Finlay looked as if he might pursue the matter but then decided against it. He said, ‘Perhaps before we go any further this would be a good time to define our roles and objectives as team members?’ he said.
‘
Good idea,’ said Tulloch.
‘
Dr Martin and her Public Health team are in charge of finding and isolating contacts of Kelly and Banyon. Superintendent Tulloch’s men are currently being deployed to see that she can carry out this task without hindrance. A secondary team comprising health workers from surrounding areas and again supervised by Dr Martin and aided by police where necessary, will carry out a comprehensive vaccination programme in an attempt to contain the disease. The isolation and medical treatment of victims of the disease will be my responsibility and that of my people at the Western’s high-risk containment unit. Dr Dewar and his colleagues will try to find out just how this situation arose, that is to say, they’ll be tracing the source of the outbreak and eliminating it. Mr Rankin and his colleagues will oil the wheels and act as a buffer between ourselves and outside interests.
I think it’s important that we don’t step on each others’ toes; we should communicate with each other as much as possible. I say this because I suspect there are certain factors connected with this outbreak that I know nothing about and no one has seen fit to tell me as yet. I can only guess that the reappearance of a virus I and my colleagues believed to be extinct may have something to do with some scientific accident or other although I was given to believe that no live smallpox existed outside certain secure establishments, none of which were in this country.’
There was a short silence in the room before Dewar, understanding Finlay’s resentment, said, ‘The escape of an unlicensed source of virus is a possibility, Doctor, but we don’t know yet if that’s the case. I assure you, I’m holding nothing back. That’s as much as we know at the moment.’
‘
Very well,’ said Finlay. ‘We’ll leave it at that for now. Are there any questions so far?’
Dewar said, ‘As it sounds like interviewing Kelly is not going to be possible, I’d like to talk to Denise Banyon on the grounds that I’ve got to start looking for the source somewhere.’
‘
We’ve already talked to her at length,’ said Mary Martin. ‘Frankly, she was uncooperative. No help at all.’
‘
Uncooperative?’
‘
She has an inherent dislike of authority and doesn’t hesitate to show it but she genuinely didn’t seem to know anything about Kelly’s movements. The life they lead is like that. He’d apparently be out with his friends all day, leaving her behind. She’d no idea what they were up to and didn’t really care as long as he had enough money for her drugs at the end of it.’
‘
Did she come up with the names of any of these friends he spent his days with?’
A few but they’re vague, Eddie, Jimmy, that sort of thing.’
‘
Addresses?’
‘
I think the term “no fixed abode” was the bottom line for many. Pubs and snooker clubs are a better bet.’
‘
How are you managing to keep her in isolation, by the way?’ Dewar asked Finlay. ‘She’s a drug addict herself, isn’t she?.’
Finlay nodded. ‘She’s on Methadone; a prescribed substitute for heroin. I think with Kelly out of the running she saw a regular supply of this and free board and lodgings as her best option for the moment.’
‘
I think I’d still like to speak to her,’ said Dewar.
‘
All right with me,’ said Mary Martin. ‘I wish you luck.’
‘
You can come back with me to the hospital if you like,’ said Finlay. ‘Any more questions?’
Hector Wright asked, ‘How many people can your high-risk unit cope with?’
‘
Eight, maybe ten at a push.’
‘
Then what?’
‘
We’re rather hoping it doesn’t come to that,’ said Finlay. Mary Martin nodded her agreement.
‘
I think you should give it some thought,’ said Wright.’
His comment made people feel uncomfortable. Finlay had been promoting a positive outlook. Wright had introduced a negative note.
‘
The irony is they’ve just closed our infectious disease hospital here in Edinburgh,’ said Finlay. ‘The powers that be decided we didn’t need it any more. Suddenly we’re a bit pushed for that kind of accommodation. If necessary we could open up a couple of wards that have been shut down to save money in the Western but they wouldn’t exactly be tailor-made for the job.’
Totally unsuitable, I would have thought,’ said Wright, speaking his mind but making no friends in the process. ‘If you’re talking about old style Nightingale wards. Barns with beds in them.’
‘
No one envisaged smallpox returning,’ was Finlay’s barbed reply.
‘
How about nursing staff trained in barrier nursing and ID techniques?’
‘
We have a few. Mainly those who moved down to the Western when the City Hospital closed. But they stopped the fever training register many years ago.’
‘
Medical staff experienced in infectious diseases?’ asked Wright.
‘
The City always dealt with that sort of thing. Two of their consultants took early retirement when it closed down. A third went abroad. My people here have had training, of course.’
Wright didn’t say anything but his silence irked Finlay. ‘Good God man, how many doctors these days have ever come across smallpox?’ he snapped. ‘We’ll all just have to do our best and get on with it.’
Wright nodded, as if taking the point. He said, ‘I’m just trying to make sure that no one’s underestimating what we’re up against. I think we should be looking ahead and planning accordingly. If we wait for things to happen first it’ll be too late.’
‘
Too late?’
‘
Deaths in the city could run into five figures.’
It was suddenly clear that people at the table thought Wright had flipped. Whereas before they had been listening in silence with serious expressions, they now broke into smiles and shakes of the head.
‘
Come, come Doctor, don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic,’ said Finlay. ‘I appreciate you’re an expert on the disease but we’ve had a few smallpox outbreaks in the past in this country in the last sixty years and they’ve passed without anything like the numbers you’re suggesting.’
‘
That’s because the vast majority of the population at the time had been vaccinated against the disease almost as soon as they were born. Things are different now. Mass vaccination stopped in the seventies, well over a quarter of a century ago. The people of this city are as vulnerable to smallpox as any community in the middle ages.’
The laughter stopped.
‘
How is your vaccination programme coming along, Doctor Martin?’ Finlay asked.
‘
We’ve not been able to start it,’ replied Mary Martin. ‘We haven’t received any
vaccine yet.’
SIXTEEN
‘
Any idea what the hold-up with the vaccine is?’ asked Finlay as he drove back to the hospital, taking Dewar with him.
‘
It has to come from the WHO stores in Geneva,’ replied Dewar. ‘But all the same, I thought it would have been sent by now as a priority. I take it you had enough for key workers?’
‘
They’ve all been done,’ Finlay confirmed. ‘But the sooner we get public vaccination under way the better.’
‘
Amen to that,’ said Dewar.
The drive from the Scottish Office in Leith to the Western General in Finlay’s Range Rover took less than ten minutes. Finlay parked his car in a spot that Dewar noticed had his name on it, one of the perks of being a consultant in a profession that regarded feudalism as a virtue, he thought.
The high-risk containment unit was not advertised as such on any of the direction boards they passed on foot but through a process of elimination Dewar worked out that they were making for something called, the ‘Wellcome Trust Suite’.
‘
Age of the sponsor,’ said Finlay. ‘The Wellcome Trust put up the money.’
The Wellcome Trust Suite turned out to be a long, low, modern building, standing on its own near the western perimeter of the hospital. At first glance, Dewar thought it could have been anything from a physiotherapy unit to an admin block but as they got closer he saw that it was fitted with windows that did not open and a door with an electronic lock and entryphone system. There was also an absence of pipework on the outside of the building and a further visual inspection of the roof showed that the ventilators were rather more complicated than an office block might require. Dewar knew that they would contain a comprehensive filter system to ensure that nothing from inside the building escaped to the outside. All air inside would be sterilised and filtered before venting.
Finlay opened the door with an electronic card and said, ‘The changing area is along here.’ He led the way to a room where Dewar was handed a white coverall suit. Both men changed in silence.
‘
Perhaps you’d like to take a look at Kelly before you meet Miss Banyon?’ Finlay asked.
‘
Might as well,’ replied Dewar after a moment’s thought. ’If only to see what we’re dealing with.’
He did up the top flap of his suit and followed Finlay along the corridor and through a negative pressure air lock. Finlay opened a door to his left and said, ‘There’s an observation window in here.’
The room was small and quite dark. Finlay did not put on the light. There was a glass panel in the back wall. Light from the adjoining room was coming in through it. Dewar joined Finlay in looking through to where the patient, Kelly was lying on his back, motionless. He had been expecting the worst but the sight that met his eyes still made him gasp slightly. Kelly’s skin was covered in rough pustules to such an extent that skin itself was scarcely visible. Against the white of the sheets he looked like an unwrapped Egyptian mummy.
‘
Not a pretty sight,’ said Finlay.
Dewar looked on in silence as a nurse, dressed in a
Racal
‘space’ suit tended to the man. Her visor and gloves made fluid motion difficult but she was obviously adapting well to the problems and had slowed the speed of her hand movements to match the limitations of the suit. She was doing her best to clean up the pustulation round the man’s eyes with cotton wool swabs and saline. Her biggest problem was that the pustulation wasn’t only around the eyes; it was actually
in
them. He remembered what Wright had said about patients who recovered from the disease often being blind. ‘Poor bastard,’ he whispered.
‘
Seen enough?’
Dewar nodded.
Denise Banyon was not in bed. She was sitting in a chair watching television and smoking a cigarette. She turned away from the children’s programme she was engrossed in when Finlay entered.
‘
Denise, this is Dr Dewar. He’d like to ask you a few questions.’
‘
I’m fed up answering bloody questions. I’ve been here long enough. I want out this bloody rabbit hutch. I wanna see my friends.’
Dewar smiled politely. He was looking at a woman in her twenties who could have passed for early forties. She was painfully thin and markedly round-shouldered with straight, lank hair that rested on boney shoulders, exposed unselfconsciously in the night-dress she was wearing. She tucked her bare feet underneath her on the chair and went back to watching television.
Finlay looked at Dewar and shrugged.
‘
I won’t keep you long, Miss Banyon,’ said Dewar, taking over. ‘It really is rather important I talk to you. I’d be very grateful for your help.’
Denise looked at him balefully then, pleased at being treated like a lady, she said, ‘Five minutes. No more.’
Finlay smiled and backed out of the room, leaving Dewar alone with Denise.
‘
How are you feeling?’ Dewar asked.
‘
Bored bloody stiff.’
‘
At least if you’re bored, you’re not ill,’ said Dewar. ‘And that’s the main thing.’
‘
Course I’m not ill. Mike’s the one who’s bloody ill. Have they found out what’s wrong with ‘im yet?’’
‘
They’re not quite sure,’ lied Dewar. ‘What d’you think’s wrong with him?’
‘
I keep telling them. He took some bad stuff. It happens.’
‘
Tell me about it. What happened exactly?’
Denise shrugged and took a final drag from her cigarette before stubbing it out nervously. The process seemed to go on for longer than it needed.
‘
He was okay when he came home at tea time but about nine o’clock he went all pale and started sweating, said he was feeling like shit. He went to bed but when I went through later he was shivering like he was cold but he wasn’t; he was burning up and he couldn’t speak and he had this rash on his face like he’d grazed it or somethin’.’
‘
Had he taken drugs between tea time and then?’
Denise nodded.
‘
He’d injected?’
Another nod.
‘
You’d taken something too?’
‘
Sure.’
‘
But you didn’t share the needle?’
‘
I’m on Methadone. You take it by mouth.’
‘
Where did Mike get the stuff you think was bad?’