It was as Tom remembered, small, almost poky, with an inspiring view of the hospital stores opposite. 'It'll be fine,' he said.
He didn't know what it was, but something – the smell, the colour of the walls, the way his voice echoed from them – brought on a flashback and for a microsecond he could hear, feel Donald Chalgrove giving him advice about Frank, his brother … it was so real that it brought a lump to his throat.
He turned to Medlar. 'I'm sorry about your wife,' he said impulsively. 'Is she coping?'
'Yes.' Medlar looked surprised, but not offended. 'She copes remarkably well. I think loneliness is probably her worst problem, which is why I won't be sorry to retire early. I'll take you to Dominic Tudor now – he's acting lab manager and he'll help arrange your interviews.'
Chapter Fourteen
Dominic put the phone down and turned to Tom. 'I expect you caught the gist of that – she's in the middle of a difficult cross match and can't get away.'
Tom compressed his lips in irritation; Verity and Maria were the two people he most wanted to see, since they provided the alibis for Jessie and Medlar, but Verity had gone out (and he could hazard a guess where) and now Maria was unavailable.
'How long d'you think she'll be?'
Dominic shrugged. 'Maybe half an hour, maybe longer.' He paused. 'D'you want to see one of the others while you're waiting?'
'All right. How about you?'
Dominic smiled, shrugged again. 'If you like. It'll have to be in here, though – in case anyone needs me.' They were in Jessie's office.
Tom explained how he was looking into Jessie's allegation as much as Goring's death. 'Although the two may well be linked.'
'Only if it was Jessie who killed him, surely?'
Tom smiled at his quickness. 'I suppose that's right, but she does have the most clearly defined motive. Wouldn't you say?'
'I wouldn't know.'
'He had her suspended, he was going to have her sacked and then he was going to sue her. Can you think of anyone with a better motive?'
'Not offhand, no, but isn't that your job?'
'Are you saying you don't think she did it?'
'I wasn't saying anything.' He paused. 'I will say this, though – I find it extremely difficult to imagine her doing it.'
'Why?'
'Because she simply isn't the type. Besides, she's got an alibi, hasn't she?'
'What do you think about that?' Tom asked.
'About what?'
'Her alibi. The fact that she spent the night with Verity Blane.'
'What is there to think about it?' He looked straight back at Tom.
'OK.' Tom said wearily. 'Your non-judgemental correctness is taken as read. Now, were you or were you not surprised by it?'
Dominic thought for a moment. 'Not entirely in Verity's case,' he said at last. 'I was in Jessie's, though.'
'Why not in Verity's case?'
'As an old-fashioned MCP, I'd wondered about a good-looking woman who never seemed to have anything to do with men.'
'Do you believe in their relationship, that it actually occurred?'
'If they say it did, then I assume it did.'
'All right,' Tom said, aware that he wasn't going to get any further with this. 'You were Jessie's deputy – did she ever say anything to you about Dr Goring's motives for closing Tamar?' Although Tom could hardly be said to be on Christian name terms with Jessie, it was easier than to go on saying 'Ms Pengellis'.
'The nepotism, you mean?' Dominic shook his head. 'I was watching her on the TV when she came out with it. It was as much of a shock to me as anyone.'
'How long have you worked here?'
'Nearly eight years, now.'
'So you'd have known Dr Goring when he was interim director here?'
'Yes, although “known” is probably too strong a word. I was only basic grade then, very much the bottom of the heap.'
'Did you like him?'
'As a person, I neither liked nor disliked him. I hated what he was doing.'
'Are you talking about then or now?'
'Now. When he was interim director, he did some hard but necessary things. What he was doing this time is costing us all our jobs.'
Tom said, 'But in your case, it's costing a bit more, isn't it?'
Dominic blinked. 'How d'you mean?'
'Your research. Dr Medlar told me you had a research programme going.'
'Oh, that – I wondered what on earth you were getting at for a moment. Yes, I'll be sorry, but I dare say I'll find somewhere else to do it.'
'What were you doing that Friday night?'
'What Friday…? Oh, I see – I went out for a drink with a colleague here, Ashley Miles.'
'Yes, but I believe you told Inspector Bennett that you went out some time earlier than you met your colleague.'
'I left home at about seven and met Ashley at eight. But if you've been speaking to Inspector Bennett, you'll know what I was doing.'
'I'd like to hear it from you.'
'All right.' He told Tom about his relationship with his father-in-law. 'He was being particularly obnoxious that evening, so I went to the local library for an hour to get away from him.'
'You spent the whole hour there?'
'Yes. Well, about thirty or forty minutes, I suppose, what with getting there and then getting to the pub.' He told Tom how he and Ashley had stayed at the pub until closing time. It all tallied with the statement he'd given Bennett, even down to the barman remembering them.
'Who else would have known about the faulty door on the freezing-room?' Tom asked, changing tack again. I do not like thee, Dr Fell, the reason why I cannot tell ... He didn't know why he didn't like Dominic – perhaps, as Bennett had suggested, it was something to do with his overall aura of bantam cockiness.
'All the department heads, for a start,' Dominic told him, explaining how Steve Tanner had interrupted Jessie's meeting, how as Safety Officer he'd examined the door, left a notice on it and put in a requisition for it to be repaired. 'But anyone who saw the notice would have known,' he added.
'Who would be the most likely to see it?'
'Anyone. All the departments use the freezer at some time or another.'
'Who uses it most?'
'I suppose Plasma Products do,' he said slowly. 'That's why it's where it is.'
'One other thing,' Tom said and told him about Jessie's theory of Goring having a spy in the centre. 'What d'you think about that?'
'I think it sucks. I like Jessie, but she was getting a bit paranoid towards the end.'
'Dr Medlar told me this morning that Dr Goring admitted it to him.'
'Really?' For the first time, he'd actually surprised Dominic with something. 'Well, I suppose in that case there must have been… Did he say who it was?'
'No. I was wondering if you had any idea.'
'None whatever.'
'Does anyone here have any reason to dislike Jessie?'
Dominic pushed out his lower lip. 'Well, I suppose you could say there are two, but I really can't see either of them…'
'Who are they?'
He hesitated. 'Paul Bannister and Adrian Hodges,' he said at last.
'Why? Why did they dislike her?'
'Jealousy in Paul's case, he thinks he should have had her job. As for Adrian… because she's a clever, independent female and because he's Adrian.'
That figures, Tom thought as he noted the names down.
Dominic looked at his watch. 'If you've finished with me, I usually go to lunch now. So if you wouldn't mind…'
'Not at all.' Tom closed his notebook. 'In fact, if you don't mind, I'll come with you.'
Dominic looked momentarily taken aback. 'I'm only going to the canteen,' he said. 'It's nothing special.'
'That's all right.'
He shrugged. 'OK then.' He hung up his white coat, transferred his bleep to his jacket and told the secretary next door where he was going. 'This way,' he said to Tom.
They walked down the main
corridor. 'What will you do when the centre closes?' Tom asked.
'Not sure yet. I'll find something.'
They walked past Medlar's office, out of the centre and into the glass passage joining it with the main hospital, the one that Tom had always thought of as the Space Corridor, because of its panoramic view across the city and to Dartmoor.
He said, 'I'd have thought someone like you would've already had something planned.'
Dominic shot him a look. 'How d'you mean, someone like me?'
It was Tom's turn to shrug. 'I had the impression you were ambitious, what with your research and everything.'
'Well, until recently, I suppose I was hoping that the centre could be saved.'
'Jessie's campaign, you mean?'
'Yes.'
'You really thought it had a chance?'
'Yes, I did, Jessie's a brilliant organiser and she really had the gimboids at HQ worried – that's why Goring came down here, to deliver what he thought would be the coup de grâce.'
They reached the canteen and Dominic held the door open for him.
'And got murdered instead,' Tom said.
'You're still assuming the two are connected.'
'Not necessarily,' Tom said, looking round the canteen. It hadn't changed much in eight years, he thought, and the food wasn't anything like as bad as Dominic had implied. Tom had roast beef while Dominic had a cheese omelette. Tom paid.
'What's your research about?' he asked as they sat down.
'You have a couple of hours to spare?'
Tom smiled. 'Briefly, then.'
Dominic explained how his normal job was running the Microbiology Department, screening blood for infectious disease such as hepatitis and HIV. 'You know about CJD, I imagine? Creutzfelt Jakob Disease and its so-called New Variant.'
He looked over at Tom's plate. 'Don't worry, I'm not about to tell you you're going to catch it from that.'
Tom swallowed a mouthful. 'I never thought I was. Why so-called?'
'Well, that's the raison d'être of my research. Everyone's assumed that Scrapie in sheep, Mad Cow Disease and conventional CJD are all caused by the same thing, a prion that's passed from sheep to cows to humans. D'you know what a prion is?'
'I've heard of them, but that's about all.'
'I'll have to give you a bit of the background.' He took a mouthful of omelette. 'Scrapie's a brain disease of sheep – a sort of Mad Cow Sheep Disease, if you like. It's been around for a long time, although no one knew what caused it. Anyway, back in the seventies, someone at the Min of Ag had the brilliant idea of saving money by feeding rendered sheep offal to cattle as a source of protein – a quite unnatural practice as well as a revolting one.
'Well, after a few years, the cattle began developing a disease rather like Scrapie, and it became known as Mad Cow Disease.' He shrugged his shoulders again in his curiously Gallic manner. 'So who cares about a few mad cows, so long as they don't do us any harm?'
'But they did, didn't they?' said Tom.
'It certainly seemed that way,' agreed Dominic. 'People began to get Mad Person Disease, which itself seemed very similar to Creutzfelt Jakob Disease, and those who like to think of themselves as experts began drawing all sorts of hasty conclusions.'
He frowned as he developed his theme. 'CJD's been around for a long time as well. It's a degenerative disease of the brain that kills about eighteen months after the first symptoms appear.'
'What are the symptoms?'
'Tremors, incoordination, dementia and finally death. Very nasty. Areas of the brain seem to simply dissolve away without any recognisable cause. CJD itself is remarkably similar to a disease called kuru, which used to affect the natives of certain tribes in New Guinea.'
'Used to?' queried Tom.
'Yes. It died out when the Australian Colonial Administration took over and banned cannibalism. They used to eat the brains of their dead relatives as a mark of respect, and then developed kuru. There was even a story suggesting that it all started when a Russian missionary with CJD went to New Guinea early this century and was eaten for his pains.' He grinned, slightly maliciously, Tom thought. 'Haven't put you off your food, have I?'
'It's all right,' Tom said, pushing his half-finished roast beef away. 'Do go on.'
'Well, the theory is that these diseases, all these diseases, are caused by a prion. It's a protein particle that replicates like a virus, but doesn't have any DNA or RNA. That's why prions are so difficult to kill, as well as to detect. It's also why we've been banned from using our own plasma products in this country and are having to buy them at enormous expense from abroad.' He leaned forward. 'The fact is, though,' he said slowly, 'that no one's ever actually demonstrated a prion, or even seen one for that matter.'
'Are you suggesting they don't exist?'
'No, I'm not suggesting that, there is some evidence for them. But what if these particular diseases, Mad Cow Disease and New Variant CJD, are completely different from the others, aren't caused by a prion at all?'
'That's pretty revolutionary, isn't it?'
'It sure is, and it would have pretty far-reaching implications. Financial implications. Did you know that the Transfusion Service was about to spend £70 million a year on taking all the white cells out of donated blood? On the off-chance they contain prions that might be transmitted by transfusion.'
'I'd heard something about it. So what d'you think causes New Variant CJD?'
"There are several theories – organo-phospates, for one.'
'Is that what you think?'
Dominic shook his head. 'No, I don't. There's another theory recently put forward, that it's caused by a bacterium called Acinetobacter. It's a bug that's commonly found in soil and water.'
'I've never heard of it.'
'There's no reason why you should – it doesn't cause human infection as a rule.'
'But you think it causes CJD?'
'I think it's possible.' He grinned again as he finished his meal and pushed his own plate aside. 'But more to the point, much more to the point, Professor Blom of London University thinks so. His theory is that certain genetically susceptible people overact to Acinetobacter when they meet it and make very fierce antibodies to it. These antibodies then confuse Acinetobacter with their own brain tissue and destroy it – a sort of autoimmune disease.'
'You're getting a bit deep for me now.'
'Well, I did warn you. Anyway, through Dr Medlar, I contacted Prof Blom and we've set up a study – looking for Acinetobacter antibodies in donor blood to try and establish the incidence.'
'Found any?'
'A few. I'm not sure yet of their significance, though.'
Tom looked at him with a little more respect. 'Well, it sounds as though it's pretty important research to me. Surely some other centre would be interested in it?'
'I'm certainly hoping so, although most people still accept the prion theory. Besides, every centre has its own pet projects. It's possible someone might be interested, but I'm not banking on it.'
'If we stick together, it'll be OK,' Verity repeated, putting her hands on Jessie's shoulders.
'No, Verity.' Jessie shrugged them off and turned away. 'He's too bloody clever. I want to do it this way.'
'Is it Craig that's bothering you? I can help you with Craig.'
'It's not just Craig.
'What, then?'
'I'll tell you, Verity,' she said, turning back to her. 'Jones was right about one thing – you seduced me, and in more ways than one.'
'I seduced you because you wanted to be seduced, Jessie,' Verity said levelly.
'Oh yeah?' she stormed, losing her temper at last. 'With God knows how much dope swilling round inside me? And as for the other business… and letting everyone know – you had no right.'
'I did it for the best.'
'Whose best? Certainly not mine. You got me into this mess – now you can get me out of it.'
Verity realised it was no use, that whatever they'd had was probably dead
and there was nothing she could do about it. 'All right,' she said, trying to swallow the bitterness that rose like bile in her throat. 'I'll do as you ask. Can I use your phone? I'll call Steph now and arrange it…'
As she drove back to the centre, she felt a rage well up from deep inside her and boil over. The bastard, if it wasn't for him… the bastard …
At home, Medlar gently placed the reefer between his wife's lips and lit it for her. Now would be a good time, tell her now… 'Sarah?'
'Mm?' She exhaled gratefully.
'The DOH have sent down an investigator to look into Adam's death.'
She looked at him. 'Aren't the police supposed to be doing that?'
'I think it's finally dawned on Mad Maggie that this affair could be the end of her. I think she's hoping this chap'll show that Adam was as pure as the driven – fat chance.'
'That's a bit hard isn't it, George? Shouldn't speak ill of et cetera.'
'No, I suppose not…' It was too late now, the chance had gone. 'No, you're right, dear.'
'Has he spoken to you, this investigator?'
'Yes, this morning.'
'What's he like?'
'Pretty ruthless, which I suppose is what you'd expect from an emissary of Lady M. For all that, I don't know what more he can do than the police.'
Chapter Fifteen
She came in slowly, her dark eyes meeting Tom's for only an instant. He was standing.
'Miss N'Kanu?'
She nodded. 'Yes.' She was wearing a red skirt and white blouse.
'My name's Jones and I'm from the Department of Health. Please sit down.' He smiled as he spoke, but she didn't respond.
They sat. Tom at the desk with his back to the window. 'It's Maria, isn't it? Can I call you Maria?'
'Yes.'
His first impression was of a plainness, even heaviness of feature, then he realised it was because she wore no make-up or jewellery that he could see. Her hair was a simple dark cloud covering the top of her head.
'D'you know why I'm here, Maria?'
She cleared her throat. 'I thought it was to look into the death of Dr Goring.'
'Well, yes – that and the allegations that were made about him. Did you see the TV interview with him and Jessie?'
Chilling Out Page 11