The Secret

NINETEEN

A glance at the time and a quick calculation suggested it would be just after nine a.m. in Kansas City. Steven called the number Jean had given him and a young woman with a mid-western drawl answered with the name of the aid foundation, adding, ‘My name is Cherry; how can I help you?’

Steven asked to speak to Andrews.

‘Hey, you’re not from round here.’

‘I’m English.’

‘Cool. Who shall I say is calling?’

Steven was told he’d put be put on hold. He wasn’t warned that the gap would be filled with country and western music. He waited patiently while a tale of family tragedy unfolded and a loved one ended up as a star in the sky before Andrews came on the line. ‘Steven, this is an unexpected pleasure. How are you?’

‘Very well, and you?’

‘Real fine. What can I do for you?’

Steven latched on to the ‘real fine’ answer. It was not something he would have expected Andrews to say. The man was a preppy Harvard graduate but, Steven reminded himself, he was also CIA trained, a chameleon who would fit in wherever he happened to be. Currently he was in cowboy country. ‘I’m sorry, Bill, but I’m still not clear about what happened in the gallery of the Strahov library. I was told someone lost a contact lens just before the accident. Have you any idea who that person might be?’

‘I certainly have; it was me. One of my lenses got a bit out of place when I tilted my head back to look up at the ceiling and when I tried to correct the problem, it came right out.’

‘I see,’ said Steven.

‘Which is more than I could at the time,’ joked Andrews. ‘I got down on my hands and knees, imploring people around me to stand still in case they stepped on it. A few folk got down beside me, anxious to help, and there we all were on our knees. I made a joke about not knowing which way Mecca was and I heard Simone laugh. Then… the scream. My God, I still waken up in the night thinking about it.’

Steven took a moment to compose himself. He couldn’t allow any hint of scepticism or anger to reach his voice. At least he now knew it was Khan who’d actually pushed Simone over the balustrade. Andrews had been conducting the diversionary pantomime on the floor at the time.

‘Thanks Bill, I think that answers my question.’ Words were sticking in Steven’s throat but he thought he should add a little small talk. ‘I suppose you guys must be busy organising the new aid teams I heard about?’

‘We sure are. I’ll be coming to Europe next week to speak with the folks at Med Sans and the World Health Organisation about deployment. I’m bound to be in London by Friday — maybe we could meet up and have a beer?’

‘Look forward to it. Call me at the Home Office.’

So Andrews was coming to London, maybe for his given reason, maybe not, but both Simone and Aline’s killers would be in the same place at the same time. He knew he shouldn’t let things get personal but that might prove useful when it came to settling an outstanding score.

Time was getting on: Steven called the Home Office to see if John Macmillan was still there. He had yet to explain his request that he say nothing about Hausman at lunch.

‘He is,’ replied Jean. ‘Shall I put you through?’

Steven said not. He’d come in and speak to him personally.

Macmillan listened to Steven in silence then got up to pour two sherries. Steven noted it was his best Amontillado, a sure sign he was impressed. He handed one to Steven, murmuring, ‘A CIA cover-up masquerading as a CIA confession. Interesting.’

‘I could be wrong.’

Macmillan sighed and said, ‘When it comes to this kind of reasoning, Steven, I can’t recall a single occasion in the past when you ever were. It’s my fear that you won’t be this time so let’s make sure I’m understanding all this. You’re proposing that there’s a new bio-weapon, the brainchild of the British or the Americans or both, being tested on the unsuspecting hill tribes of the Pakistan/Afghanistan border under the guise of a vaccination programme. The CIA got caught out over one of the fake teams but managed to convince everyone it was gathering intelligence which led to the capture of Bin Laden — something that was true but not the whole story. They apologised profusely to all the genuine medical agencies in the region and everyone agreed to keep quiet because of the fear of destroying trust in the whole aid programme?’

Steven nodded. ‘Just about covers everything.’

‘There are times when I feel very old…’

Steven hid a smile.

‘I can’t fault the logic in anything you’ve said but, like you, I wonder about the non-lethal nature of the weapon…’ He held up his hand when he saw Steven about to say something. ‘You’re going to point out that a weapon that incapacitates the enemy is very desirable — perhaps even more desirable than a killer — and I accept that. It’s just that… you wouldn’t think a weapon of that nature would warrant the degree of secrecy and cover-up we’ve been seeing. You might if it was some virus capable of unleashing Armageddon… but an incapacitator?’

Steven took Macmillan’s point. ‘So there must be more to it.’

Macmillan nodded. ‘And the whole world’s against us: there doesn’t seem to be a damned soul we can ask.’

‘True. We’re on our own.’

Macmillan read more into Steven’s comment than a statement of the obvious. ‘And so?’

Steven admitted that he was considering an unauthorised entry into the lab where Dan Hausman worked. Macmillan raised his eyes. ‘Now I wish I hadn’t asked. You’re sure there’s no other way?’

‘I can’t see one. Like you say, we’ve got no friends.’

Macmillan got up to refill their glasses but Steven declined. ‘I’m driving up to Leicester later.’

‘Quite a commute.’

‘Tally has an interview for a job in London coming up.’ Steven told Macmillan about the post at Great Ormond Street.

‘I wish her well.’

As Steven got up to go, Macmillan said, ‘Correct me if I’m wrong but I seem to remember you mentioning a PhD student in the North lab proving helpful when you were investigating what had happened to the blood samples?’

‘Liam Kelly, yes. He was the one who told me what Hausman had really done with them.’

Macmillan posed the question by tilting his head to one side and opening his eyes a little wider.

Steven nodded. ‘It’s a good idea — I’m just not sure about involving him in something like this. He’s only a boy… with a career to think about.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of any active role for him,’ said Macmillan, ‘more a case of an insider being able to offer a few helpful pointers about where things might be found… Have a think about it.’

Steven thought about little else on his way up to Leicester. Liam Kelly would know not only where Hausman worked — that much he knew already — but where his office space was located, which desk was his, his locker, his filing cabinet… but perhaps more important, Kelly would have an access key for the building and the lab. All PhD students in biological subjects needed out-of-hours access to their labs on a regular basis to follow the progress of experiments. It shouldn’t put him at much risk to ‘lose’ it for a few hours. The decision to approach Kelly was made: it was a weight off his mind. That just left the problem of what he was going to say to Tally.

‘Oh my God,’ Tally exclaimed as she hugged Steven and withdrew quickly. ‘I don’t have to ask what’s under your arm; I remember from last time. Oh, Steven…’

‘It’s just a precaution, Tally,’ said Steven, knowing how weak it sounded. ‘Just tell yourself every policeman in Europe carries one…’

‘They do it routinely, you don’t. There has to be a reason, a very good one and one I’m not going to like.’

‘Look, the man I think killed Simone and Aline Lagarde is in London: we don’t know why. As I say, it’s just a precaution.’

Tally looked Steven straight in the eyes for a few silent moments before looking down at the floor and sighing. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m being unreasonable. I was the one who persuaded you to return to Sci-Med and now I’m making things difficult for you. You’ve got enough on your plate without me nagging at you. Forgive me?’

Steven made to take her in his arms but Tally put both hands against his chest. ‘Not till you take that thing off.’

After a late supper they sat together on the couch, heads back, shoes off, feet up on a footstool, their toes flirting.

‘I heard on the news there was another ME protest attack yesterday,’ said Tally. ‘A microbiologist in Edinburgh was sent a dead rat in the post.’

Steven grimaced. ‘Not my problem any more,’ he said. ‘I’ve been taken off that investigation. John thinks I’ve got enough to do with the Afghanistan business. Scott Jamieson has taken over. D’you remember Scott?’

‘We met at some point when John Macmillan was ill. Nice man, pretty wife, they live down in Kent. They invited us down as I remember.’

‘Maybe we’ll take them up on that when you get the job at Great Ormond Street. We’ll wander hand in hand through the hop fields wondering what we’re going to do with all the money you’ll be making.’

‘Let’s not count our chickens.’

‘It’s in the bag.’

‘Thursday,’ said Tally.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘The interview. It’s next Thursday. I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want to distract you from the Afghanistan business, as you called it. Afghanistan,’ sighed Tally, snuggling into Steven. ‘What are we doing there? Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya. Our young are out of work, our health service is falling to bits and we’re strutting around on the world stage like we owned the place. One of our soldiers gets blown to bits every week and TV newsreaders look sad for five seconds before telling us, the family has been informed. Well, that’s all right then. What’s it all about?’

‘Ssh,’ said Steven, eyes closed, his arm hugging Tally a little tighter. ‘I could come out with some spiel about the war on terror, making our country a safer place, standing up for human rights, introducing democracy to the downtrodden masses, expanding the free world… but I don’t believe any of that rubbish either. Money will be behind it, money and oil. It always is.

‘Aren’t you one of them?’ asked Tally. ‘The establishment, I mean?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think I love you. I’m so glad I found you. I think I stopped feeling lonely the day I met you.’

Steven was taken aback at Tally’s impromptu declaration but felt very pleased. He planted a kiss on her forehead and asked, ‘Who’s going to fetch the drinks?’

‘You are.’

Steven returned with two gin and tonics and Tally smiled sleepily. Thinking about their conversation over supper, she asked, ‘When you said Khan and Andrews were going to be in London… Do you have enough evidence to arrest them for Simone’s murder?’

‘No.’

‘Promise me you’re not considering taking matters into your own hands.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘Steven?’

‘There’s a good chance the French police will come up with a DNA match to convict Khan and he’ll probably shop Andrews to minimise his sentence.’

Tally looked at him accusingly. ‘They’re intelligence community people, not naughty schoolboys who stole sweeties from a corner shop.’

‘They’re not beyond the law.’

‘It’s whose law they’re subject to I’m worried about.’