Ken McClure - Pandora's Helix

“The story’s not exactly done the company much good either,” said Neef. “They are absolutely adamant that nothing from their lab could have caused the outbreak. The trouble is no one is going to listen to them.”

“Bloody newspapers.”

“Before you ask, it wasn’t Eve Sayers who wrote the story.”

“That’s something, I suppose. You got my memo about the ban on Menogen products?”

“I did.”

“I know you were keen on trying out that last one but that’s how it goes.”

“I suppose,” said Neef. Now was not the time to tell Heaton what he’d done. Unauthorized treatment of a patient at St George’s with an experimental product from Menogen Research was not exactly the light relief he was looking for. The fact that the patient was a young boy without mother or father to look after his interests would make him an exploited helpless guinea pig as far as the tabloids were concerned. Truth wouldn’t get a look in.

Eve arrived at the cottage around eight.

“Are you hungry?” asked Neef.

“I had some pasta before I wrote up my report,” replied Eve.

“Did you pick up anything useful at Sutton Place?”

“Klein spoke to us. He said their inquiries were continuing. Everyone wanted to know about the killer virus and how it had escaped from Menogen’s labs. Klein and Waters went into a bullshit routine; they didn’t have the decency to admit that they had no evidence of this at all so I gave them a hard time.”

“How so?”

“I asked them publicly if they knew about the Langholm address link before it appeared in the papers. Klein talked round the question for a bit but in the end, I pinned him down and he admitted he hadn’t. The staffer from the Express then saw his chance and tried to get Klein to say that his paper had therefore been instrumental in providing a valuable lead in the investigation. I pointed out that, as there was no evidence at all to back up their claims, the Express story had been malicious rather than helpful.”

“Good for you,” said Neef.

“The Express man wasn’t too pleased,” said Eve. “Asked me whose side I was on. I then asked Klein if he had shut down a perfectly responsible company solely on the say-so of an unsubstantiated newspaper report. He said not so I asked what his reasons were. He said he couldn’t divulge them at present. It would not be in the public interest.”

“You mean, he hasn’t thought of any yet.”

“That would be my guess too,” said Eve. “Just for good measure, I asked him if it was true that Menogen Research were taking legal action over the closure.”

“Are they?” asked Neef.

“I’ve no idea but I would if I were them. Friend Klein turned a whiter shade of pale and said that he couldn’t comment.

Neef poured two gin and tonics and handed one to Eve. “Sounds like you’re been at war with everyone,” he said.

“Feels like it too,” said Eve, taking a sip of her drink. “You know, something’s been bugging me all day.”

“What?”

“You said that only three people knew about the Langholm address link?”

“Yes.”

“You, me... and David Farro-Jones?”

“Yes.”

“Supposing it was David Farro-Jones who leaked the story to the papers.”

Neef looked at her in silence for a moment. “You can’t be serious,” he said.

Eve shrugged. “I know he’s a friend of yours but if it wasn’t you and it wasn’t me, that only leaves him.”

“But why would he do that?” protested Neef.

“That’s what I’ve been wondering about,” said Eve. “David Farro-Jones is a molecular biologist like Max, making Gene Therapy vectors like Max... but maybe not so good?”

Neef’s eyes widened. “You’re suggesting that David wanted to damage Menogen because of jealousy; they were more successful than he was?”

“I’m not sure of his reasons,” said Eve. “But it’s a thought. You said yourself there’s a lot of money to be made out of successful vectors for Gene Therapy. Anything that damaged Menogen would benefit the competition including David Farro-Jones.”

Neef shook his head as if he was unwilling to contemplate Eve’s suggestion but he found he could not dismiss it altogether. “I suppose it’s a possibility,” he conceded.

It was a possibility that was to prevent Neef from getting a good night’s sleep. He lay awake in the small hours wondering if David Farro-Jones were capable of doing such a thing. It seemed so totally out of character. He always seemed to have the best interests of the patients at heart. David had been the one to warn him about Max Pereira’s driving ambition, suggesting that Max couldn’t be trusted. What if it was really him and not Max who was being driven by greed and ambition?

One thought led to another. If Farro-Jones had been intent on damaging Menogen, maybe he been prepared to go further than just leak information to the papers. The question now was, had he actually been prepared to impede the investigation of the outbreak so that suspicion would remain with Menogen? After all, David had been in charge of the hunt for the virus. He was also, as Neef suddenly thought, the investigator of Eddie Miller’s claim that there had been an earlier cancer case than Melanie Simpson. He gave up trying to sleep and got up to make some coffee.

Neef got in at eight next morning to discover that Neil had had a bad night. He went immediately to see him and find out for himself. Neil’s eyes were dull; the spark had gone from them. It was something he had seen so often before in terminally ill patients. Neil’s life had started to ebb away. “Hi Tiger, how are you doing?” he asked softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his forefinger along Neil’s forehead. Ostensibly it was an affectionate gesture but it told Neef something about the feel of Neil’s skin. He found nothing reassuring there.

“That injection we gave you yesterday is going to make you all better,” said Neef. “Then we’ll go see Dolly at my place, would you like that?”

Neil did not respond. He continued to look into space with lacklustre eyes.

“Maybe we’ll even go on another picnic with Eve,” continued Neef. “We’ll eat too many pies again and race our boats in the river. You’re not going to win this time!”

Neef still couldn’t elicit a response.

Suddenly Neil said quietly, “Want Eve.”

“She’ll be here soon,” said Neef. “I promise.”

“Want Eve,” whispered Neil.

Neef got up and looked down at the boy with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Maybe Eve was going to be too late.

Neef hurried back to his office and tried phoning her. There was no answer so he left a message on her answer phone for her to call him urgently. He tried calling the offices of the Citizen but was told Eve wasn’t there.

Max Pereira came in at eleven and Neef told him about Neil.

“Shit,” said Pereira. “There was always a chance he was too far gone to be helped.”

Neef nodded.

“It may be a reaction to the virus we injected yesterday,” said Pereira.

“How so?” asked Neef.

“Although the virus wouldn’t do him any harm it would still challenge his immune system and make him feel under the weather. If he wasn’t feeling that great to begin with...”

“He wasn’t,” confirmed Neef.

“Then he would feel pretty bad.”

“I hope to God it’s just that,” said Neef, “but I fear not. I think he’s letting go, and I don’t think we can do anything about it. I tried this morning without success.” He looked at his watch. “He asked for Eve but I haven’t been able to contact her. I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t get a chance to see him one more time before...”