The Necessary Deaths

by David C. Dawson

  “I’m sorry,” said Dominic. “I’m sure you’ve said all this to the police already. Do you want to stop?” He put an arm around John, who turned and buried his head in Dominic’s shoulder.

  “No,” he said quietly. “This is the first time I’ve felt just how shit it was. I’ve never felt so desperate in my life before.” He held his head up and wiped his eyes. “You see, before the paramedics arrived, that was when I found the K.”

  Dominic loosened his arm from John’s shoulder. He knew that K was short for ketamine, an anesthetic used by vets. It was also an increasingly common recreational drug. “Did you show it to the paramedics?”

  John looked guiltily at Dominic. “I panicked. I thought that if they knew it was there, the police would smash the place up looking for other stuff.”

  “You know that it would have helped the medics, don’t you? Your actions in withholding that information have made it harder for them to know the best way to treat Simon. Quite possibly it could have endangered his life. You may still have threatened his long-term chances. And anyway, they’ll find traces of the ketamine when they do his toxicology tests.”

  Dominic was about to pull out his cell to call the hospital, but there was the sudden thunder of feet on the staircase, and a moment later a tall, tanned Adonis of a young man burst into the kitchen. He was wearing a pair of knee-length basketball shorts and nothing else. His broad shoulders framed an impressive pair of bronzed pectoral muscles.

  “Who’s this?” the Greek god asked John. “Another fucking copper?” Without pause he walked over to the fridge, opened the door, and began to drink from a carton of milk.

  “This is Dominic Delingpole, the friend of Si’s mum who brought me home last night. Dominic, this is Jay.”

  “Ah, the postgraduate in pharmacology. I’m pleased to meet you.” Dominic extended his hand while trying hard not to stare, but Jay ignored him and continued to drink his milk.

  “Shit, Jay, you don’t have to be so rude. Mr. Delingpole’s been really helpful. He’s taking Simon’s stuff up to the hospital now.”

  Jay put down the now empty carton of milk. “Sorry, mate, but I’ve just about had it with the fucking British police in the past forty-eight hours. They reckon that because I’m doing pharmacology, I must be shoveling the stuff up my nose all the time. I’m sure it’s not going to be long before they’re back to rip this place apart with their sniffer dogs.” There was a strong Australian twang to Jay’s voice. Wherever he was from, he knew how to create a perfect physique. Dominic could not help but admire the muscles that rippled across Jay’s tanned body.

  “It’s not so surprising the police suspect a houseful of students of possessing drugs when one of them seems to have overdosed. Don’t you think so, John?” Dominic turned to John pointedly.

  John’s face colored briefly, but he simply replied, “Thanks for taking the stuff up to the hospital for Si. Do you want to get off now?”

  Dominic picked up the small bag of Simon Gregory’s things and headed for the door. Then he turned to Jay.

  “So if you’re doing pharmacology, why would it be that Simon, the media student, is getting letters from Barton Kane, the drug company?” he asked, showing Jay the two letters he had picked up in the hallway earlier.

  Jay’s deep blue eyes stared back unblinking at Dominic. “Well, he’s got to pay the bills like the rest of us.”

  “What do you mean? Was he working for them?”

  “Kind of. Look, lots of students do it. They need money, and the bastard drug pushers like Barton Kane need guinea pigs for their trials. Barton Kane’s signed up quite a few in Brighton over the last two years. I should know. I am one. It was Simon Gregory who recruited me.”

  Dominic took a deep breath. “Do the police know this?”

  Jay shrugged his shoulders. “Why should they? There’s nothing illegal about it. Ethics and morality, well, that’s another thing. You give most of your rights away with the contract they get you to sign.”

  “Does Simon’s mother know he works for Barton Kane?”

  This time there was a pause before Jay answered. “I can’t believe she does for a moment. But then, I’ve never met her. Si doesn’t say much about her. They’re not close.”

  “What sort of drug was Barton Kane testing?” asked Dominic.

  “I can’t tell you. Really. They just got Si to recruit people of the right sort. Apparently pretty well all the guinea pigs are male, but we’re different ages, different ethnic backgrounds. It’s all dead secret and commercial confidential. All we have to do is take the drugs and fill out our log cards.”

  “Log cards?”

  Jay reached into his pocket and drew out a small pale blue card. It had Jay’s name on the front, followed by a column of tick boxes.

  “They give us these to fill out, one for each day. You take the pill, then report how you feel every eight hours. It’s a fucking pain in the backside. Still, it pays well. And when you’re struggling for cash, you take the risk.”

  Dominic was about to leave when a thought struck him. “You called them bastard drug pushers a moment ago. Aren’t you going to be joining their ranks soon if you’re studying pharmacology?”

  Jay smiled, and Dominic was treated to a flash of perfectly white and expensive orthodontics. “Not if I can help it, mate. As soon as I’m finished here, I’m going back to Sydney and joining the police. I want to get into forensics there, if they’ll have me. I’m not going to be owned by Barton Kane or any of the other bastards either.”

  “Shit, Jay,” John exclaimed. “You’re either in or you’re out. You’re happy to take their money now while you need it, then you claim some kind of high principle. Shit, and you call us whinging.”

  John’s outburst surprised Dominic. Its vehemence seemed rooted in some history between the two young men, and yet John had told him in the car yesterday how they all got on really well.

  Jay simply smiled. “I’d shut your mouth, little prom queen. After all, you’ve done all right from them as well. A bit of sponsorship on your biochemistry course hasn’t hurt you. Why are you defending them? Paying you well, are they?”

  “All I’m saying is, you don’t have to whine about it if you’re going to take their money.” John turned to Dominic. “I know Si hasn’t told Mrs. Gregory about Barton Kane so far. It’s not anything to worry about—they test all this stuff on animals first—”

  “And on poor bastards in the Third World,” interrupted Jay.

  “—so probably best not to worry her any more just for the moment. The hospital will know, and if they decide to tell her, then fine,” continued John.

  Dominic left the house, his head reeling with all the new information he had just learned. One thing was certain: a few extra, unplanned days’ stay with Jonathan was now a distinct possibility, and one he found very appealing.

  Chapter 6

  IT WAS shortly before eleven when he arrived at the Royal Sussex County Hospital. Dominic sat in the car and rang Gillian to check his messages and tell her about his plans to stay on.

  “Don’t worry, I can manage everything here, Dominic. It’s quiet at the moment. You have that High Court hearing next week and the defense to put in for the Cunningham case, but those are the only pressing matters.” Gillian’s voice changed, betraying her motherly instinct. “Is everything all right?”

  Her question made Dominic pause. He discussed most things with her, but now was not the time.

  “It’s fine. I just wanted a little time out of the office, and Jonathan’s not frantically busy just now.” It was almost true. “I may be picking up a new client anyway, so it’s partly business, although what I can do for her, I’m not quite sure yet.”

  “Well, as long as you’re both well. Are you going to be back in time for that grand dinner at Chequers? It’s in three days’ time. Let me know if you want me to send your apologies.”

  He had completely forgotten about his invitation to dinner with the prime minister. D
ominic’s apartment was only a few miles from Chequers, the weekend retreat for whoever was prime minister of the day. It was an impressive Tudor-style building with Gothic overtones. Over the centuries it had played host to many British prime ministers, including Churchill. Lady Jane Grey had once been imprisoned there. Dominic had walked past it on several country rambles and had often wondered what it would be like to step inside. Now was his chance. “Oh, I’ll definitely be back in time. I wouldn’t want to miss that opportunity.”

  “You seem very keen to be at something that is really just the local chamber of commerce sucking up to the prime minister. I didn’t know you were a supporter of this present regime,” Gillian said suspiciously. Dominic knew of her fierce opposition to the current government, mainly based on its plans to slim down the National Health Service and introduce more private health care. Gillian was a lifetime socialist. Dominic avoided political discussions with her, and in return Gillian had dismissed him as a wooly liberal.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t call myself a supporter,” he said hastily. “But it will be interesting to see the inside of the place after all these years of living so close by. I’ll try and smuggle out a hand towel with a crest on it for you, as a souvenir.”

  “Theft, Dominic?” asked Gillian sternly. “I don’t think a man in your position should be considering that. I presume Jonathan knows? You remember that the invite said partners are included?”

  Jonathan had yet to accompany Dominic to any formal event. Of course when he had casually mentioned the invitation, Jonathan had jumped at the chance, saying that he would drop anything to be there.

  “Yes. Jonathan’s not stopped talking about it since we got the invite two months ago. As I recall, he said he was so looking forward to meeting all my little business chums. I just hope he behaves himself, particularly with the waiters.”

  Dominic recalled, somewhat fondly, their first visit to the Savoy River Room in London for dinner. Jonathan had behaved outrageously. As a result, they had gotten to know several of the diners really quite well and had received the best service from the waiters, all of whom Jonathan had flirted with throughout the night.

  Dominic looked out at the front of the hospital. Samantha Gregory was now standing outside the main entrance with a cigarette in one hand and a handkerchief to her eyes. “Gillian, I have to go. I’ll e-mail about Jonathan later, but I think we might both be going. Call me if anything urgent comes up.” He ended the call and got out of the car.

  As he walked to the hospital entrance, Samantha looked up, hastily stubbed out her cigarette, and dabbed her reddened eyes with the handkerchief. “I’m really not a smoker, Dominic,” she said guiltily. “Or rather, I’m not any longer. But with everything that’s happened, I’m afraid I’ve rather let myself go. Thank you so much for coming. You must be terribly busy. Shall we go and have a coffee?”

  The brightly lit hospital cafeteria was warm and noisy. Dominic ordered cappuccinos for both of them, and they settled at a table in a quiet corner next to a poster showing the dangers of smoking.

  “Rather appropriate and rather hideous, wouldn’t you say?” commented Samantha, glancing at the image of smoke-damaged lungs. She twisted the handkerchief into a knot. “They say that Simon had a quiet night, and there’s a tiny improvement in his kidneys. It gives one hope, of course.”

  “That’s good. They’ll always be cautious about unnecessarily raising your hopes, so it is a piece of good news,” replied Dominic. “Have you found somewhere to stay?”

  “Yes. It’s really very pleasant—a little guesthouse not far from the seafront. In different circumstances it would be nice to be by the sea for a few days, even in December.” She sighed. “Mr. Delingpole. Dominic. I’m not sure where to begin, but I would be grateful for your help. I have to speak to the police at two this afternoon, and I would like you to be with me. I will obviously pay you for your time.”

  “Mrs. Gregory, I would be very happy to have you as a client, but I’m not sure in what way I can act for you.”

  Samantha smiled as she said, “And neither am I just at the moment. Let’s call you a professional friend. I have no one else who I can turn to, and your legal mind will help me to see things a little more clearly. As you can tell, I’m a little emotional just now.” She turned away to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. Then she looked at him steadily.

  “Simon and I are very close. Ever since Richard, his father, died in a climbing accident, we have been a very tight family unit. I’d like to think Simon and I can tell each other everything.”

  Dominic wondered if she was keeping up a brave front, or whether she really believed Simon told her everything. Her comments clearly contradicted what Simon’s housemate Jay had said an hour ago. Dominic decided that, as she was his client, he owed her the duty of honesty, and he should tell her about what he had learned in the last few hours.

  “Samantha, I’m afraid I believe Simon may not have confided everything in you in recent times. I went to see John this morning before coming here. He told me about their relationship and how Simon was not yet ready to tell you.”

  Samantha smiled.

  “Dominic, I’m his mother. Do you think that I didn’t know?” She sighed. “I knew he was finding it difficult to tell me, and I was waiting for him to pick the right time. I didn’t want to rush him.” She paused. “But yes, you’re right, and I am wrong. Simon hasn’t confided everything to me; I merely know and am waiting for him to tell me. John is a lovely boy, and I was just pleased to know that Simon is happy.”

  Samantha narrowed her eyes slightly as she asked, “But why do you think that means he must have kept other secrets from me? Surely you of all people must know how difficult it is to come out?”

  Dominic blushed briefly. “Everyone’s circumstances are different, of course, and for young people it really is much easier….”

  “Oh nonsense! Can I just say that I think it’s a bit rich for you to judge Simon when you’re so secretive about yourself? We spent nearly three hours in the car together last night, and I still don’t know whether or not you have a boyfriend!”

  This time Dominic’s face turned crimson. “Samantha, could we just get back to—”

  “Well, do you?”

  Dominic sighed. “I think it’s my turn to acknowledge that I am wrong. Yes, I do have a partner, and no, I am not very open about it. In this day and age, it probably is unnecessary for me to be quite so discreet. But after a while, it gets to be almost a habit.”

  Samantha giggled. “Oh, Dominic, how delightfully bashful you are! I imagine that it’s rare you have a conversation like this with your clients.”

  Dominic smiled. “Samantha, I can tell you truthfully that I have never had a conversation like this with my clients. You must meet Jonathan some time. I think you two would get on like a house on fire.”

  Chapter 7

  THEY ARRIVED at Brighton’s main police station shortly before two o’clock that afternoon. A policewoman ushered them into a cramped interview room, lit by a single flickering fluorescent light. Dominic could already feel a headache coming on, and he sipped at the plastic cup of water set before him.

  After a few moments with only the buzzing of the failing light to listen to, a young, uniformed police officer and an even younger woman police officer entered the room.

  “Mrs. Gregory?” asked the young police officer. “I’m Sergeant Dixon, and this is Constable Crawford.” He turned to Dominic. “And you are?”

  “This is my lawyer, Mr. Delingpole,” replied Samantha briskly. “How can we help you, Sergeant?”

  The young sergeant turned to look at Samantha. “We attended your son’s house at 4:00 p.m. on Tuesday 9th December, following a call to the emergency services. Paramedics were already in attendance. Your son had apparently taken an overdose of a substance unknown and was unconscious. The paramedics reported that his breathing was shallow and his heart rate was significantly raised. Another resident of the house, John Fraser, wa
s present. He confirmed that he had made the emergency call. Simon Gregory was transferred to the Royal Sussex Hospital, where he is currently being treated. I believe you have already seen him.”

  Sergeant Dixon paused and then said, “Mrs. Gregory, we have received the toxicology report on your son from the hospital. They have found significant traces of a recreational drug called ketamine or K. It may cause permanent damage to his kidneys and other organs. Were you aware that your son was regularly taking drugs?”

  Dominic looked across at Samantha to see how she would react to the question. She took a sharp intake of breath. It was as though she had been hit with a fist. He resisted his instinct to reach out and take her hand.

  “Sergeant, I don’t believe Simon takes drugs,” Samantha said.

  “Mrs. Gregory, the toxicology report is clear. We have a warrant to search the house, and officers are there now. Ketamine was reclassified as a class B drug because we now know it can be very dangerous.” Sergeant Dixon’s voice softened. “Mrs. Gregory, I’m very sorry. Often the parents are the last to know about what their children get up to once they get to university. I’m sorry you have had to find out this way. Does he live with you outside of term time?”

  Before Samantha could reply, Dominic interjected, “Mr. Gregory is now living full-time in Brighton at that address. I would have preferred that you had notified Mrs. Gregory before searching her son’s house. I trust you will restore it to a good state afterwards?” As he said it, Dominic thought of the grubby, untidy house he had left this morning, and he was struck by the irony of his question.

  “Mr. Delingpole, as I’m sure you know, we are not obliged to inform suspects’ parents of our plans to—”

  “Suspect?” asked Dominic sharply. “In precisely what way is Mr. Gregory a suspect?”

  The sergeant sighed. “Mr. Gregory is suspected of possessing class B drugs, given the quantities of the substance showing in his body. We must now investigate whether he is in possession of any other illegal substances and in what quantities. That is the reason for the search.”