He drew a line from Esther’s circle and wrote ‘Danavere’ at the end of it. ‘Danavere are involved in programmes in all specialist hospitals in the UK including the Queen Elizabeth Hospital Birmingham, the Royal Centre for Defence Medicine, Critical Care Unit where Charlotte works.’ He drew another line from Charlotte’s circle and joined it up to the word ‘Danavere’. ‘The company also works closely with Chiron on the development of new technology that can aid patients. I thought that might make you sit up,’ he tossed at Marvik. He extended a line from Palmer’s circle to ‘Danavere’ and wrote along it ‘Chiron’. ‘So now we have a connection. Not that it necessarily means anything but it’s very interesting.’
‘Who’s this Ashley Palmer?’ Helen asked.
Marvik explained, ‘He’s a computer research scientist for Chiron and he went missing the night Charlotte showed up at my cottage and the day before she went missing.’
She looked thoughtful.
Strathen resumed. ‘The relationship between the hospitals, Chiron and Danavere is three-fold. Physiotherapists, consultants, doctors, nurses and patients give feedback to the Head of Research at Danavere, a Dr Lester Medway, who then liaises with Professor John Shelley at Chiron on the development of new technology to aid patients. Once certain innovations have been developed Danavere trial them and a joint patent is filed. This leaves Danavere to continue to develop trauma and casualty care, and rehabilitation programmes to amputees rather than developing software applications.’
‘Could Charlotte have been giving feedback to Danavere?’ Marvik asked.
‘It’s possible, and if she was then she might have done so to Medway. Palmer might also have been liaising directly with Medway. And Lester Medway was a director at Danavere in 1997 when Esther worked there.’ Strathen drew three more lines on the whiteboard extending from each circle and connected them by writing above them, ‘Medway’.
Helen pursued her lips and narrowed her eyes as she thought. ‘I don’t remember hearing Esther talk about anyone called Medway, but even if she did I don’t think I’d have taken any notice. Could he have been the man she saw on the Friday before she was killed?’
Strathen put a question mark beside Medway’s name and wrote, ‘Esther’s lover?’ He continued. ‘As well as Dr Medway there are three other directors who were around in 1997: James Marningham, Managing Director, Peter Inchcup, Finance Director, and Roger Witley, Commercial Director.’ He wrote the names on the white board to the right of ‘Medway’.
‘Many of Chiron’s projects are funded by DRTI, the Defence Research and Technology Institute, under its remit for the development of human and medical sciences. It’s an executive agency of the Ministry of Defence. It has a huge turnover and commercial and financial flexibility. As well as being responsible for funding human and medical sciences, DRTI is also responsible for maritime safety and security and defence research. It works with the brainiest people from niche start-ups to the giant listed defence companies. Its funding comes from the government, private investment companies, charitable organizations and the European Commission.’
Marvik said, ‘So Danavere and Chiron receive funding to develop applications and then apply for a patent so they commercially benefit if anyone else wants to buy their inventions and equipment.’
‘Yes. But there’s nothing illegal or wrong in that. DRTI award contracts to many providers who all have to bid for funding. For every Chiron there are several other technology companies bidding for the money. It’s fiercely competitive and a missing computer research scientist is not good for business and future funding, especially when something they’ve been working on shows up in Germany. And both Chiron and Danavere probably spend a great deal of time and money on developing projects that come to nothing.’
‘Go on.’
‘DRTI came into being in 2000, so has no connection with Esther’s murder. Its first chairman was Sir Edgar Rebury who, before being appointed, was Permanent Secretary at the Ministry of Defence. He stepped down from DRTI in 2010. The current chairman is Rodney Dearman, as I mentioned to you before, Art. The other members of the board are a mixture of people from academia, the medical profession, defence and those working in allied defence areas. Chiron was established in 1996.’
Marvik studied the board as his mind grappled with the information Strathen was giving them. It still didn’t explain why Esther had been killed but Strathen had more.
‘I contacted Vera Pedlowe, she’s been Dr Lester Medway’s secretary for years. I know her well. She was working for Danavere in 1997 and she remembered Esther not only because of the tragic way she was killed but also because she was very good at her job.’ He addressed Helen. ‘Your sister began working there as an administration clerk but was very quickly transferred to Vera to assist her with organizing conferences, medical seminars, fund-raising dinners and charity events. Danavere support a number of charities including the Royal British Legion, Combat Stress, the ex-services Mental Welfare Society, the Association for Limbless Service Personnel – although they changed the S and P around to make it ALPS, aspiring to the top, scaling the heights, nothing’s impossible, that sort of thing, proving that there is life after amputation – Blind Veterans, Wings Away and many other medical and service charities as well as fronting cutting-edge medical seminars and conferences in the UK.
‘Esther’s job was to liaise with the venues, make sure everything was in order, book the accommodation for speakers and VIPs, help to pull together the programme or brochure for the event, and drum up support from the businesses, the VIPs and the celebrities to donate items that could be auctioned to raise funds for the chosen charities.’
Helen looked dejected. ‘I didn’t know. She never spoke about it. But then I never asked her.’
‘Was she at work the Friday before she was killed?’ asked Marvik.
‘Yes, but she left early, at four o’clock. She didn’t say where she was going or what she was doing except Vera told me that Esther said she was attending the Remembrance Service at the Albert Hall on Saturday evening because her father – your father,’ he directed at Helen, ‘was killed in the Falklands War. I’m sorry about that.’
‘Why should you be? You didn’t start it.’
‘Did Danavere send representatives to it?’ asked Marvik.
‘I’ll ask.’
‘Any hints or talk of a boyfriend?’
‘None that Vera can remember but she says they didn’t really discuss personal things. I’ll ask her if Esther organized an event to take place in one of the conference rooms at the Union Services Club and for a list of all the events Esther organized and the names of those who attended. But it might take a while.’
Marvik pulled out the list the undertaker had given him and handed it across to Strathen. ‘I also need you to check out these people.’ Strathen ran his eye down it as Marvik continued. ‘I’d like to know if anyone who attended Grainger’s funeral, aside from Duncan Ross, was on the original investigation and if anyone has a connection with Chiron or Danavere.’
‘The latter I can do, the former is more difficult.’
Marvik knew that Crowder would be the best person to ask for that but he’d probably shoot him the line that he was unable to find out because he couldn’t access the files. Perhaps Marvik would ask Ross that question.
‘Did you get anything on Terence Blackerman?’
‘Only what was in the press reports at the time. But I’m tracking down those who served with him who can hopefully help. It’s proving tricky.’
Marvik told Strathen about their interview with Amelia Snow and filled him in with the background that he and Helen had gleaned about Esther from their interview with John Stisford. Strathen quickly came to the same conclusion as Marvik.
‘So Grainger was following up his own leads on the case and was killed because of it.’
‘Or because he’d withheld something and was blackmailing someone regarding it. His flat was searched for any notes he’d made. His co
mputer taken, if he had one. It’s my guess he’d arranged to meet someone in Brighton and was killed coming away from that meeting.’
‘By DI Duncan Ross?’
‘I’m not sure. He might know nothing but I’m certain he was primed about me when I met him on his boat. He was very forthcoming, too informative.’
‘Crowder could have told him.’
‘Which is why we’re not telling him this.’
‘I’ll see what I can find out about Crowder,’ Strathen said. ‘I’m also looking into John Stisford as you asked.’
‘Helen will help you,’ Marvik said, rising.
‘Oh will I? You’re not dumping me here.’
Strathen said, ‘There are worse places to be – or is it just my company you object to?’
‘No. Look, I—’
‘I’m going to fetch your mother’s diaries,’ Marvik said, adding silently, if they’re still there.
‘But there’s probably nothing in them that can help us with Esther’s murder.’
‘It’s worth checking though. Where are they kept?’
She sighed resignedly. ‘In the bottom of my wardrobe, third floor, the room that faces the front.’
‘Give me your house keys.’
She handed them over.
‘Shaun, can I take your car?’ Marvik knew he could return to where he’d parked the Land Rover but if Helen’s house was still being watched then he’d need a quick getaway and his Land Rover was too slow for that. It was probably also bugged.
Strathen thrust his hand in his trouser pocket and threw Marvik the keys.
‘If I’m not back within two hours call Crowder.’ Marvik handed Strathen the pay-as-you-go phone. ‘His is the only number in the address book. You should be safe here, but if you see or hear anything suspicious don’t take any chances. Get out and stay out. Send me a warning on my normal phone.’
Strathen nodded.
Marvik left without a backward glance. He found Strathen’s car in its space behind the house. As he swung out of the electronic gates and along the lane he wondered if someone would still be watching Helen’s place, waiting for her return.
No one followed him. He parked four streets away and made his way quickly on foot to the corner of Helen’s road. It was dark now and the rain was helping to keep people inside. Only a few cars swept past him, people returning home late from work. He moved quickly to the alleyway that ran along the rear of the properties, his hands rammed in the pockets of his dark jacket, his collar up against the rain, his senses on full alert. It was possible that someone was watching the property, not physically, but via a surveillance device placed on the rear gate or on the back door.
He halted outside the house next door to Helen. It was in darkness. Good. He tried the gate. It opened easily and he stepped into the small square of back garden where a child’s slide and trampoline filled the space. A light flicked on in a third-floor room and he pressed himself back between the fence and the slide. Curtains were pulled. The light dimmed. He waited a few seconds then nimbly climbed the slide, reached for the top of the fence and grasped it with both hands before propelling himself up and over in one fluid movement, landing in a crouch on the other side. He froze for a moment. He could hear only the sound of the wind and rain.
The street lights in the alley were bright enough for him to study the back entrance from where he stood. He couldn’t see a surveillance device on the back door or the patio doors but he was assuming there was one. It would be focused at mid height and above.
Dropping to his stomach he crawled along the soaking wet grass until he reached the edge of the house. There was a concrete path bordering the patio doors and the back door; carefully he eased along it. When he reached the back door he extracted the keys Helen had given him and found the one that would open it. Would the door be alarmed? Not necessarily with a sound alert but an infrared one, which would notify those watching the monitors that the property was being entered. It was a chance he had to take and if that was the case he would have minutes, maybe just seconds, to get in and out. He could move swiftly but not that swiftly.
There was no time to waste. He stood up, unlocked the rear door, hoping that whatever surveillance device was being used was still looking beyond him into the garden, and slowly pushed open the door, again dropping low on to the floor. He spotted the device on top of the bookshelves on the opposite wall. It would have registered that the rear door was opening but it wouldn’t see him. He sprang up and raced up the stairs to the front bedroom and threw open the doors of the wardrobe. The box was where Helen had said he would find it. There were five books in total and he stuffed them into his jacket pockets. Marvik froze as he caught the hint of a soft footfall below. Perhaps he’d sensed it rather than heard it because no other sound followed. He wasn’t going to hang around and find out. And he wasn’t going to exit the property from the front or the rear.
Within seconds he had the front bedroom window open, thanking God and Helen that she hadn’t locked it. Below him was the apex of the porch above the front door but the roof was angled in such a way that there was a small flat space rather than a sharp point on the apex. That was obliging of the builders, he thought with a wry smile. Without hesitating he climbed out, grabbing the window ledge with both hands. He was now dangling from the front bedroom window and there was about a two-foot drop to the top of the porch and from there an eight-foot drop to the ground. As he looked up he saw the shadow of a dark figure. There was no time to lose. With a spilt-second glance down, he judged the distance, then he let go, bending his knees, bringing his hands up, landing on the flat part of the porch before swiftly springing forward into the air, legs bent, hands coming forward. He landed on his toes, touching the ground with his strong right hand, bracing his arms to take the full impact, rolling over and up. He didn’t look back.
He sprinted down the road and around the corner until he came to the car. Throwing himself inside he started the engine, thrust it into gear and pulled away, stepping on the accelerator when he was clear of the houses and on the main road. Then he permitted himself a smile and let out a long exhalation. No one had followed him. Whether or not the activity had been worth it only Helen would be able to tell, but even if Esther hadn’t written anything in her mother’s diaries which could help them find her killer, it had been worth it purely for the sheer exhilaration he’d felt at the activity and the danger that had set his nerves on fire, his heart pumping and the adrenalin surging. It had been a good fix. And he knew that providing consultancy to Drayle’s clients was never going to give him that.
FOURTEEN
‘Did you get them?’ Helen asked eagerly, looking up from a computer screen.
Marvik pulled the diaries from the inside of his jacket and handed them to her. She opened one. Then her hands froze and a shadow darkened her face. ‘I’d forgotten what Mum’s handwriting looked like …’ Her voice trailed off. Suddenly the tears sprang from her eyes. ‘Shit.’ She sprang up, clutching the diaries, and ran from the room.
Marvik let her go. He was glad to get Strathen on his own. He wanted to trust him. He did trust him otherwise he wouldn’t be here. And he wouldn’t have brought Helen here but there was something that had to be cleared up.
Without preamble he said, ‘Why were you in the bay below that coastguard cottage the day Ashley Palmer disappeared?’ He saw Strathen’s surprise. ‘The course is set on your helm.’
Strathen took a breath and slowly nodded. He wasn’t going to deny it.
‘I was hoping to find out what the hell Palmer was doing, and persuade him he was making an idiot of himself and wrecking his career into the bargain if he thought he could sell information and get away with it. I thought I could also get him to tell me who was paying him for company information and catch the bastard who was buying the stuff. Yeah, I thought I could recapture my commando days even with a gammy leg and it was this fucking leg that stopped me.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I was ashamed, angry and pissed off. I tried to get up that cliff.’ He ran a hand over his closely cropped dark hair and sighed heavily. ‘We could scale anything, Art. I thought I was OK. I thought I could do it – after all there are men and women in a worse state than me. For Christ’s sake some of them are winning medals in the Paralympics. Well I failed. No matter how many times I tried I couldn’t climb that cliff. So I called you.’
Marvik could see instantly that it was the truth. But he could also see there was more. Strathen’s eyes clouded over with anguish and frustration.
‘I lost it. I suddenly ran out of all the things we had stood for, Art: the sense of humour even in adversity, endurance, courage. The mission mindset was completely blown. I’d kept it up through all the pain, the hospitalization, the rehabilitation. I suddenly thought “sod it”. I turned the boat around and went out into the channel. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I thought …’
Marvik made damn sure not to show any sympathy or pity in his expression. He didn’t even express empathy. He just said solemnly, ‘What stopped you?’
Strathen took a breath. ‘You’ve got to be tough to do that.’
‘You’re tough all right.’
A silence fell between them. Marvik didn’t say anything as fatuous as ‘it’s early days yet’, or remind Shaun of what he’d told him when they’d met up at East Cowes, that he was awaiting two different types of prosthetic limbs to be fitted, one for running, the other for swimming. Sometimes facts made no difference to how you felt.
Strathen pulled himself up. ‘Then I’d better prove I’m tough,’ he said grittily. ‘I’m going to return to that cliff and ruddy well scale it, but after we find Charlotte, and alive.’
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