Grave Island: a compelling mystery thriller

by Andrew Smyth

‘This is our re-batching area,’ Farrow had to raise his voice above the noise. ‘Over there you can see the consignments that we’ve brought in. Normally they’re loose but sometimes they’re already packaged so we have to strip out the packaging to relabel them.’

  Clearly I was missing something here. ‘You repackage them?’ I asked in disbelief. ‘Is that legal? You mean you’re capable of relabelling your drugs on an industrial scale?’

  Colin Farrow laughed. ‘I can see you don’t know much about pharmaceuticals.’

  ‘That’s why I’m here,’ I said, trying to hide my frustration since this was the last thing I expected to see. ‘Why are you repacking them?’

  ‘It’s called parallel trading. Although we’re supposed to operate in a single market, every European country has different prices for its pharmaceuticals. They’re either set by the market or, in countries like the UK, they’re set by the NHS purchasing departments. The pharmaceutical companies themselves sell into each market at the best price they can achieve, but there’s a huge variation. One of the reasons for wholesalers like us is that we can source the drugs in the cheapest market places and sell into the most expensive.’

  ‘But why do you have to relabel them?’ I asked dumbly.

  ‘There’s not much point in sending out instructions written in Greek, is there?’ It seemed to me that he was enjoying making me look an idiot. ‘Also, there are different regulatory notes that we have to put in, depending upon the market. I told you, the pharmaceutical market isn’t just huge, it’s very, very complicated. We’re only a tiny part of it.’

  ‘What happens if the original label shows that the medicines are past or near their sell-by dates?’

  ‘They wouldn’t,’ Farrow replied. ‘We only buy in drugs that have a commercially viable shelf life. There wouldn’t be any point buying them in, repackaging them and finding we have to destroy them because they’re out of date.’

  ‘So, what you’re doing here – relabelling drugs – that’s a normal part of the distribution process?’ I asked, hiding my disbelief.

  ‘Absolutely. It happens everywhere, in every country, although I often wonder if there isn’t a better way.’

  ‘So once the drugs have been relabelled to conform to UK regulations you can put them into your stock system?’ This was Bob Tyler, who’d been very quiet until then, whether it was because he was enjoying my discomfort or whether because he also was learning about it, I couldn’t tell.

  ‘That’s right,’ Farrow said. ‘Much of the value-added here is in the repackaging which needs a licence, but the second part is acting as wholesaler which is back in the section we came into.’

  We followed him back across the factory floor where he approached a worker who held what looked like a bar-code scanner and was pushing a trolley divided into separate compartments. The trolley had a computer screen fixed to the handles. ‘All the orders we received yesterday have been separated into individual picking lists and given to the team here on the floor who go round collecting all the items for despatch later today. The list has a barcode against each item which he scans and then he scans the code on the shelf here to ensure that the two match. That automatically deducts the quantity from the stock list and he puts it here in the trolley.’

  ‘How does he know where to find everything?’ I asked.

  ‘The barcode on the list gives the aisle number,’ Colin replied. ‘Also, the list is automatically arranged so the operative moves around in the most efficient way. We’re working on introducing robots, to replace the people – funnily enough it’s not as difficult as you might think.’

  ‘Impressive. Can you tell where everything comes from?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course.’ Colin obviously found the question slightly insulting. ‘I’ll show you.’ He took the scanner and pressed a few buttons and then ran it across the barcode on the shelf and then pointed to the screen on the trolley. ‘This displays the history of the batch, in this case from two suppliers. I’m afraid I can’t tell you more, but this one has a long shelf life so it isn’t time critical. From the menu I can also list everyone who’s received deliveries of this, but that’s also commercially confidential I’m afraid.’

  ‘Can we see the refrigerated items?’

  ‘It’s too cold unless you have proper clothing, but the set-up’s the same.’

  Colin continued with the tour but I listened with only half an ear. A plan was starting to form in my head and I laid it out to Bob Tyler on the drive back. If we could use the scanner and trolley unobserved for a few minutes we could check back on where both the insulin and the Oxaban came from without alerting them.

  ‘And exactly how are you proposing to get back into the offices?’ he asked. ‘You saw the security.’

  ‘Didn’t you notice I left my briefcase behind? That’s our excuse for going back.’

  ‘A pretty thin one, if you ask me. They’ll probably have opened it by now and gone through everything inside. Anyway, even if we managed to get back in, how are you going to get into the warehouse?’

  ‘They won’t get into my briefcase because it’s a special design and as for getting into the warehouse, I noted down the number he keyed in. I don’t want you to think I’m being smug or anything but I’m supposed to be an expert in getting into places where people are trying to keep me out. First though, we’ve got to get Lisa to order some more insulin and Oxaban, then we tell them we want to pick up the briefcase on our way to see another supplier. It’s got to be this Friday, just before their fire practice.’

  9

  ‘Interesting case,’ Colin Farrow said, handing it to me when we returned a couple of days later. ‘Where did you get it?’ He would have been surprised if he knew but I certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

  ‘I inherited it from an uncle,’ I said blandly. ‘It’s got quite a history. I’m really sorry to take up your time again, especially since you were so helpful the other day. I checked with Lisa in the office and she said that she’d just placed an order with you so I wondered while we’re here if I could see how it looks when it’s printed out here as a picking list. It would help to give me a better picture of how it all works.’

  If Colin thought I had any ulterior motives, he probably couldn’t work out what they might be. ‘I don’t see why not,’ he said. ‘It’s already on the shop floor but I can print out a copy.’ He went over to his computer and hit some keys and then waited by the laser printer for the paperwork to emerge.

  I took the printouts and scanned through them. ‘Impressive,’ I said. ‘And they’ll be delivered in the morning?’

  ‘Our standard delivery is forty-eight hours. But we can do faster if required. It’s a pretty smooth operation.’

  I continued asking Colin some questions while watching the clock for my cue. As before, coffee was brought up and, checking my watch, I again asked if I could use the “facilities” and hoped he’d got me marked down as having a weak bladder.

  ‘You’ll have to be quick. We’ve got a fire practice in a few minutes.’

  I left the room but instead of going along the corridor, I headed down the stairs and went inside the downstairs toilets and crouched on the pan in one of the cubicles, leaving the door ajar. I was sweating under the two layers of thermal underwear I’d put on but I didn’t have to wait long until the fire alarm went off and I could hear people clattering down the stairs and along the corridor. Someone came in to check the toilets but they obviously just looked at the unlocked doors and didn’t look any further. When it was quiet outside, I risked going out and looking around. I could see no one so I headed back to the door into the warehouse.

  I keyed in the number I’d memorised and put my head around the door. I could see staff ambling towards the fire exits at the far end of the warehouse, their backs towards me and apparently in no hurry to finish the drill. I walked quickly towards the refrigerated area, putting on the cotton gloves I’d kept in my pockets. As I approached the insulated unit, I saw the door
handle turn and I ran and hid behind the racking just as the door opened. This was starting to feel like some of my earlier training and I made an effort to control my breathing as I watched the man close the door carefully and follow the others towards the rear fire exit. I waited in case he turned back and when he disappeared around the racking at the far end of the warehouse, I let myself into the refrigerated area. Fortunately I found the trolley inside and grabbed it, but my breathing was still creating clouds of condensation in the cold.

  All I had to do now was to find out how the scanner worked. I’d watched as Colin Farrow had done it, but part of the keyboard had been covered, although I could see that he was working through a series of menus on the scanner screen. I took out the picking list Colin had printed out and picked up the scanner and followed the sub-menu until it read “Customer”. I scanned the barcode and then went backwards in the menu and after several cul-de-sacs I finally came across another screen which asked: “Location?” I hit “Enter” and looked at the screen on the trolley handle but nothing happened. I tried various other key combinations until I saw the screen come up with “Ais: K. Bay: 47”.

  I pushed the trolley across the central divide until I came to the aisle marked “K”. I turned left, but saw the bay numbers were counting down from thirty-six. I turned the trolley around and headed the other way and stopped at Bay 47. There they were, the boxes of insulin. I scanned the label on the shelf and once again I followed the sub-menus until I found “Supplier” and again I hit “Enter”. The screen on the trolley came up with pages of dates and deliveries by which time I was starting to shiver in the cold. I brought out my phone and tried to keep it still as I photographed each page.

  By this time I was starting to get the hang of the system, so I tried looking for the history which would tell me exactly when the batch of insulin had been delivered to the hospital as well as who else had been sent a delivery from the same batch. Once again, pages of despatches came up on the trolley screen and I didn’t know if I had time to copy them all, but I photographed the history of deliveries up to the most recent, just the previous week.

  I was starting to get really cold and was shivering uncontrollably. I couldn’t hear anything inside the insulated walls, so I went back through the door and looked back towards the fire escape. I could hear the low hum of people talking, but there was no sign of them returning. I jumped up and down to try to warm up before going back to Bay 47 and reached behind the stack of boxes and pulled out one from the back. Taking out my penknife, I cut through the cellophane wrapping and carefully opened the end of the box, and pulled out one of the packages which I put in my pocket. I toyed with the idea of trying to enter a false withdrawal on the scanner but it would take too long even if I could work out how to do it.

  Taking a big risk, I then scanned in the next item on the picking list, the Oxaban, and navigated the menu until it told me “Ais: Q. Bay: 41”. I drove the trolley canting on two wheels like a rally driver until I located the shelf and forced my numb fingers to follow the menu. They would be returning any moment so I didn’t have time to do anything except photograph the suppliers’ details. I then pushed the trolley to where I found it and headed for the exit. They were already coming in through the open fire exit but fortunately they were still taking their time so I shut the door quickly and ran towards the aisle closest to the wall. If I could go around to the back of the warehouse I could come up to them from behind as they returned from their muster station.

  Judging that the person holding the clipboard was the last to come back in, I skirted around behind him towards the open fire door, and then turned and called out to him. He turned in some confusion. ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, before he could say anything himself. ‘I’m a visitor and I was caught, er… I was in the toilet when the alarm went off. I followed a group out, but was too embarrassed… I mean… I sort of hid, not knowing qu… quite what to do.’ The cold was making my stuttering sound quite realistic. ‘I was visiting Colin Farrow. I don’t suppose you could take me there, could you?’ It was clear that he couldn’t work out where I’d come from, but fortunately it wasn’t really his concern and he took me through the warehouse and back up to the sales office. I found Bob and Colin sitting together in a rather strained silence.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Colin asked as soon as he saw me. ‘You weren’t in the toilet when the fire alarm went off.’

  ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ I said. ‘The upstairs toilet was occupied so I went to the downstairs one and then followed people out and didn’t quite know what to do and sort of got mislaid.’

  ‘Mislaid, eh? I suppose that’s one way of putting it. Have you seen everything you want?’

  I couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic or not, so I played it dumb. ‘Yes, thanks very much. It’s all been very interesting, but the fire drill has made us late and we’d better get a move on and get out of your hair.’ I nudged Bob and we headed for the door. In the corridor, I stopped. ‘I forgot my briefcase.’

  Colin Farrow went back into his office and came out with my case which he handed me.

  ‘I don’t want to leave it behind a second time, do I?’

  Later, in the car, Bob chose to share with me various bits of his mind, none of which was particularly flattering. I heard him out – I suppose I deserved it. While he embellished his opinions the second time around, I scrolled through the pictures on my phone. Finally, when he took a breath so he could start all over again, I interrupted. ‘We’ve got what we were looking for. The name of the supplier. It’s Tau Pharmaceuticals, in Mombasa, Kenya.’

  I pulled out the insulin and Oxaban that I’d taken from the shelves. ‘I’ve got this as well. We can see whether it matches up with the medicines Greg Satchwell was given.’

  ‘How the hell did you get those? If my bosses at IHG find out about this then that’s my job down the drain. They’ll crucify me when they learn that I brought you in.’

  ‘Either they know what’s going on at Holden or they don’t, and if they don’t, then they needn’t find out. Your hospital is pretty low down the food chain when it comes to the IHG’s management. The company’s so big there could easily be some kind of rogue outfit working a fiddle on the side. It could even be Holden. I didn’t trust that Colin Farrow. He was far too suspicious – especially since as far as he knew we were on the same side. But where’s the profit? How do they benefit from selling out-of-date or even counterfeit drugs? I can’t see it. Perhaps he’s got a business going on the side that IHG don’t know about.’

  Bob shook his head. ‘I don’t see how he could get away with that, not with all the controls the company has in place. So what are we supposed to do now?’

  ‘Good question. You’ll have to let me think about it.’ I might have traced the supply line back a few paces, but like Bob, it wasn’t clear where this was going to get us. This was leading me away from my starting point, which was looking into Greta’s father’s death. But whatever was going on at IHG needed investigation although I couldn’t see how that could be done. In any event, I didn’t think that Greta would be prepared to let matters drop even if I told her that there wasn’t anything more I could do. She certainly wouldn’t be happy to wait for the coroner to look into it. At least I’d been able to show that her initial fears were groundless. As I rehearsed the arguments in my head, all I heard was Greta’s urging me to continue. Wasn’t I the one with connections in the intelligence world? There was something clearly not right with IHG and although it was difficult to see what I could do, it had to be worth a try.

  As we neared the end of the M1 motorway, I decided I’d call James at the Whitehall office to see if we could meet up. I thought he was still on my side and he’d been working in Whitehall longer than me and had always seemed to master the intricacies of those “inter-departmental meetings” that I always found so baffling. I think it was genetic – I always thought the best way forwards was forwards, but most people in Whitehall seemed to think prog
ress could only be achieved by going sideways. It was as though they wanted to display a superior intelligence by presenting a distorted picture of reality that they alone could understand. Anyway, we arranged to meet at the pub we used to go to, underneath the arches by Charing Cross Station. I didn’t tell him what it was about; I told him that I needed his help, to which he replied, “Again?” Predictably, I thought.

  James was already waiting for me when I arrived. He bought me a drink and we went to our usual alcove where we couldn’t be overheard. I hadn’t seen him since he’d handed me the keys at Wapping. He’d been abroad for a few days on some project and was unusually reticent when I tried to ask him about it.

  ‘So how’s the good ship Salacia?’ he asked, putting the beer glass in front of me. ‘Still afloat?’

  ‘Only at high tide. She’s continuing to show promise. Let’s hope she keeps it. I really owe you for finding it for me.’ I raised my glass in a mock toast. ‘So, how have you managed without me?’ I asked.

  ‘With difficulty, I suspect, but I haven’t been in the office that much, so I don’t really know. Have you made any progress looking into the mislaid files?’

  ‘The last thing they were was mis-laid. They were very much laid. Laid down in my flat. Ali said he was looking into it.’ I decided to get to the point. ‘Do you know anyone in the Medicines and Healthcare Regulatory Agency?’

  ‘The MHRA? No, I don’t think so. Why?’

  ‘Sally – my ex – showed me some pharmaceuticals that appear to have been relabelled and asked if I could look into it. She added that since I didn’t have anything else to do it might keep me off the streets.’ Just the sort of cutting remark that James knew Sally would make. ‘What do you know about them?’

  James thought for a moment. ‘A government agency, supposed to be responsible for the safety of drugs in the UK. But I have heard criticism; that they’re not proactive, but they say they’re short-staffed and their remit is so wide they can’t cover it all. They recently had a big success in a raid organised as part of an Interpol operation. Huge haul of fake drugs – worth over £15 million apparently, but their inspectors are a bit too thin on the ground to be able to do much more than react to reports sent to them. They’re also accused of being too close to the drug companies, but I suppose that’s always going to be a problem if you work so closely with an industry. They want to encourage best practice first, so enforcement comes some way behind.’