"Smith, Guy N - Bats Out of Hell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

Professor Newman closed the door and leaned up against it, looking at the others. 'I think we've got a lot of talking to do,' he said softly.

'Talking?' Haynes glanced at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

'I think Johnson was just going off duty,' Newman nodded to the porter. 'We don't need to delay him.'

Johnson grunted, and Newman opened the door to let him out. He could not take any risk of wild stories finding their way into civvy street.

'Now,' Haynes adjusted his spectacles and glared at the bacteriologist, 'perhaps you'd tell me just what the hell is going on.'

In a few words Newman explained about the mutated virus and the fact that about a dozen bats, possibly carrying the disease, were loose upon Cannock Chase.

'Impossible,' Rickers snapped.

'I wish it was impossible,' Newman retorted. 'But the first thing we've got to do is to carry out tests on the dead bats and try to determine the extent of this virus.'

'Well, let's get cracking,1 Haynes glanced at Rickers, 'I suggest that Professor Rickers carries out the post-mortems here and now.'

'Fair enough,' Newman replied, 'but I suggest we all wear rubber gloves and protective clothing. From what I've seen these last few days we're dealing with a virulent disease which could be capable of striking us all down.'

Somewhat reluctantly Professor Rickers donned a white coat and gauze mask,, the others following suit. Brian Newman stood back. He was content to be a spectator from now on, as he was confident that whatever there was to be found inside the dead bats, Rickers would find it.

For the next hour the three of them watched Rickers working painstakingly, dissecting bat after bat, examining entrails with the aid of a microscope, making notes on a scrap of paper, scraping furry remains into a plastic bag, and then starting on another tiny corpse. They could not see his expression behind the mask, and not once did he indicate his findings.

Finally, with every bat dissected and the remnants enclosed in the waste bag, Rickers removed his mask and gloves and turned to the others. His expression alighted briefly on Newman, disbelief and mockery in his eyes.

'These bats died of a brain disease,' Rickers said. 'Meningitis, which is what they were injected with anyway, so that's hardly surprising. The virus is dead, so we can hardly be expected to pronounce a mutation. To ascertain that we should have to examine a living creature, but as they have all apparently escaped there is no opportunity to do that. Doubtless they will die from meningitis in the wild, their bodies will never be found, and that will be that. I would doubt very much whether mankind or even wildlife is at risk.'

Haynes was gloatingly triumphant as he turned to Newman. 'You are making mountains out of molehills, Professor Newman,' he said, drawing himself up to his full height. 'And it would seem that a whole week of work has been needlessly wasted.'

'I tell you, the disease is deadly!' Newman spoke hotly.

'I suggest you compile your negative report,' Haynes turned to the door, ignoring his protest. 'Let me have it by tomorrow, please.'

Two minutes later only Susan and Brian Newman remained in the laboratory.

'And that's that.' Newman sighed, 'Officially, anyway.'

'What are we going to do?'

'We can't do anything except wait. Whatever happens now will happen in the outside world, instead of in the laboratory where we stood a chance of controlling it.' His hand found hers and squeezed it lightly. 'By the way, I'm sorry about last night.'

'So am I. What are you going to do, though? I mean, about that girl?'

'I dropped her off home, and as far as I'm concerned that's that'

'So we're back to square one. Just you and me.'

'Perhaps we can manage to make a go of it this time.' he said, avoiding her gaze.