Rough Justice In Academia (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 2)

by P. J. Thurbin

  George Rainton had come out of his comma and was expected to make a full recovery. He had told the police that he was not pressing charges against Ted Berick and Inspector Linham was finding that hard to accept, but the Special Branch and his Superintendent were threatening to take him off the case if he didn’t close it voluntarily. He knew that he would be disciplined if he continued to protest, but he went to the meeting determined win his argument.

  The office was well appointed with leather chairs, a mahogany desk and a large painting of the Queen. It was furnished to emphasize the authority of the incumbent. He was invited to take a seat.

  “Look here Linham, I know you feel strongly about this case, but there are things that are out of our hands. You’ve a good record, and with your promotion board coming up you don’t want to upset the apple cart. I’ve asked Commander Roberts from Special Branch to sit in. I’ve asked him to come along to put your mind at ease about letting sleeping dogs lie on this one. So just listen to what we have to say and I think you’ll see why it’s in everyone’s best interests for you to step back and stop being naive. Sir George Rainton has made it clear that he does not wish to press charges against Ted Berick. You have enough evidence against him for Sir William Tiverton’s murder for any jury to find him guilty and for the judge to give him a heavy sentence.”

  Linham leant forward. He felt angry at the way he was being patronized. But years in the police service had taught him not to interrupt his Superintendent. The Superintendent motioned to the Commander, who took the cue and stood up. He was no doubt more accustomed to making presentations than getting his hands dirty with actual police work, thought Linham.

  “Well Inspector, there are one or two things that might help you to see what we’re up against here. You already know that Sir George Rainton is working on a very secret assignment. Suffice it to say that he is a key figure in collecting information on nerve gas developments being carried out by governments around the world. He had obtained a package of potassium cyanide, part of a large consignment manufactured somewhere in Germany and ultimately destined, we think, for shipment to Syria. Sir George was trying to get the sample to Porton Down for analysis in order to determine if it had been modified for use as a nerve agent that could be used in chemical warfare. Professor Jean Maitland was the courier but she refused to take it from him when they met at Gypsy Hill. She evidently had an attack of principles, it seemed. Funny girl.” He paused as he contemplated his views on the unreliability of women in these situations before he continued.

  “Berick took the bag when he attacked Rainton. We don’t think he was aware of the contents at the time, but he must have read Rainton’s notes and realized how potentially valuable the contents might be. The rest you know.”

  “And all of that would be bound to come out if Berick were tried for the assault on Sir George, interjected Linham.”

  The Commander went on undeterred.

  “Look. The publicity that has arisen over his attack is bad enough, but we don’t want it escalating. If the police enquiries fail to find Rainton’s attacker the papers will lose interest and it will be put down to a simple mugging; something that could have happened to anyone.”

  The Superintendent interrupted.

  “We can talk to Berick and tell him that Rainton sees it as just a scuffle among old school pals over a silly argument. We can also tell him that it would help his other case if he were just to forget all about Rainton as well as any confidential information he may have come across when he stole the bag. And we can always get the lab to review the forensics in order to change the report to indicate that the poison used to murder Sir William was simply a garden variety weed killer.”

  Linham tried to grasp what was being suggested. Bribing a man up for trial on a murder case, falsifying forensic evidence, colluding in persuading a victim to drop charges of aggravated bodily harm. His Superintendent took the silence as an opportunity to sum up.

  “So now you’ve heard what’s involved you can appreciate how sensitive this is to national security and the work that Special Branch is doing to curb terrorism. I’m sure that you will agree that it is in the best interests of all concerned that any charges against Berick in connection with his attack on Granger should not come under public scrutiny. Don’t you agree, Commander?” Roberts nodded gravely.

  Linham was incensed. He had always played by the book. In his mind that meant that when carrying out an investigation you did not sweep any embarrassing bits of evidence under the carpet

  “There’s something that you’ve overlooked, Sir.” He made sure that he addressed his remarks to his Superintendent. “This is an attempt at what used to be known as a cover up. It’s my job to apprehend and charge the criminals for breaking the law. The Public Prosecutor decides if we have a case and sufficient evidence to prosecute. Then it’s up to the legal system to run its course.”

  “Look Inspector, don’t you lecture me on what our job is. You of all people must know there are instances when safeguarding National interests takes priority over pursuing justice in an individual case. This matter is not as simple as you might think. Once you get a bit higher up the ladder you may appreciate that sometimes these objectives must be balanced. And I needn’t remind you that I am your senior officer. I don’t want to have to order you to stand down on this one. I’m counting on you to make the right decision for all concerned. And now I think we’ve used up enough of the Commander’s time.” He smiled towards Roberts, who had now sat back down. “And Linham, about that promotion board coming up next month. It would mean moving to another Division, but Chief Superintendent is a rank that your work here certainly deserves. Think about it man. You’re not getting any younger.”

  Linham recognized that he was in a no win situation. One option was to resign, but throwing aside 30 years work was not something he wanted to do, especially as it would not change anything. And he knew that the Superintendent was probably right. Perhaps in this situation the end did justify the means. Then his years of police training snapped back into place.

  “I understand, Sir. And thanks for the advice. But I have already decided not to go for promotion. I am quite happy working in the Kingston Division, Sir. He felt as though he had sold out, but he would just have to deal with it.

  “Fine. Suit yourself. There’s always time to change your mind about that promotion.” The Superintendent always left the door open when he knew one of his men may have acted in haste.

  “Good man,” chortled the Commander. “I Knew we could rely on common sense. Let’s get some coffee, Superintendent. Though we might need a taster – just in case someone is out to get revenge.” He and the Superintendent laughed.

  Linham was already walking out of the office and back to reality and routine police work. The world of politics and intrigue was not for him. Finding out what Sergeant Wilson had done with the leave roster and what was in the sausages they served in the station canteen for lunch was intrigue enough. He tried to relax as he drove through the busy lunch time traffic and thought how Roberts and his boss were probably contemplating an expensive lunch somewhere at the tax-payers’ expense.

  ***

  Ralph and his colleagues were relaxing at the end of a busy week. Timetables had been sorted out, rooming for lectures and tutorials confirmed. They had drawn up some easy chairs and were sprawled out in the senior common room. It was quiet as they looked out over a peaceful campus scene. Coombe Lodge, where the music school was housed and where Florence Nightingale once visited for weekends, shone white on the hillside. There was still enough warmth in the room to make it almost cozy. Ralph, Peter and David were thinking back to all that had happened. Their musings were interrupted as Jean and Lance walked in.

  “Sorry to break in on your happy hour,” Said Jean with a laugh. “Lance and I are just off to celebrate my resignation. We’re going down to Monty’s for a meal and a few beers. We just stopped by to see if anyone was here and might like to join us?”

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bsp; “That’s a bit sudden, Jean. We hadn’t heard anything about you leaving. What happened?” Said David taking his feet off the table as he sat up.

  “Not anything I said, I hope,” Peter quipped. “I have been on my best behavior, after all.”

  “No, nothing like that,” Jean said with a nervous laugh. “It’s a long story but I’ve sort of been head hunted. In the nicest possible way, of course. You know Jack Royston was my uncle. Well his wife Grace, my aunt, has been approached by Sir George Rainton’s father. They have sufficient funds to be able to set up a foundation for Jack. Well it’s registered as a charity, actually. The Rainton’s wanted to make a gesture of some sort for what had happened. Sir William Tiverton’s family has also put up some long term funding. So I’m going to be the Director of the foundation and we are focusing on teaching nursing skills in what some people still call third world countries. It’s going to be called the Jack and Grace Royston Nursing Foundation. There’s quite a lot of preliminary work, so I’ll be starting next week. The University has kindly waived my 3 months’ notice period. So I’ll be a globe trotter with a mission.”

  “Well congratulations, Jean. That sounds like a great opportunity. Jack would have been delighted that you’re doing something valuable like that. Well done you. I’ve got a few things to do here and then I’d love to join you for a drink later. What about you two?” Ralph said to his two friends.

  “I’m game,” said David. “And I know Peter loves a farewell do. Right Peter?”

  “Count me in. I’ll get a lift with Ralph,” Peter said as he struggled up from his nearly supine position in the chair.

  Jean and Lance laughed and told them not to be late.

  Peter gave a wry smile.

  “So that’s a surprise,” he said. “It amazes me how some people only come to their senses when faced with some tragedy. It has taken two murders, an attempted murder and 20 years to elapse before the Rainton’s and Tivertons felt guilty enough about their part in things to finally take some action.”

  “Steady on, Peter. As usual you’re being a bit over cynical. Don’t forget the Bericks were also involved in all of this,” interjected David. “You always talk about people being either good or bad. If you read a bit more broadly you might have a different view. Take Aleksander Solzhenitsyn. One of the passages in his book The Gulag Archipelago goes:

  If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart.

  There was silence for a while as the three friends reflected on how aptly this short phrase was. But Peter was not to be put off from voicing his thoughts.

  “Well all I can think of is that poor Alice Berick spent her life hating Tiverton, Granger and the Raintons. And I suppose if she was alive she might have got some satisfaction from the way things worked out, even if Granger is still alive and kicking. And I heard that the VC has offered George Rainton a Visiting Fellowship here at the Business School. So it just goes to show that even in academia cheating is no barrier to getting to the top if you have the right connections.”

  “You’re just annoyed because none of that money from that Saudi industrialist is being channeled your way to fund your research, Peter,” said David. He couldn’t resist goading his friend.

  “Bunch of Philistines. They’d rather fund a new lot of ruddy computers than support the arts.” Peter was now getting worked up.

  “Look, why don’t you two continue your argument on our way to Monty’s. I’ve got to get some things from my office. If you can give Peter a lift David, I’ll meet you there.”

  Peter and David made their way out of the building into the warmth of a late autumn evening as Ralph walked slowly back to his office. He wondered if Jean really was heading up the Foundation that Rainton had set up or if it was a cover for her work with Special Branch. He guessed that was one mystery he would never unravel.

  ***

  Ralph met Mrs. Calhoun at Katie’s house with the key.

  “I hope that it won’t be too much trouble for you to sort things out before Professor Eggerton gets home on Saturday,” Ralph apologised as he let her into the large Georgian foyer.

  “Well seeing’s all the furniture and floors is covered with sheets, it shouldn’t need too much except for some polishing and airing out,” Mrs. Calhoun replied as she removed her street shoes and put on the house slippers she always carried in her bag.

  “I’ll be back before 4,” Ralph said. “I just want to run over to Marks and Spencer and pick up a few things so the Professor won’t have to return to an empty refrigerator. I’ll pay you for today when I get back,” he called over his shoulder as he started down the steps to the street.

  Ralph couldn’t believe that Katie would actually be coming home that weekend. He had never doubted that her early release would be approved, but she had been as nervous as a cat the previous week when he had visited. Obviously the Committee recognized that the contribution that she had made during the past two years by teaching the Open University classes in the Prison, and of course only a fool would consider her a threat to the community. Still, he was relieved the process had gone without a hitch and that her ordeal would soon be over.

  Ralph soon had all the items on his list and on impulse added a bottle of champagne to the cart. He figured that Katie’s home coming deserved something special.

  ***

  “You never know how good freedom tastes until you do something stupid that takes it away,” Katie reflected as Ralph turned his car in the direction of Chelsea.

  “Would you like a night on the town to celebrate?” Ralph asked.

  “I’d prefer a quiet dinner in my own home,” Katie replied as she settled into her seat and watched the familiar London landmarks pass by. “But I forgot. There won’t be any food in the house. Maybe we could just stop by the Pakistani shop on the corner and grab a few things.”

  “You didn’t think I’d let my good friend starve, did you?” Ralph asked with an attempt at humour. “I took the liberty of putting in a few provisions while Mrs. Calhoun was here doing the housework. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Same old Ralph,” she laughed. “Always apologizing for your good deeds.”

  It was nearly dusk by the time they pulled up in front of Katie’s house. Ralph was glad that he had thought to ask Mrs. Calhoun to polish the letter box and other brass fixtures. It all looked pristine as Katie stood for a minute and just looked before she opened the car door.

  “Oh Ralph, you bugger,” she exclaimed fondly when she went inside and saw the carefully laid table and the vases of bright fresh flowers he had put around the house.

  “I took the liberty of asking Mrs. Calhoun to lay the table and get the meal all ready for the oven,” Ralph said. “I’m not much of a cook, so I’m afraid it is all M & S prepared fare.”

  “There you go again,” Katie admonished. “But seriously, I do appreciate all your efforts to make my homecoming a real treat.”

  After dinner they took their brandy and coffees into her comfortable library. Ralph looked around the walls at her impressive library and noted that he had read quite a few of the volumes, albeit at the British Library. It reminded him how paltry his two shelves of books were by comparison and he resolved to do something about that.

  “So, Professor Eggerton, how does it feel to be a free woman?” Ralph asked as he settled into one of her comfortable leather club chairs and sipped his brandy.

  “There’s nothing like coming home,” Katie replied, without a trace of sarcasm.

  They sat in companionable silence for a while before Ralph stood up to go.

  “I think I had better let you get reacquainted with your home and get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll phone you tomorrow and see if there’s anything else you need.”

&nbs
p; “Thanks, Ralph. But I don’t think I’ll have any trouble readjusting to life on the outside,” Katie said. “Especially when it includes smoked salmon and a bottle of Dom Perignon.”

  Ralph moved up a gear as he accelerated, overtaking the more cautious drivers. He sank back into the leather seat and reflected on what life must have been like for Katie for the past two years and on the events in Kingston of the past few months. If this was the outcome of rough justice then he was all for it. Life was good, he mused.

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