wright had pointed out, administering basic patient care. But this really wasn’t why he was here. It was still his job to find out how and why this nightmare had come about. He hadn’t been giving that much of his attention.

He acknowledged a tendency in himself to dismiss the question now as being academic. Someone had reconstructed live smallpox in the institute and it had escaped. It was too late to do anything about it. Filling in details about how and why this had happened must be secondary to preventing the spread of the disease at all costs. But, he reminded himself uncomfortably, he had proved none of it. He was still proceeding on an assumption.

There was still no proof that the virus had come from the institute. It just seemed so overwhelmingly likely, so much so that he didn’t have any alternative ideas. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that Michael Kelly could have contracted the disease from a source other than the Institute of Molecular Sciences. Officially,

there simply weren’t any other sources. In addition to that, the events in Steven Malloy’s lab conspired to make this the favoured explanation. This was even further fuelled by Wright’s explanation for the rapid progress of the disease in Kelly. He had come into contact with a massive infecting dose of virus, the amount you’d be exposed to if you contaminated yourself with a pure culture of the virus, the sort of thing you could only find in a laboratory.

If only he’d had the chance to question Kelly at the outset but Kelly, the potential star witness in all of this, was too far gone when he’d arrived in the city and now he was dead. Hannan, his partner in crime, was going downhill too. If he died before coming up with something useful, that would just leave the two women, Denise Banyon and Sharon Hannan to throw light on the real chain of events.

Sharon had been co-operative. She’d told him all she knew but it simply hadn’t been enough. There was a slight chance that she might still remember something but that seemed doubtful. That just left Denise Banyon who didn’t trust him an inch. If he couldn’t get anything more from Sharon Hannan, he would be faced with having to gain her confidence somehow. Maybe if she and Sharon were allowed to associate now it might help matters now. Perhaps even if he talked to them together, Sharon’s presence might mellow Denise?

His walk was over; he started back. He would call Steven Malloy, find out of he’d had any thoughts. If not, he would go straight over to the Western and talk to Tommy Hannan, then he’d tackle the two women.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Malloy. ‘I really have been doing my best to find some institute connection and I agree, on the face of it there must be one, but it must be so tortuous that I’m not going to find it. I’ve drawn a complete blank. There’s just no evidence that Kelly was ever at the institute in any capacity, legal or otherwise. There’s also still no evidence that live smallpox was ever created here either.’

Dewar sighed but was not really surprised. He said he’d be in touch. The words, “no evidence” as applied to Kelly, stayed with him as he drove over to the hospital, this time in a pool car supplied by the Scottish Office. When considered dispassionately, that could mean one of two things. Either there was evidence but Malloy hadn’t found it yet or there never could be any evidence because Kelly really never had been there

If the latter were true but the institute was still the source of the virus, then he must have come into contact with a pure culture of the virus somewhere outside the institute. That was the simple conclusion. He was back to wondering about Kelly possibly having known Ali Hammadi or Pierre Le Grice. He’d been down that road before but maybe Kelly had been employed as some kind of go-between somewhere along the line? But then, who would use a drug addict with all that that implied in terms of unpredictability and unreliability, on any kind of an errand involving a deadly virus. He was back to square one.

George Finlay wasn’t in the Wellcome Unit; he was up in the ward they were using. Dewar spoke to the woman doctor left in charge; he’d seen her on his last visit but hadn’t spoken to her.

‘Anne McGowan,’ she smiled as she shook his hand.

‘How are things?’

‘It’s going to get worse before it gets better. ‘We’re full; the ward upstairs has been filling up and there are still more coming in. Dr Finlay is supervising the commissioning of the second ward. Anyway, what can I do for you?’

‘I need to speak to Tommy Hannan.’

‘I don’t think you’ll get much sense. He’s been deteriorating rapidly since he came in.’

Dewar grimaced and said, ‘I should have interviewed him when he was first admitted but he seemed at an early stage of the disease and I thought it would be more productive if I let him settle in first, get over the disorientation of being admitted, that sort of thing.’

‘I could say, I’d never seen anything like it, but that wouldn’t mean much. None of us have seen smallpox before. What I really mean is that it wasn’t like the text books say it should be. The disease in Tommy Hannan’s case developed much faster than it should.’

‘As fast as Kelly?’ asked Dewar, suddenly excited and seeing a very good question to ask.

Anne McGowan thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I think so,’ she said. ‘The other cases have been more text book in terms of development time. Only Hannan and Kelly had the rapid form.’

This was progress, thought Dewar. If the ‘rapid form’, as the doctor called it, was really down to a much higher infecting dose, as Wright had proposed, then Hannan had not caught the disease from Kelly. He too must have been in contact with a pure culture. That was worth knowing. It meant that Hannan, in theory, might be able to tell him everything that Kelly might have.

‘What about Hannan’s wife, Sharon?’ he asked. ‘Is she still okay?’

‘She’s been complaining of feeling unwell. She’s developed flu-like symptoms. I think she may be coming down with it.’

‘Damn,’ said Dewar quietly. ‘And Denise Banyon?’

‘Still well and still as obnoxious as ever.’

Dewar smiled but he recognised it would no longer be possible to put Sharon and Denise together if Sharon were coming down with the disease. He’d have to see them individually if he couldn’t get any sense from Hannan.

‘I think I’d like to see Tommy Hannan anyway,’ he said.

‘If you get suited up, you’ll find him in number 6. I’ll tell the nurses to expect you.’

Dewar put on his protective clothing, checking all the points listed on the wall of the changing room before venturing into the airlock leading through to the corridor leading to the isolation suites. It was quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of the electric air filters. He knocked and entered suite 6.

He was shocked at the appearance of Hannan. The slight papular rash he’d had on his face when he’d first seen him had progressed incredibly quickly into full pustular smallpox. His breathing sounded rasping and laboured; the mucosa of his throat was obviously affected. The sound made Dewar ponder on just how much faith he and the people working here and up in the ward were putting in the vaccine that protected them. The breath that Hannan was expelling with so much difficulty would be loaded with tiny moisture droplets containing thousands of live virus particles.

‘Tommy, can you hear me?’ he asked.

Hannan stopped staring at the ceiling and turned his head slightly, as if it were painful to do so. ‘Who? …’ he croaked.

‘Adam Dewar. I brought you in. Remember? With Sharon in the ambulance?’

Hannan closed his eyes and gave a slight nod and a croak.

‘Tommy, I need to know how you got this disease. Will you help me? I have to ask you some questions.’

No response.

‘It’s important, Tommy.’

‘Bastard,’ croaked Hannan.

Dewar wondered about the abuse then realised it wasn’t directed at him. ‘Who, Tommy? Who’s a bastard?’

‘Mike … took …stuff from this guy … Bastard!’

Dewar hadn’t realised that Hannan still though his condition was down to bad drugs. The hospital obviously hadn’t sought to disillusion him as yet.

‘Tommy, your illness is a disease. It’s got nothing to do with drugs. Do you understand?’

‘Bastard … when I get … out of here … I’m gonna cut. that bas …

A rasping sigh came from Hannan’s throat and his head rolled on the pillow. For a moment Dewar thought he