Ken McClure - Eye of the raven

‘ Foolproof?’ asked Steven.

‘ No,’ replied Susan. ‘But it stops the more overt rubbish getting through the net. Apart from that, science has its own inherent safeguard.’

‘ How so?’

‘ Science is conservative with a capital “C”. If you try to publish work that sounds entirely new and radical, the scientific establishment won’t like it. Every aspect of your paper will be examined in minute detail by career scientists who will go through it with a fine-tooth comb, looking for reasons not to publish it. The work really has to be well done and that’s as it should be. Unfortunately, the other side of the coin is that if you submit work that supports the scientific establishment’s view of things, you will have a much easier time of it. Your paper will sail through the refereeing process. People see what they want to see.’

Steven nodded.

‘ So now you can guess what ninety percent of the research journals contain,’ said Susan with a wry smile.

‘ Nothing of any great import at all?’ ventured Steven.

‘ Right,’ laughed Susan. ‘They are full of work that amounts to little more than the crossing of t s and the dotting of i s, people telling each other what they want to hear, work confirming what has already been shown to be so. Some scientists have turned saying the same thing over and over again into a minor art form. But in a world where scientific achievement is equated with the number of papers you’ve had published, what else can you expect?’

‘ You make it all sound rather depressing,’ said Steven. ‘But I suppose it’s the best system we’ve got.’

‘ It is,’ smiled Susan. ‘But that doesn’t make it good.’

‘ How easy would it be to fake a DNA fingerprint match?’ asked Steven.

‘ If we’re talking about altering the actual gel data to make it appear that one person’s DNA fingerprint matched another’s, impossible I’d say. They are just so highly individual.’

‘ So you couldn’t see anyone attempting it?’

‘ Frankly, no.’

‘ How about simply photographing the same gel twice and pretending that they came from two different sources?’

‘ It would be quite obvious that the photographs had come from the same gel. There are always lots of little distinguishing marks in the polyacrylamide — that’s the jelly that the gel is made from. A first year student would spot it right away.’

‘ Could these marks not be removed by using the software you spoke about earlier?’

‘ There are just so many of them when you look through a magnifier that you would be left with something that had so obviously been doctored that no one would believe it anyway.’

‘ Good,’ said Steven. ‘So if you come up with a DNA match from the sample I’ve just given you it means that this man is guilty beyond doubt.’

‘ If the DNA from the buccal swab you took matches the DNA from the semen then it’s perfectly safe to say that they came from one and the same man — unless of course, he has an identical twin somewhere,’ said Susan.

‘ He hasn’t,’ said Steven.

‘ In that case, leave me your number and I’ll be in touch.’

Steven felt positive about his meeting with Susan Givens. She seemed impressively competent and her assertion of how difficult it would be to fake a DNA fingerprint had reassured him. He was on the way back to his hotel when Sci-Med called with details of John Merton’s whereabouts.

‘ He set up a business called Genecheck some seven years ago,’ said the duty officer. ‘It seems to have been very successful.’

‘ What do they do?’ asked Steven.

‘ Commercial DNA sequencing, paternity checks, inheritance lines, that sort of thing.’

‘ Sign of the times,’ said Steven. ‘Where about are they?’

‘ Nearest to you would be Glasgow — 471 Shamrock Street.’

‘ They have more than one place?’

‘ They’re listed in seven UK cities, only one in Scotland though.’

Steven checked his watch and did a mental calculation before concluding that he could comfortable cover the forty odd miles to Glasgow and find Shamrock Street before the end of the business day. He had however, failed to take account of the road works in Glasgow and it was nearly ten minutes to five when he drew up outside the building which housed Genecheck on its second floor.

‘ I wonder if I could have a word with Mr Merton,’ Steven asked the attractive girl who was in the process of tidying her desk before leaving.

‘ Who?’

‘ John Merton… I think he owns the company?’

‘ Oh, I see,’ said the girl, ‘that Mr Merton.’

‘ Uh huh,’ said Steven.

‘ Sorry, I’ve only been here a few months. I’ve not actually met Mr Merton yet. Mr Kelly is the manager here. Can I ask what it’s about?’

‘ It’s a private matter,’ said Steven.

‘ Usually is with our customers,’ smiled the girl.

Steven showed her his ID. ‘Perhaps I could talk to Mr Kelly?’

‘ Of course, Doctor. Just give me a moment.’ She relayed Steven’s request over the intercom on her desk and Steven heard the affirmative response. He was shown into another office, light, bright and furnished in modern style. A small, thin man, well-dressed in a pin stripe suit, stood up and asked in a gentle Irish accent what he could do for him.

‘ It was actually John Merton I wanted to see,’ said Steven, ‘but I understand he’s not around here very much?’

‘ The business has really taken off,’ said Kelly.

‘ Have you been with him long?’

‘ Almost from the outset. This was the first branch. I think he’s up to seven now and thinking about a move abroad.’

‘ I didn’t realise there was that much call for DNA sequencing among the public,’ said Steven.

‘ Neither did we,’ laughed Kelly. ‘How wrong we were. You wouldn’t believe just how much doubt there is out there over whose child is whose. It’s quite frightening. Skeletons are falling over each other to get out of cupboards! Apart from that we get quite a lot of veterinary work; race horses mainly.’

‘ Well, it’s an ill wind…’ said Steven.

‘ Quite so,’ agreed Kelly. ‘No complaints.’

‘ I need to talk to John about his previous life in the forensics lab in Edinburgh. Perhaps you can tell me how to get in touch with him?’

‘ Easier said than done most of the time,’ said Kelly. ‘He moves around so much that we had to start communicating by e-mail when we have something to say to each other — not that there’s that much call to. The place runs itself. Would you like me to have him get in touch with you? That might be easier.’

‘ I’d be obliged,’ said Steven, giving Kelly his phone number and e-mail address.’

‘ Would you like to see around?’ asked Kelly.

Steven declined. ‘I think I’ve seen enough labs recently.’

When he got back to his hotel he found a large Manila envelope waiting for him at reception. It was addressed to Dr S. Dunbar and marked, PERSONAL. It had, according to the woman behind the desk, been delivered by hand.

Steven took the envelope upstairs to his room and, despite a dislike of melodrama, held it up to the light and felt all around its edges before deciding that it contained just paper. Inside he found six photocopied sheets of A4 and a small, otherwise blank card bearing the inscription, ‘From someone who should know better and must remain anonymous.’ The word ‘anonymous’ was underlined twice. Steven smiled when he saw that the papers contained details of three prosecution cases that had been abandoned due to problems arising with the forensic evidence when Ronald Lee was in charge. McClintock had come up with the goods.