Buchan stood up. Without saying anything he motioned to Fenton to follow him.
Fenton had to duck his head to accommodate the slope of the roof at the head of the narrow stairs before they entered Jamie's bedroom. The room was cold and smelled of dampness, old dampness, dampness that had been seeping through the thick stone walls for years. It had invaded the furniture and fabric, leaving the same musty odour that Fenton associated with the seaside boarding houses of his youth. The little white coffin was bathed in pale grey light from the tiny dormer window that faced north to the sea; Jamie looked like a marble cherub. Fenton bowed his head and stood still for a moment in sadness.
"We haven't moved anything," said Buchan.
Fenton looked about him. It was a boy's room, trains, boats, planes, an unfinished Lego model. The Millenium Falcon stood on its window-sill launching pad, ready to transport the plastic figures beside it to some far off galaxy. Jamie's Jedi sword lay on his pillow. "He was Luke Skywalker," said Buchan.
An anguished cry came from the stairs. The rumble of footsteps stopped with Mona Buchan framed in the doorway, her eyes burning with anger. Fenton was transfixed by the look of hatred on her face, white flecks of spittle pocked her lips as she turned on her husband. "What in God's holy name possessed you?" she demanded, "To let this…this animal near our son?" Buchan looked shaken. "And you," she hissed at Fenton, her voice a coarse rasp, "How dare you…how dare you."
Mona Buchan's anger soared beyond the bounds of all reason and, unable to contain herself any longer, she flung herself across the room, fingernails bared, blind to everything except Fenton, the object of her hatred. As she lunged forward her foot caught the edge of the trestle bearing Jamie's coffin and sent it crashing to the floor to spill him out. Clad in his white shroud he lay there like a sleeping china doll among the toys.
Mona Buchan's rage evaporated. She collapsed to her knees and broke into uncontrollable sobbing as she rested her cheek against her dead son. Fenton knew that he would never be able to forget the sight. "Go!" said Grant Buchan, "Just go."
The Honda was the centre of attraction for a group of small boys when Fenton returned to the harbour and their Star Wars gear suggested that they might have been contemporaries of Jamie. There was something familiar about one of the boys, thought Fenton, but he could not think what. Perhaps he was a relation of Jamie's. A brother? He could not recall if the Buchans had more than the one child. "Your name isn't Buchan is it son?" he asked.
"No Mister. He's deid."
"Yes," said Fenton reliving the awful scene in the bedroom.
Fenton got on the bike and fastened the chin strap of his helmet.
"Can I have a hurl on the back Mister?" asked the boy, resting his hand on the handlebars.
"Another time," said Fenton.
Fenton did not look back as he reached the top of the hill above the village; he gave a cursory glance to the left for traffic then joined the main road to head for Fraserburgh at an easy pace for concentrating was difficult. He stopped at a harbour cafe in Fraserburgh hoping that eating would help alleviate the awful emptiness he felt inside but it did not. He gazed out of the window at the boats nuzzling the quayside but all he saw was Jamie's lifeless body.
As he headed east on the coast road Fenton reflected on what his visit had achieved. Nothing, he decided, not a damned thing. Grant Buchan had not told him anything that could possibly be of help in solving anything. Jenny was in as much trouble as she ever had been. He drew to a halt as he reached as far east as he would travel and took a last look at the grey northern water before turning to head south. It was cold but it was dry and the wind would be behind him.
Jenny was in the flat when Fenton got back. They held each other for a long time before either spoke. "I found your note," said Jenny. "Did you find out anything?"
"Nothing," admitted Fenton. "What's been happening here?"
"The police released me this afternoon but I have been told not to leave the city and the hospital have suspended me."
Fenton could see that Jenny had been crying a lot, her eyes were puffy and red. "Morons," he said. "Absolute morons." He drew her even closer.
"The funny thing is," began Jenny, half laughing half sobbing, "I can see their point of view. How could the hospital killer come into contact with Jamie… unless it was me?"
"That's what we must figure out," said Fenton with all the reassurance he could muster.
"We're not terribly good at figuring things out. Remember?" said Jenny.
"We'll do it," said Fenton.
They lay still in the darkness taking pleasure in their closeness. Fenton's fingers intertwined with Jenny's, his thumb gently tracing an ellipse on the back of her hand. Her shallow breathing was like music.
In the small hours of the morning Fenton lay awake while Jenny lay beside him fast asleep. She had been mentally exhausted but reassured enough by his presence to fall into a sound sleep, her head still against his shoulder. For the first time in many hours she had felt safe, safe from the strange and the unknown, the overweight men in crumpled suits who smelled of sweat and down market after shave. The men who sneered at everything she said, the red faces who shouted at her, mocked her, accused her. Surely these men could not have been policemen? Policemen were quiet, well mannered, helpful; they told you the time and gave you directions, patted children and inspired confidence, not fear. How she had been afraid, she had never known such fear.
The disorientation caused by being taken to a strange place full of hostile men had destroyed her self confidence in one fell swoop. Her initial stance as an outraged citizen demanding her rights in a free country had collapsed within minutes leaving her confused and afraid. A pleading note had crept into her voice as the ordeal had continued and she had been filled with a desperate desire to please her inquisitors, to say yes to anything that would breach the seemingly impenetrable wall of hostility. Only an innate strength of character stopped her from travelling along that road, but she had seen it and seen it clearly.
Fenton sighed in the still darkness of the room as once again his thoughts came to nothing. What was the connection? Just what was it? Only one fact stared him in the face like an ugly mongrel, there had been no opportunity at all for the hospital killer to reach Jamie directly. He squeezed Jenny's hand involuntarily as the unthinkable crossed his mind. Something was wrong with his train of thought, he decided, something basic.
An hour later, and after much mental wrestling, Fenton came up with a new hypothesis. It was forced on him by the facts. There was no killer, no lunatic, no psychopath. It was a disease! A bacterium or a virus! A virus had destroyed the clotting mechanism in the blood of all the people who had died. Why not? New diseases were being discovered all the time. Legionnaires' disease, Lassa fever, AIDS. The more he thought about it the more obvious and possible it seemed. The virus must be endemic in the hospital, lurking in unseen corners, just as the Legionnaires bug had hidden in the showers of an American hotel. Jenny must have carried it home and infected Jamie. The fact that not everyone was susceptible to it would be typical of viral infection. Everything pointed to it being a virus…except Neil Munro.
The Kraken of Neil Munro, burnt flesh peeling from his face, rose up from Fenton's subconscious to slow him down. No virus had pushed Munro into the steriliser. A compromise was demanded. Neil had been murdered, of that there was no doubt, but the others? No, it had to be some kind of infective agent. All he had to do now was prove it.
Jenny turned in her sleep and Fenton kissed her lightly on the shoulder. The question now was how he should go about substantiating his theory. Elementary. It was first year student stuff. You isolate the thing and show it does what it does by sticking it in to laboratory animals. But how to get his hands on infected material.. that was the real question and that was going to be quite a different matter.