by Cenarth Fox
His history of corruption did not exist. So could she trust him?
Once he was seated, she told her tale — the rogue chemist, his deadly drug, the terrifying trial results — in particular with her Chief of Staff — and the shocking health consequences for the victims.
Mind you, the families of most of the human guinea pigs were singing the praises of Bernie’s brew, far and wide.
But hey, let’s just answer those parts of the question which suit us.
‘Very interesting, Premier,’ replied Ray, ‘but perhaps it’s more a case for the Therapeutic Goods Administration or, more locally, your own Health Minister.’
Jessica saw she was dealing with either a professional buck-passer or someone who never rocked the boat.
‘Let me ask you something, Chief Commissioner. Would you like your senior ranks to consume this so-called conscience drug? Would you be happy to have senior policemen and women, under your command, confess to corruption, dodging speeding fines and taking backhanders?’
Ray didn’t like her tone, but the thought of some of his highest ranks standing in the County Court, not as expert witnesses, but as defendants, put the wind right up his traditional white boxers. His response changed.
‘I take your point, Premier.’
She invaded his personal space making him more uncomfortable.
‘I’m an experienced lawyer, Commissioner. I know the Law and wouldn’t dream of trying to influence the police or judiciary.’
Jessica could lie with conviction. She continued to fool Ray.
‘We’re talking exceptional circumstances here. This drug could wreak havoc on our political parties, the government, the judiciary, and the police — your police. Would you want that on your watch?’
You cannot beat a good leading question.
Ray didn’t hesitate.
‘Of course not, Premier.’
‘This scientist, Bernard Slim, has allegedly broken a number of laws involving the manufacture, distribution, and testing of unapproved drugs. They are clearly dangerous, and could be potentially lethal. How would the public react if they discovered you knew about Slim and his drug, and did nothing about it?’
Is she threatening me?
Raymond decided.
She is threatening me.
He stood. ‘Thank you Premier. If you could give me the relevant details, I’ll oversee the investigation myself.’
Preparation being her middle name, Jessica handed him a folder.
‘Thank you, Ray.’
Ray?
‘I have every confidence in your ability to act swiftly and decisively. Please keep me informed of any arrests.’
She didn’t say progress. She said arrests. He departed thinking the woman was almost certainly a caring and concerned politician.
God, she was good.
Dr Hetherington-Smythe sat in his high-backed executive chair. The last few days would never be recorded in his diary. He’d been sunk by a spy, threatened by a thug, and shafted by a scientist.
Well if he thought that was tough, he needed to strap himself in as the fertilizer tippy-toed towards the fan.
His PA knocked and entered. ‘There are some visitors for you, Dr Hetherington-Smythe; two police officers.’
Now had the PA told her boss his apartment was on fire, the Head of Labcope International had died, or Bernard Slim was on the roof threatening to jump, Ralphie could not have shown greater interest.
Police? Here? To see me?
It is worth noting that when Joe or Jo Blogs get burgled, it might take hours, even days for the local plod to turn up. But when the Premier intimidates the Chief Commissioner, two of his finest are on the case within an hour. Mind you, the police station and Labcope are almost next-door neighbours.
Two plain-clothed officers entered, introduced themselves, sat and began asking polite yet, for Ralph, terrifying questions. His mind raced.
Has that bitch of a spy dobbed me in? Will HQ ever hear about this?
‘We’ve received information, sir, that illegal substances may have been manufactured on these premises,’ said the male police officer.
Ralph tasted bile, and desperately wanted to spit.
‘What can you tell us about Bernard Slim?’ asked the female officer.
Jesus, am I under investigation?
‘Ah, he’s a scientist employed in our Research and Development section. Excellent worker, and been with us for several years.’
‘And would you know if he’d produced any illegal substances?’
Oh no! When did I stop beating my wife?
‘Of course I’d know. And I’m sure he hasn’t. This is a prestigious international pharmaceutical company, a leader in world medicine.’
I am under investigation.
‘May we have a word with Mr Slim, please?’
They said “please”. Can I refuse? Do they need a search warrant? Oh dear, goodbye promotion; no, forget that, goodbye career.
‘Of course,’ said Ralph, and led the police to Bernie’s domain.
They entered the lab, and Lois turned, surprised at the visitors.
‘These are police officers,’ said the Hyphen. ‘Where is Mr Slim?’
Mister Slim? When did the Hyphen ever call Bernie, Mister Slim?
‘He’s not in today, sir. He’s taken leave to be with his elderly parents who’ve recently moved into care. Can I help?’
The Hyphen looked at Bernie’s desk. ‘What is his current project?’
‘I’m surprised you ask that, Dr Hetherington-Smythe. Bernie and I gave you our monthly updates only yesterday. But being such a busy CEO, perhaps you’ve not had a chance to peruse them as yet.’
The Hyphen’s eyes fired daggers. Lois rejoiced in her put down.
Ralph wanted to escort the police from the building and his life.
‘It appears you’ve had a wasted journey, officers. Will that be all?’
‘Not quite, sir. We’d like to examine Mr Slim’s workplace.’
‘Do you need a warrant?’
Oh no. Immediately Ralph regretted having asked that question.
‘Are you refusing to cooperate with us, sir?’
Under his breath, Ralph said fuck ad nauseum. The CEO looked helpless only because he was helpless.
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave you with Miss …’ He floundered.
‘I’m Lois,’ said Bernie’s colleague. ‘How can I help?’
The Hyphen retired to chew glass, the police examined Bernie’s desk, and Lois worried. She gave truthful answers denying any knowledge of so-called illegal drugs being created in this laboratory.
‘I’ve known Bernie for years. He’s a brilliant scientist.’
The police didn’t know what they were looking for. Orders came down from on high with little information or briefing. And besides, the police were in a giant pharmaceutical company with drugs everywhere. How the hell could they tell if anything was illegal? They couldn’t, so thanked Lois and left. Within seconds, she was on the phone.
‘Bernie, the police were here.’
‘What?’
‘The Hyphen brought two officers to examine your work-space.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘They asked if I knew anything about manufacturing illegal drugs.’
Bernie’s heart started sprinting. ‘And?’
‘Oh Bernie, give me some credit. I said I’ve never seen you preparing anything here which wasn’t part of Labcope’s work. And I raved about you being a dedicated scientist.’
‘Thanks Lois. You’re a star.’
‘But I think you should keep helping your folks.’ She spoke slowly. ‘They really need you, Bernie. I don’t.’
There was a long pause.
‘I think I love you, Lois.’
She smiled. ‘I’ll see you when your holiday is over next week. Bye.’
Bernie swallowed. He hung up and felt his mind work overtime.
First a spy.
N
ow the cops.
What next?
The police left Labcope, drove to Cremorne, and parked in Chestnut Street. They knocked on Bernie’s door, even peering through a window.
They were leaving when Signora Conti came out to check her letterbox. The police pounced.
‘Good morning, madam. We’re looking for Mr Slim.’
‘He not here in the day. He go to work.’
‘What time does he come home?’
‘Different time. But he will be coming tonight to see his friend, Gari.’
‘Oh, Mr Slim has a friend called Gary?’
‘He love Gari and Gari, he love Mr Bernie.’
‘Have they been friends for a long time?’
‘A very long time. They go together many time. I do not see them when they go but I know they love the other one very much.’
‘Thank you, madam. You’ve been very helpful.’
The police started to leave but stopped when the Italian widow called.
‘When they come home, Gari always give to Mr Bernie a beautiful kiss.’
The police returned to their car noting their suspect was possibly gay, and in a relationship with an unknown male called Gary. As they drove away, Bernie’s “lover” barked for his midday snack.
19
GENEVIEVE did a runner. She escaped from Jessica’s holiday house in Lorne, and made it back to Melbourne. Genevieve wanted answers, and from one person in particular.
It was dark when she knocked on a door in St Kilda. When it opened, the Premier’s Chief of Staff could barely stand.
‘Please, you’ve got to help me.’ She collapsed.
Lois called. ‘Mum, come here! Mum!’
The two women struggled to help Genevieve inside, and place her on the settee.
‘Brandy,’ said Lois helping the visitor get comfortable.
Mother fetched brandy, and Lois held the glass.
‘Here, Genevieve, drink this — slowly.’
With brandy swallowed, Genevieve lay back, looking at the women.
‘Who are you dear, and what’s happened?’ asked Mother.
‘Ask your daughter,’ said Genevieve, her head hurting like hell.
Tension simmered, and Lois knew the jig was up. She sat next to the visitor, holding her hand.
‘I am so sorry, Genevieve.’
‘You slipped me a Mickey Finn.’
‘I did. It was a wicked thing to do, and inexcusable. But if you saw the impact of this new drug, and how it can change people from being cruel and breaking the law, to being kind and law-abiding citizens, you might understand why I did it.’ She paused. ‘Please forgive me.’
‘Will I die?’ Genevieve started to shake.
‘No, no, no. And you’ll recover immediately if you take simple steps.’
‘Lois, who is this lady?’
‘You know, Mother, it’s Genevieve, Uncle Stephen’s goddaughter.’
‘Oh yes, so it is. How are you, dear? Is my brother all right?’
‘Mum, why don’t you pop the kettle on?’
‘Oh, righty-o. Would you like a chocolate royal, dear?’
Mother left, and Genevieve ran through the events.
‘It was the coffee you gave me at Stephen’s birthday.’
Lois nodded.
‘What have I ever done to you? Tell me.’
Lois hung her head in shame.
‘Nothing,’ she whispered. ‘And I’ll understand if you call the police. In fact, I wish you would. I’ve not taken that drug, yet my conscience is playing merry hell.’
Genevieve wanted details about the MCP. Lois told her everything; Bernie’s idea, the ingredients, Annuska’s research, and the other trials.
‘But is there an antidote?’
‘I don’t know. All we know is that if you admit the things you now feel guilty about, and ask for forgiveness from the people you’ve wronged, the headaches disappear almost immediately.’
‘Have you any idea what you’re asking?’
Genevieve felt terrible; terrible because of her aching head, and terrible about the recommended cure. Lois tried to help.
‘I know it’s difficult,’ said Lois.
‘Difficult? Try impossible. If I go public, the government falls. How’s that for difficult?’
Lois nodded. Shame, regret and sorrow mingled. Then she revived.
‘I’d like to tell you about Mother. You may not remember, but for years, she behaved abominably; never spoke to her brother, your godfather, and treated me like a naughty child. Then I gave her the same drug I put in your coffee. The next day she broke down, cried, apologised, and begged for forgiveness. Now look at her. She’s become the kindest, most considerate person I’ve ever met.’
Right on cue, Mother entered with a tray of tea and bikkies plus something, or rather someone else. Mother looked happy.
‘Look who’s come to see you, Lois; another of your friends.’
Luca Parisi grinned. Lois was gobsmacked. Genevieve shrugged.
Why not? No show without Punch.
‘Mr Parisi,’ said Genevieve. ‘What a surprise. Lois, do you know Melbourne’s leading drug dealer?’
Mother fussed with the tea, while Luca subtly opened his jacket revealing a gun in his belt. He spoke.
‘I’m surprised to find you here, Genevieve. I’ve come to see Bernie’s scientific colleague, Lois.’
Mother held up a cup and saucer.
‘Do you take milk, love?’
‘Milk, one sugar,’ said Luca.
Two minutes ago, he slipped in the back door, charmed the old lady, and announced himself as a friend of her daughter. Mother delighted in meeting new callers.
I never knew Lois had so many friends.
Luca addressed the women on the settee.
‘Now ladies, you must know why I’m here. I want Bernie’s formula. He’s shot through, which means you, Lois, will call your colleague and get him here pronto, or else I’ll have to play the bad guy.’ He patted his hidden gun.
Mother, blissfully unaware of the criminal in their midst, handed out the tea, and the plate of Chocolate Royals.
You could call it an unusual tea party.
Annuska and Dorothy took it in turns to pat Albert. Talk about fussing. His Lordship warmed to this treatment in his new abode.
The doorbell rang.
‘Bernard’s early,’ said Annuska. ‘I thought he was visiting his parents.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Dorothy. Annuska heard the door open, and then silence.
‘Now, now,’ called Annuska. ‘No hanky-panky in the hallway.’
No response. The door closed with a bang. Albert sat bolt upright.
‘Dotty?’
Silence in the hall. Nobody entered. Annuska’s mouth went dry. Her fear became terror when Dorothy stumbled into the room followed by a brute of a man brandishing a large knife.
Albert vanished and Annuska screamed.
‘Shut the feck up,’ snarled Brendan Murphy, former drug dealer, failed nude model, and unsuccessful rival of Luciano Parisi.
Murphy shoved Dorothy who fell on the settee. The elderly and frail females genuinely believed they might be murdered.
‘Which one of you bitches is the scientist?’ Neither spoke such was their shock and fear. ‘Which one,’ roared Murphy?
Annuska half raised a hand. ‘I am a scientist.’
‘Now listen, bitch. You’ll save a lot of agro if you give me the formula right now.’
The women thought the intruder was there to rob them or, horror of horrors, rape or even murder them. Talk of a formula brought confusion.
Murphy had no patience. He thrust the blade towards Annuska.
‘Give me the feckin’ formula.’
Annuska stuttered. ‘What formula?’
‘I think he means Bernie’s formula,’ whispered Dorothy.
Annuska understood.
‘I haven’t got it. We haven’t got it.’
‘But you know about it. You h
elped that Slim guy make the feckin’ thing. Now where is it?’
Closer came the knife. To the women it looked huge. It was huge. One slash, one thrust meant horrific wounds or death.
Dorothy showed pluck. ‘You can search the whole house but you won’t find it because we haven’t got it. We’ve never seen it, and we don’t know how to make the drug.’
‘That’s true,’ added Annuska, reaching out and holding Dorothy’s hand. ‘Only Bernard knows the exact formula.’
Murphy fumed. Here was his chance to get back in the game. If he could give this conscience drug formula to Geoffrey from the Dogs of War Bikie Club, Murphy would save face. No more the goose of a gangster humiliated by some old battleaxe, Brendan could again stand tall, and show his face to the world.
But it all depended on getting that formula.
Okay, Plan B.
‘Get y’phone.’ The women froze. He waved the knife and screamed. ‘Get y’feckin’ phone.’
Annuska stood, and moved to the phone. Dorothy cried.
Murphy snatched the phone from Annuska, and flicked the knife at her. She screamed and fell back in her chair. The thug put down the knife, daring the women to make a move. Hardly.
Reading a phone number written on his arm, Murphy punched the digits on the keypad. He hit speaker, placed the phone on the coffee table, and picked up his knife as the ringing sound filled the room.
‘Hello Annuska or Dorothy,’ greeted Bernie.
The women’s terror mixed with a smidgeon of hope. Murphy roared.
‘Listen, you maggot, I’ve got y’lady friends, and unless you get here in ten minutes, I’m gunna start playin’ Stab the Bitches.’
Silence. Bernie couldn’t breathe. It was happening again.
‘Please Bernard,’ cried Annuska.
He recovered. ‘Okay, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong formula before.’
Murphy was confused.
Wrong formula before?
‘This time I’ll give you the right one. Just don’t hurt my friends.’
Murphy stuck to his plan, and held the phone towards the women.
‘Speak,’ he commanded.