“We must avoid unnecessary alarm,” said a woman’s voice.
Neef didn’t recognize who it was but it made him wonder uncharitably if anyone had ever defined what necessary alarm was. He saw the woman’s comment as part of the background noise of British public life, like calls for ‘a full public inquiry’ and demands that ‘something be done’.
“Talking of unnecessary alarm, ladies and gentlemen,” said Lennon. “I will be meeting with the Press after our meeting. I will have to inform them that there are now five recorded cases and give them details of who they are but I see no point in mentioning anything about the virus theory as Dr Farro-Jones seems to have put that to rest for the moment at least. On the other hand, I’ll have to bite the bullet and admit that we have not as yet been able to identify the source of the problem. I will, of course, stress that our enquiries are continuing with vigour.”
Neef left the meeting feeling confused and apprehensive. Despite his protests that the virus theory should not be dismissed out of hand, he felt that those attending the meeting had little heart for it. They simply didn’t want to consider anything new. Even Lennon, who had earlier seemed open-minded enough to investigate it, had seized on Farro-Jones’ negative findings of the day as a basis for dismissing the notion. He felt a lot of heads were comfortably in the sand.
David Farro-Jones caught up with him as he walked back to his car. “We have to talk,” he said. “I’ve had a change of heart.”
“How so?”
“I think there’s something in the virus theory after all.”
“What did you see in there that changed your mind?”
“Something on Lennon’s slide.”
“What?”
Farro-Jones hesitated for a moment before saying, “I don’t want to talk here in the street.”
“Stop off at St George’s on the way back. We can talk in my office.”
Farro-Jones nodded. “See you there.”
Farro-Jones followed Neef back to the hospital and parked parallel to him outside the unit. Neef led the way inside and ushered Farro-Jones into his office.
“I realised something today at the meeting that scared me greatly,” said Farro-Jones. “It made me totally reconsider my opposition to the idea of a new virus being on the loose. In fact, I now think I even know where it might have come from.”
“What!” exclaimed Neef.
“When Lennon was running us through his overheads of the patients I noticed that Melanie Simpson lived in Langholm Crescent.”
“So what?” asked Neef, feeling let down.
“The Menogen Research labs are in Langholm Road, just round the corner.”
Neef’s’ mouth fell open. “My God, you’re suggesting that the Simpson girl was infected by something that escaped from Max Pereira’s lab?”
“Making new viruses is Menogen’s business,” said Farro-Jones.
“Yes but they’re transport vectors... they’re not...”
“As I said before, the more efficient the vector, the greater the risk and the risk is that they’ll cause cancer.”
“Yes but...”
“It could be coincidence,” conceded Farro-Jones, “but I think I should continue hunting for a virus in the meantime. What do you think?”
“Of course,” replied Neef. “But I think it would be most unfair to say anything about this until there’s any proof. Damn it, it was Max Pereira who brought up the idea. He’d hardly do that if he thought there was any chance of something having escaped from his own lab. Apart from that, I’ve seen the Menogen operation. It’s well run; they’re constantly under inspection and scrutiny.”
“You can always hide something,” said Farro-Jones. “And Menogen are under a lot of pressure to succeed.”
“Shit,” said Neef.
“But you’re quite right,” said Farro-Jones. “We shouldn’t say anything until there’s some proof. I don’t think anyone else has noticed the geographical factor yet so that gives us some time. I’ll get a team of technicians on to the scanning work.”
When Farro-Jones had left, Neef went out into Ann Miles’ office and found a street directory on the shelf behind her chair. He took it back into his own office and looked up Langholm Crescent. He made a little sketch of its relativity to Langholm Road and after checking the number of Melanie Simpson’s house from the summary notes Lennon had handed out, he added a cross to his sketch. He was doing this when a knock came to the door.
“Come.”
Eve put her head round the door. “Bad time?” she asked.
“Of course not. Come on in.”
“The Press briefing finished ten minutes ago. I’ve come to see Neil.”
Neef nodded. “How did the briefing go?”
“Lennon told us about the new case and more or less admitted they were no further forward. He appealed for our understanding and cooperation but he didn’t mention anything about Max’s virus idea. Does that mean it’s a non-starter?”
“People didn’t like it,” said Neef. “I don’t think they liked Max either, if truth be told. David Farro-Jones examined a number of samples from Charlie Morse and found no evidence of a new virus.”
“I see,” said Eve. “So we don’t have to evacuate the city after all. What’s that you’re doing?” She was looking at the sketch on the desk.
“I...”
Eve held his gaze.
“I...”
“You don’t want to tell me, right?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. It’s just that you are a journalist and that makes things difficult.”
“I can’t be trusted?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. It’s just that...”
“You don’t have to explain. This is always going to come between us isn’t it?”
Neef shook his head and said softly, “I don’t want it to. I really don’t. David noticed something at the meeting today. There may be nothing to it but we have to consider the implications.”
Eve’s eyes widened as Neef explained the reason for his sketch. “That is absolute dynamite!” she exclaimed.
“It is also absolutely confidential.”
“Of course. My God! I hope he’s wrong.”
“Believe me, so do I. Max Pereira is not the most charming man on earth but I do think he’s honest and responsible when it comes to work. When he told me about the rules and regulations he had to comply with, he wasn’t complaining. He just wanted them applied universally to all researchers.”
Neef’s phone rang and Eve took this as her cue to leave. She gave a slight wave of her hand as she closed the door.
“Neef.”
“Dr Neef, my name is Jean Langtry. Dr Pereira asked me to call you. He said it was quite urgent. I understand you need information about licensing procedures?”
“Yes, Miss Langtry, good of you to call. What do we do?”
Neef made a series of notes on his desk pad as Jean Langtry spoke. He finished by thanking her for her help.
“Good luck, Doctor.”
Neef called Tim Heaton’s office but there was no reply. He tried his home number which he extracted from his desk file.
“Tim? It’s Michael Neef. I need your help. I want the hospital to make an emergency application for permission to use a new Menogen vector on one of my patients. I’ve got all the details you need for the application.”
“It’s Sunday evening, Michael.”
“Sundays are running out altogether for my patient, Tim,” said Neef. “This just might help him.”
Heaton succumbed to the moral blackmail as Neef felt sure he would. “Oh all right,” he said. “I’ll come in but what’s to say this vector will be any more successful than the other ones?”
“I don’t know,” confessed Neef.
“All right,” conceded Heaton. “Unfair question.”
Neef made out a clearer summary of what was required from his notes and used Ann Miles’ word processor to type it up for Tim Heaton’s benefit. He added patient details from Neil Benson’s file and put the two sheets of paper in a large Manila envelope. He walked over to the Admin block and left it outside Tim Heaton’s office. He knew there was no chance of the application going off that night but if Heaton became familiar during the course of the evening with all the requirements it should be ready to go off on Monday without fail. Neef returned to the Unit and sought out Eve. She was still with Neil.