'Why?' her smile vanished, replaced by an expression of disappointment and indignation. 'Why, Brian? A whole week now and you've done nothing but work round the clock. Okay, that was fair enough in the interests of science, but now . . . well, there's nothing more you can do.'

'You don't understand.'

'I understand you better than any woman,' she retorted. 'Better than Emma ever did.'

'There's no need to bring my wife into this.'

'Your ex-wife, Brian. You're divorced. Free. Or had you forgotten it?'

'No,' he drew deeply on the remains of his second cigarette. 'I hadn't forgotten it. But I still have work to do in spite of this... this disaster.'

'But you're going to write it off. Forget it.'

'As far as the world is concerned,' he spoke sharply, irritably. 'But I'm not forgetting it. Not ever. I've got to go into it deeper, for my own satisfaction if for no other reason.'

'But what about tonight?'

'I'm sorry. There's no way.'

She released his hand and turned away so that he could not see the tears welling up in her eyes. For the past two months they had been living together, something of which Haynes disapproved. Damn Haynes. Bacteriologists were entitled to lead their own private lives just as much as anybody else. She told herself that it was in the interests of science. Two people dedicated to a common cause, bound by love. Love? Did Brian Newman really love her? Lately she had been sleeping in his bungalow in Cannock whilst he had remained here in the laboratory. That was no kind of-life. Exceptional circumstances, certainly, but it didn't make her feel any better.

'I'm sorry, Sue,' stood behind her, his hands travelling up her body until they came to rest on her breasts beneath her nylon overall.

'How much longer before we're together again, Brian?'

'As soon as this business is over. A day or two at the most, the way these bats are dying.'

'I'll stop here with you. It's my rightful place by your side, sharing success and failure.'

'No,' he caught his breath audibly. 'I must see this through alone. Get your sleep. You need it'

'So do you.'

'I'll catch up on it afterwards. I'll take a few days off, and we'll spend 'em in bed together.'

This time they both laughed.

'All right,' she sighed. 'So long as you're telling me the truth.'

'Don't be silly,' he snapped.

'You have a reputation, Professor Newman.' She turned and wagged a finger at him in mock severity. 'And it is not solely concerned with viruses and bacteria, nor bats. Birds, other than the feathered variety, have retarded a promising career for you, and you know it. That's why you're working out here in this hell's half acre. Without all your affairs you'd probably be in the States now. Or Russia.'

'And I wouldn't have you.' he stooped and kissed her, his lips and probing tongue smothering further accusations.

Finally they disengaged. 'Now go back and get some rest.' he said. 'I'll maybe snatch an hour or two on the couch. But I've got to see this thing through to the end.'

'All right.' she agreed and began unbuttoning her overall. 'See you in the morning, Brian. Enjoy the company of your bats.'

He watched her walk from the laboratory, his discerning gaze appreciating her posture, the straight back, the natural swing of her hips, the long, blonde hair. He locked the door behind her, and turned his attention back to the cage of death.

The bats were going crazy, fluttering, squeaking, buffeting one another, tumbling, battering themselves against the sides of the glass as though determined to smash it. Another one was dying, but this time it was almost instantaneous. One second it had been hurling itself frantically at the toughened glass, the next it was lying quivering on the floor amidst the corpses of its fellows, limbs shuddering, stiffening. Its eyes seemed to meet his and they glittered accusingly, with sheer malevolence. Blaming Man, as though in its last seconds it understood.

Brian Newman shuddered and turned away. The symptoms followed an identical pattern, yet in every case the incubation period varied. Possibly some were more resistant to the mutated virus than others. It was the way with most diseases. He walked to the window and looked out. A red Mini was disappearing down the rough track which led to the road beyond the belt of tall trees. He could tell by the way Susan drove that she was angry. She didn't trust him, and he couldn't blame her.

He took off his white coat and hung it on a peg by the door. Hell, life was getting too complicated all round. A grey telephone stood on the desk in the far corner, and he knew that he could settle everything so easily. One quick call could remove Fiona from his life before they became further involved. Then he could go back to Susan, forget Fiona, the bats, the killer virus, everything.

He walked slowly across the room, and his hand rested on the telephone. Then he changed his mind. Logic and a physical urge battled inside him. The latter won, and he flicked up the night-switch on the small panel. He couldn't chance Susan ringing him here tonight and discovering that he had left the lab.

He stepped out into the corridor, locking the door behind him and pocketing the key. Muted voices reached him from inside other rooms as he made his way slowly towards the exit. Susan had been right in what she said, he decided. He was nothing more than a cog in a mighty wheel. His experiments were minor when compared with some that were being conducted here at the Research Centre. Yet, suddenly, his was the most vital of all. Something had gone wrong, not necessarily through his fault. The whole project had to be eliminated and then he could return to being an ordinary run-of-the-mill boffin. Somehow, he had to forget.

'Brian!'

He halted and turned around slowly, recognising Haynes's voice. The latter stood in the doorway of his office, tall and imposing, thick-rimmed spectacles giving him an owlish appearance, a personification of authority. Newman looked at him steadily without speaking.

'I haven't had a progress report from you,' there was a hint of reprimand in Haynes's words.

'No,' Newman replied. 'For two reasons. First, I've been working day and night. Second, there's nothing to report. Only failure.'

'Failure!'

'Distinguishing between bacterial and viral meningitis is impossible in the early stages of incubation.'

'Difficult, but not impossible. In similar experiments bats have proved to be more useful than rats. They assisted in the perfection of the latest measles vaccine. There's no reason why this experiment should not succeed.'

'Well, it hasn't, and furthermore it won't,' Professor Newman snapped.

'I'd like a second opinion. You should have consulted Professor Rickers instead of locking yourself away in your lab for days on end with that girl.'

Brian Newman's fists clenched, and he had to hold himself in check with a conscious effort. The implication was not lost on him.

'Miss Wylie has been my assistant for two years now. She is perfectly capable of assisting in any experiment which I undertake. I don't want Rickers, and I don't need him.'

'Well, I want him to have a look at those bats you've injected. I'll ask him to call in tomorrow afternoon. He's got a couple of American students working with him, and I want them to see as much of everything as possible during their stay here.'

'I won't have students messing about in my lab,' Newman spoke softly, scarcely louder than a whisper, but his anger was only too evident.

'Now look here, Brian,' Haynes adjusted his spectacles in the way he always did when he wished to enforce his authority. 'I'm running this Centre, and although I give you a pretty free hand most of the time, I'm not going to issue negative reports without second opinions. Professor Rickers will check on the bats tomorrow, and it's no good, you getting all steamed up about it.1