The Chosen Seed Read Free Page A

kindly.
    ‘We were standing outside so Bill, my boss, could smoke. Our drinks were on the windowsill. It was quite crowded, and I didn’t really notice the man behind me until Bill went in to use the loo – then he came and stood beside me andclinked bottles. He was drinking Stella, like me, and he wished me happy Hallowe’en.’ She frowned slightly, lost in the memory. ‘I smiled at him, then we both drank. It was after that he said the funny thing – weird funny, not ha-ha.’
    ‘After you drank?’ Ramsey asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And what did he say?’ Hask said. ‘Exactly, if you can remember.’
    ‘I can remember. I think I’ll always remember. He said, “For this is the word of your God. Spread it.” It was strange. He walked away after that and I was glad because it was creepy. Then Bill came back, and, well, you know … it went out of my head.’
    ‘And you think he might have put something in your beer?’ Ramsey was leaning forward now, his curiosity overcoming his fear.
    ‘I’m sure he did. It would have been easy because my bottle was on the windowsill behind me. He was drinking the same beer.’
    Hask could see Ramsey visualising the scene. Michaela Wheeler was clearly an intelligent woman, and there was no reason for her to lie.
    ‘What did this man look like?’ Hask’s nerves tingled. This was shaping up to be interesting. He might have to forgive Ramsey after all.
    ‘Respectable,’ she said. ‘More than respectable, actually. He was thin, but his hair was cut well. He was dressed smartly. He didn’t look out of place. Until he spoke I’d have said he was like us, I guess: middle class, relatively successful, doing okay all things considered.’
    ‘Can you give us more physical details?’ Ramsey pressed her a little. ‘Like how old he was? Skin colour?’
    ‘He was white, early thirties, maybe. Thin, as I said, evenslightly gaunt. Chestnut hair with no grey in it. Short – with a side parting, I think. That’s about it.’
    ‘Was he wearing a suit?’
    ‘He had a long overcoat on and just a sweater and shirt underneath, but with smart trousers. He looked like part of the office crowd, but someone doing well. Someone’s boss—’
    A coughing fit came out of nowhere and her eyes and nose streamed as she desperately tried to clear her lungs. Hask handed her his handkerchief, not that it would help her much. The WPC at the back of the small room looked as if she wanted to climb into the wall.
    ‘I think we’ve got enough, don’t you think?’ Hask asked Ramsey.
    ‘We’ll get you back to Charing Cross now, Mrs Wheeler,’ the DI said. ‘Can you organise that, Armstrong?’
    The woman recovering her breath looked like she might cry again.
    Hask and Ramsey hung back in the corridor as the others left.
    ‘Poor woman,’ Hask said. ‘She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Frightening.’
    ‘That’s what this man is banking on, don’t you think?’
    ‘Could be,’ Hask agreed. ‘I think I might take a trip up to the Strain II wing myself in the morning. I want to hear more of these stories before I start evaluating.’
    ‘You sure you want to go up there?’ Ramsey asked.
    ‘People work there every day, Detective Inspector, and they don’t catch anything. Hysteria is far more infectious than the bug.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Ramsey mused as they watched Michaela Wheeler haul herself up the stairs at the other end, oblivious to thePC waiting for her to get round the corner before he started disinfecting the railing. ‘But the bug is pretty damned infectious – and this version is twice as mean.’
    Hask thought the American had a point, but there were some things you couldn’t learn from hearing stories secondhand. Everyone’s perceptions were different, and often what he needed was all in the nuance.
    ‘Do you fancy a beer tomorrow night?’ Hask asked.
    ‘Sure,’ Ramsey answered cheerfully, ‘if you’re not checked in to Charing Cross yourself by