Free The Secret (Dr Steven Dunbar 10) by Ken McClure

course, that’s where Dr Simmons works,’ said Macmillan. ‘I should have remembered. How is she , by the way?’
    ‘Just fine,’ replied Steven, once again noting that Macmillan always referred to Tally formally. He wasn’t quite sure why but suspected it might be because Sir John saw her as the main obstacle to his agreeing to take over at Sci-Med one day. ‘I’ll be seeing her later. I hope to get more details.’
    ‘It seems straightforward enough,’ said Macmillan, leaning back in the chair, elbows on the arm rests, fingers interlaced in a steeple. ‘Recent immigrant family from Afghanistan.’
    ‘Do we know which region?’
    Macmillan searched briefly through some papers on his desk. ‘North West Frontier country . . . FATA if that means anything to you?’
    ‘Federally administered tribal areas,’ said Steven.
    ‘I’m impressed,’ said Macmillan. ‘I’m told polio is still rife there.’
    ‘Much to the chagrin of the World Health Organisation,’ said Steven. ‘I’ve learned quite a bit about this over the past couple of days.’
    ‘I remember now, that’s where Dr Ricard was working. Well, the Leicester situation is something we can’t do much about. It’s a straightforward case of importing a disease from the wilds of Afghanistan into our multicultural wonderland. God help us all.’
    Steven smiled wryly. He was well aware of Macmillan’s views on modern Britain. Multiracial was fine, multicultural was the death of all things British and the road to disaster. ‘I was thinking . . .’ he began.
    Macmillan raised his eyebrows.
    ‘Well, I was wondering as things are a bit quiet for us at the moment if I might take some time off. I’ve been trying to persuade Tally to take a holiday. She’s been working so hard that I’m starting to worry about her, and if this polio business should become more than an isolated incident she might not get a chance again for quite a while.’
    ‘Makes sense ,’ agreed Macmillan. ‘It’s a while since you had any real time off too apart from the odd weekend here and there. Recharge your batteries, that sort of thing.’
    ‘Thanks, John. I’ll work on Tally this evening.’
    ‘Give her my best.’
    Steven had a quick mental picture of Tally’s face when he passed on Macmillan’s regards. She saw him in mu ch the same light as he saw her: a threat.
    Steven was already at the flat in Leicester by the time Tally got home. He hugged her and thought how tired she looked but didn’t say so. She slumped down in the sofa and swung her feet up on a footstool.
    ‘Would gin and tonic help?’ asked Steven.
    ‘You bet,’ sighed Tally, reaching behind her to release her hair, which was always tied back for work.
    ‘Coming right up, my lady.’
    ‘That sounds like guilt to me. What did you and the French dolly get up to last night?’
    ‘She didn’t turn up,’ replied Steven from the kitchen as he got ice from the freezer. ‘Are we out of lemons?’
    ‘Haven’t been to the supermarket,’ Tally replied. ‘What d’you mean she didn’t turn up?’
    ‘Stoo d me up. No message. No apology.’
    ‘Must have been the pins I was sticking in that little doll last night,’ murmured Tally, eyes closed, her head back as if to survey the ceiling.
    Steven smiled as he returned with the drinks. ‘Did you ask about time off?’
    Tally opened her eyes, made a face and looked guilty.
    ‘You didn’t,’ Steven accused.
    ‘I just can’t see how they could manage right now.’
    ‘Tally, you need a break , and if you wait any longer . . .’
    ‘Yes, I know, there just never seems to be a good time. We seem to have an ever growing population in the city who’ve never had proper medical care in their lives.’
    ‘And now polio’s joining in the fun. How’s that situation developing?’
    ‘Public Health are hopeful they can contain it. There’s no treatment of course; it’s a case of vaccinating all around the epicentre. The British kids have all been