Kill and Cure

by Andy Ashdown Design

  ‘So?’

  The room phone rang before she could tell him.

  Vicky looked startled.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Stich said quickly. ‘While you were showering I left a message on Alan Frasier’s voicemail.’ He picked up the call.

  ‘Stich? Where you been? I’ve been leaving messages all over the place.’

  ‘It’s a long story. What have you been able to find?’

  ‘Well, Maxi’s house – it’s clean.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘That’s impossible.’

  There was silence.

  ‘What about the police?’ Stich asked.

  ‘They’ve been there since late last night. But the 106

  place is clean. Trust me – that’s from a very good source.’

  ‘So what about Maxi and Susan?’

  ‘For the moment, missing only.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  Alan paused. ‘You positive it was at Maxi’s?’

  ‘Of course I’m positive. Do you think I would make something like that up?’

  ‘No, no of course not … it’s just, God knows, you’re in shock. You might have made a mistake that’s all.’

  ‘There’s no mistake, Alan. Susan was shot right in front of my eyes. We were definitely at Maxi’s place.’

  ‘Okay. My contact is still up there. If there’s anything to be found he’ll dig it out.’

  ‘Has he checked the grounds?’

  ‘It’s been difficult because of the police. But, yeah, I think so.’

  ‘Get him to check the area around the outhouse.

  I smashed a lot of glass. There must be something, even if it’s a new pane recently fitted.’

  ‘Leave it with me.’

  ‘Are they looking for me? I mean, is my name out there?’

  ‘Maybe, it’s still early.’

  ‘What can I do, Alan?’

  ‘Not much. Sit tight and see if we can uncover something. Where are you?’

  ‘In a hotel.’

  ‘Which one?’

  Stich hesitated.

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  ‘It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.’

  ‘The Mellbrook,’ he said.

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Near Holland Park.’

  ‘Okay. Stay where you are. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something.’

  Stich replaced the receiver and fell back onto the bed.

  ‘What was that all about?’ asked Vicky.

  ‘Alan’s got someone sniffing around but he’s come up with nothing. No Susan, no Maxi, and no break-in. The police will assume I lied, which will put me in the frame for killing Susan, Maxi and probably the policeman as well.’

  ‘Come on, Stich, we don’t know any of this,’

  said Vicky.

  ‘Well, what would you think if you were them?’

  he asked.

  She sat silent for a moment. ‘Okay, let’s say they do think that. For a start, they’ll need bodies.

  Without bodies, they have nothing. You’ve just said they’ve got nothing.’

  ‘What about the policeman at the hospital?’

  asked Stich. ‘What about his body? They must have that.’ He sighed and sank his head into the pillow, staring at the ceiling. The only noise was the soft sound of Vicky brushing her hair.

  ‘How can you take care of a child when soon you won’t even be able to care for yourself? I’m taking her

  …’

  ‘I was saying I heard a centrifuge on Clive’s message,’ said Vicky.

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  Stich dragged his eyes from the ceiling. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Before I was interrupted. I think his message was sent from the Immteck lab. Susan’s phone recorded Clive’s message at what, 7 o’clock last night?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘So I assume he was working, made the discovery and then phoned.’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘He was due at the Immteck Ball last night but didn’t show up. Instead he went straight home.

  The neighbour said he got back, when? 8 o’clock?’

  He nodded.

  ‘So he phones Susan at 7.00, messes about for an hour then leaves to get home for about 8.00.’

  ‘Vicky, where are you going with this?’

  She sat back down next to him. ‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘I reckon that whatever he found, whatever made him call, must still be in his lab.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The probe, remember? He was going on about Susan switching probes. I think the probe must still be where he left it – probably in cold storage in his lab.’

  ‘Shit.’ Stich sat up.

  ‘If it’s still there,’ she said, ‘we can analyse it.’

  ‘Can we get in?’

  ‘I’ve got a card that gets me past security. I could sign you in as a visitor – I’ve done it before.’

  ‘What about the police?’ Stich said. ‘Once they discover Clive’s body, it won’t take them long to realise Clive and Susan worked at the same facility.

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  They’ll be all over the Immteck labs.’

  Vicky checked her watch. ‘I think you’re giving them too much credit. It’ll take a while before they put Clive and Susan together. On the face of it, a dead man and a girl they think is missing are unrelated. They’ll have to do a bit of digging before they connect the two. We might just have time.’

  110

  21

  Varcy sat in a security room. This one was at St.

  Clement’s hospital. He looked at his watch: 6.50

  AM. Before him was a bank of monitors displaying images of various sections of the hospital. One in particular had his interest. He’d watched it half a dozen times already but it was grainy and told him next to nothing. To make matters worse, the action happened in the top right of the screen – off camera, almost. Varcy rewound the sequence again and played it. The shot was empty. Then a shadow appeared. A man, certainly. He waited a moment, then walked forwards and almost disappeared out of view. Next, the side of a red saloon exploded into shot before coming to a sudden halt. The car waited for a few seconds then sped off, and the scene was empty again. The victim was lying somewhere off camera.

  Varcy stopped the image. This whole thing was getting complex. Checks had been run on the car park victim and he didn’t like what they’d thrown up. Varcy blew hard into his handkerchief, stood up and opened a door that led into a side office. A security officer sat drinking coffee.

  ‘Can I take the tape?’

  ‘As long as you sign a note saying you’ve got it, 111

  then no problem.’

  Varcy opened his mobile and speed dialled the number of Don Elliott. The voice answering was weary.

  ‘Don?’ He felt another sneeze build.

  ‘Varcy? God, man, don’t you sleep?’

  ‘Rarely,’ said Varcy before sneezing hard.

  ‘Neither do you, it seems.’

  ‘I’ve got a lot on.’

  ‘Evidently.’

  ‘You sound terrible, by the way,’ said Elliott.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It’s the flu … I didn’t get the jab.’

  ‘Then you should get home to bed.’

  ‘I can’t. I need your help,’ said Varcy.

  ‘You’ve come to the wrong place – I know nothing about medicine.’

  Varcy made a face. ‘This is important.’

  ‘It’s always important.’

  ‘This is really important.’

  Elliott scoffed. ‘What is it?’

  ‘A CCTV tape – I need it analysed quickly.’

  ‘How quickly?’

  ‘How about now?’

  Elliott laughed.

  ‘Come on, Don.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Keynsham – near Bristol.’

  ‘What the fuck are you doing down there?’


  ‘Don’t ask. It’ll take me an hour or so to get to you. Can you fit me in or not?’

  There was a pause. ‘I can’t promise.’

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  ‘You’re a star.’

  * * *

  ‘Apart from the dent in the bonnet, it’s okay,’ said Stich running his fingers around the trim of Vicky’s Peugeot outside the Mellbrook Hotel.

  ‘Fine, so let’s go,’ said Vicky, leaning out of the driver’s window.

  As they left for the Immteck labs, Vicky told him about the facilities in London. There were three –

  the first, in Knightsbridge, housed the support staff. It was the show building where TV crews would gather if an announcement was made, or moneymen would meet to discuss venture capital.

  The other two – known as Immteck I and II – were the lab facilities at Holborn where the research was done.

  ‘Clive’s lab is up on the second floor,’ she said when they got there.

  ‘Will there be many people about?’ Stich asked.

  ‘Everyone’s given the morning off after the annual ball. Having said that, these people are as dedicated as it gets, so there’s bound to be a few around.’

  He scanned the entrance for evidence of police.

  ‘This way,’ Vicky said. They mounted a dozen steps leading to a rotating entrance. ‘I’m often here at weekends. I know most of the security guys –

  just act natural. I’ll say you’re my boyfriend.’

  ‘Boyfriend?’

  ‘I can’t introduce you as a fellow scientist –

  113

  they’ll get twitchy if they think you’re from another lab.’

  He followed her past an avenue of adonidia palms towards a circular shaped front desk. ‘We call it the teak doughnut,’ said Vicky. It was a good twelve feet in diameter and had a stainless steel pillar in the centre with plasma screens hanging off it playing Immteck promotional shorts. She showed her ID to the security officer, who recognized her immediately and smiled. ‘Didn’t expect you this morning – I thought you would have gone to the ball last night.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And you’ve made it in this morning?’

  ‘Impressed, huh?’ she said.

  He grinned. ‘Not sure impressed is the word –

  you know what they say about all work and no play!’

  Vicky shrugged. ‘Yeah, I know. But today I’m just passing through.’ She nodded towards Stich.

  ‘We’ve got an exciting day planned.’

  Stich’s smile was awkward.

  ‘I’d better get you to sign in, then.’ He screen-tapped a few commands and spun the console to face Stich. ‘Here,’ he said, handing over a plastic pen, ‘sign in the box.’

  Stich screen signed Billington – his mother’s maiden name. Vicky winked at the security guard.

  ‘See you in a while.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘So far so good,’ said Vicky as they stepped into the lift and pressed for the second floor.

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  ‘Can we access Clive’s lab?’ Stich asked.

  She nodded. ‘The lab codes are common –

  Clive’s will be the same as mine.’ The lift stopped and he followed Vicky through a series of corridors. ‘Okay, this one.’

  He waited while she punched in a five-digit code on a wall-mounted keypad. The lock released and they were in. Stich had only been to a biological research lab once before and that was Susan’s old one in Cambridge. The setup was as mysterious-looking to him now as it had been then.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Vicky remarked.

  He nodded. The white landscape was colonised by glass and chrome machines; automatons of imaging, micro-plate stacking, and thermocycling.

  A low hum of progress moved through the clean, sterile air.

  ‘Immteck spend millions on research each year.

  That’s why the best from all over the world work here.’

  ‘I can believe it.’

  ‘This way.’

  Clive’s lab was divided into three stations. Each station had a bench, an array of technical kit and a computer console. Between the stations were rows of shelving onto which bulky bottles of chemicals and solutions were stored. Vicky led Stich to the farthest station. ‘This is where Clive worked.’

  Whilst the others had obvious signs of the work going on – half-full reagent bottles, bench bins littered with discarded nozzles and Eppendorfs, 115

  papers with scribbled notes on them – Clive’s was empty. Vicky opened the four drawers below his computer console. Each looked as if it had never been used. Beneath the workbench was a fridge, also clean and uncluttered. She shook her head.

  ‘This should be full of his stuff.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Anything and everything, depending on what he’s working on. It should all be stored in here.

  Look.’ She moved to the adjacent bay and pulled open the fridge. ‘See what I mean?’

  ‘So where is it all?’ Stich asked.

  Vicky shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea. Hold on, there’s a communal freezer through here. Let’s check it.’

  She led him to a room connecting two labs. In it was a washbasin, a work surface and a tall freezer.

  ‘This is the minus eighteen store. Clive should have stuff in here, we all use the minus eighteens.’ She opened it and scanned the drawers. ‘Here.’

  One was labelled with Clive’s name. She slid it open.

  It was empty.

  She opened the others. They were full.

  ‘They’ve cleared the damn lot.’ Vicky stood.

  ‘What now?’

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  22

  It was a dead end and Stich could see no way past it.

  The implication of what they had found – or, specifically, what they hadn’t found – was obvious.

  For a start, it meant Clive and Susan’s murders were connected. Beyond that, who knew? He slumped against the lab wall and slid down on his haunches.

  Five minutes passed in silence before he saw for the first time what had literally been staring him in the face all along. A smile – small at first – spread across his face.

  ‘What’s funny?’

  He pointed to the wall opposite. ‘That,’ he said.

  Vicky turned. A typed note was stuck up with drawing pins:

  LOCKERS

  WOULD THOSE STAFF USING THE IMMTECK

  LOCKERS ENSURE THEY ARE SECURE AT

  ALL TIMES. REMEMBER, PERSONAL ITEMS

  STORED IN THE LOCKERS ARE DONE SO

  AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

  He remembered Susan holding up a small travel-bag padlock with a three number combination. Susan had set the combination already and wanted Stich to 117

  guess it using ‘I love you’ as a clue. He’d spent the afternoon agonising over it until he realised ‘I love you’ stood for 143.

  ‘Where are the lockers?’ he asked.

  ‘Top of the rear stairwells,’ said Vicky.

  They were hurrying now, over to the other side of the building. Up on the landing at the top of a stairwell, Vicky gestured to a wall. Mounted on it was a matrix of metal boxes, each about a foot square.

  ‘There’s no particular order. If you want one you grab it.’

  Stich scanned them for a combination lock that looked like the one Susan had. He found it on the third row at the very end. Small and brass, it hung like an earring from the clasp on the front. Stich turned it over to check the barrel and rotated it so that 143 lined up level with the mark on the shank.

  The lock came apart easily.

  ‘What’s in there?’ said Vicky.

  Stich frowned. A red cardigan lay folded neatly at the bottom. He reached in and held the material up to his face. Susan’s scent was still there.

  Vicky reached past him and pulled out an envelope and a PDA that had lain under the cardigan. Inside the envelope was a letter addressed to Susan. She
handed it to Stich.

  A job offer from Glaxo. It was dated a couple of months before.

  ‘Recognise this?’ asked Vicky, holding up the PDA. She turned it on and began tapping at the screen with a stylus. Stich scanned the Glaxo letter as 118

  Vicky worked … A candidate with your background and references would make an important addition to our company … We would have no hesitation in offering you a place in our research and development team …

  Vicky was busy scrolling through a document.

  ‘Looks like a bunch of results from an experiment,’

  she said, scrolling faster. Suddenly she stopped.

  ‘Look at this.’

  At the end of the document the last line read: Controls are viral – Venton correct.

  Viral. The connection with Clive’s message was clear.

  Stich folded away the Glaxo letter. ‘What’s Venton?’

  ‘Who not what. Mike Venton,’ said Vicky, ‘is a molecular scientist. Or was. He was found hanged at his home a few weeks ago. We all went to his funeral.’

  ‘I remember. I couldn’t make it,’ said Stich.

  ‘His family was devastated.’

  Stich and Susan had a regular Wednesday night date, a corner table at their local Chinese. The day they buried Mike Venton, she hadn’t shown up for it. He called her mobile, but it was switched off.

  Eventually, he left the restaurant, went home and kept calling. She finally made it home at midnight.

  He was furious.

  ‘Tumours, Stich.’

  He missed a beat. ‘What?’

  ‘Krenthol.’

  ‘Krenthol?’

  Vicky rubbed her forehead. ‘That’s what links 119

  Susan, Clive and Mike Venton. They all worked on the Krenthol drug. This drug is big, Stich.’

  ‘I know. I’m taking it.’

  ‘What? But Krenthol’s for cancer patients.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘Stich?’

  ‘Vicky, let’s not talk about it. At least not now.’

  ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

  ‘I’m saying that I want to find out what happened to Susan, that’s all.’

  ‘But, Stich – ’

  ‘Please.’

  She slowly pulled her eyes away from his.

  ‘There’s a lot of data here. Most of the techniques I’m familiar with. But I need time to sort through it all.

  Take a look at this.’

  She angled the screen towards him. Susan had written one line: Send to PB 07896654981.