Radical Reaction

by Dawn Marsanne

  **

  ‘Ron Radford,’ he answered as his mobile rang. He didn’t recognise the number but he had a feeling who it might be.

  ‘Oh, hello, Mr Radford. This is Lindsey Saunders. From the support group.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, Mrs Saunders, how nice of you to call.’

  ‘Lindsey, please.’

  ‘Lindsey, of course, now how can I help you?’

  ‘Well, it’s about what we discussed on Saturday. We’ve had time to discuss it. I’m sorry if my husband Greg was a bit, well, non-committal at the time.’

  ‘Not a problem. I am cautious myself.’

  ‘Yes, well, since we saw you on Saturday we’ve had a chance to speak to our consultant and he’s not hopeful about our chances of Harrison getting on a trial. They feel he’s too ill.’

  ‘I’m so sorry he’s getting worse,’ said Ron, quietly.

  ‘Yes, well, we’d like to take you up on your offer. It’s our last chance. We can manage the money. That’s why Greg was a bit cautious. But we’ve discussed it and it’s going to be OK.’

  ‘I want to help you in any way I can. So, on that subject, please don’t tell any other people you might meet or in the support group but as it’s you I’m going to reduce the price by ten percent. It’s just a little favour as I’ve known you so long.’

  ‘Really? That’s so generous of you. Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure,’ said Ron, a smile curling from his lips.

  ‘So, how do we pay you?’

  ‘I’ll give you the details of my account. Do you have a pen handy?’

  ‘Just a moment,’ there was a noise of someone rummaging in their bag. ‘OK, go ahead.’

  Ron read out the details and they said their goodbyes. He made some notes in his folder and looked down the list. He was fully expecting some further calls this week. Some of the people he had in mind were hugely more wealthy than the Saunders and thus a sliding scale of fees would operate. Things were looking very promising indeed. He just hoped that his mood wouldn’t be dampened when he met once more with the hapless Dr Dalton. Hopefully, by now, he would have managed to accomplish the first task of his new job description.

  Chapter 39

  Joe and Adam had made good progress with the first stage of their scale-up reaction so they took a break to catch up with their paperwork. Joe noticed he’d had a voicemail message whilst he had been busy in the lab. He listened to it and deleted it.

  ‘Well, doesn’t the day just get better and better?’ he said sarcastically. ‘All I need now is to be run over on the way home and that will just about cap it all!’

  Adam looked up from his desk. ‘Bad news I take it?’

  ‘You could say. That was ClinTry. They left a message to say that they were very sorry but due to an administrative mix-up,’ he made quotation marks in the air, ‘I won’t be allowed on the clinical trial.’

  ‘Oh, sorry mate.’

  ‘Thanks, I was relying on that money. I think that means I will just have to scrap my car.’

  ‘It might not be that bad?’

  ‘I’m sure it is. I was describing the problem to a friend of mine. He seemed pretty sure what it was, although I am going to ask the garage to look at it. But he reckoned upwards of five hundred quid. It’s just not worth it and there’s the insurance, road tax and so on.’

  Adam didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Well, I’ll get fit taking the bus and walking everywhere. Perhaps I’ll jog in some days!’

  ‘Well, that’s one positive I suppose. Are you going to look at that car on the noticeboard?’

  ‘I might. I’ll see. Anyway, let’s get on with the reaction. We need to do the next addition now.’

  Joe was putting a brave face on things. Deep down he was really disappointed but pride prevented him from letting it show. He felt he was having a bad run of things at the moment and it was hard to stay positive.

  **

  After lunch, Ron arrived at ClinTry and found Christian looking even worse than on his previous visit. Then, he hadn’t really thought that could be possible. Now he was even more shocked at the figure before him. His pallor was grey, he had a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and his shirt looked crumpled and sweat-stained at the armpits. Ron had seen healthier looking corpses.

  ‘Christian, are you OK? You look dreadful.’

  ‘Thanks, nice of you to say so,’ said Christian sarcastically. ‘I’m sure this meeting with you is going to make me feel on top of the world! Drink?’ he said offering a whisky bottle towards Ron. Following the text from his wife he had popped out of work and had driven around to the nearest supermarket and had come back with something to dull the pain of his latest nightmare.

  Ron strode around to the desk and took the bottle. He replaced the cap and put it on the bookcase. ‘That is not going to help! Look at you. You are a disgrace. Are you trying to get the sack?’

  ‘I’m having a bad day. Believe me.’

  ‘Shut up and listen. Now it’s time we got on with some work. Have you cancelled the participants for the Phase I study?’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ shouted Christian, saluting Ron.

  ‘Well, you’ve managed to accomplish that at least. Have you looked through the list I gave you, the new participants?’

  ‘I have and I can see a common theme amongst them. Most seem to be young, which is fine as they fit the age requirements but all bar two are non-British nationals. Even in my dreadful state as you so charmingly put it, that seems to be a bit odd.’

  ‘Odd it may be but they are the people you are going to use. They will be more than happy with a minimal payment. Believe me.’

  Christian was beyond caring. He was consumed with thoughts of the psychopathic Laura. He shrugged. ‘You’re the boss.’

  ‘Yes, and it’s just as well I am the boss. You could hardly run a bath never mind a business!’ He paused and rubbed his forehead with his hand. ‘Now, we are going to run that Phase I study starting at the end of this week, Thursday, correct?’

  ‘Yes, they will stay in overnight on Thursday and be discharged on Friday.’

  ‘And the Phase II, with patients. When is that planned?’

  ‘Middle of the next week, for the first cohort. Then we have repeat cohorts each week for four weeks. We have our full quota of patients for the first two. We are expecting the rest to be booked in the next day or so.’

  ‘Well, that’s something I wanted to discuss with you. You will need to substitute two of the patients in the first cohort with these two children,’ and he passed over two manilla folders.

  Christian frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Where have these come from?’

  ‘I told you I’ve been doing my homework. I can recruit patients as well as you can do.’

  Christian flicked through the two folders. He was frowning once more. ‘I don’t understand, there’s no referral letter. We can’t proceed with patients like this.’

  ‘We can and we will. These are private patients.’

  ‘We don’t take private patients, this isn’t a private hospital.’

  ‘It is now. These patients are desperate. They’ve been refused treatment as they are deemed to be too ill. It’s their last chance.’

  ‘So you have decided to offer charity, is that it?’

  ‘Not exactly charity, no.’

  Ron stared levelly at Christian. They sat in silence for what seemed like ages but in fact was less than a minute.

  ‘Oh, I get it. You are charging them!’ He got up and paced around. ‘God, I don’t believe this. You are a...’ he exhaled in exasperation, ‘I’m lost for words.’

  ‘A businessman is the word I think you are looking for,’ offered Ron.

  ‘But it’s unethical! You are asking me to bump patients off the list and replace them with yours just because they are wealthy and have paid you, how much?’

  ‘None of your business. But don’t think that you are owed anything in this life. Do you want a job here or not?’ />
  Christian had not yet had any calls about suitable positions from the recruitment agency. He wasn’t in the strongest bargaining position. However, the most pressing issue was his blackmailer, Laura.

  Ron was still waiting for an answer.

  ‘I could report you for this. You could get prosecuted.’

  The meeting had now become a battle of wills between the two protagonists. Both were staring at each other like two poker players deciding whether to raise or to show their hand. Christian desperately wanted another drink but in fact, he was starting to feel slightly better now that some of the alcohol was beginning to wear off. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was making his brain work faster.

  ‘You could but you won’t,’ said Ron, his steely gaze boring a hole through Christian’s eyes. ‘You have your own skeletons in your cupboard. Or have you got a very short memory?’

  Christian remained silent.

  Ron looked at the desk. ‘No family photo? Where is it? Don’t you want to remember how you have cheated on your wife?’

  Christian could bear Ron’s stare no longer. He walked over to the window. How he longed to be in the fresh air away from this toxic atmosphere. He simply had to get out of the room. ‘I need the toilet, would you excuse me for a moment?’ said Christian.

  ‘Of course. I’ll just check my emails,’ replied Ron.

  Christian needed some time to think. He locked himself in a cubicle and sat down on the lid of the toilet. He closed his eyes and willed his brain to function. Never in his whole career would he have believed he would be confronted with a scenario like the one Ron had just proposed. It showed that the man had no ethics or morals whatsoever and nothing would get in his way of making money and controlling everyone in his path. But did that mean that if he were so ruthless it could be used to Christian’s advantage? What had Ron said? They made a good team? Well if that were so then it was time that the equilibrium was shifted to give Christian some benefit. He left the cubicle, washed his face and his hands and returned to his office.

  ‘Ah, there you are. I was going to send out a search party.’

  ‘Sorry to keep you. I just needed time to think quietly.’

  ‘And did you have any interesting or useful thoughts?’

  ‘I did and I’ve a little proposition to put to you.’

  ‘Interesting! I like a bit of intrigue. Brightens the day.’

  ‘My dalliance. The woman I spent the night with at your hotel.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. Your night of passion.’

  ‘The biggest mistake of my life you mean.’

  ‘Oh, surely she wasn’t so bad in bed,’ chuckled Ron.

  ‘She was amazing. The trouble is she’s now revealed her true colours. She’s blackmailing me.’ He laughed. ‘It’s incredible to be blackmailed by two people over one affair. That’s quite an achievement you have to agree? Don’t you think? I bet you are used to being the only blackmailer but not in this case. She’s a match for you in that department.’

  ‘Really, a match for me? I’m not so sure.’

  ‘She turned up at the house yesterday evening. Pretended to be an employee. She brought some bogus papers around for me to look over. You have to credit her ingenuity!’

  ‘She’s a spunky lady.’

  ‘Not content with giving me the shock of my life she’s struck up a friendship with my wife. She plans to go shopping with her a week on Saturday. That cannot happen.’

  ‘Well, well, she’s very resourceful!’

  ‘She wants money to buy my silence. I don’t have it.’

  ‘I see. You are in a bit of a pickle, shall we say?’

  ‘That’s where I need you to help me. Didn’t you say we would make a good team? Well, teammates help each other. I need your help and in return I will go along with your outrageous plan to charge these poor patients for their cancer treatment.’

  Ron raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re learning, you see, a few meetings with me and you start to learn from the master.’ He held up a finger. ‘That doesn’t mean I agree, I want to hear what you have to suggest.’

  ‘I need my problem with Laura resolved. She has to leave me alone.’

  ‘I see. Someone persuasive needs to make her understand that she is under an illusion. Is that right?’

  ‘Perfectly. That’s my price. We help each other. Deal?’

  ‘You drive a hard bargain, Dr Dalton. But I’m impressed. I don’t like people who roll over without a fight. It’s good to have an adversary who will match me. I feed off it. It gives me a reason for living.’

  Christian looked at the man before him. He’d thought Laura was a psychopath but she was nothing compared with Ron Radford. At some point in the day, he would wake up and return to normality.

  ‘Give me everything you have on her. I’ll think about your little problem and get back to you.’

  ‘So you’ll sort it out?’

  ‘I said I’ll think about it. You will hear from me soon.’

  Christian brought up the information he had on his phone and realised that Laura had been careful not to reveal much about herself. Ron took out a small notebook and scribbled down the details. Christian printed out a recent photo of her and gave it to Ron. He didn’t want to have an electronic record of the transfer of the details, he wasn’t a complete fool even though he was doing a fine impression of one, he thought to himself. Suddenly he remembered what she had said.

  ‘I’ve just remembered something. She took some photos of me whilst I was sleeping. Those must be destroyed. Explain that to her.’

  ‘Oh, dear, you have been a bit careless, haven’t you?’

  Christian remained silent. He felt a fool and it was embarrassing having it pointed out to him by Ron.

  ‘Now, perhaps as you have unburdened yourself to me you can get on with some work?’

  Christian nodded and Ron collected up his belongings and left. He headed out to the reception area and stopped to chat with Fay.

  ‘Oh, Mr Radford. Can I get you any tea or coffee?’

  ‘Thank you but no. I’m a busy man. People to see, places to go. But I think Dr Dalton could do with a coffee now.’

  ‘OK, thanks, I’ll go and speak to him.’

  ‘See you soon,’ said Ron, waving as he walked casually out to his Range Rover. He unlocked the car with the remote key fob and speed dialled a contact.

  ‘Mr Radford,’ said the voice.

  ‘Jed. I need you to call around to my office. Say, 5 p.m.?’

  ‘No, problem. Bye, Mr Radford.’

  Ron put his phone on the passenger seat and drove out of the car park. What an interesting day it had been so far.

  Chapter 40

  On Wednesday morning Maureen was waiting for the police to call around again. Since identifying Hubert’s body two days ago, she had been experiencing vivid dreams and if they continued much longer she felt she might have to ask her GP for some mild sleeping tablets. She hadn’t stayed over at Ron’s for a few nights as he was extremely busy and she knew she would only disturb him during the night. Hopefully, after the inquest and funeral, there would be some sort of closure and she would be able to rest more easily.

  The doorbell rang and she answered it. It was Stefanie Billings, whose manner Maureen had found comforting.

  ‘Hello, officer, please come in. Would you like tea or coffee, I was just about to make myself one?’

  ‘Cup of tea would be great,’ she replied.

  ‘Take a seat. I’ll just make it.’

  Stefanie sat at the kitchen table and looked out on to the garden.

  ‘Your garden is looking magnificent. I wish mine looked like that.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. I made some changes recently. I got some inspiration when I went to a National Trust place recently.’

  ‘It must take a lot of work to keep it looking like that.’

  ‘Oh, well, it keeps me busy. It’s a nice hobby, I enjoy it.’

  The kettle boiled and Maureen poured the w
ater into the small tea pot.

  ‘Are you aware whether Mr Welch had any financial troubles? Did he have any enemies who might have been threatening him or anything? Perhaps causing his depression?’

  Maureen frowned. ‘I shouldn’t think he had any money troubles, after all, we’ve just bought a new site for development,’ she shrugged. ‘I can’t see Hubert having any enemies in business.’

  ‘I have to ask. I hope you understand.’

  Maureen remained silent. She didn’t really understand or like the direction the conversation was taking.

  ‘Mrs Welch, this is a formality but where were you on Wednesday last week?’

  ‘Wednesday? Let me see. I went for a swim in the morning. I had a rest in the afternoon, did a bit of gardening and then, yes, I remember I played bridge with the Shiptons. Gerald and Felicity, at their house.’

  ‘Bridge, don’t you have four players?’

  ‘Yes, Evelyn Secombe was the fourth person.’

  ‘Can you give me their addresses and phone numbers?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but I’m feeling a bit confused. Hubert committed suicide didn’t he?’

  ‘It appears so. I’m asking just as a formality. The inquest should be routine. There were high levels of antidepressants in his system and he’d drunk a large amount of whisky as well.’

  ‘Oh, God, I wished I’d known how depressed he was. He told me he’d asked his GP for some tablets.’

  ‘Yes, we spoke to his GP and she’s told us that she was monitoring him with regular appointments as he talked about having moments of feeling suicidal.’

  ‘Poor Hubert.’

  ‘When did you last see your husband?’

  ‘Er, it was Friday evening. He called round to update me on our latest property purchase.’

  ‘Oh, really? Was he in the habit of calling around? Why didn’t he phone?’

  ‘Well, he did phone from time to time but if he was passing he often called in.’