Harris told them of his experiences with the rats; about Keogh, one of their first victims, and how they had chased the boy along the canal, scaling a six-foot wall but letting him escape; the episode with Ferris, the little man from Ratkill, and of their first sighting of the vermin, swimming in a kind of formation; how one had stopped on the opposite bank of the canal to study him, suddenly disappearing through the fence.
‘Did you frighten it, is that what made it go?’ he was asked.
‘No, No. It wasn’t fear. It seemed to raise its head, as though it had suddenly heard something, almost as if it had been called. But I heard nothing.’
One of the researchers spoke up. ‘They do have an acute sense of hearing, as do many animals or mammals. Rats can locate their offspring in a field of corn by its high-pitched whistle. Nothing unusual. In fact, my company is working on a method of rooting out rats from buildings by the use of ultrasonic sound beams. It’s in its early stages as yet, but it certainly seems to work.’
’Well, maybe that was it. But it is unusual the way they study you. It’s happened more than once, almost as if they’re reading your mind. It’s uncanny.’ He went on to tell them of the battle in the school, relating every detail he could remember. When he’d concluded there was silence around the table.
‘Sorry, it’s not much help to you,’ he said, feeling he’d left something out, his mind groping unclearly towards it.
‘On the contrary, Mr Harris,’ smiled Foskins, ‘it’s been quite useful. Now if you leave us to digest the information you’ve given us... ‘
The young researcher whom Foskins had caused to blush earlier sprang to his feet excitedly. ‘Infect them,’ he cried.
All eyes turned towards him.
‘Look, we can’t poison them because they only want human or animal flesh. But we could infect them.’
‘How exactly?’ asked the sceptical Foskins.
‘We inject a group of animals - dogs, cats - what about Brown rats? - with a virus, something highly infectious, deadly to rats - our bio-chemists could easily come up with one - set them loose at certain points that Mr Harris could show us - that section of the canal, for instance - the infected animals are attacked by the Black rats, they themselves are infected, they spread it amongst their own kind.
They destroy themselves!’
There was silence for a few moments.
‘It could infect people. It could cause an epidemic,’ someone ventured,
‘Not if we used the right virus.’
‘It could kill all the animals in and aroundLondon.’
‘It’s worth the risk, isn’t it?’
More silence.
Then Foskins said: ‘You know, it might just work.’
The young researcher beamed a smile of gratitude.
‘Yes, it might,’ one of the scientists leaned forward enthusiastically. ‘They’re too bloody clever to be baited with poison - or they’re immune to it. But if we could infect them... ‘
‘Not with rats though,’ said another, the idea, perhaps out of desperation, beginning to catch fire. ‘Too much of a risk with other rats. Too unpredictable.’
‘All right, dogs then. Pups, to make it easier for the rats.’
Harris’s mind rebelled at the idea of feeding young pups to vermin.
‘Why not just infect raw meat?’ he suggested.
‘No, the virus would have to exist on living flesh.’
‘But how do we know what virus? We haven’t got a live giant rat in captivity. How do we know which virus would kill it?’ asked Foskins.
‘I have a pretty good idea already,’ said a bio-chemist.
‘We can test it on the normal Black rat - and hope it will work on its larger brother.’
The debate continued, arguments flared, solutions found.
Harris felt quite flattered to be involved in the centre of the operation, but his mind still nagged him about something forgotten.
‘Very well,’ Foskins finally drew the discussion to its noisy conclusion. ‘It shouldn’t take more than a few days to find the right virus. Although it must be tested thoroughly – I needn’t stress how thoroughly - we should be ready to put the plan into action by the middle of next week. In the meantime, Mr Harris and I, together with the Borough surveyor will work to find the most suitable locations for deploying the infected dogs. Mr Harris was brought up in this area, I might add, so I presume knows most of the likely places the rats might use as lairs. You will all carry on with your usual activities of laying poisons, using gas or anything else you may think of, and we’ll assemble every morning at eight-thirty to see how things are going. Are there any questions? No? Good. Let’s get on with it then.’
He turned to Harris, and said quietly, ‘Join me for a drink, Mr Harris.’
They crossed the road from the Town Hall and entered a pub just opening its doors for the early evening rush. Their eyes adjusted to the gloom reluctantly after the bright sun-shine of late afternoon. ‘What will you have?’ Foskins asked, reaching for his wallet.’ Keg.’
‘Pint of Keg and a gin and tonic, please.’
They found a quiet comer and relaxed into imitation leather seats.
‘Cheers,’ said Foskins.
‘Good health,’ replied Harris.
They drank in silence for a few moments, ‘I’m surprised,’ said Harris.
‘At what?’
‘That you’re still running things.’
‘Ah, that: As I explained over the telephone, Mr Harris, the public wanted somebody’s head, I was in charge,I was the only choice.’ He smiled thinly, his eyes examining the rim of his glass. ‘A scapegoat always has to be found - it’s the way things are.’ He quickly shrugged off his dejected mood, and smiled at the teacher. ‘But I’m too good at the job for them to do without me andthey the indefinable they are well aware of it. You see, the only mistake I made last fume was in underestimating the foe. A bad mistake, I grant you. It certainly had serious consequences. But under the circumstances, it was a natural error, don’t you agree? I mean, it’s not the sort of thing that happens every day, is it?’
‘I suppose not.’ Harris took a long drink, feeling Foskins eyes on him.
‘You were rather harsh on me yourself, last time we met,’
Foskins said.
It suddenly dawned on Harris why he had become involved in the operation. He wasn’t really that necessary he’d hardly call his help invaluable. Foskins had been mistreated by the public. Mistreated and unappreciated. They’d yelled for his blood and his superiors had given it to them.
On the surface, anyway. And he himself had scorned him.
So Harris, in a symbolic way, represented the public. He was Foskins’ actual contact with the people who had derided him. And now he was going to prove them wrong. Through him. Showing he was still in command, and very, very able. Good luck!thought Harris.
‘Well, it seems we’ve had quite a breakthrough today.’
Foskins settled back in his seat, a broad smile on his face.
‘Don’t know why we didn’t think of it before. Like another drink?’
‘Let me,’ said Harris, draining his glass and rising to his feet. ‘Same again?’
He brought the drinks back to the table, catching the other man deep in thought. Foskins looked up at him, almost as though he were a stranger.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Well, I think we’ve cracked it now, don’t you? Yes, things will soon be back to normal. You’ll be back at your school, I’ll be re-instated - not publicly, of course, or perhaps moved to another department. Not dishonourably though.’ He sipped his gin. ‘Tell me, what makes you teach in theEast End? There are more pleasant places aren’t there?’
‘Home ground.’
‘Oh, so you live here still?’
