Deception

SIX

Steven had to wonder if he was being given the run-around. His only comfort was that Fildes seemed as uncomfortable telling him these things as he was in hearing them.

‘Did Dr Millar work alone?’ he asked.

‘No, he had and Higher Scientific Officer and a couple of more junior people working for him. Perhaps you’d like to speak to them?’

‘Maybe just the HSO.’

Fildes picked up the phone and spoke with someone named, Roberta. He finished by asking, ‘Will it be all right if we come along just now?’

Steven gathered that the answer had been, yes, when Fildes got up and said, ‘If you’d care to come with me.’

Fildes led the way along the corridor outside his room and said, ‘I do hope Miss Jackson can help you otherwise you’ve had a bit of a journey for nothing, I’m afraid.’

This fact had not escaped Steven’s notice. They entered a bright, airy laboratory where a tall, intelligent looking woman, wearing a lab coat and with long dark hair, tied back in a pony tail, rose from her bench stool, washed her hands in a basin, equipped with elbow operated taps and walked towards them, wearing a friendly smile.

‘May I introduce, Miss Roberta Jackson,’ said Fildes. ‘She was Gerald’s HSO. Roberta, this is Dr Steven Dunbar from the Sci-Med Inspectorate. He has some questions to ask you about the work you people do. I’d be grateful if you’d give him all the help you can.’

Steven shook hands with the woman and then said to Fildes, ‘I’m sure I’ve been keeping you back, Doctor, please feel free to carry on with what you have to do. I’ll come and see you before I go.’

Fildes accepted the implied invitation to leave and Steven and Roberta were left alone.

Steven explained to her that he had hoped to have a word with Millar about a DNA analysis he had made. ‘But I hear he’s no longer with you?’

‘He took early retirement. He and Charlotte have gone off to Cape Town to stay with their son and his wife for a while. They had a baby a while back. This will be the first time they’ve seen their grandchild. It’s their first.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Steven.

‘Didn’t exactly do us any favours though,’ said Roberta ruefully. ‘Our jobs are all sort of hanging in the balance at the moment. It would have been nice to have had a bit more warning.’

‘You didn’t know he was planning to retire?’

Roberta shook her head. ‘It came right out of the blue. He seemed to make up his mind on the spur of the moment and that was that. Now you see him, now you don’t. Hi-ho, Silver, away!’

‘I thought early retirement was something offered by management at a time when it was convenient for them to see the back of you’ said Steven. ‘From what I’ve heard, it sounds as if Dr Millar’s leaving seems to have turned out pretty inconvenient for all concerned?’

‘It certainly is and that was my understanding too,’ said Roberta, ‘but apparently a member of staff can request early retirement at any time after the age of fifty, whether management likes it or not. The deal you get is not so good that way — you don’t get the enhancement to years of service you get if they request it — but the bottom line is that it can be done.’

‘Are there many people going to be affected by his going?’

‘Three of us are in the firing line if you’ll pardon the pun. It seems likely that the other two will be taken on by other groups — they’re junior SOs, so they’re relatively cheap in terms of salary and easy to re-train but I’ve been here ten years: I’m a bit more expensive and a bit more specialised.’

‘I hope something comes along for you,’ said Steven.

‘Thanks. How can I help you?’

Steven brought out the lab report on the Agrigene crop and showed it to Roberta. ‘Does this look familiar to you?’ he asked.

Roberta shook here head. ‘Not this particular one,’ she said. ‘I think this must be one that Gerald did himself. Hang on a minute.’ She walked over to what appeared to be a very wide, metal filing cabinet and slid out the bottom drawer. She checked the reference number on the report she was still holding and then looked for a match in the drawer. ‘Here we are,’ she said, pulling out a large sheet of exposed photographic film, attached to a metal hanger by two crocodile clips. The film had small black ladder marks over it in regular columns.

‘This is the actual DNA sequence that Dr Millar’s report was based on,’ said Roberta. ‘Did you think there was something wrong with it?’

‘No, nothing like that, The DNA comes from an experimental oilseed rape crop being grown over in a place called Blackbridge in West Lothian. Dr Millar reported the presence of three foreign genetic elements in it. The company has a licence for only two.’

‘That sounds serious,’ said Roberta.

‘On the face of it,’ said Steven.

‘What does that mean?’

‘I’m no expert in genetics but “genetic element” doesn’t necessarily mean the same thing as, gene, does it?’

‘I suppose not,’ agreed Roberta. ‘But it usually does.’

‘Exactly, it usually does, so people would read the report as saying that three foreign genes were present instead of two and conclude that it must be a different crop from the one on the licence certificate?’

‘I suppose that might well be the case,’ agreed Roberta, looking puzzled. ‘Is that not what happened here then?’

‘Take a look at the foreign elements in the sequence,’ said Steven.

‘I can’t tell what the foreign genes are just by looking at the sequence,’ protested Roberta. ‘I’d have to compare it with the standard oilseed rape genome and then do a computer search for differences.’

‘I’ve already done that,’ said Steven. ‘I’ve highlighted the three foreign sequences on this.’ Steven took out his print-out copy of the sequence from his briefcase. ‘What would you say about the third one?’ he asked. Steven directed her to a highlighted section of the sequence.

‘Oh, I recognise that all right,’ said Roberta. ‘That’s a marker, a tetracycline transposon marker; we use it all the time.’

‘Not what you would class as a foreign gene, then?’

‘Hardly.’

‘This is the third genetic element Dr Millar reported as being present in the Agrigene crop.’

‘What on earth made him do that?’ wondered Roberta.

‘That’s what I came here to ask him,’ said Steven.

‘I can see why,’ said Roberta with a shrug. ‘Frankly, I just can’t imagine why he would do something like that and I can certainly see how it might have caused confusion. Did it?’

‘It did indeed.’

‘But the DNA sequence itself would be an exact match for the one associated with the licence,’ said Roberta, seeing immediately what Steven himself had seen at the outset.

‘If it had been possible to compare them,’ he said, not really wanting to tell Roberta that both copies had gone missing under mysterious circumstances. ‘Unfortunately, Dr Millar’s report was all the authorities had to go on.’

‘But even at that, surely someone must have pointed out that one of these “genetic elements” was just a harmless marker?’

‘I’m sure they did — and they’re probably still trying to, but after hearing what the report said in simple terms, nobody wanted to listen to what they thought was a lot of scientific gobbledegook and prevarication from a big bad biotech company. Two elements good, three elements bad, was what they took from the ministry lab report and that was good enough for the opposition to start going doo lally and demanding that the trial be stopped and the crop destroyed.’

‘So what’s happening now?’

‘The company is putting up a fight. It’s resorted to law to block any move to halt the trial or destroy the crop and is now using solicitors to argue their case instead of scientists. Luckily for them the prosecution case is not exactly coherent right now because of some Westminster — Holyrood rivalry.

‘Tell me about it,’ said Roberta raising her eyes heavenwards. ‘These days I think I have more MPs than I have relations! Still, if they’re fighting with each other, they’re not doing the rest of us much harm, that’s the way I look at it.’

‘But administrative paralysis can have its down side,’ said Steven, thinking of the current situation in Blackbridge.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Roberta. ‘But I’m afraid I don’t see what I can do to help?’

‘No,’ agreed Steven. ‘This one is down to Dr Millar on his own. You wouldn’t know who asked him to perform the DNA analysis on the crop in the first place, would you?’ Steven asked.

‘I don’t think so… ‘said Roberta thoughtfully. ‘We’ve not had that much contract work recently but I don’t think I remember Gerald saying anything at all about this particular one…’

‘Does the name, Thomas Rafferty, ring a bell?’

‘No.’

‘How about, McGraw and Littlejohn?’ Steven asked, naming Rafferty’s solicitors.

Roberta shook her head. ‘Afraid not.’

‘Well, thanks for your help anyway,’ said Steven preparing to leave, ‘and I do hope things work out for you.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Roberta as an idea came to her. She went back to the filing cabinet where she’d taken the sequence from and had another look at the sheet of film. ‘Would you pass me that lens?’ she said, indicating to the bench. Steven handed her a magnifying eye lens of the sort used by jewellers and she used it to examine the upper edge of the film. ‘Ah, here we are,’ she said. ‘We usually write some ID on the film before putting it into the communal developing tank so we know which one is which. Roberta read the marking out slowly as she deciphered it. 'Oilseed rape… Agrigene… Peat Ridge… Sigma 5… That’s it. Mean anything?’

‘Some of it,’ said Steven. He made a note of it all. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d keep our conversation to yourself.’

Roberta smiled and said, ‘Of course.’

Steven called in at Fildes’ office on the way out to thank him for his help. He found him apologetic about not having been more so. ‘Was Roberta able to help you at all?’ he asked. Steven thought the man seemed anxious.

‘Not really, but it was just a case of checking up on a few details. Nothing to worry about.’

‘So we’ll not be getting a roasting over the stuff that should have been on file?’ asked Fildes. He said it half jokingly but Steven could see that he was genuinely worried. ‘I can quite understand how it must have happened,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Dr Millar must have had a lot on his mind, not least the prospect of seeing his first grandson. Let’s say, if you’re prepared to forget about my visit, so am I.’

Fildes let out his breath in a controlled manner but it still came across to Steven as an indication of relief.

‘That’s very understanding of you,’ said Fildes. ‘Can I offer you some lunch?’

‘I’d best be getting back.’

Just what the hell was going on? Steven wondered as he got into his car and clunked the door shut. First, both copies of the licensed sequence go missing and then a misleading (deliberately?) report is put out by a government scientist who then takes early retirement and disappears to South Africa without leaving anything on file about the contract.

Shit! This was not what he had wanted to hear at all. He had come to Ayrshire to listen to apologies from a scientist who had been a bit vague and thoughtless in the wording of his report, a scientist who would be all too keen to put the record straight and who would be offering to help in any way he could. Instead he was left with a mess of doubts suspicions and unanswered questions.

Steven decided that he was hungry after all. His initial plan to drive back to the east was put on hold while he pulled into the hotel he had visited earlier for coffee and opted for a smoked trout salad and a beer. The food was good, as was the beer, but neither did much to cheer him because he now recognised that he would have to report back to Macmillan that he did in fact, think there was something suspicious going on in Blackbridge, something that Sci-Med should concern itself with. At this moment he did not know exactly what it was but he now believed that he should try to find out. One thing was unfortunately certain; he would not be seeing the back of Blackbridge just yet.

Millar’s sudden decision to go for early retirement and his going off to South Africa with his wife to see a first grandchild they had not seen before, suggested strongly that the man had come into some money. If they hadn’t already seen their first grandchild, it was probably because they couldn’t afford the trip. Now, suddenly, they could. Coincidence? Well, it could be that Millar might have won the lottery or inherited some money or an endowment policy might have matured, Steven recognised, but all the same, the possibility that he had been paid to deliberately supply a misleading report was his current personal favourite in the explanation stakes.

He then thought about the markings on the DNA sequence film — information that he’d avoided showing any reaction to in Roberta’s presence. Everything was obvious with the exception of the name, Sigma 5. That could be important. It could even be the name of the company that had commissioned the misleading report, knowing that it would go out on official MAFF headed paper and appear utterly convincing.

Steven wondered on the drive back from Ayrshire about how he was going to tell Macmillan of his decision. Normally, when the man on the ground decided that there was something for Sci-Med to get involved in, he would send a coded computer message, indicating that a fully-fledged investigation had now begun. This automatically triggered a number of responses at Sci-Med in London. Two credit card accounts would be activated to ensure that the investigator had access to all the funds he might need. The local police in his operating area would be informed by the Home Office that a Sci-Med inspector was in the area and they would be requested to co-operate fully with him. All further communication between the investigator and Sci Med would be carried out using encrypted computer messaging and a special phone number, manned day and night. In addition to this, the man on the ground would have access to a wide range of back-up services and even the supply of a weapon should he deem it necessary, although Steven hardly thought this would apply in this case. In exchange for all this unquestioning support the inspector must have what Macmillan termed succinctly as, ‘a bloody good reason’ for calling a code red.

What Steven had to decide now was, should he just call the code or should he talk to Macmillan first to discuss the ‘warning off’ aspect of the Blackbridge situation? On a more mundane level he also had to decide where he was going to stay because he certainly didn’t want to stay in Blackbridge itself. It only had one hotel and he would be in too close proximity to officialdom because, as Eve Ferguson had already told him, the place was full of squabbling officials.

Steven decided against the hotel where he had spent the previous night simply because he didn’t like it. It had been all right for one night but he had no idea at this stage how long he was going to be working on the case. He wanted something different from a concrete tower block of identical cells.

He knew where his train of thought was taking him and felt a bit apprehensive over it. He and Lisa had come to a concert at the Edinburgh Festival the year before she died and they had stayed over at a small hotel in the south west of the city. He might be courting the ghosts of times past but he decided that he was going to go there. Seeking association with times past hadn’t worked out too well in the past but he still felt that he wanted to do it.

In the immediate weeks after Lisa’s death he had gone to all the places that had meant so much to them during their time together in the hope of recapturing a feeling of closeness to her but this had failed miserably. All he had found in these places was a mind-numbing sense of loneliness. He was acutely aware of the possibility of this happening again but then again, he reasoned, things just might be different now that more time had passed?

Steven was in Edinburgh by four thirty and had checked in to the Grange Hotel in the quiet well-heeled south west of the city by five. He didn’t have the same room as last time but the view from the window was the same. He stood there, looking out and remembering Lisa pointing out the wishing well at the foot of the garden and saying that they must visit it before they left.

So far so good, he didn’t fill up with feelings of maudlin sentimentality and he wasn’t as yet crushed by sadness and loneliness. He looked at the well for a few moments, remembering their laughter when they’d discovered on the morning of their departure that it wasn’t a real well at all but a garden ‘feature’. He smiled fondly before turning away to call Macmillan at Sci-Med.

‘I feared you might phone,’ said Macmillan. ‘You’re going to tell me that we should take it on?’

‘I do think something smells bad in the Blackbridge situation,’ agreed Steven.

‘Are you absolutely sure?’

‘I can’t be a hundred percent certain because I’ve had to be discreet in terms of who I’ve spoken to in the village, but the situation is a long way from being under control. Officials are running around like headless chickens and the opponents of GM crops are on the verge of taking matters into their own hands.’

‘Even at that, it sounds like a matter for the police, not us,’ said Macmillan. ‘What exactly is our interest?’

‘The opposition has been encouraged to believe that right is on their side. They’ve been told that the crop growing on Peat Ridge Farm is not the one the company was licensed for but a different one containing more foreign genes. Personally, I think it is the same crop but some trouble-making third party with an alternative agenda has commissioned a deliberately misleading report, knowing full well that “misunderstandings” would arise.’ Steven told Macmillan about Millar and his sudden desire to give up work and visit South Africa.

‘Hell and damnation,’ said Macmillan.

‘A report, coming from that particular lab, would have the official stamp of ministry approval on it. I think this is why Agrigene feel so aggrieved. You don’t normally expect a government report to be deliberately misleading.’

‘So you think Sci-Med should find out who this third party is?’ said Macmillan.

‘They’ve caused a lot of trouble by their actions and it could get worse. People could get seriously hurt if this thing is not sorted out soon and it doesn’t look like the relevant authorities — and there seem to be plenty of them — are making much of a fist of it. It seems to be a case of internecine strife all the way.’

‘Mmm,’ said Macmillan. ‘I’m not sure I like the idea of Sci-Med picking up such a political hot potato. We could get our fingers badly burned.’

‘Up to you,’ said Steven, sensing his director’s reluctance.

There was a long pause before Steven added, ‘You obviously have doubts about us taking it on.’

‘To be quite honest, I was thinking that Sir John Macmillan had rather a nice ring to it. I’ve recently been led to believe that this might actually become a reality in the New Year’s honours list. Eleanor would be so pleased.’

‘But if you should happen to rock the boat at this particular juncture… ‘

‘Quite so.’

‘You’re calling the shots,’ said Steven.

‘No, you are,’ said Macmillan abruptly. ‘Notify in the usual way if you’re quite sure.’ He put the phone down.

Steven looked at the receiver, eyes wide in astonishment. Macmillan had dumped the whole thing in his lap, including his own prospects of a knighthood when all was said and done. ‘Well, thank you, Herr Direktor,’ he murmured. ‘Thanks a million.’

Steven went back over to the window and looked out at the lawn. Did one biotech company playing some dirty trick on another biotech company really matter that much in the great scheme of things? he wondered. Was the possibility of a government scientist taking a back hander for being deliberately vague about a lab report such a big deal? After all, it wasn’t as if the man had actually lied or falsified the report, he had just… nurtured a misunderstanding. Was any of it really that important?

Steven turned away from the window and opened up his laptop slowly. He connected the modem link to the phone socket, inserting the plug with an air of finality. ‘Damned right is,’ he muttered. He typed in the message, BLACKBRIDGE RED and hovered over the send button for a moment before adding, ‘sorry’. A few minutes later he had the reply, BLACKBRIDGE GREEN, signifying that Sci-Med had understood and agreed that he was now fully operational. There was a codicil from Macmillan. It said, ‘No reason to be sorry. I’d have sacked you if you’d done anything else. Good luck.’

The dye was cast. Steven took a shower, changed his clothes and went downstairs to have a drink in the bar. One of the staff thought he recognised him and asked politely if he had stayed there before. Rather than get involved in an unwanted conversation about the circumstances of his last visit, Steven said not. He had dinner in the conservatory restaurant, as he and Lisa had done before, and tried to remember as much about the details of that night as he possibly could. What Lisa had been wearing, what they had talked about, what they’d eaten, the wine they’d drank, whether they’d had one cup of coffee after or several. He remembered the mock argument over the last piece of tablet given out with their coffee. Lisa had won. Nothing was too trivial to ponder. He didn’t notice any of the other diners around him and the staff scarcely registered. To them he was a man preoccupied and happily, they respected that.

When the exorcism was over, for that’s what he hoped it might be, Steven signed the bill and returned upstairs feeling much better about things. The gamble had paid off. For the first time since Lisa’s death, thinking about her had brought him happy memories instead of feelings of pain and sadness. He felt much stronger because of it. He’d passed another milestone on the road to full recovery.

He shut the room door and lay down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about what might lie ahead. The investigation was going to begin in earnest in the morning so he had to decide what he was going to do and in what order he was going to do it. He saw speaking with Ronald Lane and Thomas Rafferty as priorities. Ideally he would have liked to have interviewed them together but he supposed that that would be out of the question, considering the current level of animosity between them. He would also have to speak to the local police at some point to find out how they viewed the situation and to find out what level of understanding they had of the scientific element of the problem. Finally he wanted to know a bit more about what officialdom was doing about all of this. He would pay a visit to the Blackbridge Arms.

As soon as Sci-Med had given him his encryption codes for the computer he would seek information about Sigma 5 and also about recent transactions into and out of Dr Gerald Millar’s bank account, including details about his early retirement package. For that, Sci-Med would seek the co-operation of the Inland Revenue Service.

Steven watched the Scottish news on the television in his room. There was an item on the Scottish Parliament, which appeared to have been bedevilled with controversy since its inception, according to the reporter. Steven paid close attention. He felt he needed to know more about the Scottish Parliament. From what Eve Ferguson had told him, this kind of friction, albeit at a lower level, was proving to be a major stumbling block in Blackbridge. This requirement, he decided, was going to take care of his evening. He connected his laptop to the Internet via Netscape and sought out information on the Scottish Parliament. He was pleased to find that it had its own website and that it opened by declaring its commitment to openness and accountability.

‘Just what I like to hear, chaps,’ he murmured.