“What about symptoms?” Søren asked. Bjerregaard pursed her lips.
“The symptoms of an infected patient depend on several factors. Generally, you’ll expect to find a positive correlation between the number of cysticerci and the extent of the symptoms. However, it depends on where the cysticerci are located. Forty thousand cysticerci located exclusively in muscle tissue can, in theory, cause less damage to their host than five unfortunately located cysticerci in nerve tissue. Muscular tissue tolerates the uninvited guests surprisingly well, and their presence may not cause muscular pain until the very late stages. However, if they are located in the central nervous system, it’s a completely different matter. As the cysticercus grows, it takes up more room and diverts blood supply from the surrounding tissue, and the tissue in the central nervous system is of far more critical importance for functionality than muscular tissue, for example. If the central nervous system is attacked, the patient will experience severe seizures of an epileptic nature, the same as have been observed in brain tumor patients. In addition, the patient will experience sudden blackouts, and very likely suffer from severe motor problems and spasms. Bøje Knudsen informed me the deceased had a fairly high concentration of cysticerci in his brain tissue, and he showed signs of multiple fractures and falls. That makes perfect sense.”
She allowed the conclusion to hang in the air before she continued. “If the cysticerci are discovered in time, the patient will be given medication and/or surgery, depending on the number of cysticerci, their location, and how advanced their development is. In the case of the deceased, the cysticerci weren’t discovered which, in itself, is incredible. To me, it’s a physiological mystery how the deceased managed to go to work on the day he died.”
A moment of silence followed, then Dr. Bjerregaard said, “Anything else I can do for you gentlemen today?”
Søren was taken aback. He wasn’t used to being shown the door before he had announced he had no further questions. Dr. Bjerregaard glanced at her watch and pursed her lips again.
“Can you explain how Helland was infected?” Søren said, refusing to be brushed off.
“No,” Dr. Bjerregaard replied. “I certainly can’t.”
She sounded almost hurt, and Søren realized what a stupid question it had been. It was the equivalent of asking the mechanic what caused a car crash.
“But, like I said,” she carried on, giving Søren a final look, “either he ingested feces, or something which had been in contact with infected feces—and all things considered, that’s highly unlikely. Or he worked with live tapeworms and was accidentally infected, which doesn’t really add up, either. There are parasites that infect their host through the skin, the blood-sucking Japanese mountain leech, for example, which causes bilharziasis, but Taenia solium has to be ingested via the digestive tract to complete its life cycle, so even if we assume the deceased had a work-related accident, I still can’t see how he could have been infected. You would expect a biologist who happens to drop a test tube to take precautions immediately, and you would most certainly not expect him to go to lunch without washing his hands after an accident involving Taenia solium. My guess is Professor Helland must have spent time in a high-risk area within the last six months, and that was where he was infected. It’s still hard to imagine how, but as I said, it does happen.”
Søren looked at Dr. Bjerregaard for a long time, before he said, “And if it’s none of the above?”
Bjerregaard stood up.
“The deceased lived in excruciating pain and died as a result of this infection. The idea that he was infected accidentally is unpleasant enough in itself. The suggestion that someone infected him deliberately, well, that’s not a thought I would like to pursue. Besides, to my ears it sounds highly implausible. It requires biological competence to extract a proglottid from infected feces, and it would be difficult for a layperson to clean that kind of organic material without destroying it. And even if you were successful, the rest of the plan seems rather far-fetched. It’s regrettable and horrifying that the deceased died under such dramatic circumstances, but I find it hard to see how a crime could have been committed. Very hard.” Bjerregaard’s face made it clear their meeting was over.
“How do you store your material?” Søren persisted. Dr. Bjerregaard flashed an irritated look at Søren before she relented.
“It’s impossible to gain access to material here at the Serum Institute, if that’s what you’re insinuating. That’s self-evident. We store far more dangerous material than tapeworms. HIV, hepatitis C, Ebola, avian flu. And it’s obviously impossible,” she shot Søren a sharp look, “to force entry and steal such material. And if anyone were to succeed, only an expert would know how to treat the material to keep it alive. If someone broke into our basement and nicked a test tube, the contents would die and, consequently, cease to be infectious before the thief was halfway down the street.”