Ken McClure - Pandora's Helix

“A pity,” said Neef.

“Everyone was so disappointed,” said Mrs Little, looking wistful. “Especially Dr Farro-Jones. I think he designed the new treatment.”

“Yes, he did,” said Neef, his pulse rate rising. “Did you see Dr Farro-Jones after that?” he asked.

“He came to visit. Ever such a nice man, a real gentleman. He really cared about the patients. He came to see how Susan was getting on.”

“He came here?” asked Neef.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“The first time was just after the new treatment failed, about a year ago, I suppose. He said it wouldn’t be long before they had sorted out the problems and they’d have another go at curing Susan.”

“Did you see him again?”

“Two or three months ago.”

Neef felt his mouth go dry. “He came here again?”

“Yes, he had been working on a new treatment and was offering Susan first chance of it before they’d even started using it in the hospital. Susan was really pleased. She liked Dr Farro-Jones. He’s very good looking you see and her being of an age...”

Neef smiled. “What happened?”

Dr Farro Jones came here to treat her. It was our secret, he said.

“What sort of treatment?” asked Neef.

“It was very simple,” said Mrs Little. “Dr Farro-Jones just put a couple of small tubes up her nose and made her breathe deeply for a few minutes. There was no pain or anything.”

Neef swallowed. Here was the gas that Public Health had started out looking for only it wasn’t a gas, it was a virus suspension being administered by nebuliser, one prepared by an over-ambitious son of a bitch who had by-passed all the rules.

“Then what happened?” he asked.

“Susan didn’t get any better, in fact her illness took a turn for the worse and she had to be admitted to the hospital. Her lungs had filled up, you see. Dr Farro-Jones explained that the new treatment had come too late to save her. He was very upset. He even attended the funeral. Such a nice man, dedicated if you know what I mean?”

Neef nodded. He knew what she meant. He also understood what Pereira meant when he had called Farro-Jones a few other things.

“Did Susan know a girl named Melanie Simpson?” asked Neef.

“There was a girl called, Melanie; they were in the girl guides together. I don’t know if her last name was Simpson. Why?”

“Did Melanie ever come here?”

“She came to visit Susan just before she went into hospital for the last time. She had been sent by the Guides to wish her well. You should have seen the flowers they sent.”

“How about Jane Lees?”

“Jane came too,” said Mrs Little.

“How did Susan know Jane?”

“Jane lives next door to my mother. Susan used to play with her when we went over there on a Wednesday and Sunday. They were good friends, the two of them.”

“Did you know that Jane had died?” Neef asked.

Mrs Little nodded. “Cancer,” she said.

“Melanie too,” said Neef.

Mrs Little looked shocked. “I didn’t know about Melanie,” she said. “What an awful...” Her face suddenly showed confusion and uncertainty. “Why are you here?” she asked. “Why are you asking all these questions? What’s going on?”

The door bell rang. Neef stiffened. He listened as the door was opened.

“Dr Farro-Jones! What a surprise. We were just talking about you.”

“Really?” said Farro-Jones’ voice. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, Doctor. Maybe someone round here will tell me what this is all about.”

Farro-Jones entered the room ahead of Mrs Little. He smiled uneasily at Neef. “Hello, Michael, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Really?” replied Neef with cold accusation in his eyes.

“What has Mrs Little been telling you?”

“Everything,” replied Neef flatly.

Mrs Little looked confused. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on,” she pleaded.

Neef and Farro-Jones ignored her.

“So what now?” asked Farro-Jones, still managing a smile, but Neef thought his eyes told a different story. He saw trepidation there. The smile was just bravado. “How deep shit am I in?”

“Terminally deep,” said Neef. “I know what you did.”

“I see.” Farro-Jones began to ring his hands nervously and run his fingers through his hair. “I don’t suppose it will do any good to point out that I did it for the best?”

Neef shook his head. “You did it for yourself, nobody else. And you’ve ended up killing several people.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It was just fate, just bloody bad luck. I didn’t know the vector virus was going to turn out to be carcinogenic for Christ’s sake and there was certainly no way I could have foreseen it becoming infectious through DNA repair. How could I? I thought when Susan got cancer, it was just a bit of bad luck and that was an end to it.”

“Cancer?” exclaimed Mrs Little. “My Susan had cancer?”

“Dr Farro-Jones’ new treatment gave her cancer, Mrs Little,” said Neef without taking his eyes off Farro-Jones. “She didn’t die of cystic fibrosis. Dr Farro-Jones just pretended she had.”

“I explained there was a risk,” said Farro-Jones.

“Was Eddie Miller just bad luck too?”

“Drunken sot,” said Farro-Jones under his breath.

“I think it’s time we spoke to the police,” said Neef.

“Face the music eh?” said Farro-Jones attempting to affect a smile again. “I think not.”

Neef felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he saw the look in Farro-Jones’ eyes. “You can’t seriously believe that you can get away with it?” he asked, sounding braver than he felt.

“Everything that could convict me is sitting in this room right now,” said Farro-Jones.

Mrs Little was totally bemused. “What’s going on?” she almost screamed. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?”

Both Neef and Farro-Jones ignored her.

“You’re wrong,” said Neef. “I wrote a letter to Frank MacSween before I came over here. Frank won’t rest until you’re brought to justice. You’re responsible for killing his grandson.”

“MacSween’s still away on leave,” said Farro-Jones. “Let’s stop playing silly buggers shall we?...”

Farro Jones suddenly picked up the iron that was sitting on the ironing board beside him and hurled it at Neef.

It was only a distance of ten feet; Neef had no time to avoid it. It hit him high up on the left temple and a sudden sharp pain was replaced by blackness.

Neef came round to a world of pain, suffocating heat and the sounds of a woman screaming. He tried to move from where he lay on the floor but pain ignited inside his head and made him retch. He tried again and found he couldn’t breathe when he tried to sit up. The flat was on fire and the air was full of smoke. Suddenly very much awake, he sank back down to floor level again where he could find some air and started to crawl towards where he thought the screams were coming from. He found Mrs Little in the hallway; she had been trying to reach the door but her slippers had caught fire and she was hopping around in agony as she tried to pull them off.

Neef could see that the blaze had been started in the hall. There had been deliberate intent to block access to the outside door. There was no way out. He pulled Mrs Little, who was hysterical, down to floor level and tore her slippers off. Next he pulled her along the floor back into the living room as far away from the main blaze as possible. She kept trying to resist, seeing the door as her avenue of escape.

“Stay down,” he yelled against the noise of the fire, pushing Mrs Little’s face down to floor level. “There’s air down here!”