The Secret

TWELVE

Steven recognised that he was about to ask the first question, the one Macmillan had highlighted as having inevitable repercussions, but he couldn’t see any way round it: he had to know where the samples had been sent and what the lab had found. The only thing he had to decide was whom to ask. A moment’s thought pointed him at Guy Monfils at Médecins Sans Frontières in Paris: he would know exactly where his teams would send lab samples and maybe, as a bonus, he wouldn’t have to tell anyone he’d been asked…

‘Guy? It’s Steven Dunbar in London.’

It only took Steven a few moments to conclude that Monfils had swallowed the official line about Aline’s involvement with drug traffickers. ‘A tremendous shock,’ he called it. ‘She must have succumbed to temptation, poor girl.’ If he believed that, thought Steven, he would almost certainly be happy with Simone’s death's being recorded as an accident and had probably accepted the CIA’s apology for their tactics along with the other major aid agencies. There would be no point in even attempting to recruit Monfils as an ally. It wasn’t that he was uncaring or a fool; he was just used to seeing the best in people and placing his trust in authority.

‘I have a question, Guy.’

Steven asked about lab facilities for aid workers in the field. ‘It must be really difficult?’

‘It can be a nightmare, Steven. Even keeping the vaccines cool is a major headache.’

‘So what do you do about actual lab work in the field… blood grouping, biochemistry, microbiology, that sort of thing?’

‘We have technicians out there who perform basic tests, but for major things the teams have to send samples back to Europe.’

‘To France?’

‘Or London.’

C’mon, c’mon, thought Steven, just a bit more…

‘The teams working on polio eradication would use Dr North’s lab in London. Virology is not something you can do in the field.’

‘Of course not,’ said Steven, as if he hadn't just received a crucial piece of information when in reality he felt like a lottery winner.

‘May I ask why you want to know this?’

Steven had anticipated the question and had given his answer some thought. He said, ‘I’m giving a talk to medical students about the practice of medicine under testing conditions. I'm aware of course, from my own experience how the military go about things, but it struck me that your people must face similar problems every day. I thought I’d check with someone who knew and I’m very much obliged to you. You’ve been a great help.’

‘Don’t mention it. I hope it goes well for you… Maybe you could point some of your students in our direction? We’re always on the lookout for committed young people.’

‘I’ll certainly mention it.’

Steven wondered for a few moments if he’d got away without arousing suspicion. He thought there was a fair chance he had, but questioning Tom North about blood samples from Afghanistan might turn out to be a whole new ball game — but one that would have to wait until tomorrow. First, he wanted to follow a hunch. He opened his wallet and took out the card the French policeman, Le Grice, had given him when they had discussed the sharing of information. Philippe Le Grice had impressed him as being bright — perhaps too bright to succeed in a profession where kissing the right arses and doing things by the book tended to pave the way to the higher echelons. It would be interesting to hear his take on developments in the Aline Lagarde case.

Le Grice wasn’t available when Steven called but he rang back thirty minutes later just as Steven was thinking of leaving for the day.

‘So, Aline Lagarde was a big bad drug dealer,’ said Steven, not bothering to remove the scepticism from his voice.

‘Apparently so.’

‘Your people must have come up with some pretty convincing evidence?’

‘Not my people,’ said Le Grice. ‘Apparently our drugs squad have had their eye on her for some time… although strangely my friend in Drugs didn’t seem to know anything about it.’

‘But let me guess, your intelligence people did?’

‘They came up with so much information… in such a short space of time… We are truly blessed to have such talent at our disposal.’

Steven judged the time right to make his appeal. ‘Philippe, an experienced detective like you must know that something wasn’t quite right?’

‘The smell was overpowering.’

‘But?’

‘Madame Le Grice has plans for my pension.’

‘So the case is closed?’

‘Oh no, not until Dr Lagarde’s killer is brought to justice. The investigation will continue… with all the vigour you might expect where a drug dealer and a gangland killing is involved.’

‘Her parents will be very pleased,’ said Steven flatly.

There was a long pause before Le Grice said, ‘Of course, if you should happen to uncover something that contradicts the official version of events…’

‘I’ll let you know.’

‘Have a care, Steven. I think you have a saying… discretion is the better part of valour?’

‘Point taken.’

Steven drove north to Leicester: he was in the flat when Tally got home at ten thirty and gave him a peck on the cheek before plumping herself down beside him.

‘Well, honey, how was your day?’ Steven mimicked in US sitcom style.

‘There aren’t enough expletives in the world to describe my day,’ Tally replied. ‘Do you think these people who go to church on Sundays and prattle on about all things bright and beautiful ever think about the microbial world and what bacteria and viruses do to people?’

‘I think the deal is, God only gets credit, not blame.’

‘Just like the bloody government.’

‘Exactly. Only previous governments get blame.’

‘I’ve got an interview at Great Ormond Street.’

‘That’s wonderful.’

‘Let’s not count our chickens. It’s one of the best children’s hospitals in the world, remember. Competition will be fierce.’

‘The best should employ the best. You’ll walk it.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Tally, getting up. ‘How about you? What was the mystery meeting about?’

Steven told her and Tally’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. ‘Fake aid teams? They were pretending to vaccinate children and leaving them unprotected in a polio endemic area? Is there nothing those bastards won’t stoop to? How many kids have they left paralysed so they could bring in the man who shot their "paw"?’

‘There’s more,’ said Steven thoughtfully. ‘They’re covering up something else, something big enough for MI6, the CIA and possibly French intelligence to be involved in. I’m convinced Simone and Aline were murdered because they stumbled into it.’

Tally’s anger was being replaced by alarm. She pursed her lips. ‘Steven, I know this is all awful but… you can’t bring them back… and if the Foreign Secretary and MI6 are involved… they’re on our side, aren’t they? Wouldn’t you be going up against… your own?’

‘Sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do…’

‘Don’t you start! This is not a joking matter. You don’t have to do this at all.’

Steven stared at the floor for what Tally thought was an eternity before he looked up and said apologetically, ‘I think I do.’

Tally felt a hollow appear in her stomach. She nodded slowly. ‘I suppose you do. Drink?’

‘Please.’

Steven called Tom North in the morning and asked about the samples Simone and Aline had taken from the sick people in the village they’d come across, resigned to the fact that by lunchtime Whitehall would know about the inquiry.

‘I don’t think I dealt with them personally but I can certainly find out for you if it’s important?’ North replied.

‘I’d just like to know why so many people, including children, had fallen ill,’ said Steven. ‘As I understand it, the fake aid teams the Americans put in would account for the kids not being vaccinated properly against polio… but that wouldn’t make anyone sick, would it?’

‘Certainly not,’ agreed North. ‘Unless, of course, it was actually an outbreak of polio.’

‘Which Simone and Aline would have recognised,’ said Steven. ‘In which case, there probably would have been no need to send samples for investigation. Maybe that’s what Simone wanted to talk to you about when she came to London?’

‘Could be. Look, why don’t I look into this? Maybe you could pop into the lab and I’ll fill you in on what I come up with?’

Steven arranged to meet North at ten the following morning.