Murder Path (Fallen Angels Book 3)

by Max Hardy

  ‘Correct, that was research done at the Roslin Institute. She was named after Dolly Parton, because the original cell from which she was cloned was taken from a mammary gland. While she was the first mammal that we thought had ever been cloned from an adult cell, she wasn’t the first thing to be cloned. That was a sea urchin in 1885.’

  Strange interrupted. ‘The first mammal you thought had ever been cloned?’ he queried.

  ‘Up until today. Up until you sent in the two samples of Jessica Seymour and Madame Evangeline. It is absolutely amazing. Do you know, it took two hundred and seventy seven attempts to create Dolly? And here, probably twenty years earlier, are two perfectly cloned human beings. The other thing that people don’t realise about Dolly is that she was genetically modified too, and had human DNA implanted into the cell that was used to create her. It is the other way around for your two clones. They have been modified with some kind of animal DNA which we have yet to identify.’ Professor Martin concluded, all three colleagues looking between each other excitedly.

  There was a buzzing from Cruickshank’s pocket, and she pulled out a ringing mobile phone. ‘Excuse me please.’ she asked politely, before rising from the lab bench and heading over to the other side of the room, out of earshot.

  ‘That is pretty amazing stuff.’ Strange answered, shaking his head as he looked between the scientists. ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea as to who would be capable of this? Any renegade wanna-be gods?’ he queried, still contemplating the enormity of the facts presented to them.

  ‘What, where?’ Cruickshank stated loudly from the other side of the room.

  ‘Whoever it is, they have certainly had biomedical training, so you might want to check back through the university records. Edinburgh and Newcastle are world leaders in this type of research, so it’s a good place to start.’ Professor Quinn offered.

  Strange reached into his moleskin jacket pocket and pulled out a stack of photographs and laid them on the bench in front of the two Professor’s. ‘Do any of these people look familiar, possibly former colleagues?’ he queried.

  Quinn and Martin looked down at the photographs and examined them studiously, shaking their heads negatively as eyes moved from one to the next.

  ‘Sorry Chief Inspector, none of them look familiar.’ Quinn responded, Martin nodding in acknowledgement. ‘Jan, is there anyone you recognise.’ he added, holding up a photograph at a time for Jan to peruse.

  ‘Are SOCO on the way? What about a Medical Examiner?’ Start checking out his movements last night. See if he was at any sex clubs.’ Cruickshank could be overheard, speaking loudly from the other side of the room.

  ‘No, don’t recognise any of them. Hold on, put that last one up again. I might have seen him before. I can’t recall where at the moment. Could you send a copy over and I’ll check with the team here.’ Jan asked as Strange took the photo off Quinn and took a look at it.

  It was a photograph of John Saul.

  ‘Jan, thanks for that. If you or your colleagues can recall a name, or anything, it would be a great help. We really need to find out who this man is. Is there anything else we need to be thinking about with regard to our close knit family here?’ Strange asked, looking expectantly at the collected Professors.

  ‘Given how tight the selective breeding is with them, there is one thing that will definitely be an issue. While there are techniques which have been used to help alleviate the potential physical abnormalities of interbreeding, it’s a lot harder to do that with the mental aspects of interbreeding. I wouldn’t be surprised if these people have a string of mental issues, from simple OCD and autism, right the way through to being bipolar, suicidal and even psychotic. Their mental stability will possibly take a lot of management.’ Professor Quinn offered.

  ‘Thank you Professor, that is very interesting. Thank you all for your time this morning and if you think of anything else you feel may be relevant to our investigation, please give us a call, you have our cards.’ Strange thanked, reaching over and shaking the hands of Quinn and Martin, and waving at Auld. He stood up from the lab stool and approached Cruickshank, her face a storm of frustrated emotions. She slammed her finger onto the ‘End call’ button and thrust her phone into her jacket pocket.

  ‘Thank you ladies and gentleman.’ Cruickshank shouted as she absentmindedly waved, striding for the entrance to the lab. Strange fell in at her side, both walking out of the double doors together.

  ‘Another murder I would guess?’ Strange enquired.

  ‘Yes, another bloody murder. Same Modus Operandi as McFetrich. We need to get over there straight away and see if there are more than just superficial similarities and also see if we have our bloody ‘family’ DNA at the scene.’ Cruickshank rumbled as she strode out of the University into the bright light of the high, golden midday sun.

  ‘Anyone we know?’ Strange asked, still keeping pace with her short, fast, frustrated strides.

  ‘Mr McFetrich’s love interest from ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’ the other night and one of the most prominent businessmen in Edinburgh: Douglas Ettrick.’

  Chapter 16

  Rebecca staggered back in surprise, a few of the folders on the top of the pile in her arms falling to the floor. ‘Jesus, you shocked me there young man.’ she blustered as she bent over and started scooping up the strewn papers. ‘A little help here. Who is this guy?’ she whispered into the microphone as she rummaged around the floor.

  ‘Don’t panic. Munro is a jobbing copper. There’s nothing that we can’t handle here. I’m just putting your details onto the Northumbria police system. Just mention that you are the psychiatric liaison working with Darrie. He’s our Medical Examiner.’ Saul instructed quickly.

  Munro bent over and started helping Rebecca collect the folders together. ‘Sorry for startling you Ma’am. I wasn’t expecting anyone else from the investigation here today, certainly not someone I haven’t met before.’

  ‘It’s okay Mick. I wasn’t expecting anyone on site today either, so we are both at a disadvantage. Could I see your ID badge, do you think?’ Rebecca asked curtly as she stood, shuffling the folders back into an orderly pile in her arms, the action hiding her shaking hands.

  ‘Fair point.’ Munro conceded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID badge and flashed it in front of Rebecca, who nodded acceptingly. ‘Could I see yours?’ he added.

  ‘Certainly.’ Rebecca responded, shuffling from side to side, looking from the desk, to a bookcase and eventually towards Munro –stalling tactics-, before she thrust the pile of files into his arms. ‘Here, hold these for a second while I get it out. You couldn’t carry them to the car for me could you, they are rather heavy.’ Rebecca added cheekily as she rifled in her pocket for her badge, pulling it out as she walked past Munro into the corridor, flashing it in his face quickly.

  ‘So which station are you working out of?’ Munro questioned, grumbling under his breath as he steadied the files in his arms, resting them under his chin for stability, and followed Rebecca back towards reception.

  ‘Bedlington.’ Saul said, simply into her ear.

  ‘I’m working out of Bedlington. I’m part of the psychiatric team there. I’ve been helping dear Darrie decipher some of the more technical parts of the notes for those patients who were allegedly abused by Ennis. He asked me to pick another pile up to review.’ Rebecca confidently and nonchalantly informed him, tottering up to the reception desk where Henry was supping his tea.

  ‘Did you find everything you were after Dr Evans?’ Henry asked her with a broad smile, before looking beyond her and smirking as he saw Munro labouring under the weight of the files.

  ‘Enough to be getting on with. Thank you so much for the tea and biscuits Henry, they were divine. I may be back later in the week and I am also partial to a Jaffa Cake, just if you happen to have them.’ Rebecca mouthed conspiratorially while flashing him a cheeky wink, before turning and heading off for the entrance.

  ‘So what do you thin
k of Darrie going on a diet? Can you believe that?’ Munro asked, his question tinged with an undercurrent of suspicion.

  ‘He’s testing you Becca. Darrie is the campest queen you will ever meet. He loves his food, but more importantly he loves his wine and would rather turn straight than diet. First name is George, and he was ridiculed at school with it because of his size. People called him Georgy Porgy, from the nursery rhyme.’ Saul fed Rebecca.

  Rebecca stopped dead, Munro, a few feet behind doing likewise. She slowly turned and levelled a stern glare at Munro’s quizzical face.

  ‘That really disappoints me Mick. Are you testing me? It’s not something I appreciate if you are. I’ve spent forty seven years in psychiatric policing, and in that time, I don’t think anyone has ever questioned who I am. Georgie would never go on a diet, he likes his food and wine far too much. The rambunctious queen would rather go straight than do that. Now, do I have to answer any more of your asinine questions, or can I leave and carry on with my job?’ Rebecca answered brusquely, her whole body brimming with indignation.

  ‘Sorry Ma’am.’ Munro answered sheepishly. ‘That was uncalled for and highly unprofessional. I apologise, and please, don’t mention the diet thing to Darrie: he’ll kill me.’

  ‘I can’t promise that Munro. I can’t promise that I won’t be having a word with DCI Strange either. He’s a good friend of mine is Jerry.’ she responded curtly, then turned about quickly and headed out of the reception and to her car. She opened the boot and stood aside to let Munro drop the files inside, before slamming it shut.

  ‘They say you can tell a lot from first impressions Mick.’ Rebecca started as she walked around the car and opened the driver’s door, jumped in and slammed it shut, winding the window down. ‘You do a lousy impression of a police officer. You need to show your colleagues a little more respect, especially those of us with the experience and wisdom of years. Thank you though for carrying the files, it saved my old back and for that I am grateful. Goodbye.’ she finished, winding the window back up and starting the engine.

  Her hands started to shake furiously on the steering wheel as the adrenaline began to wane and the nerves kicked in. ‘Jesus John, that was tense. I can’t believe he believed me. I wouldn’t believe me. I want to get out of here, now.’ she said, the red flashing light and caterwauling klaxon ringing out as the large metal gate opened in front of her.

  ‘From what I heard, you were superb. Munro is a bit slow on the uptake and confronting him directly about questioning you was just sublime. Just breathe deep now and try to relax, tension will be gripping you right about now. Only a few minutes and you will be out of there and home free.’ Saul reassured.

  Rebecca eased the car into the holding area between gates, waiting for the one behind her to start closing. It stayed stubbornly open.

  ‘The gate isn’t closing John. Munro mustn’t be as slow as you thought. Shit, he’s running back to the car. What do I do?’ Rebecca asked, the merest tinge of panic in her tone as she watched Munro quickly approaching in her rear view mirror.

  ‘You don’t panic. If he starts questioning again, lose your rag with him and threaten to call Strange.’ Saul offered.

  ‘What if he calls my bluff on that?’ Rebecca asked as Munro approached the car door.

  ‘He’s not that smart, but if he does, we’ll worry about it then.’ Saul suggested reassuringly, his tone exuding calmness.

  Munro knocked on the window and Rebecca wound it down. ‘What is it man, you might have time to lounge around drinking coffee, but I have a lot of work to get through this afternoon.’ Rebecca jumped in and spurted before Munro had a chance to speak.

  ‘Sorry Ma’am, I won’t keep you long, it’s just you missed a folder when you dropped them in the office. I thought it might be important.’ Munro answered subserviently, holding the manila binder through the open window.

  ‘Oh.’ Rebecca said, as surprise tinged with a glimmer of guilt spread across her features. ‘Sorry for being so brusque Mick, and thank you for bringing it, that was very kind of you.’

  ‘No problem Ma’am. Don’t work too hard.’ he responded, then walked back to the Institute. The rear gate started to close as he passed through it, shutting with a loud thud just as the one in front of Rebecca’s car started to open.

  ‘I can hear my heart thumping in my ears it is beating so hard.’ Rebecca stated as she slowly manoeuvred the car out of the second gate and onto the main road.

  ‘You are home and dry now. Get back to the apartment as quick as you can and let’s start looking through those files. Hopefully we will find something which will help us figure out what the hell is going on.’ Saul answered.

  ‘I hope so. That was worse than pretending to be a Madame. So much worse.’ Rebecca responded.

  The car rounded a bend in the road and passed by six foot tall metal barriers surrounding the old St George’s Mental hospital, which had originally been the county Lunatic Asylum. The redbrick buildings brooded silently behind the fences, weed strewn cracked concrete pathways, covered in an accumulation of rubbish, surrounding them. Most of the windows were boarded up, the few that still had glass in filthy and dull, reflecting nothing of the midday sun. Apart from one. On the top floor of the main building, looking out over the Institute opposite was a window that had been cleaned. Behind it stood a woman and a man, both watching the car as it sped by and headed off down the hill on the road back into Morpeth.

  ‘Interesting.’ Gabriel proffered as he watched the car until it was out of sight, then looked back towards the Institute. ‘Her hands were shaking as the car went by and she was talking to someone, yet there was no one in the car.’

  ‘Hands free phone perhaps?’ Eve suggested, standing next to him dressed casual in jeans, pumps and a white t-shirt.

  ‘No. I watched her all the way from the carpark. She was talking as soon as she got into the car. She looked anxious when the gates didn’t open straight away and a little panicked when the man returned with the folder. At no time did I see her make a call. She was talking into a microphone and I would wager also had an earpiece in. I would also wager that we have just seen Rebecca Angus in disguise and the person she was talking to was Saul.’ Gabriel mused. He was wearing a silver Dolce and Gabana suit which was two shades darker than his slicked back silver hair.

  ‘What makes you think that? Should we follow her then?’ Eve asked in surprise, turning to face Gabriel.

  ‘No, we don’t need to follow her. They will come looking for us soon enough. What makes me think it? I know the Fallen Angels. With them, things are never simple. I can imagine Adam has Saul on a quest to find out about his past and his family history, as well as on a mission to kill us. It would be much simpler to just tell him where he comes from, but that’s not how they work. Everything is about the experience. Everything is about living the experience in order to learn. Saul will now know that he and Rebecca are in some way connected to the Seymour Family. He also knows, as he is a good Detective, that the Fielding Institute was funded by the Seymour’s and that our friend Ennis was researching the Seymour family madness. He will be looking for Ennis’s files. Files like those the old lady has in the boot of her car. A nervous old lady who flipped between being calm when talking to the Detective, then anxious when out of his sight. A nervous old lady seemingly talking to herself. I have no doubt that it was Rebecca Angus. I wonder though?’ he paused, turning to face Eve.

  ‘What are you wondering?’

  ‘I am wondering if we can use them, to find out about the Angels plans. Perhaps there’s a way they can get you in. They don’t know about you, yet. At the minute, it is only me they are looking for. I think they need to meet Madame Evangeline but then experience innocent Eve. It’s time for the three of you to become friends.’

  Chapter 17

  The gun metal grey Ford Fiesta came to a juddering halt in the middle of the main road, tyres squealing and brakes spewing out plumes of acrid smoke as a result of the emergency
stop Cruickshank had involuntarily carried out. A stream of bright brake lights and blaring horns emanated from the cars behind as irritated drivers had to stop quickly to avoid the Fiesta.

  ‘What!’ screamed Cruickshank, looking over vehemently at Strange in the passenger seat, who was holding a small brown bear tightly in his shaking hands.

  ‘Jesus Gaynor, you scared the life out of me there. Pull over to the side, you are blocking traffic.’ Strange suggested anxiously, making apologetic hand gestures to the drivers behind.

  ‘Not until you tell me how long you have known this?’ she demanded, her furious gaze not leaving his surprised face.

  ‘Just as soon as you pull into the side.’ Strange firmly reiterated.

  Cruickshank glared at him, seething through gritted teeth, staring out his resolute demeanour. She broke first, as the booming of the horns from the irate drivers behind became louder. ‘Fine, but you better have a bloody good explanation.’ she conceded, steering the car into the kerbside and parking up. She opened her window and waved the cars behind to move on, her body language not apologetic in the slightest.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded, turning back to Strange.

  ‘I saw him at the apartment opposite the one we thought they were in yesterday. He was in disguise. Dressed as an older man. He whispered that they hadn’t done it, then pointed to this, leaving it on a chair by the window.’ Strange answered, holding up Ian Bear again. ‘I went back there a little later and got it. There was a message inside. It said that they hadn’t killed the Bentley’s, nor McFetrich and that the man in the photograph used to be a Fallen Angel, but had turned extreme. He also told me to trust no one, not even my closest colleagues. Why would he risk that Gaynor? Why would he stand there, looking directly at me and leave this. I didn’t tell you yesterday not because I don’t trust you, but because I needed time to think through what this could mean. Sorry.’