The Inspector was ignored, except that I favoured him with a quick shake of the head.
‘The Inspector,’ Sergeant Cox said, politely but firmly, ‘is inviting Mr Cunningham to come to your sitting room.’
‘And Mr Cunningham,’ Daffy retorted, ‘is telling him to sod off. Rabbit gravy,’ she added to the Inspector’s evident puzzlement.
‘Carry on as you’re going,’ I said to Daffy. ‘We’ll see how they take to the next batch. I wasn’t going to be so rude as that,’ I told the Inspector. ‘Nearly, but not quite. I don’t mind coming to the sitting room; it is, after all, my own room as the Sergeant’s well-chosen words reminded us. But Mr Kitts comes with me.’
‘We’d prefer to see you on your own,’ Tirrell said.
I have spent far too much of my life being pushed around by my seniors and reluctantly pushing around my subordinates. Nowadays, anyone wanting to resume pushing me around had better be quite sure of his powers and his readiness to use them. Authority, I had discovered, has no value if the opposition ignores it. ‘I expect you would, but you’re doomed to disappointment. Mr Kitts knows as much as I do, possibly more, and I also want a witness to what I say and don’t say. Failing which, I’m not saying a word until my solicitor is present and very probably not then.’
The Inspector opened his mouth but Beth spoke first. ‘And I’m coming too. My husband was invalided out of the army and he is still below par. I will be the judge of whether and for how long he is fit to be questioned. If you have any objection, he stays here until I can get hold of his doctor.’ Her face and voice left no room for argument. She handed Sam to Isobel.
Beth’s words, coming from one who looked like a delicate teenager rather than a guardian, had all the more force. The Inspector made a helpless gesture and turned away. He had slumped fractionally from his usually erect bearing. He was no longer a self-contained man, securely in command of his own little world. He was, his posture said, the plaything of forces beyond his control. I knew the feeling. He had my sympathy if not my co-operation.
Our dialogue with Inspector Tirrell must have been clearly audible in the sitting room through two open doors. The two men already there rose to their feet, but whether out of old-fashioned courtesy to Beth or to be ready in case of a violent attack by an infuriated member of the public I could not tell.
One, the taller and evidently the senior, had the face of a terrier trying to ignore the smell of Antimate. He led off before we had finished seating ourselves. Seven behinds exceeded the capacity of our suite and the terrier showed no signs of giving up his armchair. The younger newcomer brought forward a spare upright chair for himself and gestured to Sergeant Cox to do the same. He was fair-haired, smooth-faced and, Daffy said later, ‘rather dishy’. And he knew it.
Terrier frowned at me. ‘You are making a mistake—’ he began.
‘One moment,’ I said. ‘I prefer to know who’s ranting at me.’
Terrier’s frown turned into a ferocious scowl. ‘This is Superintendent Fossick,’ Tirrell said quickly, ‘and Inspector Grey.’
‘Of the Fife and Kinross Constabulary?’
Tirrell shook his head at me warningly.
Terrier – Superintendent Fossick – decided to let my needling go by. ‘I would like to suggest,’ he said more mildly, ‘that you’re making a mistake.’ His accent came from further south, somewhere in the English Midlands. ‘In order to substantiate the truth of what you say, you and other witnesses should make your statements separately. If the statements agree on details they can be taken as true. It’s a standard technique for verifying evidence and the best way to confirm your innocence.’
‘It’s also an ancient dodge for trying to catch people out contradicting each other,’ Henry said. ‘We’ve nothing to hide. Just don’t try to treat us as though we’re either half-witted or guilty of something.’
There was a momentary pause during which the silence seemed ready to burst.
‘Very well,’ Fossick said stiffly. ‘If that’s the way you want it . . .’
‘That’s the way we’re going to get it,’ Henry said. He was not finishing the Superintendent’s sentence for him. It was a statement in its own right.
As Fossick led us through the story so far, it was clear that he had read and digested our previous statements; but, when we came to the events of that day, he wanted every word and made sure that he got them. The one topic which we managed to avoid was the use of the tranquillizer dart in Miss Otterburn’s backside. If she ever worked out what had caused her brief period of unconsciousness, she could bring an action; but we were certainly not offering any confessions. If the matter should ever come to court, I had an uncomfortable feeling that the fact that Miss Otterburn had gone down in very few seconds would be taken as proof that I had loaded the dart for something larger than a Labrador.
At the end, Fossick came back to Miss Otterburn’s arrival at the Bothy. ‘You’re sure that he said “microfiche”?’ he asked us.
Henry and I both expressed certainty. ‘There was a time when I was quite familiar with the word,’ Henry said. ‘I recognized it the moment it was uttered.’
‘I can’t think of anything,’ I said, ‘which would sound even faintly similar and not be ridiculous in the context.’
‘How big was the envelope?’
‘About three inches by two,’ Henry said. I thought back and agreed.
‘Your refusal to allow a search of the house looks bad,’ Fossick said.
‘Not my refusal,’ I said. ‘My wife’s. But a search would not have contributed in the least to proving our innocence. In point of fact, I never laid a finger on it and nor, I’m sure, did Mr Kitts, but if I had taken it there are a thousand ways I could have disposed of it. So from my point of view a search would have had nothing but nuisance value.’
‘But it looks bad,’ Fossick repeated.
‘Why should that worry me?’ I asked him. ‘I know that I’m innocent. No court in the land would think otherwise on the basis of what you’ve got. Your opinion’s of no concern to me. It is irrelevant.’
‘You’re wasting your time pursuing Mr Cunningham,’ Henry said, at his most urbane. ‘We did not go out micro-fishing. We hope that the whole truth will eventually emerge so that, in the matter of quarantine regulations, Mr Cunningham will be seen to be an innocent victim of somebody else’s crime. Beyond that, your problems are your own. In fact, we are no more than concerned members of the public and you are our employees.’
Fossick’s brows came down again and he pursed his lips. ‘Everybody has an interest in something that might be turned into money,’ he said harshly.
Henry gave an uninterested shrug. ‘This is the first time that anybody has suggested to us that the microfiche might have a – ah – fiscal value. I suggest that you try Miss Otterburn. Or has she also vanished?’
‘Miss Otterburn returned to her office and endeavoured to bluff it out. On your say-so, she has been taken into custody on a charge of assault; you’d better be able to back it up when the time comes. She is now out on bail and threatening legal reprisals against absolutely everybody.’ The Superintendent smiled grimly.
‘Three of us witnessed the assault and Spurway will be able to confirm it, when he comes round,’ I said.
‘Perhaps. If his memory is unimpaired and if he is not under the impression that one of you was responsible. Miss Otterburn denies striking the blow and she is adamant that she doesn’t have the microfiche. We are inclined to believe her. For one thing, her boss, Mr Heatherington, is still demanding that we pull out all stops for its recovery, which suggests that he has not received an offer for its return, whether or not—’
Fossick broke off. There was the sound of another car outside. I thought that our driveway must be looking like a municipal car park. The ‘dishy’ Inspector Grey, who might be subordinate to Superintendent Fossick and no more than equal in rank to Inspector Tirrell, had no intention of lackeying while there was a mere sergeant prese
nt. At his nod, Cox put aside his notebook and went to the front door.
He came back followed by the daunting figure of Hector Tholess, who accorded us greeting in the form of a single nod to share between us. He looked more peevish than ever and he seemed to have lost a little weight without any improvement in his general appearance.
As a matter of elementary courtesy I got to my feet, as did the others except Beth, but I had no intention of giving up my comfortable seat on the settee to a politician for whom I nursed a particular dislike. Nor, I could see, had Henry. The policemen exchanged looks but, before the outranked Tirrell was obliged to offer his chair, Tholess took a stand before the dead fireplace, thereby establishing a dominant position in the room as Tirrell had at the Bothy. He loomed like a thundercloud.
‘Well?’ he said to Fossick. ‘Bring me up to date. Have you recovered it?’
‘Not yet, sir,’ Fossick said. ‘The girl had it but swears that she lost it again. When she came round from an unexplained fainting fit, she says that her clothing had been disarranged.’
Henry and I exchanged a glance. He gave a minute headshake.
‘What about these people?’ Tholess asked, managing to indicate Beth and Henry and me with no more than a flick of the eyes. ‘Have you searched the place?’
To be fair, Fossick had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘They won’t permit a search and their lawyer’s blocking us from getting a search warrant. Strictly speaking, we don’t need a warrant; but we need good cause and we don’t have it yet – not that a search would have had any useful function, they knew that we were coming and they made sure that we knew it. But they flatly deny even knowing that the microfiche had any value let alone setting hand on it. I have a feeling that the journalist may be our best bet.’
Tholess’s bulldog face looked as though a bigger bulldog had beaten it to the biscuit. It reminded me of a mastiff I had once seen trying to pass a sharp splinter of bone along with yesterday’s dinner. ‘If you’re right, he must be found and damn quick. How hard are you looking for him?’
‘Hard enough,’ Fossick said. ‘We’ve traced some of his movements. He arrived at Ardunie village on foot and phoned for a taxi which took him to Cupar. What he did there we don’t yet know. An hour later, he took another taxi back here. His car is still at the door and I have men back and front. Unless he turned around and left again almost immediately, he’s still somewhere nearby.’
‘Then that’s why they don’t want a search,’ Tholess said triumphantly. ‘Go and find him.’ He looked straight at me for the first time. I could feel the heat of it. ‘And as for you, you must have signed the Official Secrets Act in your time.’
The door opened. ‘That’s what I was waiting to hear,’ said a new voice. Mike Coutts walked into the room. ‘I wanted to be able to tell the world how far you were prepared to push it.’
Chapter Nine
The journalist had been out of sight and out of our minds until a few moments earlier. His arrival on cue produced a stunned silence while everybody waited for somebody else to set the ball rolling.
Under his arm Mike Coutts had an envelope, but much larger than the one we had glimpsed at the Bothy. He pushed a folded slip of paper into my hand. It was a cheque. ‘That should take care of the damage to your car,’ he said. ‘Forgive me.’
His voice broke the stalemate. ‘Arrest that man and take possession of the envelope,’ Tholess boomed, very near the top of his voice.
‘Go right ahead,’ Mike told the Superintendent, ‘if you want to make a bad scandal ten times worse. You should never have been drawn into trying to save a politician’s reputation.’ He moved forwards as he spoke until he reached the centre of the group and took his stand in front of the dead fireplace, forcing Hector Tholess to give ground.
For the first time, Fossick seemed unsure of himself. ‘I have been assured that this matter originated at Porton Down.’
‘Assured by Mr Tholess? And that it was, no doubt, far too secret for even your ears?’
Tholess began a vigorous protest but a frown and a gesture from Fossick made him break off. ‘In your own interests,’ the Superintendent told him, ‘you should let me hear what’s said. I’m quite capable of arriving at a sound conclusion.’
With an effort, the politician restrained himself. He had turned a shade darker. He leaned back against the corner table. I was on the point of asking him to be careful, because the table was old and had never been intended to support such a weight, when we heard two of Beth’s ornaments jingling together as the table trembled in response to a quiver in Tholess’s big frame. He stood up quickly.
Mike had been looking drawn, but suddenly he smiled. ‘Very unwise of Mr Tholess, giving that assurance. He should have remembered that almost every political scandal since the first rogue convinced a gullible public that they should place themselves unreservedly at his mercy has been dwarfed by the scandal over the lies the culprit told in trying to scrape earth over it. Think of Profumo. Think of Richard Nixon. I dare say that some of the early work may have been done at Porton Down but as you may know, Superintendent, a great deal of work happens at Porton Down which is quite unconnected with germ warfare.’
‘And Mr Tholess certainly had no business invoking Special Branch to try and pull his nuts out of the fire,’ Henry said.
Fossick jumped. ‘What makes you think that we’re Special Branch?’ he asked cautiously.
‘What else? You’re not a Scot. Englishmen do turn up in the Scottish police forces, but not very often. Inspector Tirrell admitted that you were not from Fife and Kinross. We have a scandal with a politician involved. If you’re not Special Branch you’d better identify yourselves.’
Tholess had been fuming on the fringe of the discussion, eager to take it over but deterred by repeated warning signals from the Superintendent. The night was cool but we had not lit the fire, yet he was beginning to sweat. ‘There is no scandal and I am not involved, merely concerned,’ he ground out. ‘Give me that envelope.’
Mike held it behind his back. ‘You’re big enough to take it by force,’ he said. ‘Do that, in front of witnesses, if you want to. It would only help to verify the story without doing you a damn bit of good.
‘When I left the Bothy – your car let me down, by the way, John, and I had to walk as far as Ardunie – I went straight to Cupar and found a business office where they had a microfiche copier and a fax machine. Before coming back here and spending the afternoon in your spare bedroom, using my mobile phone to the full, I faxed four copies of the whole set, one to my editor—’
Tholess rounded on Fossick again. ‘If we must discuss this matter instead of getting on with the proper business of ensuring confidentiality, could we at least do so outwith the presence of all these people?’
‘I wouldn’t bother myself on that score,’ Mike said cheerfully. ‘The facts will be in tomorrow’s papers. They’re probably already typeset. And you know how uptight everybody got when D Notices were used to protect private reputations. You could never get away with it today.’
‘What’s more,’ Beth said, ‘you’d be far too late. We could make a very good guess already as to what it’s all about and so could half a hundred other people, I should think.’
Those were the first words that she had spoken since entering the room. They provoked a few seconds of absolute silence.
Mike laughed aloud. ‘Go ahead, then,’ he said. ‘You may help to show Mr Tholess that his bubble’s already burst.’
Superintendent Fossick had risen to his feet. He placed himself between Mike and the now seething politician. ‘Yes, go on,’ he said. ‘It’s high time somebody told me what the hell’s really going on.’
Now that I came to think about it, I realized that I could, as Beth had said, make a good guess as to what was going on; but Beth is much quicker than I am to arrive at a conclusion clear enough to verbalize. We all looked at her.
Beth took hold of my hand. Speaking to a crowd of more than two p
eople always makes her nervous. ‘Obviously,’ she said, ‘it’s rabies. The truly awful killer. That’s why everybody wets themselves as soon as it’s mentioned. There was quite a ballyhoo two or three years ago, when Cook and Simpson came out with a vaccine that was cheaper than anything on the market at the time. Countries where rabies is endemic would be able to afford wholesale immunization of people and domestic animals and also to immunize wild animals by distributing bait laced with the vaccine.’
‘That’s quite right,’ Henry said. ‘It was going to be the beginning of the end for the scourge of rabies. On top of which, Cook and Simpson could be expected to make a fortune for their shareholders, with jobs in Aberdeen and Glasgow as a by-product.’
Beth was nodding. ‘But there was a report in Dog Monthly a few weeks ago about fresh outbreaks of rabies in Pakistan, Turkey and somewhere else. The article, I remember, suggested that the time was not yet ripe for considering doing away with quarantine.
‘Noel Cochrane started his working life as a biochemist, so he knew what it was about. Then he was promoted into marketing and went out to India, “to open up the market” was how he put it. Then he got another promotion and came back to head office after which, we’re told, battles were raging among the management team.
‘Suddenly, a whole lot of things happened in quick succession. Noel was heading abroad and taking his dog with him. Our car, with his case and the dog in it, was stolen. And, next thing we know, people, all of them connected to Cook and Simpson, are chasing after Noel and knocking each other on the head in their hurry to get their hands on whatever he’s carrying. One girl has died, so they’re not playing games.
Mad Dogs and Scotsmen (Three Oaks Book 7) Page 15