Trauma

Sixteen

Lafferty looked at the receiver in his hand. The line had gone dead and he knew why. Main had been caught. He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer for his safety, but his conscious mind made him fear the worst. He replaced the receiver on its cradle and saw it as an act of finality, the closing of a door, the severing of a link. He looked at the pad lying in front of him and read what he had written down during Main’s call.

The Sigma lab was located in the basement of Cyril Tyndall’s department, known as the Gelman Holland Research Institute. Martin Keegan’s body was not in the medical school mortuary so it must still be there. Access to the Institute was by means of an electronic key-card which members of staff carried with them. There were two other entrances to the building but both were kept locked. The two technicians responsible for the Sigma probes were named Mace and Pallister, but a man called Dr Sotillo seemed to be in overall charge. The three of them seemed to wok directly for Gelman Holland, yet Sotillo seemed to have some executive authority in the Institute; it had been he who had authorised Main’s release.

Main said he was phoning from a booth outside the medical school so he had obviously been followed. Why hadn’t they just kept him in the Institute when they had him, Lafferty wondered and then attempted to answer his own question. Because... either Sotillo wasn’t involved in Logan’s scam or... because he wanted other people in the Institute to think that he had let Main go. The odds seemed to be on Mace and Pallister being the ones who had followed Main and taken him prisoner. Whether Sotillo was involved was a moot point. It was conceivable that the two technicians had followed Main off their own bat. Lafferty pencilled in a question mark by Sotillo’s name.

The big question facing Lafferty was what to do now. Should he call the police and tell them everything, or would the opposition have anticipated that and hidden Main well out of the way by now. The police would turn up at the Institute simply to be told that Main had certainly been there but had left. Lots of people saw him go. The truth was that Main could be held anywhere. What he really had to do was assess the danger that Main might be in. Was he right in assuming that they had taken him prisoner? Could something even worse have happened to him? Lafferty scribbled absent-mindedly in the bottom corner of his writing pad while he thought the whole thing through.

It seemed likely that the technicians would have figured out why Main had gone to the Institute. The chances were that he had probably been carrying his wallet with him, so even if he had given a false name, the opposition would have discovered who he really was. In fact, he recalled Main saying that he had been searched before Sotillo had let him go.

If they realised that Main was on to them, and had been looking for Martin Keegan’s body, they would have to keep him out of the way until the evidence of the body-snatch had been disposed of. Main had said that the coffin wasn’t in the mortuary, so the technicians had still to take it there for collection by the undertakers. Once the funeral was over there would be no evidence against them but could they possibly afford to let Main go? Lafferty was afraid of the answer, but there was little he could do.

He decided that the main priority was to get to Martin Keegan’s coffin before the funeral took place. It was now Tuesday afternoon. They had until Thursday morning. He called Sarah at HTU.

“Is it safe to talk?” he asked when Sarah answered.

“Yes,” replied Sarah. “I’m here alone. Logan has gone off on compassionate leave. Dr Tyndall told me this morning.”

“Has he now?” said Lafferty softly, wondering where this fitted in with the rest. “You don’t think he’s just made a run for it?”

“That was my first thought too,” said Sarah, “but Sister Roche told me that he has a sick son. The boy lives with his mother and has been waiting for a kidney transplant for two years.”

“Good Lord,” said Rafferty, taken aback by the news.

“I know,” said Sarah. “I just don’t know what to think. This would explain Logan’s exasperation over the lack of transplant permission in the unit, but would it explain anything else?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’m afraid they’ve got John,” he said.

“Oh my God.”

Lafferty noted that she was whispering despite having said that it was safe to talk. “Are you sure you can talk?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s just that Dr Tyndall may come back at any moment.”

Lafferty told her about Main’s call and how he was suddenly cut off.

“What do you think they’ve done to him?” asked Sarah in a hoarse whisper.

“I’m hoping they are just keeping him out of the way until the Keegan funeral is over. After that there will be no evidence.”

“I hope to God you’re right,” said Sarah. She sounded doubtful.

“But they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this, Sarah,” said Lafferty.

“But what can we do?”

“Are you still going to call Cyril Tyndall today?”

“No,” said Sarah. “Logan running off like this has left us short-staffed. Dr Tyndall told me this morning that I couldn’t be spared.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” said Lafferty. “You were our last chance of getting into that damned lab.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That just leaves the medical school mortuary on Thursday morning,” said Lafferty.

“Do you think that’s possible?”

“It will be difficult,” said Lafferty. “The technicians will obviously leave taking the coffin down there until the very last minute and even then they will be very much on their guard. We’d probably need an SAS squad to help us get near it.”

“So Logan and his friends are going to get away with it?” said Sarah.

“I hate to say it, but it looks very much like it.”

“Dr Tyndall will probably relieve me around four. Can I come over?”

“Please do,” said Lafferty.

Sarah arrived at St Xavier’s at a quarter to five and got no answer to her first knock at Lafferty’s door. After a second went unanswered she started to feel uneasy. Was it conceivable that they had got to Ryan as well as Main? She decided to look in the church.

The door closed behind her with a solid clunk that reverberated around the empty church. It was dark inside apart from the candles on the altar and on a long side table to her left near the front. There were some dim electric lights switched on above the side aisles but they seemed to serve only to create shadows. Sarah moved slowly down the centre aisle towards the altar.

“Ryan?” she called when she thought she heard movement but there was no answer. She looked at the confessional, off the right-hand aisle. It was dark and closed. Could Ryan be inside, she wondered but her feet refused to approach it. Her imagination was moving into overdrive. “Ryan?” she repeated, a little louder this time.

She heard a movement behind her and spun round to see Lafferty emerge from the shadows. “Sarah? I’m so sorry. I seem to have lost all track of time. I was in the chapel.”

Sarah let out her breath and shook her head with relief. “I thought...” she began. “I thought you...”

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Sarah.

“Come on, let’s go next door.”

“Just a minute,” said Sarah. “I want to light a candle for John. Is that all right?”

“Of course,” said Lafferty softly. He walked with her to the side-table and handed her a candle. Sarah lit it from one of the others already burning there and put it in its holder. She bowed her head for a moment and Lafferty put his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll soon be over,” he said gently. They went next door to the house.

“Have you eaten?” asked Sarah.

“No,” said Lafferty.

“Neither have I. What have you got in the house?”

“I’m not at all sure,” replied Lafferty cautiously.

“May I look?”

“Please.”

After a fruitless search through kitchen cupboards Sarah said, “All you seem to have in the house is half a packet of cornflakes, a loaf of stale bread and seven eggs.”

“Mrs Grogan’s still off and I haven’t had time to go shopping,” explained Lafferty.

Sarah smiled at his guilty expression and said, “I’m going out to get us some food.”

Lafferty opened his mouth to argue but Sarah put her finger to her lips. “No arguments,” she said. “Heat up a couple of plates.”

Sarah was back within ten minutes with a plastic bag full of Chinese take-away food. She extracted the two plates Lafferty had put under the grill and piled up the food on them. Using a tea cloth to protect her hands from the hot plates, she brought them through from the kitchen to plank them down on the table. “Eat!” she said. “We’ll talk afterwards.”

“I hadn’t realised I was so hungry,” said Lafferty with satisfaction when he’d finished eating. “I really enjoyed that.”

“If you’ve been living on stale bread and eggs I’m not surprised,” said Sarah.

As they sipped coffee, Sarah said, “From what you’ve told me it seems that what we really need is one of these electronic key cards. If we had one, we could get into the building at night when no one was around and take a look at the Sigma lab for ourselves.”

“But we haven’t got one,” said Lafferty. “And what’s more, we’re not likely to get one either.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I’ll have to try getting to Martin Keegan’s coffin in the mortuary before they take it away on Thursday,” said Lafferty.

Sarah’s mouth fell open. “But you said yourself they are going to be on their guard. You don’t have a chance!” she protested.

Lafferty couldn’t offer up a sound argument. He simply said, “I’ve got to try, Sarah.”

Sarah looked at him and saw that he was determined. She continued to watch him when he diverted his eyes and was suddenly very afraid for his safety. “There might be another way,” she said quietly.

“What other way?” said Lafferty.

“I could still try to arrange a meeting with Cyril Tyndall.”

“But you said yourself that you will not be allowed to leave HTU while they are short-staffed.” said Lafferty.

“That’s true,” agreed Sarah hesitantly, “but I might still be able to arrange a meeting.”

Lafferty looked blank. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why? How?”

Sarah looked a little embarrassed. She said, “I was foolish enough to believe that Cyril was interested in me professionally when I met him at a reception in the hospital. That may not have been entirely true...”

Lafferty still looked blank. He said, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow you.”

Sarah smiled indulgently and said, “Ryan, he was more interested in me as a woman.”

“Oh I see,” said Lafferty. “Well, that’s very understandable. You’re very attractive.”

Sarah felt taken aback and was suddenly unsure of herself. She said, “Thank you.”

Lafferty held Sarah’s gaze for a moment which seemed suddenly to last too long for both of them. Sarah continued, “If I could arrange some kind of meeting with Cyril, under false pretences, perhaps I might get a chance to ‘borrow’ his electronic key.”

Lafferty’s eyes opened wide. He said, “That sounds like a very dangerous game to play, Sarah. You shouldn’t lead a man on like that.”

“Cyril is a pussy cat,” said Sarah. “He’s hopeless with women, a shy, academic introvert.”

“I still don’t like it,” said Lafferty.

“Let’s face it, Ryan. It’s our only chance.”

Lafferty scratched his head in anguish. He saw that Sarah was right but still didn’t like what she planned to do.

Sarah smiled at his discomfort and said gently, “It will be all right. Really it will.”

Lafferty finally shrugged and nodded his agreement.

“Can I use your phone?”

“Of course.”

“I’d rather be alone,” said Sarah.

Lafferty got up and left the room.

Cyril Tyndall’s secretary answered.

“May I speak to Professor Tyndall please? It’s Dr Lasseter.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I rather think he’s just left... Oh no, hang on.”

Sarah could hear the woman calling out Tyndall’s name in the background and then the receiver being picked up again. “I’ve managed to catch him, Doctor.”

“Thank you,” said Sarah, looking at her watch. She hadn’t realised it was getting late.

“Tyndall here.”

“Professor? It’s Sarah Lasseter. I must apologise for not having called you earlier. Please forgive my rudeness.”

“Not at all, Doctor. My brother explained the position to me. I quite understand.”

“I really am most disappointed, Professor, I was so looking forward to renewing our acquaintance...” Sarah said it in what she hoped was a sexy sounding voice. “Your work is absolutely fascinating.” Sarah screwed her face up in embarrassment at what she was doing. She couldn’t remember feeling so stupid. But it appeared to be working.

“Really?” said Tyndall slowly as if he was weighing up the possibilities. “I should be delighted to tell you more, Doctor. Perhaps we could meet sometime, even if you won’t be coming here to work?”

Sarah blew a silent kiss into the air and said, “I was rather hoping you might suggest that,” she cooed.

“When would be convenient?” Tyndall asked, sounding more than a little flustered.

“As soon as you like,” cooed Sarah, screwing up her face again. “But you must be very busy...”

“My diary is rather full,” agreed Tyndall. “Perhaps... It occurs to me that we might be able to meet, well, outside working hours?”

“What an excellent idea,” said Sarah, offering up silent thanks again. “How about this evening?”

There was a pause before Tyndall cleared his throat and said, “This evening? I don’t see why not. Could you perhaps come to my house?”

“Sounds perfect,” said Sarah, trying to keep a note of triumph out of her voice.

“I’m afraid I live outside the city,” said Tyndall.

“No problem,” said Sarah. “I have a car.”

“Shall we say eight o’clock then?”

“Eight o’clock,” repeated Sarah and wrote down the address.

Sarah opened the door and called Lafferty back into the room. “It worked. I’m going to see him this evening at his house.”

Lafferty didn’t know whether to be pleased or apprehensive, but smiled at Sarah’s obvious enthusiasm.

“If I succeed in getting the key, I’ll come back here and we can go to the Institute tonight,” said Sarah.

“You mustn’t take risks, Sarah. Apart from anything else, you have to think of your career. Not only are you leading the professor on, you are planning to commit the theft with a view to breaking and entering.”

Sarah’s elation suddenly died. She said, “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“There’s still time to change your mind,” said Lafferty.

“I’m going,” said Sarah firmly.

When it was time to leave, Lafferty saw Sarah out to her car and wished her luck. He warned her once again not to take any unnecessary risks and she moved off with a last assurance and a wave of her hand. He stood for a moment by the kerb after her car had disappeared round the corner, wishing in his heart that she wasn’t going.

Sarah made her way towards the city by-pass and picked up speed as she joined it from the slip road with a quick glance over her shoulder. With the car comfortably settled at sixty-five, and the traffic sparse at seven-fifteen in the evening, she relaxed a little and turned on the radio. She changed station three times before finding some music she liked. She didn’t know the name of the piece but she did know it was Mozart.

As her Fiesta ate up the miles, she gave thanks for the by-pass which took her all the way round the outside of the city and brought her to the coast road, which she joined at the small village of Longniddry. Her speed dropped considerably on the winding road that now traced the shoreline eastwards, but a glance at her watch told her she still had plenty of time to reach the coastal town — where Tyndall lived — by eight o’clock. Although it was dark, the night was clear and there was no sign of the rain promised by the local weather forecast at six. At five to eight she found the road where Tyndall lived and started looking for the house.

The Elms was a large, detached Victorian villa which looked less than welcoming on a dark night. Apart from a dim porch-light, there was no sign of a light on in the rest of the house. This puzzled Sarah, but there was no mistake; this was the house. Its name was etched into the stone pillar that supported a gate that had obviously not been closed for many a long year. She locked her car and walked up the gravel path leading to the front door. There was a large, brass bell-push on the wall. She pushed it and heard it ring somewhere inside. After a few moments, she heard footsteps and felt her throat tighten with nerves. Cyril Tyndall opened the door.

“Dr Lasseter, how nice,” he said, extending his hand. Sarah shook it and found it moist. Tyndall was nervous too.

“I thought we might talk down here,” said Tyndall, leading the way from the main entrance-hall down a wide, carpeted flight of stairs to the basement rooms. This was why she couldn’t see a light on from outside, thought Sarah. Tyndall opened a white-painted door and ushered her inside. She found herself in a long, low room, comfortably furnished as a sitting room and welcomingly warm after the outside temperature.

“I live alone,” explained Tyndall. “It makes more sense for me to use the basement rooms. They’re easier and more economical to heat.”

“It’s a big house,” said Sarah. Nervousness made her smile a little wider than usual.

“It was our family house,” said Tyndall. “Murdoch and I were brought up here.”

“I see,” said Sarah.

“A drink, Dr Lasseter? Or may I call you Sarah?”

“Please do,” said Sarah, although it did little to put her at her ease. She really didn’t like rooms that had no windows. “Gin and tonic would be nice.”

She watched Tyndall pour her a very large measure and thought how amateurish his behaviour was for a respected professor and potential Nobel Prize winner. She accepted the glass with a smile and took a small sip.

Tyndall poured himself a small malt whisky, added a little water and sat down on the chair beside her which he pulled a little closer. “Now, Sarah, what would you like to know about my research?”

“Everything,” smiled Sarah. “The development of the vaccine is such an enormous achievement. There are so many questions I’d like to ask; I just don’t know where to begin.”

Tyndall gave a half smile as if he hadn’t anticipated this response. Sarah noticed that he was sweating along his top lip. His eyes had taken on a flint-like quality which alarmed her a little. She had counted on Tyndall behaving like a shy, awkward academic. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the case.

“How exactly did you identify the virus trigger?” she asked.

Tyndall looked a little reluctant to talk about work and Sarah wondered if she had overdone the sexy voice in the phone conversation. She was anxious to get things back on an even keel. Eventually Tyndall said, “Using a new technique which we developed in the lab, we managed to isolate undisrupted viral DNA in its latent form. From that, we sequenced the upstream DNA and, from that, we identified a protein which bound reversibly to this sequence. When the protein was absent, the virus was free to replicate and cause an active infection. But when the protein reappeared and bound tightly to the sequence, the virus was inactivated. We went to work in the lab and designed a protein that would bind irreversibly to the trigger sequence.”

“Brilliant,” said Sarah. “But how could you be sure that the binding was irreversible?”

Once again, Tyndall looked at Sarah strangely. “Tissue culture,” he said. “We challenged the virus in tissue culture.”

“I don’t know too much about tissue culture Professor. What little I know suggests that it’s a technique of culturing human cells in glass bottles?”

“That’s right,” said Tyndall.

“But is that really the same as testing the system in a human being?” asked Sarah.

“Not really,” said Tyndall as if the reply didn’t matter. He was staring at Sarah in a way which made her regret having come. But she was here and she had a job to do, she told herself as Tyndall moved even closer. She got to her feet and said, “Phew, it’s hot in here. Do you mind if I take my jacket off?”

Tyndall’s features suddenly relaxed and he said, “Of course not. Let’s both get more comfortable.” He took off his own jacket and tossed it carelessly over the couch. Sarah noticed his wallet sticking out of the inside pocket.

“That’s better,” said Sarah sitting back down again.

“You’ve hardly touched your drink,” said Tyndall, nodding in the direction of her glass.

“Actually, I’m rather thirsty,” said Sarah, putting a hand to her throat. “I don’t suppose you have anything soft. Orange juice? Coke?”

Tyndall let a slight look of irritation betray him before he said, “I think I have some orange in the fridge.”

Sarah felt an adrenaline surge, fuelled by fear, as she watched Tyndall leave the room. This was her chance and she had to take it. With a supreme effort she overcame the nerves which threatened to paralyse her and picked up Tyndall’s jacket to extract his wallet. Her fingers became thumbs as she searched through the contents, looking for the electronic key-card. She was almost sick with apprehension before she found what she was looking for. A black and blue, plastic card marked, ENTACARD. She slipped it into the side pocket of her skirt and stuffed the wallet back into Tyndall’s jacket. Her pulse was still racing when Tyndall returned carrying a glass of orange juice. She accepted it with a smile and hoped that he hadn’t noticed that her hand was shaking. Tyndall watched her like an owl eyeing up a mouse as she drank the juice.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” smiled Sarah. “What I don’t understand, Professor, is how you managed to do field trials on your vaccine. Surely if...” Sarah ground to a halt as Tyndall put his hand on her knee.

“Later,” he croaked.

Sarah gripped his hand and pulled it off her knee. “I think you are presuming too much Professor,” she said, hoping to rebuff him, but still keep everything on a civil basis. She was now very afraid. She had totally underestimated Tyndall and she was now alone with him in the basement of a deserted house.

Tyndall’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t think so,” he murmured, moving ever closer. “We both know why you came here, so cut out the silly games. You want me, I want you, so let’s stop teasing, shall we?”

Sarah felt her knee being gripped so hard it hurt and she let out a little cry.

“What a nice sound,” murmured Tyndall, now almost on top of her. “So feminine, so inviting...”

“Get off me!” cried Sarah. She could smell the whisky on Tyndall’s breath as his face bore down on hers. She struggled but he was proving too strong for her. He had hold of both her wrists and was pulling her up off the chair. “We’ll be more comfortable here,” he gasped. He was breathing heavily when he pushed her down on to the couch and smothered her with his own body. She could feel the roughness of his beard on her cheek as he reached down with his right hand to start pulling up her skirt. She heard the material tear and her legs become free.

Sarah beat against Tyndall’s back with her one free hand but it was useless. Her anger was now interspersed with sobbing and pleading. “Get off me you animal!” she gasped, as she felt his right knee wedge itself between her legs, prising them apart.

Tyndall paused for a moment to lift his head and look down at Sarah. “I’ve heard that some women like it rough,” he snarled. “So be it.”

Sarah could not believe that she had been so wrong about the man. She simply could not believe that the beast on top of her was the shy, ineffectual little man she had met at the hospital reception. The shyness must have been a mask for arrogance, the diffidence really contempt for everyone around him. If only she had heeded Ryan’s warning! She cried out as Tyndall bit her right breast through her top and forced his hand into her crotch to tear away her underwear.

Lafferty looked at his watch and saw that only half an hour had gone by. He couldn’t relax; he had done little else but pace up and down since Sarah’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t know why he felt so uneasy. After all, Sarah was probably right; she was a grown woman and knew what she was doing. Once again, he failed to convince himself. He looked at his watch yet again. The thought that he didn’t even know where she had gone occurred to him and made him feel even worse if that were possible. He had been out of the room when Sarah had made the phone call so he had not heard her repeat an address. This fact niggled away at him for the next five minutes until he thought of something he could do. He remembered a boy scout trick from long time ago. You could sometimes find out what had been written on a piece of paper by lightly shading the piece under it on the pad. Sarah had written the address down on his phone pad.

Lafferty rifled through two or three drawers before he found a pencil and then had to contend with the fact that it was broken. He couldn’t find a sharpener so he used a kitchen knife. He returned to the phone pad and held the pencil almost horizontal to the paper as he scribbled back and forwards very lightly and quickly across it. He put down the pencil and held the pad up to the desk lamp. He could read the address. The Elms, Seaforth Road, North Berwick.

Lafferty felt himself go cold at the mention of North Berwick. He froze with the paper in his hand. Tyndall lived in North Berwick? It had to be coincidence, he told himself. Lots of people must live by the sea in North Berwick and commute to the city. Why not Cyril Tyndall?

Despite this argument, Lafferty found he could not rest easy with the ‘coincidence’. Tyndall, the director of the Gelman Holland Institute, living in North Berwick with its past association with witchcraft and, in particular, the use of the Hand of Glory. There had to be a connection. Lafferty could not bear the anguish he felt any longer. He grabbed his coat and ran out to the car. He was going to find Sarah.

The clutch release bearing on Lafferty’s car gave an angry squeal as he took off a bit too quickly for its liking. “Don’t let me down now,” he murmured. “Just one more night. That’s all I ask.” The bearing decided on a compromise; it disintegrated as he changed down into third gear on entering North Berwick. Lafferty let the car coast to a halt and got out. He stopped the first person he met and asked them where Seaforth Road was. The man pointed in the general direction of the hill leading away from the main thoroughfare. “About half a mile that way,” he said. Lafferty started running. He didn’t even consider the possibility that he might be making a complete fool of himself until he had found Seaforth Road and had to rest for a moment in order to get his breath back. He didn’t have to look for the house; he could see Sarah’s car standing outside it.

As his breathing settled, Lafferty noticed how quiet it was. The houses in Seaforth Road were few and far between, large mansions standing in their own grounds surrounded by high stone walls. The wind had dropped to nothing as if the night was holding its breath. As Lafferty started towards The Elms, he heard the sound of large rain drops hit the leaves of a dense laurel hedge to his right. He heard five or six before the first touched his cheek. Any minute now it was going to pour down. He fastened up the collar of his coat.

He paused at the entrance to the house and saw that it was in complete darkness. What did it mean? Had Sarah and Tyndall gone out? That seemed unlikely. He walked up to the door and rang the bell. There was no answer so he rang again and again. He couldn’t think what else to do.

At last he heard a sound from inside and the hall light was switched on. “What is it?” asked an angry voice as the door was opened.

“Professor Tyndall?” asked Lafferty, taking in the dishevelled state of the man in front of him.

“Yes, what is it?” snapped Tyndall.

“I am looking for Dr Sarah Lasseter,” said Lafferty calmly. “I believe she’s here?”

Tyndall’s eyes took on a startled look. He patted his ruffled hair nervously. “What makes you say that? Who are you?”

“Sarah’s car is outside your gate. Where is she?”

Tyndall seemed unsure of what to say and it alarmed Lafferty. He started to lose his temper. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“She’s here,” admitted Tyndall. He stood back to allow Lafferty to enter the hall. “Wait here a moment please. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

Lafferty watched Tyndall go downstairs. As he reached the foot of the steps he glanced back up at Lafferty and called out pleasantly, “Sarah, my dear, it’s someone for you.” He disappeared from sight and Lafferty turned to look at the pictures and photographs which adorned one wall of the entrance-hall. One was a large print of North Berwick harbour. Lafferty leaned closer to examine the date when he heard a sound from downstairs. It was the sound of a lock being turned. Tyndall was unlocking a door. Sarah had been locked in!

Lafferty ran downstairs lightly on his toes and heard voices as he turned in the direction he had seen Tyndall go. They were coming from behind the white door. He put his ear to it and heard Tyndall rasp, “You set me up! You led me on, you silly bitch. If it comes to it, I will deny everything about tonight and you can say good-bye to your career, so think about it. Now pull yourself together!”

Lafferty opened the door and found Sarah wiping her tear stained cheeks. Her skirt was torn. Tyndall turned round and opened his mouth to say something, but Lafferty hit him with a swinging right hand that carried all of his thirteen stones and a great deal of anger. Tyndall was lifted clean off his feet and tumbled over backwards to land in an untidy heap on the floor. Sarah flew into Lafferty’s arms and the tears came. “Oh Ryan,” she sobbed. “I’ve been so stupid.”

Lafferty held her close to him while watching Tyndall over her shoulder. “Are you all right Sarah?” he asked gently. “Did he..?”

Sarah shook her head against his shoulder and said quietly, “You arrived just in time.”

“Stupid bitch,” snarled Tyndall from the floor. He dabbed at his bleeding mouth with the back of his hand. “There isn’t a court in the land who would take her word against mine in the circumstances.” His face filled with fear as he saw the look in Lafferty’s eyes as he gently disengaged himself from Sarah and started towards him. “Keep away from me!” he squealed.

“No, Ryan!” called out Sarah, rushing forward to put a restraining hand on his arm. “Don’t! Please don’t.”

Lafferty paused, looking down at Tyndall, his eyes filled with contempt. “So this is what a potential Nobel Prize-winner looks like,” he murmured. “The brightest and best of his generation!”

“Ryan, take me away from here,” said Sarah, her hand still on Lafferty’s arm.

Lafferty turned and Sarah pulled him towards the door. They had almost reached the head of the stairs when they heard Tyndall’s voice behind them. “Wait!” he commanded.

Lafferty turned to see Tyndall standing at the foot of the stairs pointing a shotgun up at them.

“Oh for God’s sake,” exclaimed Sarah. “This is getting out of all proportion. Put the gun down, Professor!”

Tyndall started up the stairs towards them. The gun in his hands had brought back his confidence. “Why did you really come here tonight?” he demanded of Sarah. “What were you after? And why tell a priest you were coming here?”

“This is...” Words failed Sarah as she watched Tyndall level the shotgun at Lafferty’s stomach. “Stop this, Professor!”

There was a Chinese patterned vase standing on a small table next to Lafferty. Tyndall saw him glance at it and warned, “Don’t even think about it. That’s a Ming.”

Lafferty had been thinking about it, although its size and weight had taken precedence over any consideration of origin or value. When Tyndall’s eyes moved momentarily to the vase, Sarah saw her chance and flung her handbag at him. It opened in mid-flight and Tyndall was showered with keys, coins, lipstick and her hospital bleeper. It was the surprise factor more than the objects that caused him to over-balance and tumble backwards down the stairs. He let go of the gun and it clattered down the steps behind him to lie silently across his still legs.

“Oh my God,” said Sarah putting her hands to her mouth. “Is he all right?”

Lafferty was unsure about whether Tyndall was unconscious or just shamming. The gun was within easy reach for him. For a moment he was in two minds whether to go downstairs or not, but he overcame his reservations out of human concern and started to descend a step at a time. He reached the bottom and pulled the gun cautiously away from Tyndall by the barrels. Tyndall still didn’t move. Lafferty put his hand to Tyndall’s neck to feel for a pulse but couldn’t find any. “Sarah,” he said softly. “I think you better take a look at him.”

Sarah joined him at the foot of the stairs and knelt down beside Tyndall. After a moment she looked up at Lafferty and said, “His neck’s broken. He’s dead.”