The Plague Dogs

A sudden shouting--" 'Ere Wag, 'ere Wag--" sounded in the distance and the dog, without another word, van-| ished like a trout upstream. In the view from the crag, e white fell stretched bare as a roof down to the tarn. "He didn't recognise us," said Snitter after a little, "and; obviously thought we couldn't do any harm."

"We can't."

"My feet are cold."

"They'll be colder if we stay here. We've got to find fsome sort of shelter. It may thaw by morning, as he said, ' but it's cold enough to freeze your eyes out under this rock."

"What a sad sight that would be," said Snitter. "I mldn't see anything, could I? Not a maggot not a mouse a dustbin round the house. Cheer up, old Rowf. We light find the tod yet, and perhaps there's a bit of the rorld somewhere that nobody wants. Anyway, wouldn't rather die here than in the whitecoats' tank? I would. t's little enough dignity we've got left. Of all the things ic whitecoats stole, that's what I feel worst about, I think. hope we die alone, like decent animals." Sunday the 21st November to Monday the 22nd November Langttrath igby Driver's assessment of Mr. Geoffrey Westcott, though characteristically flippant, exaggerated and uncharitable, had nevertheless been--also characteristically--by no means entirely inaccurate. While Mr. Westcott had never, in fact, seen the inside of a police court, either in a defendant or any other capacity, there was, notwithstanding, a certain unscrupulousness in his make-up, together with a kind of self-centred, insensitive roughness. He lived largely by his own rules and sometimes stretched even them. Humanity in general he did not care for, preferring objects, especially artefacts; and he was not, as a rule, concerned to conceal this preference. When it came to getting the best out of fine or delicate mechanism, he had penetration and unlimited patience; for people, little or none. He possessed an above-average intellect and strong powers of concentration, but together with his solitary single-mindedness there went a potential (and at times something rather more than a potential) for intolerance and even fanaticism.

He had been the second of six children of a railway linesman, and in the cramped, overcrowded home had, in sheer self-defence, grown up tough and impervious. He had developed a preference for his own company, and a passion for acquiring and mastering technological instruments, so much more satisfying and solacing, in their smooth, controllable predictability, than the emotional inconsistencies of human relationships. During adolescence he grew still further apart both from his indigent parents and his rough-and-tumble brothers and sisters; and met with no opposition--rather the reverse--when, as soon as he had taken his A-levels, he left home and set up for himself. His family, in effect, forgot him.

He secured a good starting job at a bank in Winder-mere, yet it was not long before he came to be generally regarded as a misfit. Dour and quick to take offence, he tended to get on the wrong side of his colleagues and on more than one occasion displayed a total inability to appreciate the client's point of view.

Westcott did not need people or want to get on with them. Living alone and without luxury, h'is income was already sufficient for more self-indulgence and private enjoyment than as a boy he had dared to hope for. His : e-style took the form of a fairly rigorous regime of: lf-denial, directed towards the acquisition of a planned ission of fine technological durables. It would, per-be tedious to catalogue his possessions--the pris-itic compass, the Zeiss binoculars, the wrist-watch which mid play "Annie Laurie" under water while displaying fluorescent script the date and operative sign of the iac (or something like that), the quadraphonic gramo-lone which made the sound of a piano seem to come •m four directions instead of one (which might have med strange even to poor Westcott if he had ever been le to stop fiddling with the controls long enough to; tisten with any concentration), the three electric shavers, id so on. Not his least source of pride and joy, however, •as his small collection of guns and pistols. These were, course, illegal, but sometimes, taking out one or an-ier, he would risk a few rounds' fire in suitably lonely id secluded places. He had a good eye and was no bad tot. With the only rifle he possessed--a Winchester.22 •he reckoned himself particularly handy, and was fond shooting matchsticks at twenty-five or thirty yards. Some of his money had not been honestly come by. He id certain shady acquaintances and had more than once lowed himself, his car or his rooms to be made use of these people.

Mr. Westcott possessed at any rate one friend and that his landlady, Mrs. Rose Green, a middle-aged widow, time an odd relationship grew up between these two, 'ho had both experienced so little of what most people: gard as affection. In winter, Mrs. Green would after a ihion reassure Mr. Westcott by pooh-poohing his fears infection--for in this regard he was inclined to indulge mild neurosis. When he was setting off for a long day the Pillar or the Scafell range, she would make him idwiches and admonish him to be sure to return punc-ially in the evening for oxtail stew. When she had a mind spend a Saturday morning shopping in Keswick, Kendal even Preston, Mr. Westcott, if he were not bound for tops, would drive her there and back in the Volvo. cy had little conversation--Mrs. Green was not a or talkative woman--but that in itself rather in- creased than diminished their mutual respect. For chat and laughter they felt, by and large, contempt.

The indignity, inconvenience and loss which Mrs. Green and he had suffered from the Plague Dogs aroused in Mr. Westcott all the brooding resentment of which he was capable (which was quite some), and this. his dealings with Digby Driver had done nothing to allay? It was true that Driver had paid him quite well for the photographs, but while interviewing him Driver had--like many others before him--found himself disliking Mr. Westcott, who counted and pocketed the money without a word of thanks and tended to answer questions with a glowering and defensive "What? Well, for the simple reason that..." Driver had therefore begun to needle him, lightly but deftly, in his best Fleet Street manner, in his own mind comparing Westcott's reactions to those of a bull pierced by banderillas. Mr. Westcott had parted from Driver with the surly feeling--which he had been meant to have--that some of these smart London fellows thought they were too damned clever by half. Although on the following day the police had succeeded in persuading him that he could with safety resume the use of his car, they had not, of course, cleaned up the mess of eggs, butter and mud which had soaked well into the back seat, while the germicidal fumigator used by the local authority had had a noticeable effect on the upholstery (already torn in two places by Rowfs claws). Moreover the delicate valve-tuning, over which he had taken such pains, had been impaired by whoever had driven the car back to Winder-mere. Among his final questions to Digby Driver, before they parted, had been, "Why don't you go out and settle the damn | dogs yourself, instead of writing newspaper articles about them?" To which Driver, perhaps a trifle stung, after all, by the thrust, had managed to reply only "Oh, we're content to leave that to burly dalesmen like you."

The following night--the Sunday--Mr. Westcott was sitting alone in his room, morosely watching colour television and wrapping himself in two blankets when the gas fire (greedier in cold weather, like all lodging-house metered fires) had consumed the last shilling earmarked (354) r its consumption until next day. (He was not going to the sinking fund intended for the purchase of a wet and scuba equipment.) The image of the pestilential gs, macabre in appearance and lethal in effect, came Iking across his peace of mind as the Red Death through ie irregular apartments of Prince Prospero's castellated fbbey. In his mind's eye he saw himself relentlessly pur-uing them over the Scafell range, tracking them across fflelvellyn's snowy wastes, following them from the larch fijopses of Eskdale to the plunging falls of Low Door. In jjiis imagination their bodies, each neatly bullet-pierced flhrough heart or brain, lay warm and still at last upon the £iell. To hell with the Orator, with photographs, interviews §" r public acclaim. This ought properly to be an austere, idividual vendetta, hunter against hunted, the putting of salubrious and necessary stop to the dirty brutes who Hpiad had the audacity to spoil his car and gobble up three for four pounds' worth of meat and groceries. Having shot *jhem, he would not even bother himself to go up to the lies. He would simply walk away and go home. By eleven o'clock his mind was made up. Monday and Tuesday were both, of course, working days, but under Employment regulations he was entitled to take up to not than two days' sick leave of absence without a medal certificate, and after his known ordeal and at this itry time of year no awkward questions were likely to asked. True, if enquired for he would not in fact be at Mne, but in all probability he would not be enquired, and in any case Mrs. Green would if necessary cover for him. He would need to brief her to that effect fore he set out. As for the chance of being seen on the Is by anyone who might tell the bank, it seemed too lote to take into account.

Methodically he checked and laid out his fell boots,)thing and equipment--thin and thick socks, mackin-sh overtrousers, scarf, gloves, anorak, Balaclava helmet, cuum flask, map, whistle, prismatic compass, binoculars light pack, together with the four-foot-long, water-rope-and-alpenstock bag which had never housed alpenstock but which he used to carry in concealment Winchester.22, together with its telescopic backsight thing and equipment--thin and thick socks, mackin-sh overtrousers, scarf, gloves, anorak, Balaclava helmet, cuum flask, map, whistle, prismatic compass, binoculars light pack, together with the four-foot-long, water-rope-and-alpenstock bag which had never housed alpenstock but which he used to carry in concealment Winchester.22, together with its telescopic backsight (355)

(in padded bag) and the screwdriver for mounting it. The tobacco man himself could not have been more deliberate in his preparations. When all was ready he undressed, washed briefly in tepid water, set his alarm clock for the usual time and went to bed wearing his socks, with his overcoat piled on top of his eiderdown.

At breakfast Mrs. Green clicked her tongufi and shook her head, but made no effort to dissuade him. It never occurred to either of them to go in for anything so articulate or demonstrative as the discussion of opinions or the rational influencing of each other's point of view. One might say, "Pass the salt," or "I'm not leaving until this afternoon," but one did not say, "I see this matter in rather a different light from you and will try to explain why." Nor did it occur to them that if Mr. Westcott were to succeed in killing one or both of the dogs he might not, in the current state of publicity, be able to return as obscurely as he had set out. Neither was that kind of person. There had had to be sausages for Sunday dinner--of that Mrs. Green was still fully conscious--and apparently Mr. Westcott was not going to take it lying down. Good for him. She was also conscious of the need, in Mr. Westcott's interest, for a well-buttoned lip. By twenty to ten he was on his way in the Volvo.

Mr. Westcott commenced by returning to the scene of the attack. He parked the car in the same place and waited to see whether the dogs would reappear. After half an hour they had not done so and he began considering his next step. On that morning two days ago, he reflected, they had apparently come down the fell from the east--probably more or less down the line of Fisher Gill. He had read in the paper of the panic caused by their appearance at a Glenridding farm a few days before. So it seemed most likely that they had some sort of lair in or under the Helvellyn range, somewhere between Thirl-mere and southern Ullswater.

Mr. Westcott got out of the car, locked it, shouldered his pack and set off up Fisher Gill, in and out of the grass tussocks, over the soaking, spongey peat and moss and the last of the almost-melted snow. He was glad that he was going to have to make a search. He even hoped that turn out to be a long, hard one. He was deter-to find and kill the dogs. It was an entirely personal Conflict between himself and them, the spoilers of his sssions, the wreckers of scientific order. It ought not unduly easy, for he meant to prove to himself--or;• someone--what he was worth in defence of his little i. The dogs might have proved too much for everyone Keswick to Hawkshead. They were not going to jve too much for him. the course of the next five and a half hours, until fall of early darkness, Mr. Westcott covered thirteen les. He was lucky enough to have no mist. Having ibed Sticks Gill up to the pass, where he saw but, since snow was almost gone, could not follow for more than. few yards the vestigial tracks of two dogs, he spent little time in searching with his binoculars the area ireen Stang and the reservoir. It was devoid of every-ig but curlews and buzzards, and at length he turned ith and strode easily up to the summit of Raise. From re he made his way along the whole ridge--White and Low Man to Helvellyn itself--continually stop-ig to observe the slopes below. He paid particular at-ition to the sheltered Red Tarn basin between Striding ge and Catstycam, where once, long ago, a terrier bitch kept herself alive for three months, guarding the body her master fallen from a precipitous height above. leone had told him that the place was haunted, though Jther Wordsworth's nor Scott's poems on the incident--of which he had once taken the trouble to get hold and read--told what had finally become of the dog. ^Still bootless, he continued for two miles south to lywaggon Pike and, having stopped for about fifteen rates to eat, began the rather tricky descent to the east, the narrow, still-frosty Tongue. In these conditions part-frost, part-thaw, the Tongue was more than a dangerous, which was why Mr. Westcott chose it. He Id have attempted the north face of Scafell if he had ight that to do so would give him a shot at the dogs.; course, whether involving fatigue, discomfort or actual jger, was going to remain unpursued, provided it held the promise of success. More than once he slipped f*>^* ->/,'

White Side on the rocks of the Tongue but, undeterred, pressed on into the gully and so to the cascades of Ruthwaite Beck. He returned northward across the valleys and ridges east of the Helvellyn heights; straight over peat and ling, rock and grass, stones and moss; G rise dale Forest, Nether-: 5t Cove Beck, Birkhouse Moor and Stang End. There no least sign of the dogs; and he met no one all day. regained the car by way of Sticks Pass, wondering sther his best course would be to spend the following on the Dodds to the north. He was still wondering he got back to Windermere, to hear from Mrs.; n the news that on Sunday afternoon the dogs had sn encountered in the high valley of Levers Water by a listen farmer looking for odd sheep to bring down out Lthe snow. He had recognised them at once and taken 'iis heels, but not before observing that they appeared and fair shrammed with the cold. Hgby Driver, hastening back to Coniston to learn nothing Terent from what he had already heard from other -witnesses on previous occasions, left this fanner after more than fifteen minutes and, back in his room, fairly; d with frustration.; "The bloody brutes--they're just going to fizzle out--up there--the whole thing'll collapse without one story, yucky or otherwise! Simpson'll be livid! What load of crap! Come on, Driver, you're not beat yet! lat to do? What to do? Well, we'll just have to try the; arch Station and hope for some sort of indiscretion, port in a storm!" le rang up Lawson Park and this time, by some curious of the wheel, found himself talking to Dr. Boycott, offered to see him by appointment forty-eight hours sr, on the afternoon of Wednesday the 24th. As has been said, Digby Driver had little time for set-, formal press interviews with official representa-In his view--a not altogether inaccurate one--such riews were often designed to soft-pedal or even to iceal things likely to provide material for news copy. |'Was usually more profitable to talk to the boot-boy or cleaning-woman, but in this case he already had an better contact, if only he could get at him. "Look, Mr. Boycott," he said, "it's good of you to offer 'see me, but the man I'd really like to talk to is Stephen sll. Is he still off sick?"

"I'm afraid he is," answered Dr. Boycott/'Why do you want to talk to Mr. Powell so particularly?"

"Because he was so darned helpful when I met him before, the day I drove him back from Dunnerdale. It was him that--oh, well, never mind. But I don't want to waste your time unnecessarily, and it'll suit me perfectly well just to have a word with Powell. Could you give me his address, perhaps?"

"Well, he'll be back tomorrow or the next day, I understand," said Dr. Boycott, "so if you like we'll both see you on Wednesday afternoon. Will three o'clock suit you? Excellent. Well, until then, good-bye." Tuesday the 23rd November The following morning was more than a little misty on the tops, but nevertheless Mr. Westcott set out even earlier than before. Having reached Little Langdale, he was able to see that the northern end of the Coniston range was considerably less obscured by mist than the Old Man itself Accordingly he ran up to the Wreynus Pass, left the Volvo and climbed the Grey Friar by way of Wetside Edge. The weather had become warmer and damp, with a light west wind, and he sweated in his anorak as he stood swinging his binoculars this way and that across the slopes above Seathwaite Tarn and Cockley Beck. There were no dogs to be seen. He crossed the saddle to Carrs ate an early lunch and tramped southward to Swirral, Great How Crags and the Levers Hause. Here the mist was troublesome, and Westcott, knowing himself to be immediately above Levers Water and the very place where the dogs had last been seen two days before, went down as far as Cove Beck and covered that area very thoroughly indeed. He found nothing and climbed back to the Hause. His tenacious and obsessive nature was not yet dispirited but, like a fisherman who has not had a rise all day, he now made a deliberate demand on his concen- OtffTf tration, persistence and staying-power to play the game out to the end and finish the day in style, win or lose. Who could tell? Mist or no mist, he might even now run slap into the dogs sheltering in a peat-rift or under a thorn. This, apparently, was what the farmer had done. Making use of his prismatic compass in the mist, he set off for Brim Fell, Goat's Hause and the Dow Crag.

"I'm very glad you've felt well enough to come back today, Stephen," said Dr. Boycott. "There are several important things. I trust you're quite recovered, by the way?"

"Yeah, more or less, I think," replied Mr. Powell. "A bit post-influenzal, you know, but it'll pass offf I dare say." In point of fact he felt dizzy and off colour^ "Well, work's often a good thing to put you back on your feet, as long as you don't overdo it," said Dr. Boycott. "You should certainly go home early tonight, but I'd like you to be familiarising yourself today with the details of this new project that we've been asked to set up. I shall want you to take entire charge of it in due course."

"What's the present position with those dogs, chief, by the way? Are they still at large?"

"Oh, yes, the dogs--I'm glad you mentioned that. Yes, they're still very much at large, I'm afraid; they seem to keep turning up all over the place. On Saturday, apparently, they actually robbed a car of a load of groceries. There've been a lot of phone calls, and I dare say you may very well get some more today. Mind you, we're still not admitting that those dogs are ours. Ours may be dead long ago."

"What about Whitehall?"

"Oh, they're still blathering away. There's going to be some sort of debate in Parliament, I gather. That Michael What's-His-Name was up here last Friday, as you know. He wanted to see Goodner's laboratory and then he was pressing me to give an assurance that the dogs couldn't have been in contact with any plague-infected fleas." Mr. Powell made an effort to show interest. "Did you give it?"

"Certainly not. How could I? How could anyone? Anyway, we're scientists here--we don't get mixed up in politics. We've got work to do, and we're not to be run from Westminster or Whitehall or anywhere else."

"That's where the money comes from, I suppose." Dr. Boycott waved the triviality away with one hand.

"That's quite incidental. This work's got to be done, so the money's got to be found. You might just as well say the money for water-borne sewage comes from Westminster and Whitehall."

"It does--some of it, anyway."

Dr. Boycott looked sharply at Mr. Powell for a moment, but then continued. "Well--well. No, I think the principal thing that's bothering the Ministry is having to admit that bubonic plague's being studied here at all--as a Ministry of Defence project, that is. It was secret, of course. No one was supposed to know--even you weren't supposed to know."

"I didn't know--well, hardly."

"I still can't imagine how it got out," said Dr. Boycott. "But I suppose the press will continue to make all they can of it. And talking of the press, that reminds me. I've agreed to see this Orator man, Driver, tomorrow afternoon at three. I'd like you to join me. If I'm going to talk to a fellow like that, there ought to be a witness, in case he misrepresents us later. "

"O.K. chief, I'll be there."

"Now, this new project I was starting to tell you about," said Dr. Boycott. "It's a pretty big one, with American money behind it--another defence thing, of course. We're going to construct a specially large refrigeration unit, the interior of which will simulate tundra; or steppe-like conditions, anyway. There'll be a wind tunnel, too, and some means of precipitating blizzard. These will be near-arctic conditions, you understand. There'll be food and some kind of shelter situated in one place, and a built-in escalator whose effect will be that the subject animals have to cover the equivalent of anything from thirty to sixty miles to reach it. We may instal certain deterrents--fear-precipitants and so on. Actually, we're not quite agreed yet on that aspect of the work, but--"

"What subject animals, chief?"

"Dogs, almost certainly. Much the most suitable. Now as to timing--" Mr. Powell closed his eyes. He had come over faint and his head was swimming. He began to realise that he was more post-influenzal than he had thought. As he made an effort to concentrate once more on what Dr. Boycott was saying, there came from outside a sudden burst of tommy-gun fire. He started, sat up quickly and looked out of the window. Tyson's boy Tom, emerging with a pail of bran mash from the shed across the way, was idly running the mixing-stick along a sheet of corrugated iron which had been used to patch the wall. "--As to timing, Stephen, I was saying--'* . Mr. Powell hesitated. "I--I--it's kind of--I* wonder, chief--only, you see--look, do you think you could possibly put someone else on this? The thing is--"

"Put someone else on it?" asked Dr. Boycott, puzzled. "How d'you mean?"

"Well, I can't explain exactly, but--" Mr. Powell buried his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked up he said, "Perhaps I'm not quite back to normal yet. I only meant--well, you see--"

To his horror, Dr. Boycott saw--or thought he saw--tears standing in Mr. PowelFs eyes. Hurriedly he said, "Well, we needn't go into that any more just now. We'll come back to it another time. You'll want to be having a look at your other stuff. By the way, Avril finally finished off that hairspray thing while you were away yesterday. The stuff was absolutely hopeless--the second lot of rabbits all had to be destroyed. I can't imagine how anyone ever supposed he could get away with marketing a product like that to the public. Just wasting our time and everybody else's. We shall charge him for the rabbits, naturally. Anyway, if I don't see you again before, we'll meet at three tomorrow afternoon."