Ken McClure - Trauma

“I hadn’t realised I was so hungry,” said Lafferty with satisfaction when he’d finished eating. “I really enjoyed that.”

“If you’ve been living on stale bread and eggs I’m not surprised,” said Sarah.

As they sipped coffee, Sarah said, “From what you’ve told me it seems that what we really need is one of these electronic key cards. If we had one, we could get into the building at night when no one was around and take a look at the Sigma lab for ourselves.”

“But we haven’t got one,” said Lafferty. “And what’s more, we’re not likely to get one either.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I’ll have to try getting to Martin Keegan’s coffin in the mortuary before they take it away on Thursday,” said Lafferty.

Sarah’s mouth fell open. “But you said yourself they are going to be on their guard. You don’t have a chance!” she protested.

Lafferty couldn’t offer up a sound argument. He simply said, “I’ve got to try, Sarah.”

Sarah looked at him and saw that he was determined. She continued to watch him when he diverted his eyes and was suddenly very afraid for his safety. “There might be another way,” she said quietly.

“What other way?” said Lafferty.

“I could still try to arrange a meeting with Cyril Tyndall.”

“But you said yourself that you will not be allowed to leave HTU while they are short-staffed.” said Lafferty.

“That’s true,” agreed Sarah hesitantly, “but I might still be able to arrange a meeting.”

Lafferty looked blank. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why? How?”

Sarah looked a little embarrassed. She said, “I was foolish enough to believe that Cyril was interested in me professionally when I met him at a reception in the hospital. That may not have been entirely true...”

Lafferty still looked blank. He said, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow you.”

Sarah smiled indulgently and said, “Ryan, he was more interested in me as a woman.”

“Oh I see,” said Lafferty. “Well, that’s very understandable. You’re very attractive.”

Sarah felt taken aback and was suddenly unsure of herself. She said, “Thank you.”

Lafferty held Sarah’s gaze for a moment which seemed suddenly to last too long for both of them. Sarah continued, “If I could arrange some kind of meeting with Cyril, under false pretences, perhaps I might get a chance to ‘borrow’ his electronic key.”

Lafferty’s eyes opened wide. He said, “That sounds like a very dangerous game to play, Sarah. You shouldn’t lead a man on like that.”

“Cyril is a pussy cat,” said Sarah. “He’s hopeless with women, a shy, academic introvert.”

“I still don’t like it,” said Lafferty.

“Let’s face it, Ryan. It’s our only chance.”

Lafferty scratched his head in anguish. He saw that Sarah was right but still didn’t like what she planned to do.

Sarah smiled at his discomfort and said gently, “It will be all right. Really it will.”

Lafferty finally shrugged and nodded his agreement.

“Can I use your phone?”

“Of course.”

“I’d rather be alone,” said Sarah.

Lafferty got up and left the room.

Cyril Tyndall’s secretary answered.

“May I speak to Professor Tyndall please? It’s Dr Lasseter.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I rather think he’s just left... Oh no, hang on.”

Sarah could hear the woman calling out Tyndall’s name in the background and then the receiver being picked up again. “I’ve managed to catch him, Doctor.”

“Thank you,” said Sarah, looking at her watch. She hadn’t realised it was getting late.

“Tyndall here.”

“Professor? It’s Sarah Lasseter. I must apologise for not having called you earlier. Please forgive my rudeness.”

“Not at all, Doctor. My brother explained the position to me. I quite understand.”

“I really am most disappointed, Professor, I was so looking forward to renewing our acquaintance...” Sarah said it in what she hoped was a sexy sounding voice. “Your work is absolutely fascinating.” Sarah screwed her face up in embarrassment at what she was doing. She couldn’t remember feeling so stupid. But it appeared to be working.

“Really?” said Tyndall slowly as if he was weighing up the possibilities. “I should be delighted to tell you more, Doctor. Perhaps we could meet sometime, even if you won’t be coming here to work?”

Sarah blew a silent kiss into the air and said, “I was rather hoping you might suggest that,” she cooed.

“When would be convenient?” Tyndall asked, sounding more than a little flustered.

“As soon as you like,” cooed Sarah, screwing up her face again. “But you must be very busy...”

“My diary is rather full,” agreed Tyndall. “Perhaps... It occurs to me that we might be able to meet, well, outside working hours?”

“What an excellent idea,” said Sarah, offering up silent thanks again. “How about this evening?”

There was a pause before Tyndall cleared his throat and said, “This evening? I don’t see why not. Could you perhaps come to my house?”

“Sounds perfect,” said Sarah, trying to keep a note of triumph out of her voice.

“I’m afraid I live outside the city,” said Tyndall.

“No problem,” said Sarah. “I have a car.”

“Shall we say eight o’clock then?”

“Eight o’clock,” repeated Sarah and wrote down the address.

Sarah opened the door and called Lafferty back into the room. “It worked. I’m going to see him this evening at his house.”

Lafferty didn’t know whether to be pleased or apprehensive, but smiled at Sarah’s obvious enthusiasm.

“If I succeed in getting the key, I’ll come back here and we can go to the Institute tonight,” said Sarah.

“You mustn’t take risks, Sarah. Apart from anything else, you have to think of your career. Not only are you leading the professor on, you are planning to commit the theft with a view to breaking and entering.”

Sarah’s elation suddenly died. She said, “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“There’s still time to change your mind,” said Lafferty.

“I’m going,” said Sarah firmly.

When it was time to leave, Lafferty saw Sarah out to her car and wished her luck. He warned her once again not to take any unnecessary risks and she moved off with a last assurance and a wave of her hand. He stood for a moment by the kerb after her car had disappeared round the corner, wishing in his heart that she wasn’t going.

Sarah made her way towards the city by-pass and picked up speed as she joined it from the slip road with a quick glance over her shoulder. With the car comfortably settled at sixty-five, and the traffic sparse at seven-fifteen in the evening, she relaxed a little and turned on the radio. She changed station three times before finding some music she liked. She didn’t know the name of the piece but she did know it was Mozart.

As her Fiesta ate up the miles, she gave thanks for the by-pass which took her all the way round the outside of the city and brought her to the coast road, which she joined at the small village of Longniddry. Her speed dropped considerably on the winding road that now traced the shoreline eastwards, but a glance at her watch told her she still had plenty of time to reach the coastal town — where Tyndall lived — by eight o’clock. Although it was dark, the night was clear and there was no sign of the rain promised by the local weather forecast at six. At five to eight she found the road where Tyndall lived and started looking for the house.

The Elms was a large, detached Victorian villa which looked less than welcoming on a dark night. Apart from a dim porch-light, there was no sign of a light on in the rest of the house. This puzzled Sarah, but there was no mistake; this was the house. Its name was etched into the stone pillar that supported a gate that had obviously not been closed for many a long year. She locked her car and walked up the gravel path leading to the front door. There was a large, brass bell-push on the wall. She pushed it and heard it ring somewhere inside. After a few moments, she heard footsteps and felt her throat tighten with nerves. Cyril Tyndall opened the door.