by John Holt
“He never said a word,” said Ramone. He shook his head and smiled. “I never gave him a chance.”
* * *
Without saying a word, Ramone pushed past Dawson, and into the room. Dawson was startled, and for a moment or two he never moved. Ramone moved to the centre of the room and slowly looked round. The room was small, and dismal. To one side was the single iron bedstead, placed against the wall. It was provided with a faded bedspread, draped over a hard rough blanket, and a single sheet, on top of a worn mattress. Next to the bed was a small bedside table. On it was a small lamp, with a battered shade. In the corner of the room was a small wardrobe. It was obviously several years old, and one door was broken. Next to the wardrobe was a small set of drawers. On the floor were two threadbare rugs, attempting forlornly to brighten up the dark and dirty floorboards. In the far corner was a small china washbasin. There was a small crack to one side, and several chips could be seen along the edge.
Ramone looked at Dawson and shook his head. “Close the door,” he whispered. “Quickly.” Dawson did as he had been asked. Ramone nodded, and moved over to the window. He drew back the curtain and glanced out into the street. The sound of the traffic wafted up from the street below, cutting through the gloom. Black smoke billowed into the sky from the adjacent factory buildings, adding to the stark, dreary, landscape that surrounded him. He nodded. The street was clear. He let the curtain fall back into place, and made his way over to the small table at the side of the bed. He placed two glasses, and a bottle of whiskey on to the table. “Drink,” he said as he looked up at Dawson.
Dawson slowly walked over to where Ramone was standing. Ramone poured out two drinks, and handed one to Dawson. “You have been asking a lot of questions about the Javea Valley, and Trenton Pharmaceuticals,” Ramone said.
Dawson took a drink, and nodded his head once again. “And getting no answers,” he replied. “No one knows anything. Or at least they are not saying anything.” He sat down on the bed.
Ramone took the nearby chair and sat down. “Have you tried the newspapers?” he asked.
Dawson smiled and nodded his head. “Oh, yes, I spoke to them first,” he replied. “It was one of their reporters who had taken the photographs back in 2005. He had emailed a set to me.”
“So did they tell you what it was all about?” Ramone asked.
Dawson shook his head. “They didn’t know. And I have to admit that at that time I wasn’t in the least interested. All they knew was Trenton Pharmaceuticals was here in 2005. They didn’t know why. Who cared? So they were in Costa Rica, so what? Carlos had tried to find out what it was all about, but he drew a blank. The authorities either didn’t know, or wouldn’t say anything to them.”
Ramone nodded. “That sounds about right,” he said.
Dawson nodded his head, and shrugged. “And then I got a second email from Carlos.”
“A second email,” repeated Ramone.
Dawson nodded his head once again. “That’s right. A short one, just telling me to forget all about the first one,” he explained. “I wasn’t to worry about it, it was all a mistake.” He shook his head. “The only thing is Carlos was dead when that email had been sent. A road accident of some kind,” he continued. “His brakes apparently failed.”
Ramone looked at him for a few moments. He remembered hearing something about a car crash up in the mountains, near to the valley. He hadn’t known the details. “You don’t believe that it was an accident, do you?” he said. Dawson said nothing, but shook his head. Ramone looked down. “So what was it that finally aroused your curiosity?” he asked.
Dawson smiled. “Co-incidence, I suppose” he replied simply. “The so called Rican flu started in Costa Rica.” He paused and looked at the photographs. “That valley, Javea, is in Costa Rica. Trenton was there in 2005, and it seemed likely that it would be there once again.”
Ramone nodded his head, and smiled. “I see,” he replied. “So what is it that you want to know exactly?”
* * *
“Thirty minutes later, I had told him the whole story,” said Ramone. “It’s all there in that file I gave you.” He pointed to the document lying on Kendall’s desk. He sighed and shook his head. “The camp organization, the volunteers, the trials, people dying, the cover up, it’s all there, every detail.”
Kendall looked at the folder and started to tap it with his fingers. He looked at Ramone. “What did Dawson say then?”
Ramone shook his head. “He said nothing for a few moments. I picked up the whisky bottle. I was going to refill the glasses, but the bottle was empty. I picked up the phone and ordered a second bottle from reception.” He paused for a few moments and took a drink. “For the next ten minutes or so neither of us said anything.” He heaved a sigh and started to rub his chin. He sighed once again, and looked at Kendall. “Then there was a knock on the door,” he continued. “It was the receptionist, with the whisky. I took hold of the bottle, closed the door, and poured out two glasses.”
* * *
Dawson took the glass and looked at Ramone. ‘”So the camp was set up to test a drug,” he said. “An unauthorized drug,” Ramone nodded. “No wonder it was so secretive.”
“It was highly secretive. Only a handful of Government officials knew about it, and they had been well paid to keep quiet.” Ramone replied as he took a drink. “It was about the middle of March when the tests began,” he continued. “Two days later things started to go wrong, badly wrong.”
Dawson looked puzzled. “Wrong,” he repeated. “What went wrong?”
Ramone quickly emptied his glass, and refilled it. “The drug didn’t work,” he said, and started to laugh. “It just didn’t work, as simple as that. Instead of people being cured, people started dying,” he continued. “That first day there were two deaths, if I remember correctly.
“Two deaths,” repeated Dawson.
Ramone smiled and nodded. “There were about twenty altogether,” he said. “Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, something like that, who knows? Who cares?” He paused for a moment. “What difference does it make, anyway? They were only peasants, they wouldn’t be missed.”
* * *
“There were twenty deaths?” Kendall repeated.
Ramone shrugged his shoulders. “About that,” he replied. “I really don’t know for certain.”
Kendall shook his head, and looked at the folder lying on the desk. “There were fifty odd volunteers, weren’t there?”
Ramone nodded. “Fifty-eight I believe. I don’t remember exactly. It is some while ago.” He looked at the folder. “It’s all in there, anyway, every single detail.”
Kendall sighed. “All right, so there were about fifty-eight,” he said. “About twenty died, so what happened to the rest?”
Ramone thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “Well, some of them never actually contracted the illness,” he replied. “I can’t remember exactly how many.” He paused and shook his head. “And the others, well they became sick, but they survived,” he continued. “At least they did at that time. What happened afterwards, I really don’t know.” He looked down at the floor. “They may have become carriers, I suppose,” he said casually.
Mollie looked up puzzled. “Carriers,” she repeated. “What does that mean?”
Ramone looked at Mollie and shrugged. “It means they might just be carrying the illness, but not actually suffering the symptoms,” he explained. He paused for a moment, and started to laugh once again. “It might be they that have caused this current outbreak.”
Now it was Kendall who looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Ramone stopped laughing, and was now deadly serious. “A carrier could have the disease inside their body, and not know it,” he explained. “The virus could just lay dormant, possibly for years. Then suddenly it becomes active once more for some unknown reason, and the infection could start all over.”
Kendall could not believe what he was hearing. People could be dyin
g here and now because of something that happened five years previously. Something that was quite deliberate. “Why haven’t you said anything before?” Kendall asked.
Ramone looked down at the floor for a few moments. Then he took a deep breath and looked up. “Fear, I suppose,” he replied. “Just simple fear, you see I was involved with the whole thing. I worked for Trenton. I helped set up the camp. I helped to find the volunteers.” Tears began rolling down Ramone’s face. “In fact, my own nephew was one of them. He was one of those that died.”
“So what has changed?” Kendall asked. “I mean, why speak out now?”
Ramone thought for a moment. He picked up his glass and took a drink. He heaved a sigh. “The secret has been discovered, hasn’t it? Richard Dawson had found it out. He knew everything,” he replied. “Maybe he had already told the story to someone. So there was no further need to keep quiet, was there?”
Kendall smiled and shook his head. “You’re wrong, Mr. Ramone. Dawson actually knew very little. Not for certain, that is. He never said anything. He was killed before he could tell anyone.”
Ramone shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders. He smiled. “That may be true,” he said. “But I didn’t know that, did I? It was just possible that the whole story would come out.”
That was certainly true, Kendall thought. He looked up at Ramone. “Incidentally, how did you know that Dawson would be at that bar on that particular day?”
Ramone smiled and shook his head. “I didn’t know,” he replied.
Kendall frowned. “I don’t understand,” he said. Are you saying that it was just co-incidence?” Kendall did not believe in co-incidence. Things did not just happen. There was always a logical reason. “You just happened to go to the bar, and Dawson just happened to be there. Is that what you are suggesting?”
Ramone shook his head. “No not at all,” he replied. “I had actually seen Richard much earlier that day. It was at the hospital when I first saw him.” He paused and turned his head to one side. “He was asking a lot of questions about the epidemic, Javea Valley, and Trenton. I was intrigued,” he continued. “I was interested to know what he already knew, if anything.”
“Did he find out anything?” Kendall asked. “At the hospital, I mean.”
Ramone shook his head. “Not really. They told him about the virus, but they knew nothing about the other matters,” he replied. “Richard was disappointed, and left. I simply followed him to see where he went, and what he did.”
Kendall still looked puzzled. “I’m still not clear about this,” he said. “Why were you at the hospital, anyway?”
Ramone smiled. “That’s easy, Mr. Kendall,” he replied “After the events in the Javea Valley in 2005, Trenton returned to the States. The whole thing was covered up, and I was out of a job.” He rubbed the side of his head. “So I got a job at the hospital, in the pharmacy.” He smiled. “My knowledge of drugs came in handy after all. Talking about drugs, did you ever ask about batch 942/D?” he asked.
Kendall smiled and nodded. “Oh yes,” he replied, and sighed deeply. “It’s an enzyme, or something,” he continued. “It didn’t mean much to me.”
Ramone shook his head. “Who told you that?” he asked. “Clark, I suppose.” Kendall nodded. Ramone shook his head again. “And you believed him,” he said. “You didn’t think it necessary to investigate further. His answer was good enough.”
Kendall looked surprised, and started to frown. He shook his head. “I don’t understand, Mr. Ramone,” he said.
“Mr. Kendall, Batch 942/D was an ingredient in the vaccine that was being tested,” he explained. “It should have been an enzyme, as Clark told you.” He paused and took a deep breath. “However, something went wrong in the laboratory, an error of some kind.” He paused once again. “Batch 942/D was actually a toxin, in other words, a poison.”
“How could that happen?” asked Mollie.
“Oh simple human error I imagine,” Ramone started to explain. “The assistant, a Mr. Summers simply picked up the wrong bottle. It happens.”
“Martin Summers?” asked Kendall.
Ramone nodded. “I believe that was his name,” he replied.
Kendall reached across his desk, and picked up the photograph. He looked at it for a few moments, and then he started to tap it on the desk. “How did you get hold of the photographs?” he asked.
Ramone looked at Kendall, and then he shrugged his shoulders. “From Richard,” he replied simply. “When he decided to return to the States, he left all of his papers with me. It was some kind of insurance policy, perhaps. I don’t know. I do know that he was frightened, very frightened. We arranged to meet again, in America. He was to contact me when it was right.” He shook his head and took another drink. “I never heard from him. I got worried and decided to take the chance, and come over here. That’s when I found out what had happened.”
“I see,” said Kendall, not quite sure. “By the way how did you know to come to me?”
“I went to see Richard’s mother,” Ramone replied. “She told me about you. So here I am.”
Kendall nodded and smiled. “So here you are,” he murmured.
Ramone looked up, surprised. “So here I am,” he repeated. He smiled and stood up. “I need to stretch my legs,” he explained. Kendall was busy studying the documents, and said nothing. Ramone slowly walked around the room.
He stopped by the window, and casually glanced out. He turned to face Kendall. “There are two men in the car park,” he continued. “They appear to be looking up here. I think that they are watching me.”
Kendall stood up and walked over to the side of the window. He glanced out. “I see them,” he said. “No need to worry about them, they work here,” he lied. He didn’t know who they were but he had seen them before. Several times in fact. They weren’t watching Ramone that was certain, Kendall thought. Oh no, it wasn’t Ramone. They were only interested in him. He walked over to Ramone and put his hand on his shoulder. “You have been very helpful. Very helpful indeed,” he said. “But don’t let me detain you any longer. I’m sure that you have other things to do.”
Ramone nodded. “Oh no, that’s fine,” he replied. Glad to be of help.” Kendall escorted him to the door. “Good bye, Mr. Kendall.”
Kendall looked at him. “Oh, yes. Goodbye, Senor Ramone,” he replied. “And thanks once again.” He paused as he thought of the two men waiting downstairs. “You might care to take the back way, Mr. Ramone,” he said. “Mollie would you show him the way?”
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Four
I Have the Evidence
Although stories concerning the epidemic continued to dominate the pages of the world’s press, by the end of that week the story suddenly began to take on a slightly, more sinister, turn.
“The New York Times”, Friday – “In a leaked United Nations document it has been suggested that the Rican Flu outbreak was actually started deliberately. The United Nations and the World Health Organization (WHO) have strenuously denied the suggestion, and are claiming that it is nothing more than a hoax.
“The whole idea is just too ridiculous to even consider seriously,” a spokesperson for the United Nations said today. “Investigations are currently being carried out to find the source of the leak.”
* * *
Kendall dunked a second biscuit into his coffee, and then started to chew. The folder that Ramone had left was lying open on the desk in front of him. He had read through it three times so far, and had just started for a fourth time. “So we now have a motive for Richard’s murder,” he said as he tapped the folder.
Mollie looked up and nodded. “And it looks like Mr. Alan Clark is the murderer,” she said.
Kendall looked across the room at her, and smiled. “You were right from day one,” he said. “You said that Richard had been murdered. I said it was more than likely to have been an accident.” He paused for a moment. “I should listen to you more often.” She smiled. “You’re r
ight again. It certainly looks like Clark is the murderer,” Kendall continued. “Of course, he didn’t actually do it. It was probably Vickers and Norris who actually killed Dawson.”
“But they were acting on Clark’s instructions,” said Mollie.
Kendall smiled. “Correct,” he said.
“What about Ramone?” Mollie suddenly asked. “What will happen to him?”
Kendall shrugged his shoulders. “Well, firstly he was certainly involved. He admits that himself. Besides, it’s all there in that folder.” He pointed to the file lying in front of him. “He was involved, although not as deeply as Clark.” He paused once again and shook his head. “Certainly he could have refused to be part of it. He could have said no, and just walked away.”
Mollie gave a sigh and shook her head. “He could have,” she agreed. “But he never expected things to go wrong. He didn’t realize that people would die, did he?”
Kendall sighed and nodded his head. “Agreed,” he said, “but he could have said something much earlier. I mean we are talking about something that happened five years ago.”
“I imagine that he was frightened,” said Mollie. “I mean, if Clark knew about his visit here today and the information in that…” She pointed to the folder lying on Kendall’s desk.
“Then his life would be in danger too,” Kendall said slowly. Mollie nodded her head. “Even so, if he had spoken sooner maybe, just maybe, Richard Dawson might still be alive, and Clark would have been locked up long ago.”
“It’s possible,” said Mollie. “Anyway, he has spoken up now, and that will help convict Clark. Maybe the District Attorney will go easy on him.”
“Maybe,” Kendall replied. “Oh, he’ll still go to prison I expect. But maybe only for a year or so, and then he’ll be sent back to Costa Rica.”
“What about Clark?” Mollie asked. “What will happen to him?”
Kendall shook his head. “Well, we still have to prove that he did it,” he said. “That will be easier said than done.”
* * *