The Devil's Landscape

Twenty-Two

‘You did well,’ said Macmillan when Steven had finished telling him what Jane Lincoln and her friend had come up with, ‘but we’re sailing ever closer to the wind by withholding information from the US police.’

Steven was tempted to point out that the American police actually had the information in front of their noses but failed to see it, but didn’t. He knew Macmillan was right.

‘It’s just a question of how we go about it,’ said Macmillan. ‘Our own investigation is important too.’

‘I think we should get as much information as we can to further our investigation before handing anything over. I don’t honestly think we are delaying anything. If I were to notice something odd in the photographs next week instead of last week... would it really make any difference to a police investigation?’

‘I suppose when you put it that way...’ conceded Macmillan. ‘What did you have in mind for the time being?’

‘Dorothy,’ said Steven. ‘I’d like to tackle her head on, maybe even tell her everything we know and see what happens.’

‘Light blue touch paper and retire immediately,’ said Jean, remembering advice that used to be printed on firework wrappings.

‘That would be taking a step there’s no coming back from,’ said Macmillan. ‘We must be able to see a clear gain before we risk it.’ He looked to Steven to make the case.

‘We should be able to establish whether or not she had any direct involvement in the deaths of Paul and Carrie. If it turns out that she had, we immediately hand the whole lot over to the U.S. police and inform our own police of what’s been going on. As a quid pro quo, we could ask the US cops if they might give us anything they come up with on Father Crossan.’

‘You’ve obviously given this some thought,’ said Macmillan, ‘and if you conclude that she’s not guilty of direct involvement?’

‘We ask her what was going on between her and Crossan. Why was he in the lab after the fire? What were they arguing about?’

‘Well,’ said Macmillan, ‘You seem to have covered all the bases as our American friends might say, wouldn’t you agree, Jean?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘I think we can risk one more week.’

Steven decided it was too late to tackle Dorothy; he’d do that in the morning. In the meantime, he would go over to see Lukas in the labs in Crompton Lane to warn him that his services were about to be needed again.

‘Are you telling me that you’ve come up with Barrowman’s missing data?’

‘We’re hoping so.’

Steven told him about the secret Post Office box system.

‘Hey! John Le Carré stuff,’ Lukas exclaimed. ‘Is the exchange going to be made on London Bridge at midnight?’

‘We think a sorting office somewhere in south west London is more likely,’ said Steven. ‘MI5 are coming to the party too.’ He went on to tell Lukas of the agreement that all material was to be shared on site. ‘Can you bring along everything you might need to make copies from a range of data sources?’

‘No problem. What’s between you and Five, I thought we’re all on the same side?’

‘We think Five, or more likely Porton Down, have been working on the same thing Barrowman has and maybe they’d like to keep it all to themselves.’

‘For reasons connected with defence of the realm,’ Lukas said with the merest suggestion of sarcasm.

‘What else?’

‘OK, I’ve got the picture, but what happens then?’

‘I’m not with you,’ Steven confessed.

‘We both leave with the data. Presumably you’d like me to examine it and interpret it if I can?’

‘There’s no one better.’

‘But from what you’ve said it sounds like it’s some sort of race. You don’t think there might be... interference? I mean, if Five really doesn’t want to share Barrowman’s data...’

‘Sir John obtained an assurance from the Home Secretary herself that no such “interference” would be tolerated,’ said Steven. ‘Sci-Med is off limits to the intelligence services.’

‘A comfort,’ said Lukas, ‘but maybe I should increase our fire insurance cover just in case a freak lightning storm should strike the area.’

‘Wouldn’t do any harm,’ agreed Steven, ‘nor would making some extra copies of everything to be kept at an undisclosed location.’

Before leaving for Capital University in the morning, Steven sent a text to Jane Lincoln to warn her he would be coming, but not to see her. He planned to interview Dorothy.

‘I take it you’re her to see Jane,’ said Dorothy Lindstrom when she saw him appear in the lab. She said so without smiling and Steven replied in the same way, ‘No, Professor, it’s you I’d like to speak to.’

For a moment, it looked as if Dorothy might dig in her heels to make a point, but Steven’s unsmiling countenance changed her mind. ‘If you can just give me a moment.’

‘Of course.’

Dorothy finished briefing the student she was with and invited Steven in to her office. She parked herself behind her desk as if establishing the rules of the game and invited him to sit with a wave of her open palm. Before he did so, Steven challenged the rules by taking out his ID and laying it open on the desk. He informed Dorothy that this was a formal interview, he was not interviewing her under caution, although he had the right to do so and, if she preferred, they could continue at a local police station.

Dorothy’s eyes opened wide in amazement. ‘Good heavens, couldn’t we just talk?’ she asked.

‘Professor Lindstrom, I have reason to believe that the fire which took the lives of two of your young colleagues at Yale University may not have been an accident. I think there’s a very real chance that they were murdered.’

Dorothy searched for words. ‘But this is... an outrageous suggestion,’ she stammered. ‘It was an accident... a tragic accident... the fire department, the police... they all agreed it was an accident.’

‘They did,’ Steven agreed, ‘but they could have been wrong.’

‘But why? Why would anyone want to kill Paul and Carrie?’

‘To make sure what they had discovered would not be made public.’

Dorothy reacted by staring down at her desk.

‘You weren’t happy with their findings either, were you, Professor?’

‘It’s true I found their conclusions... very difficult to accept.’

‘To the point of preventing their publication.’

Dorothy shook her head as if dismissing a ridiculous suggestion. ‘That’s going too far,’ she said. ‘I... we all had to be absolutely sure before allowing such findings to be made public. Paul and Carrie were young; they were impatient and impetuous; they gave no thought to the possible repercussions of what they were intent on announcing.’

‘So, you put a stop to that.’

Dorothy took two or three deep breaths before saying quietly, ‘I suppose you could say that. I just needed time to be sure. We all had to be sure.’

‘Did you know they were repeating their experiments in the evening in the hope of convincing you they were right?’

‘Of course, I did.’

‘But you didn’t want to know.’

‘They were rushing, doing the same thing all over again in the same way, that’s not what was needed.’

‘So, you murdered them to put a stop to it.’

‘No, a thousand times no,’ Dorothy spluttered, shocked to the core. ‘They were my colleagues, my friends, brilliant young minds. I wanted them to slow down, think things through and use a different approach to asking the same questions.’

‘They thought you were blocking their findings for your own selfish reasons.’

‘If by “selfish reasons” you mean my faith, you’re right, that has always been very important to me. I certainly didn’t want it damaged by findings which subsequently turned out to be flawed. I didn’t want to hide the truth, I just had to be sure it was the truth.’

‘Outside your lab... who knew about the findings?’

‘No one.’

‘You didn’t tell anyone at all?’

Steven noticed a slight flicker in her eyes before she repeated her answer. ‘Are you... absolutely sure?’

‘I was deeply troubled,’ said Dorothy. ‘I... I did unburden myself at confession, but that is sacrosanct. It’s not the same as telling someone.’

Steven thought privately it was exactly the same but asked, ‘Who took your confession, Professor?’

‘Bishop Charles Stanley.’

‘Was he the cleric who spoke at the Yale conference on human behaviour?’

Surprise registered on Dorothy’s face. ‘Yes, we have been friends for some time. How did you know about that meeting?’

Steven told her that Neil Tyler had been present at the conference.

‘I see. Bishop Stanley and I both believe that there is no need for science and religion to be at war with each other. They have more in common than most care to admit.’

‘Your post-doc, Paul Leighton, openly accused you of blocking the publication of his work at that meeting.’

‘He did,’ Dorothy responded quickly. ‘Paul was upset, he was a young man in a hurry to receive scientific acclaim, without subjecting himself to rigorous examination from all angles.’

‘And Carrie?’

‘Paul could be very persuasive. He probably convinced her she could be the next Marie Curie.’

Steven relaxed his demeanour: he believed what he was hearing. ‘So, Professor, if you weren’t involved in the deaths, who was?’

‘I can’t believe anyone was. I’m still convinced it was an accident, an awful accident.’

‘A priest came to see you at the university a few days after the fire, who was he?’

Dorothy paused as if wondering where Steven was heading. ‘Father Liam Crossan.’

Steven was forced to prompt for more. ‘The priest at your local church?’

Dorothy shook her head. She did it absent-mindedly as if thinking about something else, but when she became aware that Steven was waiting patiently, she said, ‘Bishop Stanley asked him to come and see me. He was worried about my state of mind and thought I might benefit from counselling.’

Steven noted a slight edge creep into her voice. ‘And did you?’ he asked.

‘No... Father Crossan came across as a friendly, charming man, but, after a short conversation, it became apparent that he was more interested in my future plans than in my then state of mind...’

Steven was excited by the comment, but concentrated on not showing it.

‘When I told him that I intended to pursue the research Paul and Carrie had been engaged in by using an alternative approach, he tried to dissuade me. At first, he said that he understood that my faith must have been shaken by what had happened, but it would recover and perhaps it would be for the best if I moved away from that type of research altogether. When I told him I was determined to pursue the truth and that I owed that to Paul and Carrie... he became quite aggressive and insisted that I would only end up damaging the church I loved... I should reconsider... and desist.’

‘I see,’ said Steven. He could see that Dorothy was now thinking what he was thinking.

‘Oh, God, surely not...’ she murmured. ‘He’s a priest!’

Steven considered calling a halt, but then risked one last prod. ‘Tell me about Bishop Stanley.’

The gamble worked. Dorothy escaped from the agony of suspicion to concentrate on her friendship with the bishop.

‘He was my rock when I was in the USA. It’s not easy being a scientist and keeping a strong faith. Charles is very old school and often disagrees with what he sees as pandering to popular taste. Despite the dangers of defying papal authority, he continues to hold mass in Latin. He saw that as a great unifying factor; you could experience the same service all over the world and feel equally at home attending mass in Paraguay or wherever as you would in Rome. He regarded saying mass in the language of the country as divisive populist rubbish. I agreed with him.’

‘A man of strong conviction,’ said Steven.

Dorothy gave Steven a suspicious look.

Before she could mount any kind of pre-emptive defence of her friend, Steven asked, ‘What was his connection to Father Crossan?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Presumably they knew each other if your friend asked him to come and see you and offer counselling. Was he part of some official support group for VIP Catholics?’

‘VIP?’ Dorothy exclaimed.

‘Well, as you pointed out yourself, it’s unusual for a high-profile scientist to be a committed Christian or to follow any faith for that matter. You would be seen as an important ally — witness the Yale meeting where you and the bishop spoke in supportive style instead of knocking lumps out of each other.’

‘I suppose.’

‘At some stage soon, I am going to have to hand over what I’ve come up with to the American police,’ said Steven.

Dorothy pursed her lips but said, ‘Of course, it’s the right thing to do. I just feel for Paul and Carrie’s parents; coming to terms with a horrific accident must have been bad enough, but murder...’

On the spur of the moment Steven decided on a course of action he might have difficulty explaining later, but it felt right. He said, ‘I could delay for a while longer... or maybe even indefinitely.’

‘Why would you do that?’ Shock had reduced Dorothy’s voice to a whisper.

‘To give you time to contact your friend the bishop and ask him about Liam Crossan, you want to know who he is and what he is... and if he stalls, you want to know exactly why he discussed the substance of your confession with him.’

Dorothy seemed stunned, but after long consideration, she nodded and said quietly, ‘Very well.’

‘You did what?’ John Macmillan exclaimed when Steven told him what he’d done. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses? This is a matter for the American police not Sci-Med. It’s their job to trace this Crossan character and find out what’s been going on and bring him to justice if that’s warranted.’

Steven waited until Macmillan’s anger had subsided a little before saying, ‘I don’t think the American police will be able to do anything at all.’

‘I’m waiting,’ said Macmillan.

‘They’ll have absolutely nothing to go on in the way of solid evidence.’

‘They’ll see what you saw in the photographs when you point it out to them.’

‘And they may well agree there’s a strong possibility the pair were drugged, but they won’t be able to prove it. It’s too late. Again, Crossan was with them in the restaurant but there’s no evidence he drugged them. He left the restaurant with them but there’s no evidence he went back to the lab with them and there’s no evidence anyone started the fire deliberately.’

Macmillan looked as if he was facing up to an unpleasant truth as did Jean Roberts who had remained silent throughout.

‘We think we know what happened. We’re even pretty sure, but we’ll never be able to prove it and neither will anyone else,’ said Steven.

‘The police will find this Crossan character,’ said Macmillan.

‘And maybe even question him as a murder suspect, which he’ll deny, calling it outrageous and demanding to know what possible motive he could have had: he’s a priest, not a killer.’

‘And that will be the end of it,’ said Jean, ‘It does sound ridiculous when you look at it all that way.’

‘Whereas... it’s the motive that we are really interested in,’ said Steven. ‘We think Crossan killed the two Americans to prevent their findings being made public and he didn’t do that as some unbalanced lone wolf. He was known to Bishop Charles Stanley and sent to “counsel” Dorothy Lindstrom, but really to dissuade her from continuing her line of research. This morning, after talking to Dorothy, I thought her friendship with the bishop might make her more successful in uncovering Crossan’s background connections than the police might be... That’s why I took the decision I did.’

Jean gave Steven an encouraging glance while Macmillan contemplated a portion of humble pie. Eventually, he said, ‘I’m sorry I jumped down your throat, Steven, I should have known better after all these years.’

‘Nothing to be sorry for, John, you’ve always had the best interests of Sci-Med at heart.’

‘So have you.’

‘God, I think I’m going to cry,’ said Jean, ‘making light of the whole thing. Coffee anyone?’