‘How can I help exactly?’ she asked in a hoarse voice that suggested she smoked a lot.
‘Does the name Ann Danby mean anything to you?’ said Steven.
‘We’ve been talking about nothing else all day!’ exclaimed the woman. ‘There was a story in the papers this morning saying that she was the cause of the outbreak at the hospital. She was in here having her hair done only a couple of weeks ago. I just hope to God we’re going to be all right. They’re saying it’s that African thing. My God, I was the one who did her hair.’
‘I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,’ said Steven. ‘Can you remember anything at all about her visit?’
‘What sort of thing do you mean?’
Steven went for broke. ‘She didn’t happen to say why she was having her hair done, did she?’
The woman thought for a moment before replying. ‘She didn’t say much at all as I remember. Very reserved, she was, or anally retentive, depending on how you look at it. I found it difficult to get a word out of her, but I think she did say in the end that she was going out for dinner. Yes, because I automatically asked her if it was somewhere special and she said, yes… the… Magnolia, that was it, the Magnolia.’
Steven said, ‘I’m a stranger in town.’
‘It’s a posh place up near the Bridgewater Concert Hall — costs the earth but the food’s good. I just wish someone would take me there.’
Steven saw the none-too-subtle invitation in her eyes. ‘I’m sure they will,’ he said diplomatically. He thanked her for her help, and left. He found the concert hall easily enough, but had to spend some time searching for a parking place.
When he eventually got to the Magnolia it had not yet opened its doors to the public; it had just turned six thirty. The lights inside said that there were people about, so Steven knocked on the door. He had to repeat the exercise twice before the slats of the blinds on the door were parted and a hand pointed to the card listing opening times. Steven showed his ID and pointed to the door lock with an opening gesture.
‘This really is most inconvenient,’ said the man who opened up. ‘We’ve got a full house tonight and we’re very busy. Can’t whatever it is wait?’ He was a stout man with an olive complexion that suggested Mediterranean origins, although he spoke English well enough.
‘Sorry, no. It shouldn’t take long,’ said Steven and stepped inside. The door was locked again behind him and the slats closed. ‘I just need to ask you a few questions. You are?’
‘Anthony Pelota. I’m the owner. Make it quick please.’
‘Did you know a woman called Ann Danby?’
‘Never heard of her.’
‘She had dinner here on the evening of November the eighteenth.’
‘Lots of people have dinner here, but I don’t know them personally,’ snapped Pelota.
Steven described Ann, and Pelota gave a patronising little smile. ‘That would apply to eighty per cent of the women who walk through my door,’ he said.
Steven had to concede that the gravitational pull of a place like the Magnolia on executive women in their thirties and their partners would be considerable. ‘Can I see your bookings for November the eighteenth?’ he asked.
Pelota shook his head. ‘No, you can’t,’ he said. ‘That’s confidential.’
Steven felt irked. ‘Am I missing something? Are you a doctor or a priest?’ he asked.
Pelota’s smile faded. ‘No,’ he said, ‘but we are known for our discretion here at the Magnolia. Our clientele expects no less.’
‘I’m very discreet,’ said Steven, ‘and I have no interest at all in who’s screwing who in Manchester but I would like to see the reservations for November the eighteenth, please.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘You’ll be obstructing me in the course of my duty.’
‘Then what?’
‘Proceedings may be taken against you.’
‘It strikes me that that kind of publicity might do me no harm at all.’ Pelota smiled.
‘Your choice,’ said Steven, keeping a poker face.
Pelota blinked first. He shrugged and fetched the reservation book from the corner of the cocktail bar and flicked through the pages. Steven watched his expression change as he found the page for the 18th. Something akin to alarm flickered across his face and he frowned as if he had just realised something worrying or unpleasant. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t help you.’
Steven sensed that further pressure was not going to work — Pelota had obviously made his mind up — so he simply said, ‘Then you must take the consequences, Mr Pelota.’ He turned to leave but as he got to the door he turned in response to a tearing sound and was in time to see Pelota remove the page from the book.
‘Taking discretion a little far, aren’t you, Mr Pelota?’ he said calmly. ‘Just makes me wonder all the more what you have to hide.’
Steven walked back to his car, concluding that, in spite of what Pelota had done, the visit had not been an entire waste of time. He had learned something valuable. Not only was Victor married, but he was also someone with a bit of influence in this city; he was someone important.
On the way back to the hotel he considered what further action, if any, to take against Pelota, now that the man had destroyed what he wanted to see. He could, of course, have him charged with obstruction, but what good would that do, apart from satisfy the desire for revenge? There was no place for pointless payback gestures in his line of work. That was for schoolboys and amateurs. Professionals substituted logic and reasoning for spite and petulance. If the page had been destroyed, Pelota would have to tell him the names that had been on it. It was as simple as that and, with his objective so clearly defined, all that remained was to think how best to go about persuading the man to do just that. It would require a little thought.
Steven was woken by a telephone call at three in the morning. It was Caroline Anderson. ‘The girl we spoke about earlier has been brought in to City General,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid it’s the real thing.’
‘Damnation,’ said Steven.
‘It gets worse. Her brother, the ambulanceman, died at one thirty this morning, and four other contacts have called in to report that they’re feeling unwell.’
‘Just when you take down your umbrella…’ said Steven.
‘It starts to pour,’ agreed Caroline. ‘Anyway, the meeting has been brought forward to 9 a.m. Everyone is requested to attend.’
‘Thanks for telling me,’ said Steven.
At 5 a.m. his mobile bleeped twice to herald an incoming text message. It came from Sci-Med and said, ‘Read your e-mail, encryption code 5.’ He connected his laptop to the phone line and downloaded the message. He rubbed his eyes while the unscrambling program made sense of it. It was short and to the point. ‘New case of haemorrhagic fever confirmed in Perth, Scotland. No established connection with Heathrow or Manchester outbreaks. Details to follow.’
Steven stared at the screen, as he read and reread the words ‘No established connection’.
‘Another bloody wildcard,’ he whispered. An epidemic without a source was every epidemiologist’s worst nightmare. He tried reassuring himself that things always looked worse in the wee small hours of the morning, but a filovirus outbreak with no traceable source could wipe out thousands.
The details of the Scottish case arrived before Steven left for the hospital. The victim, Frank McDougal, a forty-year-old assistant bank manager, was already dead. He had died in Perth Royal Infirmary after being taken there in response to a 999 call from his wife. His wife, his eighteen-year-old daughter, a nurse in A amp;E and a hospital porter had all since gone down with the disease and were in isolation at the same hospital. Public Health were doing their best to locate and isolate contacts.
McDougal had not been abroad since his last holiday in Cyprus last July. He had no connection with anyone on the Ndanga flight, or indeed with anyone in Manchester. His condition had been diagnosed three days after admission to the hospital with suspected viral pneumonia.
‘Shit,’ murmured Steven. Apart from anything else, he was alarmed that it had taken three days before the Scottish doctors realised what was wrong with McDougal. Something would have to be done about this situation. An alert would have to be sent out to all A amp;E departments. Hospital staff had to be warned to be on the
