Free Fatlands by Sarah Dunant

people have been leafl eted or insulted at one time or another? Most of them. Multiply that by every research establishment in the country and you’ve got one hell of a number.’
    â€˜But the police said yours was a campaign.’
    â€˜It was more than one threat, yes, but that hardly registers as a campaign. And there’d been no violence. No bricks through the car window, no razor blades in my personal mail. Nothing special. If you work with animals the ALF is a fact of life. If you let them undermine you, then they’ve made their point. The reason I didn’t tell you was the same reason
I
don’t go out every morning and check underneath the bonnet of my car. Because I refuse to give them the satisfaction of my fear.’
    It sounded good. Except … ‘Except this time they were serious.’
    â€˜Yes. So it would seem,’ he said quietly.
    â€˜So why you? I mean what made you different from all the rest?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ he said for what was obviously the one hundred and fourth time. He was getting angry again. ‘Why don’t you ask them?’
    â€˜Because I’m asking you.’
    OK. So I should have been more compassionate. The guy was in pain. But he was also still alive, and all the way down the line he had disappointed her. What’s more, he knew that I knew it. ‘Look around you,’ he said with barely concealed exasperation. ‘We’re the biggest research unit in the country. And I’m the head of it.’
    â€˜Yeah, but cancer. It doesn’t make sense. If the ALF are going to blow up people, surely they’d pick their targets with a little more public relations in mind.’
    He snorted. ‘You don’t know much about animal rights, do you, Miss Wolfe? That’s the whole point. In the eyes of the ALF all scientists are monsters; it doesn’t matter what they do. It’s means, not ends, they’re concerned with. I believe it’s what’s called a gulf of understanding. For medical science progress is impossible without testing. For animal rights any test which involves what they see as suffering to animals is no progress at all. There’s no middle ground.’
    Nice little speech. Word perfect. Still, he was right. Despite all the publicity, I didn’t know much about their philosophy. I also didn’t know that much about his job. But maybe he wasn’t allowed to talk about it.
    â€˜So how do they justify the suffering they cause?’
    He stared at me. ‘I have no idea. Perhaps when you catch them, they’ll tell you.’
    It was clear the interview was drawing to a close. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. I watched him. His whole face was rigid, the jawbone set against any further feeling. He seemed like a man caught between exhaustion and fury. But what I didn’t get now I couldn’t see myself getting later. ‘I wonder, do you have any of these threats that I can see, Dr Shepherd?’
    The answer came slow and precise, as if he was talking to a child. ‘No. I have given them all to the police.’
    Time to start leaving. I put my bag over my shoulder and held out my hand. Play them right and you can get some of the best stuff from exits. ‘Well, thanks for seeing me, anyway.’
    He hesitated, then took my hand. His touch was clammy. I tried to imagine being fourteen with him as the centre of my universe, but I just couldn’t get there; somehow he didn’t seem old enough to be a father. But then he must have been young when she was born, mid twenties or even less. Maybe he had never quite finished with his youth and went looking for it amid the test tubes and lab assistants. It was an uncharitable thought, but then there was definitely something about him I didn’t like. Or maybe ‘like’ was the wrong word—‘didn’t feel comfortable with’ was probably more accurate. Still, grief turns people inside