Scorpion [Scorpions 01] (16 page)

    The powerful venom began its irreversible process of destruction. Meacham managed half a dozen steps before his legs developed a spreading paralysis and he collapsed on the ground. He lay motionless watching the scorpion crawl away from him. Dimly he could hear the thud of approaching footsteps as help arrived. But there was no help for Meacham or Condon. By the time the first members of staff reached them Vic Condon, his body still covered in scorpions, was dead. Professor Meacham had already lapsed into a state of complete paralysis, from which he never recovered. His swollen tongue thrust obscenely from between lips beginning to turn blue and then black; his eyes bulged from their sockets, fixed and unseeing. A few minutes later he too was dead.

    

    

    ‘No doubt about it, Allan. What we have here is a mutation!’

    ‘Obvious question - but what caused it?’

    Miles Ranleigh removed his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes.

    ‘Give me a few more hours and I might be able to tell you.’ Ranleigh, a big, bearded man, put his glasses back on.

    ‘And the mutation is responsible for the odd behavior?’

    ‘From what you’ve told me these scorpions are doing things that scorpions have never done before. This grouping together is completely out of character. The scorpion is a loner, not particularly given to socializing with his own kind. The herd instinct doesn’t fit the normal pattern.’ Ranleigh grimaced. ‘But then, your damn scorpions are far from normal.’

    ‘My knowledge about scorpions is pretty basic,’ Allan said, ‘but what I have read certainly doesn’t tally with these beggars. This last incident, however you look at it, points to a deliberate attack. They forced their way into that motor caravan - apparently they chewed their way through the rubber seals around the bottom of the foot pedals - then they simply crawled inside and waited for someone to open that communicating door. After that it was a purely hostile attack. That couple died ten times over - stung
and
clawed. If the venom hadn’t done it they would have bled to death.’

    Ranleigh gazed at the dissected scorpion.

    ‘The answer’s there,’ he said. ‘Probably staring me in the face.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s been a long night, Allan, and it’ll be light soon. Let’s get a cup of coffee.’

    They left the lab which was situated in the basement of Ranleigh’s large house.

    ‘Mind if I make a call?’ Allan asked as they crossed the hall.

    ‘Help yourself,’ Ranleigh said, continuing on towards the kitchen.

    Allan dialed Chris’s number. He let it keep on ringing, realizing she might still be in bed. Eventually the phone was picked up at the other end and a sleepy voice reached Allan.

    ‘Chris?’

    ‘Allan? Oh, I’m so glad you called.’

    Allan frowned at the urgent tone in her voice.

    ‘I’ve been trying to contact you,’ Chris went on. ‘Allan - it’s happened again!’

    ‘The scorpions?’

    ‘Yes. Two deaths. Professor Meacham, the head of the Long Point Nuclear Plant, and Vic Condon, his security chief.’

    ‘Damn!’ Allan exclaimed.

    ‘Listen,’ Chris said, ‘I think I may have stumbled on to something important. I ran across Vic Condon yesterday - a short while before he died. I was doing some research for the article, and I’d located an abandoned building near the plant - apparently the military used it at one time. Before I could take a look inside Condon appeared. We had words and I left. The last I saw of him he was going into the place.’

    ‘You think this could be where the scorpions are nesting?’

    ‘It’s possible.’

    A vague thought intruded, breaking Allan’s concentration.

    ‘Chris, what made you go to that place?’

    ‘Does it matter?’

    ‘Just tell me,’ Allan insisted - while in his mind a single word nagged at him. Mutation! It was the description Miles Ranleigh had used to describe the condition of the dead scorpion. A mutation!

    ‘Well, I found that the pipeline from the plant ran under the building. The excess heat was used to warm the place… ‘

    Allan lowered the receiver and called for Ranleigh. When the entomologist appeared Allan turned excitedly.

    ‘In theory, Miles, would it be possible for the scorpion mutations to have been brought about by exposure to low-level, but constant radiation?’

    ‘It’s possible, yes,’ Ranleigh said. ‘The effect of low-level radiation on living cells isn’t fully understood yet, but radiation could cause an imbalance in the genetic pattern, so that subsequent generations might be born with defects - or so radically altered that survival became impossible.’

    ‘But couldn’t the cell structure be changed in such a way that there could be a forward development?’ Allan persisted.

    Ranleigh nodded. ‘Certainly. It would be - in simple terms - an acceleration of the evolutionary process. Bringing about change much sooner than it would normally occur.’

    ‘Hang on a minute,’ Allan said. He returned to the phone. ‘Chris? Sorry, love, but it was important. Look, I’ll be coming back later on. In the meantime there’s something I want you to do. Contact Inspector Duncan. Tell him to get that abandoned building cordoned off right away. And tell him that no one is to go inside the place under any circumstances. Got that?’

    ‘Yes. Allan, what’s going on?’

    ‘I’ll explain later. Just make sure that building is isolated.’

    He put the phone down and turned to Ranleigh.

    ‘Come on, Allan, talk,’ Ranleigh said. He led the way into the kitchen and poured hot coffee into china mugs.

    ‘About eighteen months ago there was a low-level leak from the Long Point Nuclear Plant. It went undetected for around six months. Water used to cool the reactor had become contaminated. The whole thing was hushed up and quietly forgotten. What I’ve just heard over the phone seems to indicate that the contaminated water may have seeped into an abandoned building near the plant, which looks as though it may also have been the scorpions’ nest. I’m almost ready to bet that our mutated scorpion is a victim of that radiation leak.’

    ‘It might be the answer,’ Ranleigh mused. ‘Once the DNA pattern is altered almost anything can happen - a retarded cripple, or a superior species. If this is what has happened to your scorpions then you’ve the superior type of mutation.’

    Allan emptied his mug. ‘Can you follow this up with tests on the one we’ve got down there?’

    Ranleigh nodded.

    They returned to the lab. Allan sat to one side and watched Ranleigh go to work. The entomologist worked steadily for the next hour, testing samples of tissue, comparing his results with evaluations from his own previous dealings with the scorpion species. Ranleigh finally called Allan over, swinging round on his stool.

    ‘I think you were right, Allan,’ he said. ‘There are traces of radioactivity in the tissue. Your harmless, naturalized scorpion has been mutated into a condition far removed from its original makeup. But I think I’ve got the species pinned down. This chap was originally
Androctonus
Australis, a native of North Africa. It has one of the most powerful venoms of the scorpion family, practically on a level with that of the cobra.’

    ‘No wonder it had me confused when I did blood tests after the first attack.’ Allan pondered for a moment. ‘But all the stingings haven’t been fatal. A young couple were attacked. They’re unconscious but still alive. And a man was stung on the arm. He suffered some pain and localized swelling, but that was all. I was told over the phone that since I left Long Point two more people have been attacked - both are dead.’

    ‘This could simply be an effect of the mutation, Allan. There’ll probably be varying results in the breeding. Some scorpions will develop in one way, some another. The poison glands have been activated after being dormant for a long time so you’re going to get an unstable period. One scorpion will have extremely powerful venom while another may have little or none. It will take time before the new strain settles and adjusts to its final form.’

    ‘I dread to think what that might be.’

    ‘From what you’ve told me I have a feeling that the reproduction cycle has been increased.’

    ‘Then what we have to do is find the damn things and destroy them before this thing gets out of hand.’ Allan stood up. ‘Miles, I’d better get back. Can you see what else you can find from our friend there? I’ll keep in touch.’

    Ten minutes later Allan’s car was pulling away from Ranleigh’s home. He headed out towards the A413, following it down to pick up the A40. He hit a lot of heavy traffic going through London, making his way over the river and on to the A23. Once clear of the city he was able to put his foot down. The road took him in the general direction of Brighton, but he cut off along a couple of minor roads and finally got on the A259, through Hastings, then out along the coast road for the final run into Long Point. It was late morning by the time he reached the town; a dry, but chilly day, keen winds coming in off the grey sea.

    Allan drove directly to police headquarters, a large old building in the town centre. He parked the Capri at the curb and went inside. At the desk he asked to speak to Inspector Duncan.

    ‘I don’t know about that, sir,’ the grey-haired sergeant said. ‘The Inspector’s a very busy man right now. I doubt if he’ll have time to talk to anyone.’

    ‘I think he’ll see me,’ Allan said. ‘Just tell him Doctor Allan Brady’s here.’

    The sergeant smiled. ‘Doctor Brady? You go straight up, sir. First floor. Top of the stairs and turn right. The Inspector’s office is at the end of the passage.’

    Duncan was in his shirtsleeves, unshaven and looking slightly harassed.

    ‘Am I glad to see you,’ he said as Allan entered the room.

    ‘More problems?’

    ‘I’ve had the press on my back since they got wind of something going on. The local council’s been calling for action, and the public is starting to get worried. Frankly, Doctor, so am I.’

    Allan ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Well, I’m afraid I haven’t brought any comforting news.’

    ‘Tell me in the car,’ Duncan said. ‘We’ll take a run up to the coast road and you can have a look at the precautions we’ve taken.’ He made a quick phone call, and by the time he and Allan reached the street a car was waiting for them. They climbed into the back and the powerful car surged off through the traffic.

    ‘It’s pretty certain that we’ve found the nest,’ Allan said.

    ‘After all the fuss that’s been created I hope you have,’ Duncan remarked.

    ‘There’s something else. For six months there was a leakage of radiation from the plant. That specimen scorpion I took is a mutant, and it has radioactivity in its body.’

    Duncan glanced at him as though Allan had suddenly sprouted a second head. ‘Are you serious, Doctor? I mean, are you telling me that those scorpions are some kind of accidental freaks?’

    ‘As good a way of phrasing it as any.’

    Duncan shook his head. ‘I said once before this was above me. Now I know I was right.’ He rubbed his unshaven jaw. ‘Give me a minute and it’ll sink in.’

    ‘Don’t worry,’ Allan said. ‘It took me a while to accept what we might be up against.’

    They sped along the coast road, slowing as they passed the nuclear plant. A temporary wooden barrier had been erected across the entrance until new gates could be fitted. The car drifted slowly along the road and pulled up behind one of a number of patrol cars parked a short distance from the derelict building. Duncan and Allan were met by a uniformed sergeant.

    ‘Any trouble?’ Duncan asked.

    The sergeant shook his head. ‘Some of the lads are a bit queasy about having to patrol that grassy area round the building. They’re worried about those things crawling about.’

    ‘The sooner we take a look inside the better,’ Allan said.

    ‘You’re not going in there are you, sir?’ asked the sergeant.

    ‘Not until I’m suitably protected,’ grinned Allan. ‘Can we drive up to the plant, Inspector. I think we’re going to need their help.’

    

    

    Allan adjusted the visor of the protective suit and glanced across at Duncan. The Inspector was similarly dressed. So too were the three men from the nuclear plant. The temporary head of the establishment, a young man named Sanderson, had been more than helpful. When Allan had explained the situation Sanderson had organized the protective suits and also a member of the staff to bring along detecting equipment. A third plant member came along with a camera, to record whatever they found. Each man carried a powerful hand lamp and a sturdy pickaxe handle for protection if the need arose.

    ‘Ready?’ Sanderson asked, his voice muffled by the visor.

    Allan nodded.

    ‘Price will go first with the detector. He can check radiation levels.’

    The five men walked clumsily across the weed-choked concrete and entered the building. The lamps were lit once they got inside, illuminating the dark corners and throwing brilliant shafts of light back and forth across the walls and ceilings. They moved from the first level down to the second. Here they came across the dry, husk-like objects. Allan picked one up in his gloved hand and examined it.

    ‘What is it?’ Duncan asked.

    ‘A scorpion’s body casing.’

    Duncan swept the beam of his flashlight across the floor. ‘Hundreds of them.’

    ‘From scorpions that died - or were eaten,’ Allan said.

    ‘Eaten?’

    Allan nodded. ‘Scorpions have cannibalistic tendencies. If they can’t get enough food they’ll turn on their own - choose the weakest in the group.’