The pub had been empty, but the streets hadn’t been. He could see Badri in his mind’s eye, pushing his way through the Christmas crowd, barging into the woman with the lavender flowered umbrella and elbowing his way past the old man and the little boy with the white terrier. “Anyone he’s had any contact with,” Mary had said. He looked across at Mary, who was holding Gilchrist’s wrist and making careful entries in a chart. Was she going to try to get bloods and temps from everyone on these lists? It was impossible. Badri had touched or brushed past or breathed on dozens of people in his
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