by Alex Caan
‘That’s Mark Lynch, and here we go. The mystery woman he’s been dating.’ Rob zoomed in, but she was indistinguishable to the description they already had from the war games organiser Yvonne. The shades, the fringe in her face, and the dark coat. ‘Well, at least we know she’s real, and not some made up person.’
‘Shame she doesn’t take the shades off somewhere,’ said Michelle.
‘I shall follow her home, see where she boards public transport, and see where she might have ended up.’
‘Probably in zone six somewhere, where they don’t have any CCTV. So yeah, good luck with that.’
‘Oh ye of little faith.’
Michelle went back to her own search.
‘How is Jessica by the way?’ Michelle said carefully. ‘I heard you and her . . .’
Michelle stopped, she heard the noises coming from Rob’s machine. She got up quickly and made to shut down the video he was watching.
‘Don’t look at that, Rob,’ she said quietly.
Rob was staring, the anger clearly written all over his face.
‘I hope that little fucker Mark Lynch suffered worse than this. Bastard.’
Rob got up abruptly and left.
Michelle thought about going after him, but decided to let him cool off first. Frustrated with her own search, she decided to put the names randomly into different search engines she could access across government databases. She got garbled hits, but decided to plough through the returned search pages anyway.
On page forty-seven of one search engine she got a hit. She’d found the link between Julian Leakey and Freya Rice.
Chapter Sixty-Five
They were in the conference room, all of them dragged back to base by Kate. Even Rob who wanted to be taken off the case for ethical reasons.
‘I really don’t give a shit what happened to some fucking animal torturer.’
‘It’s about more than that now, Rob. You have a duty to serve, and be part of this until we find out who is behind the deaths. And until they are stopped. Surely you have to believe in the sanctity of life? All life, even human?’
‘Not so sure about that.’
He was there though, sullen but present. It felt familiar to Kate, in a good way. There was a breakthrough and her team had got closer to understanding what had happened to Julian Leakey and the others.
Kate was seated next to Rob, Stevie and Zain opposite. She looked into their faces, the circles around their eyes, their drained complexions. They were dishevelled, tired, pushed to their limits, yet they were here. Her team, fighting for their shared beliefs. She felt a moment of contentment looking at them. And then remembered why they were there.
‘Michelle, the floor is yours.’
Michelle stood up, tablet in her hands, while the wall-mounted screen reflected what she was looking at. ‘So I was trying everything I could, all these different complicated searches involving all the data that we managed to collect. It was a pain, but I ran them through everything I could think of. Only, nothing came up, nothing was connecting. It all felt so disparate. And that’s because it was.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Kate.
‘The data I was feeding into my programs, it was separate. I was putting through isolated work histories, personal details, soft intelligence. There was no overlap between our four victims.’
‘Apart from Julian and Natalie, I assume?’
‘Yes. We know their link. I mean with the others. There is no overlap on any of the official paperwork I’ve seen. That’s because the files I’ve been looking at deal with logic, and compare like with like, or at least contrast similar pieces of information.’
‘Squares and squares,’ said Zain.
‘Precisely. Only, the link between Julian and Freya isn’t that straightforward.’
‘What did Freya do exactly?’ asked Zain.
‘She was a pharmacist. Worked for Boots for a while, and then she joined the NHS, became an embedded pharmacist at a number of trusts. She worked for Barts, Chelsea and Westminster, North Middlesex. And finally, she ended up at Great Ormond Street Hospital.’
‘So she’s never worked for the government, or the Civil Service?’
‘No.’
‘Let me guess, she was on one of the adultery websites? Did I miss her in my search? Shit. Nicely played, Cable.’
‘No, that wasn’t it.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I went back to basics. I put their names into every search engine I could, and checked where there was a link. I used the common ones first, and then started to look on any of the official government ones.’
‘That must have taken forever.’
‘It wasn’t easy, but sometimes you just have to put in the legwork.’
‘Where did you find the link?’ asked Kate.
Michelle brought up the images on screen. It was a repository of official documents going back many years, to when the Primary Care Trusts and Foundation Trusts still existed. Before the re-organisation of the system by the current government.
‘This is a list of PDFs, official releases and archived documents. And here, can you see? There is a panel where both Julian Leakey and Freya Rice were signatories.’
Kate saw their names in bold onscreen, surrounded by other names.
‘What are the details of the panel?’
‘This is a mistake. The names should not be there. The robots picked them up and highlighted them, but the names are contained in archived and secret documents.’
‘Documents to do with what?’
‘These are documents where the NHS have commissioned trials on drugs, ones that are yet to come onto the market.’
The team were sitting to attention, taking in what Michelle was saying. She explained how when a patient was sick, so sick that their treatment was rare and only available through experimental drugs, it was up to the drug companies themselves to make the decision whether or not they would fund the treatment.
‘The reason why I couldn’t find a link is because when Julian and Freya worked together, they didn’t work for the same organisation. Freya was a pharmacist in the private sector, but at the same time she freelanced for other companies. Julian was doing one of his private-sector consultant roles at the time. This is going back five years now.’
‘What was the company?’
‘It was a firm called AREL, a pharmaceutical company that no longer exists. They were bought out by one of the major brands. But at the time they were producing cutting-edge medicine, drugs to treat rare conditions. Things that might affect only a handful of people.’
‘I’m guessing that means expensive drugs, that they could charge a fortune for?’ said Rob. ‘After testing them on innocent fucking animals, no doubt.’
‘I can think of some humans that they could be tested on,’ said Stevie.
‘Don’t look at me!’ cried Zain.
‘Once they had approval, as in they had tested their drugs and were allowed to sell them, they usually did to the NHS. That is the biggest prescribing body in the country, so no surprise there. What is more complex is what happened when they were still developing their drugs. When they made the decision to treat or not.’
‘What was the criteria?’ asked Kate. ‘How did they decide which patients to treat?’
‘It was done on clinical need apparently. Would the drug be likely to be successful or not?’
‘So you mean money?’ spat Rob. ‘If they thought the drug would work they would be willing to take the financial hit, and if they thought it wouldn’t, then fuck it?’
‘In a way. These firms often do trials in clinical settings for free. And I mean, supply drugs for months, costing thousands, without expecting compensation.’
‘That comes when they sell their drugs in bulk to the health service,’ said Rob.
‘They need money for research,’ Michelle said, but it was a mumble.
‘Yeah, I know what they do their research on.’
�
��Tell me then about AREL. How are Julian and Freya involved?’ Kate cut in.
‘Well, for a period of about six months, Julian was chair of the committee that signed off on who would receive free treatment for test drugs.’
‘And Freya?’
‘She was one of the contracted pharmacists testing the drugs, and providing clinical approval or denial. So between them they basically decided who would get treatment and who wouldn’t.’
‘What you’re saying is they in essence controlled who might live, and who might die?’ Kate thought it sounded over-dramatic in her head, but when Michelle didn’t respond she knew that’s exactly what had happened.
‘How many cases are we looking at? Were Julian and Freya responsible for making every decision?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Michelle. ‘The problem is accessing the records. They no longer exist, as AREL is gone.’
‘I’ll speak to PCC Hope. We can get the warrants we need . . .’
‘It’s more that they might not physically exist anywhere.’
‘You said you found these in an archived database?’ said Zain.
‘Yes, but it was an error. I shouldn’t even have found these.’
‘Yes, but you did. It means there is a directory somewhere that holds these cases. Leave it with me.’
Kate knew what that meant; he was going to call in a favour. She didn’t care though: what she needed to know was exactly who out there had a grudge against Julian and Freya. Enough to not only kill Julian mercilessly, but also Mark Lynch and Natalie Davies. How Mark and Natalie were linked, Kate was yet to discover. And how had Freya really died? She didn’t know if she thought Julian capable of murder anymore.
Chapter Sixty-Six
The day was cold, but there was no rain, just a light fog. Zain was waiting by the entrance to Westminster Cathedral, watching throngs of tourists go in and out of the building. It was a different time of day to the last time this meeting had taken place.
DCI Raymond Cross loped across the courtyard leading to the cathedral in easy strides, covering the distance quickly. He had his panama hat on and his coat was hanging open. Zain walked towards him when he spotted him, and they shook hands, before moving past the cathedral into the heart of Belgravia.
‘How have you been, Zain?’
‘Great.’
‘That good?’
‘I’m fine. Sir.’
‘You don’t look it.’
‘It’s been a tough few days. You know what’s it like when you’re on the front line. You get burned, quite literally in my case, tired, battered and function on adrenaline. I’m under pressure.’
‘I get it. You’re wondering why I didn’t just tell you this by email?’
‘The thought had crossed my mind, sir.’
Zain had sent the directory link to DCI Cross. He had the resources that would crack it a lot more quickly than Zain or Michelle could. But he’d insisted on meeting in person to deliver the results.
‘I wanted to see you,’ said DCI Cross. ‘Is that so bad? After all we’ve been through together?’
‘You make us sound like lovers, sir.’
‘The bonds we share are stronger, don’t you think? We really did risk life and death for each other.’
‘Possibly. More for the country though.’
‘I don’t believe that, neither do you.’
He was right. When Zain had been a teenager on the brink of carrying out a suicide mission, DCI Cross had saved him. He had asked him to betray the cell he was part of, and instead work for the British government. What had followed was years of being bankrolled by the state. His Arabic studies at SOAS, his training in cyber-security, joining up with GCHQ and then ending up where Raymond Cross had always wanted him. In counter-terrorism, SO15, he put everything he had learned to its most effective use.
Until it all went horribly wrong. Zain had got back on track with DCI Cross there to support him. Those bonds were indelible, bonds that even family members couldn’t share.
Zain still hadn’t recovered fully. His time with DCI Kate Riley was meant to be a form of rehab, or some sort of golden goodbye: he wasn’t sure which. It hadn’t worked out like either. He was convinced he would get hurt no matter who he worked for.
‘Loyalty isn’t something you lose, not easily. Of course, I feel that sense of loyalty to yourself, sir.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
They slowed their walk as they entered a quiet street behind the cathedral. They were alone, and unobserved, as far as they could see.
‘I worked with Justin Hope at the beginning of this whole case,’ DCI Cross said carefully. ‘He is quite something.’
‘He’s paid his dues. Maybe he’s allowed to be?’
‘Yes. Possibly. It made me more determined anyway.’
‘For what?’
‘I want you to come back. I want you to leave Unit 3, and come back to SO15. I think you’ve more than proved yourself. It’s time Zain. I think you’re ready.’
Zain felt a mix of elation – this was what he had secretly hankered after for a long time – and resentment. He wasn’t a dog, DCI Cross couldn’t just whistle and expect him to come running.
‘That’s quite an offer,’ he finally said.
‘I thought you’d bite my hand off.’
Was DCI Cross taking the piss? Was that some sort of thinly veiled canine analogy? Fuck that. And then that unbidden voice. That DCI Kate Riley needed him, that the loyalty he felt nowadays was not to DCI Cross, but to her. Not seeing her on a daily basis, he didn’t know if he could cope with that. He let the thoughts wash over him and go, not letting them drown him by struggling against them. It was a classic CBT response.
‘It’s very generous of you, sir . . .’
‘Think about it Zain. Carefully. I may not ask again.’
‘I will . . . Did you break into the directory?’
‘Of course. We found about thirty case files that Leakey and Rice were involved in. Details have been emailed to you just now. We also managed to track down contact details for the others involved in the decisions. Good luck.’
‘Thank you, sir. Another thing. Anya Fox-Leakey. I believe she may be hoarding money in an account in Panama.’
Zain wasn’t entirely convinced now that she was involved in her husband’s death, but he liked the idea of presenting her head on a platter in a way to Kate.
‘I see. I can ask the right people to look into this. But you know how closely MI6 and the Foreign Office work together. Leave it with me. And please Zain, think about my offer. And hopefully see you soon?’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’
Zain didn’t know what to think. When faced with such a dilemma, he did what he always did. Focused on what was in front of him, which was finding Julian Leakey’s killer.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
The case files were sad to read. People in dire need, turning to AREL for their last bid at life and health. Cases where parents were desperate to save their children, where men and women were desperate to save themselves for their children.
Each case was backed up by clinical need, with predictability of success and what the results would mean. It was horrific to read in parts. If this man, aged thirty-seven, was successfully treated with a new drug that dealt with a neuron dysfunction that would slowly paralyse his body, then the benefits would be realised in quite a significant population. If this two-month-old baby was given the same, given the extreme rarity of a two-month-year-old needing it, it just wouldn’t have the same impact.
‘Julian and his team made these decisions, usually in favour of the company. They needed to realise the most impact. If that baby was presented when there were no other cases, they approved the drug being given. Put the two-month up against the thirty-seven-year-old, and no chance.’
Zain was trying not to sound angry, as he presented what the files had shown him to Kate and the others. They were back in the conference room again, trying to form
ulate a way forward.
‘How many of these thirty cases did they reject?’ asked Kate.
‘Thirteen.’
‘That’s quite a lot of people.’
‘Yep. They basically signed the death warrants for the thirteen patients they rejected.’
‘That’s unfair isn’t it? I mean there was no alternative, the patients were going to die anyway? The drug was still in its testing phase?’ Michelle was trying to be reasonable.
‘They had a choice, they were the alternative. They decided not to go ahead with it though.’
‘So we have thirteen cases where possibly there is someone with a grudge against two of the deceased?’ said Kate.
‘Yes.’
‘Then that’s where we start.’
‘It still doesn’t connect to Mark and Natalie though,’ he told her. It was true.
Kate ran her fingers through her hair, and then across her jaw.
‘I’ve been thinking about both those cases. And I think the link may be collateral.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Stevie. ‘That sounds pretty harsh.’
‘I’m thinking that whoever is behind this, they may have been targeting Julian and Freya. Julian was killed using the toxin that Mark produced. Mark was killed to protect the murderer’s identity. Freya was probably a set-up, Julian was framed for it I think. I can’t believe he would kill her so coldly. And Natalie . . . well think about it. While she was missing, we thought she might be behind it all. So possibly she was deflection?’
‘Why kill her though?’
‘I know, it doesn’t make complete sense. But remember, we aren’t dealing with someone who is thinking logically. Things are messy and complicated, that’s what happens, even with ample planning.’
‘Collateral damage,’ whispered Zain.
‘I don’t know, these are just theories. Until we know for sure what we are dealing with, who we are dealing with, it’s all just my interpretation.’
‘It’s one that makes sense,’ said Stevie.
‘So I guess, we start exploring the cases Julian Leakey and Freya Rice rejected.’