“That injection we gave you yesterday is going to make you all better,” said Neef. “Then we’ll go see Dolly at my place, would you like that?”
Neil did not respond. He continued to look into space with lacklustre eyes.
“Maybe we’ll even go on another picnic with Eve,” continued Neef. “We’ll eat too many pies again and race our boats in the river. You’re not going to win this time!”
Neef still couldn’t elicit a response.
Suddenly Neil said quietly, “Want Eve.”
“She’ll be here soon,” said Neef. “I promise.”
“Want Eve,” whispered Neil.
Neef got up and looked down at the boy with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Maybe Eve was going to be too late.
Neef hurried back to his office and tried phoning her. There was no answer so he left a message on her answer phone for her to call him urgently. He tried calling the offices of the Citizen but was told Eve wasn’t there.
Max Pereira came in at eleven and Neef told him about Neil.
“Shit,” said Pereira. “There was always a chance he was too far gone to be helped.”
Neef nodded.
“It may be a reaction to the virus we injected yesterday,” said Pereira.
“How so?” asked Neef.
“Although the virus wouldn’t do him any harm it would still challenge his immune system and make him feel under the weather. If he wasn’t feeling that great to begin with...”
“He wasn’t,” confirmed Neef.
“Then he would feel pretty bad.”
“I hope to God it’s just that,” said Neef, “but I fear not. I think he’s letting go, and I don’t think we can do anything about it. I tried this morning without success.” He looked at his watch. “He asked for Eve but I haven’t been able to contact her. I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t get a chance to see him one more time before...”
Lawrence Fielding came in with Thomas Downy’s CT scan in his hand. The expression on his face said it all. “He’s cured,” he announced. “No sign of the tumour at all.”
Neef took it and examined it before saying, “Bloody marvellous.” He handed the scan to Pereira, checked his watch again and swore under his breath.
“Something wrong?” asked Fielding.
Neef told him about Neil and his own failure to contact Eve.
“Have you tried Public Health?” suggested Fielding. “Journalists seem to hang out there these days.”
Neef was about to pick up the phone when it rang. It was Eve.
“I just called home to check my machine and found your message. What’s the problem?”
“It’s Neil. Can you come right now?”
“On my way,” said Eve without further question but Neef heard the alarm in her voice. She was there within fifteen minutes.
“What’s happened?” she asked anxiously.
“I think he’s having to give in to his cancer,” said Neef. “He’s just had too much to cope with for too long. It was such an unequal struggle and now he’s tired himself out. He was asking for you.”
“But what about this new vector thing?” asked Eve, her eyes pleading the case.
“I think it’s come too late,” said Neef.
Eve swallowed and took a moment to compose herself before asking, “Can I see him now?”
Neef nodded. “Go on through. I’ll join you soon.”
Neef waited until Pereira had finished checking Thomas Downy’s scan before saying, “I’d like to have a talk, if you could spare me a few minutes?”
“I’ve got all day,” replied Pereira. “They closed down my lab, remember?”
“That’s partly what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Neef.
“There were three people who knew about Melanie Simpson living next to the Menogen labs. Me, Eve Sayers and the man who spotted the link in the first place, David Farro-Jones.”
Pereira’s eyes widened with what Neef construed as dismay but he didn’t say anything.
“I’ve noticed from time to time that you appear to dislike David. Would you mind telling me why?”
“He’s full of shit,” said Pereira. “All front and no substance.”
“I’ve always found him a pleasant and extremely helpful colleague,” said Neef.
“You’ve never been in direct competition with him,” said Pereira. “Lots of people are pleasant and charming when you’re not standing in their way or going after something they want.”
“I take it you have stood in his way at some time?” said Neef.
“When we were post-docs together in the States we were both in the running for a medal that the science faculty awarded annually to the most promising young researcher. David wanted it badly. To cut a long story short, it went to me.”
“And David wasn’t very pleased?”
“Outwardly he couldn’t have been more charming but later at a reception, he had a bit too much to drink and I met the real David Farro-Jones, the one who called me a little Jewish bastard and accused the awards board of being infested with kikes. That, he explained, was how I really got the prize.”
“Farro-Jones said that?” said Neef.
“It’s not the sort of thing you forget,” said Pereira. “Next morning he was back to being his charming old self again, behaving as if nothing had happened.”
“I see,” said Neef. “So you would have no problem with the notion that it was David Farro-Jones who leaked the story to the papers?”
“None at all,” said Pereira.
“Then the question is, how far has he been prepared to go to ensure that suspicion stays on Menogen,” said Neef.
“What d’you mean?”
“David was in charge of the hunt for the virus. When I suggested that his failure to find one put Menogen in the clear he brought up the possibility of a new kind of infectious agent, one you couldn’t see under the microscope. I think he called it a prion?”
“No chance,” said Pereira dismissively. “That was a red herring. Prion disease is nothing like we’re seeing here. If the agent is invisible, it’s invisible for another reason. Either it’s not there or... maybe it’s because we can’t see the wood for the trees...”
“What are you thinking of Max?”
“David wasn’t the only one looking for the virus was he?” asked Pereira, ignoring Neef’s question.
“No, he had a team working on it.”
“And none of them noticed anything out of the ordinary... Interesting. Was the original virology analysis on the early patients done by Farro-Jones’ lab?” asked Pereira.
“No, the hospital lab did it,” said Neef.
“Could you get me a copy of the reports on any of the patients? Preferably all of them.”
“I think so. Why?”
“I’ll tell you when I’ve seen them,” said Pereira. “I don’t suppose you can get me some lung samples?”
“From the cancer patients?”
“Yeah.”
“I can try.”
Neef arranged for copies of the virology reports to be sent up to the main office. Pereira was told he could pick them up on the way out. “Call me later about the lung samples,” said Neef.
Neef went along to join Eve in Neil’s room. When he entered he was amazed to see that there was a tiny spark of life in Neil’s eyes. Eve had captured his interest. She was telling him a story about Maxwell Gunn.
“Now if you are going to grow up and be a big strong fireman like Maxwell you are going to have to concentrate on getting better,” said Eve. “Isn’t that right?”
Neil nodded and Neef smiled. She was getting through to him.
“Get some rest now,” said Eve. “I’ll see you later and we’ll have another story.”
Neil nodded and closed his eyes. Eve stood up; Neef could see that there were tears starting to form in her eyes. She followed Neef outside.