The Devil's Landscape

Twenty-Five

In the morning, Steven controlled his urge to drive directly over to Crompton Lane to find out how things were going, knowing that Lukas needed time to go through Barrowman’s results and wouldn’t welcome someone standing over him while he worked. He knew that they weren’t in a race with MI5, but there was that feeling about it when, in fact, it was more complicated. It didn’t matter who managed to interpret Barrowman’s findings first as long as both of them succeeded in doing it. Things might start to get awkward if Five succeeded and Lukas didn’t because Five’s findings would almost certainly be smothered under a security blanket for as long as it took Five and probably Porton Down to assess any discovery in ‘defence’ terms. Success for Lukas would mean any important findings being added to scientific knowledge and made accessible to all.

Steven was beginning to relish the idea of a day off when his mind begged to differ — it pointed out he had things to do. Nothing needed urgent attention, but they still had to be done. Dorothy Lindstrom and Jane Lincoln had to be told about the extent of Fidei Defensores’ activities both in the USA and here at home in the UK and how it would almost certainly lead to an immediate stop to funding when the leak to Vatican resources was plugged. He was still intent on advising Dorothy how they might be restored through revealing in the right circles that she knew who had blocked her Research Council funding at the outset. The Home Secretary could hardly lecture the churches about interfering in scientific research when she had done exactly that herself.

After mulling this over, Steven changed his mind. He wouldn’t tell Dorothy about Five’s involvement after all. Dorothy might be a fine scientist but she was no diplomat. John Macmillan was, and he knew the value of letting people work things out for themselves. He would ask John to right the wrong and look forward to hearing from him that the Home Secretary had expressed her gratitude for his suggestion and that Government funding would indeed be found to enable Professor Lindstrom to continue her exciting work. This would be preferable to Dorothy phoning the newspapers.

Although Steven had decided not to visit Lucy Barrowman, he still had an interest in finding out how much progress the police had made in catching her attacker. He was on the point of calling them when John Macmillan phoned him.

‘Bloody Keystone Cops,’ stormed Macmillan.

‘What’s happened, John?’

‘He got away, that’s what’s happened. He turned up at the sorting office and he got away. Can you believe it?’

Steven had little choice. ‘Was it Barrowman himself who turned up?’

‘No, it was a postman.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘A cheerful postman came into the office and gave the password. Special Branch’s finest thought it was Barrowman dressed as a postman and pinned him to the floor. Turns out it was a real postman. A man in a car down the road had stopped him and offered him ten pounds to collect his parcels for him — said he was recovering from a knee operation and it was playing up.’

‘And by the time they ran to the car it was gone?’

‘Correct.’

‘And it’s not even the pantomime season,’ said Steven.

‘At least we have his data,’ said Macmillan.

‘Yep, all of us can have a bad day.’

For Steven, the feel-good factor of the day had completely disappeared, but he pressed on with his plans and phoned the police, asking to speak to the officer in charge of the Lucy Barrowman case. As soon as he heard Detective Inspector Morris speak he knew something was the matter. There was an apologetic tone to his voice.

‘I’m sorry... I’ve been meaning to phone you,’ said the DI.

‘You’ve not made an arrest,’ Steven suggested.

‘I’m afraid not. To be quite frank we were hoping for some forensic help but somewhere along the line it went wrong.’

This was a new one on Steven. You either had forensic evidence or you didn’t; it didn’t ‘go wrong’. ‘In what way?’

‘We got a DNA match but it was wrong.’

‘You mean it was contaminated?’

‘Yes, I suppose that’s the word.’

Steven knew how sensitive modern methods for DNA fingerprinting were. Part of the process involved amplifying the tiniest trace found at the scenes of crime. Great care had to be taken that none of the investigators contaminated the scene with their own DNA.

‘One of the officers?’

‘No, actually... we matched it to er... Malcolm Lawler, which of course is impossible. He’s been inside for years.’

Steven shuddered at the name.

‘To be quite frank,’ continued the DI, ‘there must have been a cock-up at the lab. Samples from the first assault on Mrs Barrowman must have got mixed up with those taken from the second...’

‘Where does Lawler’s DNA come into it?’ snapped Steven.

‘Mrs Barrowman’s husband had been to see Lawler on the day he attacked her. He probably had traces of Lawler’s DNA on him which transferred during the assault... on to Mrs Barrowman and her clothes.’

‘I see,’ said Steven. It was the best he could do. A few skin cells would have been enough... that and, of course, the most appalling bad luck that they were picked up by the police forensic people.

‘I’ll keep you informed,’ said the DI.

‘Thanks.’

Steven fidgeted away the rest of the day, feeling that the whole world was against Sci-Med if not him personally. His earlier resolve not to interrupt Lukas weakened and finally gave way to a need to hear something positive. He drove over to Crompton Lane. His fear that Lukas might not have been too pleased to see him disappeared when he was met with a big smile and the words, ‘This is amazing.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I know a lot of people think that junk DNA is there to stop too many mutations accumulating in the coding stuff — it takes the hits that life throws at it rather than the vital regions — and I’m sure they have a point, but when you think that over seventy percent of the human genome is what they’re calling junk and has no function, well, you have to think...’

‘And you think he’s shown it’s involved in switching mechanisms?’

‘Yes.’

Steven smiled, but had the impression that Lukas was sitting on something else. ‘Anything more you’d like to share?’ he asked.

‘Somewhere along the line Barrowman came across something he refers to as “a great danger”. If I’m reading it right, he thinks there is one particular switch sequence which, if triggered the wrong way, can lead to absolute disaster. A number of genes are involved; some are turned on and others off.’

‘What sort of disaster?’

‘His lab notes suggest that, if switched one way, you get evil incarnate, a personality devoid of all empathy and sympathy, no trace of decency, no vestige of what we like to call humanity. Barrowman actually refers to it as the Satan Switch in his notes.’

‘Can I take it this is where Lawler comes into the picture?’

‘Lawler has the capacity to control this switch at will.’

‘Did Barrowman find out how he did it?’

‘It’s not recorded in his notes, but one of the disks is encrypted and I haven’t found a way to crack it.’

‘You’ve no idea yourself?’ Steven asked.

‘Come on,’ laughed Lukas. ‘I suspect people will be applying for five-year grants into the foreseeable future to figure that out if we can’t get into that disk.’

‘Do you think that’s what happened to Barrowman himself, he inadvertently triggered the switch?’

‘There’s a long history of scientists trying out their discoveries on themselves,’ said Lukas.

Steven considered for a moment then said, ‘If this were all true, it would mean that every now and then in the normal way of things, a baby would be born with a mutation that causes the sequence to trigger the wrong way... and he or she would grow up with a psychopathic personality?’

‘That’s exactly what would happen in the normal way of things and what I was thinking as I read through the notes,’ said Lukas. ‘But...’

‘But what?’

‘Barrowman believes it’s the other way around. He thinks that the evil state was the norm in early human beings and the switching mutation occurred to introduce decency and care and empathy and sympathy and so on.’

Steven felt stunned. ‘He’s suggesting that human beings are naturally evil but have mutated to become... better?’

‘And stay that way unless the genome reverts to its original state, in which case you get a psychopath, not the other way around.’

‘It sounds as if there was an ancient battle between the forces of good and evil and, in the end, good won?’

‘As a broad general statement...’

‘There’s more?’

‘Barrowman goes on to speculate that the evil state is stronger than the mutated one: evil people are liable to be more powerful and are capable of exerting great influence over others. The ones we are aware of in society tend to be criminals who get caught committing horrific crimes and get locked up, but he suggests there are others.’

‘Others?’

‘Psychopaths who are clever and cunning enough to rise to the top in whatever field they choose to be in... including government, where they can exercise their power... to great and often horrifying effect.’

‘You mean people like Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot...’

‘And throughout history, Attila the Hun... Caligula... Vlad the Impaler... Idi Amin... the list is endless. People who will do the unthinkable because they see nothing to stop them and can influence others to follow them without question.’

‘Well, at least that answers my mother’s question,’ said Steven. ‘She always used to ask, how do such awful people get into positions of power?’

‘I don’t think she’s the only person to ask that,’ said Lukas.

‘If Barrowman threw the switch in himself it would suggest he knows how to do it: That’s the knowledge the intelligence services and Porton Down will be after.’

‘I can’t argue with that,’ said Lukas, ‘much as I’d like to.’

‘How do you think they will be getting on with analysing Barrowman’s data?’

‘Pretty well,’ said Lukas. ‘Barrowman kept good notes and has lots of data. It’s not difficult to work your way through it.’

‘Pity,’ said Steven, forced to imagine a city where the switch was thrown in an entire population and the resulting mayhem. ‘You’ve been brilliant,’ he said to Lukas.

Steven didn’t know what to feel as he drove home. He had hoped to feel cheered by hearing how much Lukas had been able to decipher but the opposite was true. He felt as if he wasn’t a real person at all, the real him was hidden under some kind of genetic sedation, as was everyone else... apart from creatures like Lawler. Tally would make sense of it, he decided. She was good at finding the common-sense view of all situations. He looked forward to being told to get over himself.

He glanced at his watch as he slowed and turned into the down slope to the entrance of the underground garage, deciding that Tally would probably be home. He parked the car and made for the stairs. The only thing blocking his way were two dead policemen.

Steven froze and stared at the tableau of death. He hadn’t known the men personally, but had seen them often enough over the past week or so, they were part of Tally’s protection detail; their throats had been cut.

Steven hurtled up the stairs, to find his fingers all thumbs as he fought against the effects of adrenaline rush to get his key in the lock. The door flew back and he stopped dead in his tracks. He waited until his breathing had subsided, took out the Glock from its holster and started moving through the flat slowly and silently. He completed the search; there was no sign of the killer... and no sign of Tally either.

Still breathing calmly but slightly irregularly, Steven put the pistol back in its holster and took out his phone. As he did so, he noticed the note lying on the table: it wasn’t written in Tally’s handwriting. He picked it up.

I want my stuff, Dunbar. Your woman will provide entertainment until I get it. Wait for a call.

Steven remembered that Barrowman had his mobile number from earlier times. He called the emergency number made available to all Sci-Med investigators engaged on live investigations and listed what he needed and what he wanted to happen. This was acknowledged without question. He asked that the police protection unit be informed sensitively that they had two officers down and where they could be found — it was too late for an ambulance — MI5 should be informed of the situation — CCTV footage covering that past two hours was to be made available for examination and John Macmillan was to be informed as was Jean Roberts. Both should be asked to return to the Home Office as quickly as possible. He called Lukas using the house phone and was relieved to find he was still in the lab. Without explanation, he asked what had happened to the original disks and memory sticks containing Barrowman’s data.

‘I’ve got them,’ Lukas replied.

‘And the notes?’

‘Yes, them too.’

‘Thank God. Barrowman’s got Tally. He wants his data back.’

‘Oh man, I’m so sorry. Just say where you want me to bring them.’

‘The Home Office, we’re all going to meet there.’

‘On my way.’

The phone rang again as soon as Lukas had rung off, it was Macmillan. ‘What’s going on?’

‘He’s got Tally.’

The wail of sirens announced the imminent arrival of the police with two ambulances following behind. Steven looked out of the window, thinking again that there was no hurry for the ambulances as the awful image of the two dead officers added to the turmoil that filled his mind. He stared at his mobile, knowing that this was now his one link to Tally; he put it gently in his pocket. He went downstairs to speak to the policemen and saw that the senior man was the officer he’d spoken to when setting up protection for Tally. He was doing his job, issuing instructions, but was clearly upset. Steven read it his eyes when he came over to speak to him.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Steven.

‘They were good men.’

This was the wrong time for Steven to have this conversation. ‘He’s taken Tally.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ muttered the policeman. ‘What a mess.’

‘I’ve got to get to the Home Office,’ said Steven, ‘to decide what we’re going to do.’

The policeman nodded. ‘Of course.’ He turned to look back at his two dead colleagues and said, ‘These guys were the best. For what it’s worth... there must have been more than one of them.’