Ken McClure - Deception

‘Does the name, Thomas Rafferty, ring a bell?’

‘No.’

‘How about, McGraw and Littlejohn?’ Steven asked, naming Rafferty’s solicitors.

Roberta shook her head. ‘Afraid not.’

‘Well, thanks for your help anyway,’ said Steven preparing to leave, ‘and I do hope things work out for you.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Roberta as an idea came to her. She went back to the filing cabinet where she’d taken the sequence from and had another look at the sheet of film. ‘Would you pass me that lens?’ she said, indicating to the bench. Steven handed her a magnifying eye lens of the sort used by jewellers and she used it to examine the upper edge of the film. ‘Ah, here we are,’ she said. ‘We usually write some ID on the film before putting it into the communal developing tank so we know which one is which. Roberta read the marking out slowly as she deciphered it. 'Oilseed rape... Agrigene... Peat Ridge... Sigma 5... That’s it. Mean anything?’

‘Some of it,’ said Steven. He made a note of it all. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d keep our conversation to yourself.’

Roberta smiled and said, ‘Of course.’

Steven called in at Fildes’ office on the way out to thank him for his help. He found him apologetic about not having been more so. ‘Was Roberta able to help you at all?’ he asked. Steven thought the man seemed anxious.

‘Not really, but it was just a case of checking up on a few details. Nothing to worry about.’

‘So we’ll not be getting a roasting over the stuff that should have been on file?’ asked Fildes. He said it half jokingly but Steven could see that he was genuinely worried. ‘I can quite understand how it must have happened,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Dr Millar must have had a lot on his mind, not least the prospect of seeing his first grandson. Let’s say, if you’re prepared to forget about my visit, so am I.’

Fildes let out his breath in a controlled manner but it still came across to Steven as an indication of relief.

‘That’s very understanding of you,’ said Fildes. ‘Can I offer you some lunch?’

‘I’d best be getting back.’

Just what the hell was going on? Steven wondered as he got into his car and clunked the door shut. First, both copies of the licensed sequence go missing and then a misleading (deliberately?) report is put out by a government scientist who then takes early retirement and disappears to South Africa without leaving anything on file about the contract.

Shit! This was not what he had wanted to hear at all. He had come to Ayrshire to listen to apologies from a scientist who had been a bit vague and thoughtless in the wording of his report, a scientist who would be all too keen to put the record straight and who would be offering to help in any way he could. Instead he was left with a mess of doubts suspicions and unanswered questions.

Steven decided that he was hungry after all. His initial plan to drive back to the east was put on hold while he pulled into the hotel he had visited earlier for coffee and opted for a smoked trout salad and a beer. The food was good, as was the beer, but neither did much to cheer him because he now recognised that he would have to report back to Macmillan that he did in fact, think there was something suspicious going on in Blackbridge, something that Sci-Med should concern itself with. At this moment he did not know exactly what it was but he now believed that he should try to find out. One thing was unfortunately certain; he would not be seeing the back of Blackbridge just yet.

Millar’s sudden decision to go for early retirement and his going off to South Africa with his wife to see a first grandchild they had not seen before, suggested strongly that the man had come into some money. If they hadn’t already seen their first grandchild, it was probably because they couldn’t afford the trip. Now, suddenly, they could. Coincidence? Well, it could be that Millar might have won the lottery or inherited some money or an endowment policy might have matured, Steven recognised, but all the same, the possibility that he had been paid to deliberately supply a misleading report was his current personal favourite in the explanation stakes.

He then thought about the markings on the DNA sequence film — information that he’d avoided showing any reaction to in Roberta’s presence. Everything was obvious with the exception of the name, Sigma 5. That could be important. It could even be the name of the company that had commissioned the misleading report, knowing that it would go out on official MAFF headed paper and appear utterly convincing.

Steven wondered on the drive back from Ayrshire about how he was going to tell Macmillan of his decision. Normally, when the man on the ground decided that there was something for Sci-Med to get involved in, he would send a coded computer message, indicating that a fully-fledged investigation had now begun. This automatically triggered a number of responses at Sci-Med in London. Two credit card accounts would be activated to ensure that the investigator had access to all the funds he might need. The local police in his operating area would be informed by the Home Office that a Sci-Med inspector was in the area and they would be requested to co-operate fully with him. All further communication between the investigator and Sci Med would be carried out using encrypted computer messaging and a special phone number, manned day and night. In addition to this, the man on the ground would have access to a wide range of back-up services and even the supply of a weapon should he deem it necessary, although Steven hardly thought this would apply in this case. In exchange for all this unquestioning support the inspector must have what Macmillan termed succinctly as, ‘a bloody good reason’ for calling a code red.

What Steven had to decide now was, should he just call the code or should he talk to Macmillan first to discuss the ‘warning off’ aspect of the Blackbridge situation? On a more mundane level he also had to decide where he was going to stay because he certainly didn’t want to stay in Blackbridge itself. It only had one hotel and he would be in too close proximity to officialdom because, as Eve Ferguson had already told him, the place was full of squabbling officials.

Steven decided against the hotel where he had spent the previous night simply because he didn’t like it. It had been all right for one night but he had no idea at this stage how long he was going to be working on the case. He wanted something different from a concrete tower block of identical cells.

He knew where his train of thought was taking him and felt a bit apprehensive over it. He and Lisa had come to a concert at the Edinburgh Festival the year before she died and they had stayed over at a small hotel in the south west of the city. He might be courting the ghosts of times past but he decided that he was going to go there. Seeking association with times past hadn’t worked out too well in the past but he still felt that he wanted to do it.

In the immediate weeks after Lisa’s death he had gone to all the places that had meant so much to them during their time together in the hope of recapturing a feeling of closeness to her but this had failed miserably. All he had found in these places was a mind-numbing sense of loneliness. He was acutely aware of the possibility of this happening again but then again, he reasoned, things just might be different now that more time had passed?

Steven was in Edinburgh by four thirty and had checked in to the Grange Hotel in the quiet well-heeled south west of the city by five. He didn’t have the same room as last time but the view from the window was the same. He stood there, looking out and remembering Lisa pointing out the wishing well at the foot of the garden and saying that they must visit it before they left.