Ken McClure: Trauma

Sarah pointed to the stairs at the back of the reception area and Lafferty nodded. But when they got to them they found that the stairs only went up. There were none leading down to the basement. Lafferty looked to his left and saw a door with a small glass panel in it. He went to have a look while Sarah checked the other side of the hall. Lafferty looked through the panel and saw steps leading down. “Over here!” he whispered.

Sarah joined him and he opened the door to let her pass through first. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that all was still quiet outside, Lafferty joined her and they descended to the basement corridor. There was a light on in the corridor — just a single bulkhead lamp, covered in a wire mesh, but it made Lafferty and Sarah look at each other apprehensively. They stood still for a few moments, listening, but there was no sound to indicate that they might not be alone.

“Maybe it’s a safety thing,” whispered Lafferty. Sarah shrugged. They walked along the corridor, slowly examining the rooms on either side as they looked for the Sigma Lab. Sarah found it. The door had a white plastic sign on it with green lettering saying, SIGMA LABORATORY, AUTHORIZED STAFF ONLY. She tried the door but it was locked. Glancing at Lafferty she smiled wryly as if embarrassed that they had not reckoned on that possibility.

Lafferty placed his palms against the door to get an idea of how solid it was. He moved his head from side to side to indicate that it did nor seem all that secure to him and looked around for something he might use as a jemmy, but he found nothing.

“Well,” he sighed, taking a pace backwards. “In for a penny...”

Lafferty threw his shoulder hard against the door and had the satisfaction of hearing splintering sounds. He did it twice more and the door swung back quietly on its hinges. “Can we risk the light?” asked Sarah. “There aren’t any windows.”

“Better not,” replied Lafferty. “These ventilation grilles may lead straight through to the outside.” He briefly highlighted two wire-covered squares on the wall with the torch, then pointed it at the floor again.

The room was bigger than either of them had thought from the outside. It was actually a double room, with two doors leading out to the corridor. One half was obviously used for working on the bodies when they arrived. It had an operating table mounted on a central pedestal with a surgical lamp mounted above it. Instruments were arranged on metal trays on a side bench. There were two stainless steel sinks, one equipped with elbow taps so that they could be turned on and off without the operator having to use his hands.

“Could organs he removed here,” Lafferty asked Sarah.

“No,” replied Sarah firmly. “The facilities are not nearly good enough. This set up is just what you would need for removal of the Sigma probes.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary?” asked Lafferty.

Sarah shook her head and they moved through a central partition into the other half of the room. On the left was a small refrigerated body vault capable of accommodating two bodies. Lafferty swallowed as the torch beam picked out a coffin sitting opposite on the side bench. Sarah gripped his arm as they approached and looked at the lid. There was a brass plate fixed to it. On it was the inscription, MARTIN KEEGAN, RIP. The lid was loose and Lafferty pushed it aside. It was empty.

“The body’s missing,” he said.

“Try the fridge,” said Sarah.

Lafferty pulled the clasp and released the fridge door. There was no light inside so Sarah held the torch while he examined the contents. There was one white-shrouded body inside; the label attached to the big toe of the left foot said, Martin Keegan. Lafferty stood up straight and felt thoroughly dejected. “Well, that’s that,” he said, berating himself. “All wrong... we got it all wrong.”

“Not necessarily,” said Sarah softly. “With Logan being away, they may have decided not to use Martin Keegan’s body. It doesn’t mean to say they didn’t steal the others.”

“I suppose not,” agreed Lafferty. “But this was our last chance to prove it.” He was about to shut the fridge door when Sarah suddenly said, “Wait!”

“What is it?” asked Lafferty, alarmed at the note in her voice. He could see by reflected torch light that Sarah was staring at something in the fridge, but he couldn’t understand what. Her hand was shaking slightly and the movement was amplified in the torch beam.

“His foot,” said Sarah.

“What about it?”

“His left foot is undamaged. Martin Keegan’s left foot was badly injured in his accident.”

Lafferty gripped the end of the tray that the sheet-covered corpse was lying on and slid it out of the fridge.

The sheet was cold and damp as he unwound it from the head. He heard Sarah gasp as it came away. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed, taking a step backwards. “It’s Derek Logan!”

Lafferty saw that she was right. He remembered Logan from the night he had caught the three of them together in HTU. “The much maligned Dr Logan,” he said thoughtfully.

Sarah looked utterly bemused. “I don’t understand,” she confessed. “What’s going on?”

“I think we may have done Dr Logan a disservice,” said Lafferty. “We let dislike colour our judgement.”

“You mean he wasn’t involved in the body theft?” asked Sarah in astonishment. “But he was always on about the lack of transplant organs and how Murdoch Tyndall didn’t press the relatives hard enough for them!”

“We didn’t know about his son,” said Lafferty. “We should have listened more carefully to what Logan was complaining about. I think Murdoch Tyndall didn’t press the relatives for permission... because he didn’t want them to give permission!”

“What?” exclaimed Sarah.

“It makes sense now. John Main said that Tyndall asked him at precisely the wrong moment. You yourself suggested he did the same thing with the O’Donnells. He did that because he didn’t want the relatives to give transplant permission.”

“But why not?”

“Because he and his brother wanted to use the bodies for something else,” said Lafferty.

Sarah’s mouth fell open. “But what?” she asked in a voice that shock had reduced to a whisper.

“I don’t know, Sarah,” said Lafferty.

“But why kill Logan?” asked Sarah, desperate to seek out flaws in Lafferty’s argument.

“I think when Logan came to see you about telling tales to Tyndall he suddenly realised that there was something fishy about the whole thing. He realised while he was speaking to you that Tyndall must actually have wanted the relatives to say no. He must have gone to Tyndall to have it out with him — the row you heard them having. When he didn’t get any joy out of Tyndall he, like us, must have worked out that removal of the Sigma probes presented the best chance for ‘diverting’ the bodies. He must have come here to the Institute and this is the result.” They both looked down at Logan’s corpse.

“Good God,” said Sarah.

A sudden whirring noise startled them. “What is it,” asked Sarah, her voice betraying panic.

“A lift!” replied Lafferty, suddenly realising what the sound was. He caught a glimpse of light coming from a slight crack in one of the wall panels. Pulling Sarah out of the way, he indicated that she get under the bench. As soon as she was hidden, he joined her. A few seconds later they heard the lift come to a halt and the wall panel slide back.

Lafferty couldn’t see who got out, only that it was a man, and he was wearing white surgical trousers and short, white rubber boots. The man crossed the lab and let out an oath when he reached the door to the corridor and saw the burst lock. “Jesus H. Christ!” he exclaimed and then started running along the corridor.