‘Taking discretion a little far, aren’t you, Mr Pelota?’ he said calmly. ‘Just makes me wonder all the more what you have to hide.’
Steven walked back to his car, concluding that, in spite of what Pelota had done, the visit had not been an entire waste of time. He had learned something valuable. Not only was Victor married, but he was also someone with a bit of influence in this city; he was someone important.
On the way back to the hotel he considered what further action, if any, to take against Pelota, now that the man had destroyed what he wanted to see. He could, of course, have him charged with obstruction, but what good would that do, apart from satisfy the desire for revenge? There was no place for pointless payback gestures in his line of work. That was for schoolboys and amateurs. Professionals substituted logic and reasoning for spite and petulance. If the page had been destroyed, Pelota would have to tell him the names that had been on it. It was as simple as that and, with his objective so clearly defined, all that remained was to think how best to go about persuading the man to do just that. It would require a little thought.
Steven was woken by a telephone call at three in the morning. It was Caroline Anderson. ‘The girl we spoke about earlier has been brought in to City General,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid it’s the real thing.’
‘Damnation,’ said Steven.
‘It gets worse. Her brother, the ambulanceman, died at one thirty this morning, and four other contacts have called in to report that they’re feeling unwell.’
‘Just when you take down your umbrella…’ said Steven.
‘It starts to pour,’ agreed Caroline. ‘Anyway, the meeting has been brought forward to 9 a.m. Everyone is requested to attend.’
‘Thanks for telling me,’ said Steven.
At 5 a.m. his mobile bleeped twice to herald an incoming text message. It came from Sci-Med and said, ‘Read your e-mail, encryption code 5.’ He connected his laptop to the phone line and downloaded the message. He rubbed his eyes while the unscrambling program made sense of it. It was short and to the point. ‘New case of haemorrhagic fever confirmed in Perth, Scotland. No established connection with Heathrow or Manchester outbreaks. Details to follow.’
Steven stared at the screen, as he read and reread the words ‘No established connection’.
‘Another bloody wildcard,’ he whispered. An epidemic without a source was every epidemiologist’s worst nightmare. He tried reassuring himself that things always looked worse in the wee small hours of the morning, but a filovirus outbreak with no traceable source could wipe out thousands.
The details of the Scottish case arrived before Steven left for the hospital. The victim, Frank McDougal, a forty-year-old assistant bank manager, was already dead. He had died in Perth Royal Infirmary after being taken there in response to a 999 call from his wife. His wife, his eighteen-year-old daughter, a nurse in A amp;E and a hospital porter had all since gone down with the disease and were in isolation at the same hospital. Public Health were doing their best to locate and isolate contacts.
McDougal had not been abroad since his last holiday in Cyprus last July. He had no connection with anyone on the Ndanga flight, or indeed with anyone in Manchester. His condition had been diagnosed three days after admission to the hospital with suspected viral pneumonia.
‘Shit,’ murmured Steven. Apart from anything else, he was alarmed that it had taken three days before the Scottish doctors realised what was wrong with McDougal. Something would have to be done about this situation. An alert would have to be sent out to all A amp;E departments. Hospital staff had to be warned to be on the lookout for filovirus cases. GPs would also have to be alerted.
There were a lot of worried faces in the room when Steven arrived at City General, and his was one of them. The new case was on everyone’s mind, with some people learning about it only on arrival. Steven made his point about the need for forewarning. ‘It took three days in Scotland,’ he stressed. ‘The virus can do a lot of damage in three days.’ Everyone was in agreement except the Department of Health group led by Sinclair.
‘Perhaps a confidential memo to heads of A amp;E units might be in order,’ Sinclair conceded. ‘But we must guard against anything that will cause widespread public alarm.’
‘Is an epidemic really preferable?’ insisted Steven. ‘The warning must go out to all front-line personnel. All A amp;E staff and GPs must be included.’
‘With respect, Dr Dunbar, I think this area is outside your remit,’ said Sinclair with a smile that reminded Steven of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland.
‘It’s not outside mine,’ Caroline Anderson intervened. ‘And I agree with Dr Dunbar. All clinical staff must be warned to be on the lookout.’
‘I’ll relay your comments to the appropriate ears, of course, but any sort of national decision must be taken at ministerial level,’ said Sinclair.
‘And probably in both parliaments.’ Steven sighed.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Sinclair.
‘The Scots have their own parliament,’ Steven reminded him. ‘I presume the DoH in London has been keeping the Scottish Health Minister informed of events?’
The look on Sinclair’s face told Steven that he had scored a direct hit in spite of the blustering reply, ‘I’m sure all relevant parties have been kept informed of the current situation.’
‘It’s just a great pity that the staff on duty at Perth Royal Infirmary when McDougal was brought in or his GP were not “relevant parties”,’ said Steven.
‘Ah, such clarity of hindsight,’ said Professor Cane, with a sideways sneer at Steven. ‘I don’t think we can blame our London colleague here for not wanting to cause undue public alarm. The public are subjected to an endless stream of scare stories as it is, and it’s not as if we’re talking about an epidemic here.’
‘I think that’s exactly what we are talking about,’ said Steven. ‘And that’s foresight, not hindsight. I take it you and your team have made no more progress than I have in establishing the root cause of these outbreaks, Professor?’
‘My team is exploring every avenue, based on the data we have collected. I’m confident that the rigorous application of epidemiological methodology will prevail over more… unconventional means.’
‘Can we take that as a no?’ said Steven, ignoring the insult. ‘That leaves us with three outbreaks of a fatal disease and no idea where it’s coming from. If things continue like this, we’ll be faced with a country-wide epidemic within weeks.’
‘But they won’t,’ insisted Cane. ‘This is not the Third World. Medical science is on our side. Panic would be a bigger enemy than the virus.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Sinclair.
‘There is a middle course,’ said Steven. ‘Simply saying, “Trust us,” is not enough. We have to make sure that hospitals and surgeries are on the lookout for this thing. Containment is an absolute must.’
‘Won’t the notifiable disease system ensure that anyway?’ asked the social work chief, Alan Morely.
‘This disease isn’t on the list,’ said Byars, sounding slightly embarrassed. He responded to looks of disbelief by adding, ‘Simply because it’s a new virus. The authorities don’t know what to call it, I suppose.’
‘Might I suggest that “the authorities” put it on the list?’ asked Steven. ‘Even if they have to call it Mary Jane for the time being?’
‘In due course,’ said Sinclair.
The ensuing silence made Sinclair’s words hang in the air.
‘Gentlemen, I think we really must move on to more immediate matters,’ Caroline Anderson interceded. ‘We’ve had one new case and there are four new possibles.’
‘All of whom are now here in the hospital,’ said George Byars, ‘but there is a limit to how many more we can cope with in terms of ward space and nurses trained in the appropriate techniques.’