Ken McClure - Resurrection

‘I agree, it’s difficult and I’m not sure what their status is either but I need to find out as much as I can about them. Their names are, Siddiqui and Abbas. The pair of them put pressure on Ali Hammadi to do something for them. I’ve an idea what it was but I need to know whether he did it or not.’

‘And you can’t tell me what it was. Right?’

‘Not right now.’

Grant nodded and sucked his teeth slowly. ‘And if I say no?’

‘I’ll have to go above your head.’

‘Beats me why you didn’t do that in the first place,’ said Grant.

Dewar leaned towards him and said, ‘I thought we could work together. I don’t want to make waves right now in what is a very delicate situation. If I make a mistake and cry wolf where there isn’t one there could be all sorts of unpleasant repercussions, international ones. I could end up being hard-pushed to find work washing dishes.

But you won’t tell me what it’s all about?’

‘Officially I’m here to check that some routine regulations are being complied with. Ali Hammadi’s death was a complicating factor which is leading me to suspect that they have not been complied with. To what extent I’ve yet to find out. Officially, you would be helping me with this.’

‘Regulations,’ said Grant. ‘What sort of stakes are we talking about with these “regulations”?’

‘ On the one hand there could be nothing to worry about. On the other, we could be dealing with something that could affect the whole damned world, cause another war and wipe out millions.’

Grant let out a low whistle.

‘Are you up for it?’

‘I’m in. Can’t see me making superintendent any other way, the way I rub up folks the wrong way round here.’

‘Good. See what you can come up with on Siddiqui and Abbas. I’ll leave you my contact numbers. Get in touch as soon as you have anything. I’m going back to the Institute of Molecular Sciences.’

Dewar didn’t bother going through official channels this time. He simply entered the building behind a group of students and walked past the man on the desk with an air of authority that defied challenge in the untrained. ‘God,’ he thought to himself as the lift started to rise. ‘My grandmother’s coal cellar was more secure than this.

He knocked on the door of the Malloy lab and entered.

‘Hello,’ said Sandra Macandrew. She was alone. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again. Something you forgot?’

‘Is Steve around?’ asked Dewar, choosing to ignore her question.

‘He’s working at home this morning. He took his disks home. He had some paperwork to do for Professor Hutton and the gas board were coming to read his meter. Do you want me to call him?’

Dewar hesitated for a moment before saying. ‘Maybe I’ll go visit him at home. Can you give me his address?’

Sandra hesitated for a moment and Dewar saw her dilemma. He said, ‘If you’d rather, I‘ll go through the proper channels with Professor Hutton. I should have thought.’

Sandra smiled and insisted, ‘No, really. I’m being silly. We know you and you’re some kind of policeman anyway. Steve lives in a converted church building in a village to the south called Temple. Have you got a car?’

Dewar shook his head. ‘I was planning on going by taxi. Is it far?’

‘About eight miles from here. Not that far.’

‘That’s okay. Can you write it down?’

Sandra wrote down Malloy’s address and asked, ‘Would you like me to call you a cab from here?’

‘Thanks.’

Sandra picked up the phone and called the admin. section, asking for a taxi for a visitor to the lab who was just leaving. ‘There’ll be one here in seven minutes,’ she said to Dewar. ‘They always use the same company.’

‘Much obliged,’ said Dewar.

‘Have you managed to find out any more about Ali’s death?’

‘Bits and pieces,’ replied Dewar. ‘Nothing that helps terribly much. I don’t suppose you’ve remembered anything that might be useful?’

‘Where does smallpox come into it?’ asked Sandra, ignoring Dewar’s question and establishing eye contact.

‘Smallpox?’ repeated Dewar, taken aback and stalling for time.

Steve started asking all sorts of questions about the smallpox DNA fragments we’ve been using after your last visit. I thought there must be some connection between you, Ali’s death and the smallpox fragments.’

‘I can see why you’re doing a PhD,’ said Dewar. ‘What did Steve say exactly?’

‘He impressed upon George just how important it was that our stocks of fragments should all be accounted for in case there was an impromptu inspection. We were told we had to obey all the rules to the letter and start keeping the place tidier. He got on to Pierre about clearing out Ali’s stuff and creating more fridge space.’

Dewar stopped her with a raise of his hand. He asked, ‘Are you saying that Ali’s stuff wasn’t checked before the audit return was made?’

Sandra moved uncomfortably. ‘No, I’m not saying that at all. George checked it for listed smallpox DNA fragments; Steve asked him to,’ she replied defensively. ‘But naturally there were various tubes and bottles with labels he couldn’t decipher and Ali is no longer around to ask. Steve asked Pierre to take a look before we got rid of it to see if he could decipher anything.’

‘Shit,’ said Dewar

‘What difference does it make? Ali didn’t have anything the rest of us didn’t have access to.’

‘How do you know that?’ asked Dewar flatly.

‘Surely you’re not suggesting that Ali had some kind of secret project on the go?’

Dewar didn’t reply.

‘Oh my God,’ said Sandra. ‘That is what you think, isn’t it? It’s not really Ali’s suicide you’re concerned with at all. That’s not why you’re here. It’s something to do with this smallpox thing, something to do with the reason they banned movement of the fragments.’

There was no point in denying anything, Dewar concluded. He felt l like a government spokesman acknowledging the appearance of new variant CJD. — It was all right to eat your words as long as they didn’t contain beef. On the other hand he didn’t want to enter conversation about it. Instead, he simply asked, ‘Did Pierre Le Grice do what Steve asked him to do?’

‘I’ve not had occasion to look.’

‘Could you look now?’

Sandra looked surprised but she walked across the lab and opened the bottom door of a large fridge-freezer. ‘Yes,’ she said, getting down on her haunches to examine the contents. ‘It’s been cleared out.’

Dewar looked thoughtful.

The phone rang and broke the ensuing silence. ‘Your taxi,’ said Sandra.

‘Here we are,’ said the taxi driver over his shoulder as they drove into a small village of Temple in Midlothian. Dewar could see it was well cared for, pretty without being twee.

‘Where is it you’re looking for exactly?’

‘A converted church.’

‘Know it. They’re a’ goin’ that way these days,’ said the driver. ‘Carpet warehouses, offices, health clubs. Sign o’ the times.’ He pulled up outside the church at the edge of the village and said, ‘There you go.’

Dewar paid him and took a look at the building. There was very little from the outside to suggest that it wasn’t a parish church any longer. The only give-away was the fact that it’s front door had been altered and there was a letter box. He opened the iron gate and walked up the path between the gnarled yew trees on either side. He saw that autumn leaves had started to pile up against the wall exposed to the prevailing westerly wind. He knocked on the red door, wondering whether it would be loud enough. The wood seemed thick enough to absorb the sound but he couldn’t see any bell-push. The sound of music reached him from inside. The door opened and Steve Malloy stood there. Miles Davis was playing in the background.