Neef watched for a moment through the glass door. Eve had her back to him. He could see that she had one of Neil’s fire engines on the bed on beside her and it looked as if she was telling him a story about it. Neil was listening but he didn’t have the energy to do anything more than that. His days of playing with his beloved fire engines were coming to an end. His medication had dulled all his senses as well as the pain. Neef swallowed and took a breath before going into the room. “Hallo, you two,” he said cheerfully. “What are you up to?”
“Reading a story,” said Eve brightly, responding to Neef’s Mr Cheerful act.
“About a fireman by any chance?”
“Who else?” smiled Eve. “His name is Maxwell. Maxwell Gunn.”
“And what’s Maxwell been doing today?”
“He’s been rescuing a cat named Dolly from a tall tree overhanging a river.”
“My Dolly?” exclaimed Neef.
“Yes, but don’t worry, she’s all right. Maxwell brought her down safely on his turntable ladder.”
“Thank goodness for that,” said Neef. “I didn’t think Neil knew I had a cat named, Dolly,” said Neef.
Neil nodded his head slowly.
“He does,” said Eve. “I told him. Dolly often figures in our stories.”
“In that case, it’s about time Neil met the real Dolly. What d’you think.”
Neil nodded his head slowly again.
“As soon as you’re feeling a bit better, Tiger. I’ll... We’ll take you to see Dolly. Get some rest now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Eve followed Neef out of the room and back to his office. “He’s fading away,” she said.
“It’s partly the medication,” said Neef. “It makes him sleepy.”
“How long do you think he’s got?”
“A few weeks, not much longer.”
“Do you know what I did when you left for the hospital this morning?” asked Eve.
“Tell me.”
“I went to church.”
Neef felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to say.
“It’s the first time since I left school, I think, apart from weddings and funerals and the like. I prayed for Neil. Are you religious?”
“No,” replied Neef.
“Neither am I really. It just seemed like a good idea at the time, as they say. I suppose when you want something badly enough you do all sorts of strange things, try anything.”
“I suppose,” said Neef. He changed the subject because he didn’t want to say anything about Pereira’s new vector just yet. He didn’t want to raise false hopes. “I’m hungry,” he said. “How about you?”
“A bit.”
“There’s a good Chinese restaurant in Ayton Road. What do you say?”
“I’m game,” said Eve.
The restaurant was quiet on a Sunday evening. There was only one other couple in the place. The tinkle of Chinese music was pleasantly muted. Neef had a gin and tonic and Eve a Campari as they looked at the menu. “What do you recommend?” asked Eve.
“Anything involving the black bean sauce.”
“I’ll try it,” said Eve. She glanced at her watch and Neef noticed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Have I got you here under false pretences?”
“No, nothing like that,” said Eve. “But I do have my story to write and not just for the Citizen.”
Neef raised his eyes.
“One of the nationals liked my first piece on the cancer scare so they’ve invited me to do a second. I want it to be good. This could be a big opportunity.”
“Is that what you’d like?” asked Neef, “to work on one of the nationals?”
“I’d like to edit one of the nationals,” laughed Eve.
“You’re ambitious,” said Neef. “Like Max.”
Eve’s smile faded a little. “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” she asked.
“Of course not, as long as it doesn’t drive you too hard.”
They lapsed into silence for a few moments.
“Do you think ambition’s been driving Max too hard?” asked Eve quietly.
Neef screwed up his face and replied, “He’s quite open about what he wants from life and he works extremely hard to achieve it. What worries David Farro-Jones is that we don’t know how many corners he cuts, how many short-cuts he and Menogen are prepared to take.”
“Would you buy a used car from Max Pereira,” added Eve.
“That sort of thing,” replied Neef.
“But you said yourself there are lots of inspections and safeguards in the business Max is involved in?” said Eve.
“There are,” agreed Neef. “I saw the place the other night. I was impressed. It struck me as being a well run organisation. Max has a bee in his bonnet about the universities not having to comply with all the regulations that commercial concerns do. He thinks they get off lightly.”
“Do they?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“What if the worst should happen and it turns out that the cancer outbreak has been caused by a new virus from Max’s lab? What then?”
“Max will be thrown to the wolves,” replied Neef.
“As simple as that? No mitigating circumstances?” said Eve. “His work seems to have saved young Thomas Downy’s life from what I hear.”
“None,” said Neef firmly. “If Menogen is shown to be responsible for Melanie’s death and the others, they can close it down and melt the key as far as I’m concerned.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Michael,” said Eve, “And I know you’re going to think me insensitive but if the worst should turn out to be true, would you release me from our agreement and allow me to break the story before anyone else gets it?”
“I suppose,” said Neef. “But that’s not going to happen.”
“Of course not.”
The food arrived.
Neef’s first call on Monday morning was from Frank MacSween. He was calling from home. “Betty and I are just about to leave for the Lake District,” said MacSween. “I’ve decided to take some leave. Get away for a bit.”
“I’m glad,” said Neef. “It’ll do you both the world of good.”
“I’m really calling to ask you to do me a favour.”
“Shoot,” said Neef.
“The pathology department at University College are giving Eddie Miller a retiral dinner this evening. I won’t be going but I’d be grateful if you would go along in my place. I don’t think too many people are going from St George’s, if any and it’ll be a shame if there’s a poor turn out. I know he’s leaving under a bit of a cloud but if there’s any profession that excuses a bit of an affair with the bottle, it’s pathology. I’ve known Eddie a long time. He was good in his day.”
“If that’s what you want,” said Neef.
“You do know him?”
“Not that well,” replied Neef. “But we’ve met a few times over the years.”
“The dinner is being held in the Connaught Rooms at the university. Black tie, seven thirty for eight.”
“I’ll be there. I’ll pass on your good wishes to Eddie.”
“Do that,” said MacSween.
“Damnation,” said Neef as he put down the phone and Ann Miles came in with some papers.
“Problems?” she asked.
“The last time I looked at my dinner jacket it looked like a popular holiday destination for moths.”
“Hire one,” said Ann.
“It’s finding the time,” said Neef.