The technician nodded. 'For a short time, yes.'
'And the ultrasonic machine that attracts them?'
'Same thing. It worked in London that time because it hadn't been used before the rats had no chance to grow accustomed to the sound. It was just as well they were all killed first time round.'
'A few escaped.'
'Not enough to worry about. And they were soon finished off.'
'But if they had lived and continued to breed, they might have developed some resistance to the sound waves
'It's a possibility.'
Fender shuddered inwardly. All things considered, London had had a narrow escape.
'Is Mr. Howard around here somewhere?'
'He came down with Mr. Lehmann about twenty minutes ago. They've gone out the back, over to the pens.'
Fender left the technician to his work and made for the laboratory's exit. He carefully closed the door behind him, then entered a long shed-like structure which had a 'Danger Poisons in use' sign on the door. He walked through the building, the smell of straw and rat droppings pungent in his nostrils, occasionally seeing a dark streaking body in the enclosures on either side of the gangway. Feed-hoppers containing various compounds mixed with food were placed at strategic positions inside the enclosures, each a different attractant for the rat whose sensitivity towards odd flavours or odours made pre-baiting encouraging the rodent to eat a certain food over a period of time before the lethal poison was administered a difficult operation. The attractant compound most favoured by the rodents would be a valuable aid in their destruction.
The building was empty of humans and he assumed that Howard and Mike Lehmann, the laboratory's Chief Biologist, had gone through to the outside pens. He was glad to leave the shed; it was filled with the smell of death. A gravel path led him towards a garden area, then on to a grassy field beyond. He saw the figures of the two men ahead, both peering into a wide rat pen.
They turned at his approach and Lehmann, at least, looked pleased to see him. Because of their working relationship, Howard and Fender's friendship had cooled somewhat. Pender, Howard thought, sometimes forgot he was working for the Director of Research and not alongside him.
'Hello, Luke,' he said.
'Stephen, Mike,' Fender acknowledged.
'How'd it go, Luke?' Lehmann asked, enthusiastic for discussion as ever. By rights, Mike Lehmann should have become Director of Research, for he was a good deal older than Howard and had been at Ratkill for more than fifteen years. However he seemed to show no outward resentment towards the younger man, the man he had engaged in the first place, but every so often, Fender noticed a certain disdainful tone in his voice when arguing a particular technical point with his superior.
Well, they're Warfarin-resistant all right,' Fender said, leaning against the fence surrounding the enclosure. 'No doubt about it.'
'So it's spreading?' Howard asked anxiously.
Fender looked at the Research Director and, not for the first time, was surprised at the way age seemed to be forcing its way into Howard's features. No, it was more that Howard himself was forcing age into his features, almost as if the added years would make him seem more appropriate for the position he held. The thinning hair was severely brushed back and a fine, blond moustache adorned his upper lip. Even the glasses he wore were heavy and unattractive. All you need now is a pipe, thought Fender, then directed his attention back to the question.
'Yes, it's certainly spreading. Montgomeryshire, Shropshire, Nottinghamshire, Gloucestershire and Kent used to be the only areas where rats resistant to the poison could be found apart from a couple of places in Denmark and Holland, of course.'
'And our own labs,' Howard interjected.
Yes, but they were specially bred to be resistant These creatures acquire the resistance naturally. Anyway, they're in Cheshire now and a few weeks ago I found several groups in Devon.'
'But they were not the Black rat?' Howard looked almost hopeful.
'No, just the common Brown. No monsters there, but I think we'll soon need to find some new poisons if we're going to control them.'
Fender looked down at the earth around the concrete base of the fence.
'Someone trying to get in?' he asked, pointing at the burrows that had been dug.
Yes, the wild rats from the fields,' Lehmann told him. They know there's plenty of food in there so they try to join their tame chums inside. Life as a prisoner can be a luxury. The concrete goes two feet down, though, so they can't get under.'
'I'm going to need your report as soon as possible,' said Howard. 'I've got the ministry people arriving at any moment it's a pity I haven't got your findings to show them. The problem appears to require some more government investment.' He looked slightly miffed that the rat catcher was unable to hand over his typed report there and then.
Fender smiled pleasantly. 'It took some time to gather in the facts, Stephen. I didn't think you'd want any wild assumptions.'
'No, no, of course not. I'm sorry, Luke. I didn't want to sound impatient, but it could affect the direction we take over the next few years.'
'Well, I don't think machines are going to be the answer.'
It was Lehmann who spoke and from his brusque tone, Fender guessed it was a point of conflict between the two men.
