Good as Dead

FIFTY-SIX

It was just beginning to get dark as McCarthy’s silver Astra drove out of the Barndale car park and its headlights came on as the barrier was raised at the security checkpoint. The car turned on to the quiet country road towards the M25 and Thorne waited for another vehicle to pass before he pulled out of the unmarked track opposite, flicked on his own lights and began to follow. It would be easier to stay out of sight once they reached the motorway and until then it would just be a matter of staying far enough back. Thorne did not think there would be a problem. He guessed that Ian McCarthy would have more important things to worry about than whether or not he was being followed.

He hoped so at any rate.

Though not quite able to pull off ‘blase’, the doctor had done his best to appear cocky, defiant even, and Thorne’s first thought when he had left the prison almost an hour before had been to race back into central London and confront the person he believed had given McCarthy the coaching. He had quickly decided that he would almost certainly have even less luck with him than with McCarthy. So, with no idea who the third man was, he could do little for the time being other than stay close to the doctor and see what happened.

See where the weakest link in the chain would lead him.

Or to whom.

Thorne was now convinced that Amin Akhtar had been the victim of a conspiracy. He also knew that he could base this on no more than a single picture on Rahim Jaffer’s phone, which actually proved nothing at all. The names and the reasons were what mattered now of course, were what would get Helen Weeks out of that newsagent’s, but if those responsible were to pay for what they had done, Thorne would need evidence that the conspiracy had been maintained. He had to prove that the men in that photograph were still in contact with one another.

It began to rain as they drove past Chorleywood Common. The road straightened over the next mile or so, becoming wider and better lit as it approached the M25 roundabout. Thorne was three cars behind the Astra, doing fifty-five in the inside lane, when his phone rang.

‘You sound weird.’

‘I’m in the car.’

‘Hands-free, I hope.’

‘What is it, Phil?’

‘I know how they did it,’ Hendricks said.

Thorne’s hands tightened on the wheel, just for a second, as he followed McCarthy’s car across the roundabout, up on to the slip road, then southbound on the M25.

‘We’d already established there was no way the killer could have got that many pills into Amin’s stomach,’ Hendricks said. ‘Right? Those few pills in his mouth, on the bedclothes, they were just for show. They were the suicide indicator.’

‘But there was enough Tramadol in his system to kill him?’

‘Plenty, so there’s only one other way it can have got there. It was liquid Tramadol and it was injected.’

‘But Bridges did this.’

‘It’s just an injection, Tom, it’s not rocket science. He takes the cap off the cannula on the back of Amin’s hand and in it goes. Anyone could have shown the kid how to do it.’

Thorne told Hendricks exactly who had shown him.

‘Right,’ Hendricks said. ‘So McCarthy gives Bridges a quick lesson on cannulas and needles, slips him the pills and the syringe-’

‘We’ve still got a problem with these pills though,’ Thorne said. ‘How did he get as many as he did into Amin’s mouth? How did he do it that fast? That quietly?’

‘Because it wasn’t just Tramadol in the syringe,’ Hendricks said. ‘This is what I’ve been trying to figure out. What the extra drug was.’

‘You’ve figured it out?’

‘Remember that Hamas agent? The one the Israelis killed in that hotel in Dubai a couple of years ago? This is the same drug they used on him. It stops the victim struggling, eliminates noise.’

‘Go on then.’

‘You might need to write this down.’

‘Tricky,’ Thorne said.

‘Suxamethonium chloride.’

‘I can’t even say it.’

‘You don’t need the chloride bit.’ Hendricks said it again, slowly. ‘It’s a neuromuscular blocker, OK? Basically a muscle relaxant, but incredibly powerful, incredibly quick. It’s used in anaesthesia and intensive care, to make intubation easier. They used to use it in the US to paralyse prisoners before they got the lethal injection.’

‘Jesus.’

‘They stopped because of the side-effects.’

‘I’m listening… ’

‘As soon as it’s administered, all the nerves start to fire and every muscle in the body begins to spasm like mad. The patient starts fitting basically, then a minute or so later he’s completely paralysed and pretty soon the drug makes it impossible to breathe. But he’s awake the whole time this is happening, so these days it’s never given to patients who are conscious, not unless there’s no other option. It’s too dangerous.’ There was a pause. ‘Too disturbing.’

‘Amin would have known what was happening to him?’

‘Sorry, Tom.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘It was the perfect drug,’ Hendricks said. ‘Sodding perfect. The fits were consistent with a Tramadol overdose… the tongue bitten off, all that. Then as soon as the paralysis kicked in, Bridges could put the pills into Amin’s mouth, set up the overdose scenario and the beauty part is he’s in and out of there in a couple of minutes. Job done.’

‘Why didn’t they find it at the PM?’ Thorne asked.

‘That’s why it’s so perfect. Unless you take a blood specimen within thirty minutes, the enzymes in the body start to break the drug down and eventually it becomes so degraded it’s almost undetectable.’

Ahead of Thorne, the silver Astra was indicating, pulling across to the inside lane.

‘So how the hell do I prove any of this, Phil?’

‘ Almost undetectable,’ Hendricks said. ‘And only when you’re not specifically looking for it. Amin wasn’t cremated, was he?’

‘Buried.’

‘No problem then. If we can exhume Amin’s body, I’ll find it.’

Thorne watched as the Astra began to indicate again, just shy of the first motorway junction. He followed the car as it came off at the exit then turned right at the roundabout following the sign for Maple Cross. Holland had already texted through McCarthy’s address and Thorne recognised the name.

It looked as though the doctor was heading home.

Thorne pulled out to overtake a lorry and ratcheted up his wipers to handle the spray. He put his foot down. Now, he was happy enough to follow McCarthy all the way to his front door and he no longer cared whether he was seen or not.