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yet she showed no concern that we were unprotected. Maybe she assumed that we’d already been contaminated and it didn’t matter if we had further contact with the disease.
    At the top of the rise, we paused to look down at the buildings. There was nothing that looked unusual — nothing to indicate the horrors that lay hidden within.
    We found dead birds near the first lot of gorse: two Californian quail and several sparrows. As soon as we’d pointed them out, Cathy made us stand back while she collected samples. Again, five were enough. We then turned around and went back to the car.
    While we waited to be told what to do next, Cathy walked out of earshot, pulled out a phone and made a brief call.
    ‘He’ll be here shortly,’ she said when she returned.
    ‘Who?’ I asked.
    ‘Bryce Shreeves, the owner.’
    ‘Oh, him,’ sneered Nick. ‘The killer farmer.’
    Again Cathy studied him, obviously puzzled by his comments. She was opening her mouth to say something when the roar of a motor came from within the compound. A moment later a huge SUV skidded to a halt just short of the gate.
    The man who climbed out was dressed more for the city than for a poultry farm. I couldn’t imagine him spending much time in the filthy sheds. His hair was receding, but styled in a way that tried to hide the larger bald areas. The most noticeable feature of his face was the complexion — it was bright pink, almost as if he were sunburnt. Then, when he spoke, I realized he was red with anger.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.
    ‘Good morning, Mr Shreeves,’ said Cathy, pleasantly. ‘I’m here because dead birds have been found around the perimeter of the fence.’
    ‘Where?’ He strode up to the fence and marched along it a bit. ‘I don’t see any.’
    ‘They were found further around the perimeter.’
    ‘Did these boys find them?’ He glared at Nick. ‘Was it you? What were you doing sneaking—’
    ‘It doesn’t matter who found them,’ interrupted Cathy, showing the first signs of annoyance. ‘The point is that they were found, and now I must come in and inspect your sheds.’
    ‘No!’
    ‘I have the statutory right to inspect any property where there is evidence of—’
    ‘I said no!’ he shouted, his face now almost purple.
    Cathy took a deep breath. ‘Mr Shreeves. We can do this two ways. You can let me in and I will make my inspection. If I see no problems, then it will be over in half an hour. Or,’ she added, pulling her phone out of her pocket, ‘I can call the police and they will escort me in. The problem with this second alternative is that it is very likely that the news media will discover what is happening and they will arrive shortly after the police.’ She opened her arms. ‘It is your choice. Which do you want it to be?’
    It took some time before he made up his mind, and even then he didn’t say anything. He walked to the gate, unlocked the padlock, and swung it open a metre or so. Cathy picked up her mask and rushed through the gap before he had a chance to change his mind.
    Nick tried to follow, only to have the gate slammed in his face. Shreeves then relocked the padlock, climbed in the SUV and drove off, leaving Cathy to make her own way down to the buildings.
    ‘C’mon!’ shouted Nick, heading towards the side fence. ‘I’m not missing out on this.’
    I raced after him, thinking he was going for the gap, but fortunately he stopped when he got to the vantage point. We watched as Cathy approached the open door to the nearest shed. She paused long enough to put on the mask before disappearing inside.
    We waited.
    She took so long that I began to think something might have happened to her. When she eventually emerged, she walked some distance away from the shed, removed her mask and crouched to the ground. Then she vomited.
    ‘She saw it,’ said Nick, jumping up and down beside me. ‘She saw it.’
    Yes, she’d seen it, and had clearly been deeply affected by its