'Of which there is an abundance this year.'
'Granted, but...'
'Then we must spray the insects and thus poison the bats.'
Newman looked thoughtful. 'And who thought this one up?' he asked.
'I did,' Rickers admitted.
Newman glanced at Susan Wylie. She knew what he was thinking. Insecticides were dangerous to wildlife in general. They upset the balance of Nature. In the past, poisonous sprays had been responsible for a decline in the numbers of birds of prey, buzzards, kestrels, sparrow-hawks, the golden eagle. Partridges, too, at one stage had almost been wiped out. It was too risky. And yet, with hundreds dying daily from the mutated virus...
'I guess it's worth a try,' Newman said.
'It's already under way,' Haynes told him somewhat smugly. 'Every crop-spraying helicopter unit in the country has been commandeered. The Ministry of Agriculture are advising us on which insecticides to use so that almost every insect will be affected. No matter which varieties the bats feed on, they'll absorb the poison.'
'Sure.' Newman shook his head slowly. 'And insect life will be almost totally wiped out in the Midlands, not to mention species of bird life and rodents.'
'But it's the price we have to pay,' Haynes snapped. 'The rate this virus is spreading now, it's either that or us. And human life must be preserved at all costs.'
'Yes,' Brian Newman said. 'You're right. And I began this whole thing. I've destroyed countless lives, both human and animal. And now the insects have got to pay the penalty, too.'
It was nine o'clock when Brian Newman left the Biological Research Centre and drove the five miles to his new home at Chasetown. Susan had left about two hours before him, and in spite of the present worries he was determined to try and relax for a few hours.
There was a checkpoint at Sankey's Comer. Two BVF soldiers had taken over from the policemen who had been on duty earlier in the day. They recognised the professor's car and waved him through.
The High Street was deserted. Many of the houses and flats did not even show lights, their windows boarded up as though a wartime blackout was in force. Newman saw some bats flying low across the top end of Pavoirs Road. Nowhere was safe after dark now.
He drew into the small gravelled drive and switched off his headlights, glancing about him as he opened the car door. He would have to make a quick dash to the house. It was dangerous to linger.
'Professor Newman!' A voice called from the darkness as he got out of the car.
He turned. A man was standing just inside his front garden, the shadow from the tall privet hedge obscuring his features. He was a big man, his overcoat collar turned up, trilby hat pulled well down.
'Can I help you?' Newman was puzzled. 'Perhaps you'd like to step inside. It isn't safe outside after dark, and ... '
'What I've got to say won't take a moment, Professor.' There was a note of menace in the man's voice as he stepped into the circle of'yellow light cast by the nearby street-lamp. Something shiny, metallic, glinted in his hand. A revolver.
'What's this?' Newman stiffened.
'A gun,' the other laughed harshly. 'Army issue .45. 1916. My late father kept it as a relic, with some ammunition. I'm glad he did. Otherwise, Professor, my task of killing you might be more difficult... but I'd do it just the same. You bastard!'
'You're mad!' Newman breathed,
'If I am,' the other said. 'It's because of you. Thanks to your meddling with viruses I've lost a wife and a daughter . .. and it took 'em a long time to die. I watched 'em.' His voice rose to a crescendo, 'Couldn't even get 'em to a hospital. Nobody wanted to know. Yes, Professor, I sat there and watched 'em both die. They were paralysed before they started to go mad. They frothed at the mouth and cursed me with their eyes. Yes, Professor, they went out cursing me ... but they should've been cursing you, because you murdered 'em... just as I'm going to murder you now!'
Brian Newman stiffened. The man was five yards from him, and he could see the finger curled around the trigger of the revolver. It was too far to try and rush him, and there was no chance of diving for cover. Death was only seconds away.
Then he heard the front door opening behind him, and Susan's voice. 'Are you all right, Brian? Oh my God, what's happening?'
'Go back inside and close the door!' he called out over his shoulder. 'I won't be a minute.'
'You're damned right you won't.' the man snarled. 'Your time's up, Professor Newman.'
'Let's talk this over.'
'The time for talking is done.' The gunman shuffled a step or two nearer. 'After you, it's me, Professor. I've got nothing left to live for.'
Newman closed his eyes. If only Susan had obeyed him and gone back inside. But he knew .she wouldn't. In all probability this maniac would kill her, too. And there wasn't a thing he could do about it.
He closed his eyes. Go on, get it over with. I don't blame you, whoever you are. There's millions more feel like you do about me. That's the fault of the Press.
A deafening shot crashed out. Newman swayed on his feet, but strangely he felt no pain. He remembered reading somewhere that you never heard the shot that got you. Maybe ... Oh God, maybe he'd shot Susan first!
Newman opened his eyes. Susan was by his side, her arms around him. She was crying. The man lay face down in the drive, the revolver a foot or so away from his outstretched fingers, blood soaking into the gravel.
Still Newman was trying to work it all out. His brain was confused. It wouldn't function properly. This guy was a nutter. Not his fault, though. He'd chickened out at the last minute. Couldn't go through with murder. Committed suicide instead.
'All right, Professor?'
For the first time Newman was aware that someone was standing just inside the open gates. A tall man dressed in a jungle hat, combat jacket, bandolier across his chest. 'Don't worry, Professor. I had him covered the whole time. Had to be careful I didn't hit either of you, though.'
Newman nodded to the BVF soldier, noting the thin trickle of smoke coming from the barrel of the Luger in his hand.
Thanks.' he murmured. 'Thanks a million. I was lucky you happened to be around. I should've asked for a guard before. I told 'em I didn't need one.'
'You've had one all along,' the soldier told him, 'only you didn't know it. Night and day. We can't take chances with you, Professor. Whatever the public might think, you're the one man who stands any chance of coming up with an antidote.'
'I just hope I can justify your confidence.' Newman pulled Susan Wylie close to him, and together they went inside and closed the door.
The weather was changing. Still the sun beat down, but now its heat was tempered by the coming of autumn. Each morning a thick mist followed the dawn, grey vapour which dispersed reluctantly towards mid-morning, and each evening brought a refreshing coolness to the parched land.
Fleets of helicopters stood at the ready throughout the Midlands, all fitted with crop-spraying attachments, the pilots waiting impatiently for the thick mist to evaporate. From the north Staffordshire moors as far south as Worcester, from the Wash to the Wrekin, the operation stretched, .the largest assault on insect life in British history.
'Crazy,' Tamperley of West Midlands Fertilizers muttered to his companion as they watched the rays of the sun beginning to disperse the fog. 'It won't work. I could've told 'em that.'
'Don't see no reason why not.' Whittaker climbed up into the helicopter, and tapped the huge tank containing insecticide. 'This stuff was withdrawn five years ago because it was proved to be detrimental to wildlife. Don't see why it shouldn't kill bats.'
'I'll believe it when I see it.' Tamperley lit a cigarette. 'Reckon we'll be on the move in about twenty minutes.'
It was 11.30 a.m. before they took off, the countryside around them now becoming bathed in bright sunshine. Some of the trees below were already showing signs of brown in their foliage. Drought or not, autumn would dominate the rural scene from now onwards.