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Authors: Ken McClure

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The Lazarus Strain (26 page)

BOOK: The Lazarus Strain
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‘You know,’ said Macmillan, not sounding too surprised, ‘I’ve been sitting here wondering about that petrol receipt. If it had been found among general detritus on the floor of the van, I might just have bought it, but it was the
only
thing the police found in the van apart from the monkey hair . . .’

‘So you agree?’

‘I do. I think it was a plant.’

‘Did anything else strike you?’ asked Steven.

‘One thing,’ said Macmillan. ‘I see from your report that you asked about the sale of primates up and down the country?’

‘I was trying to find out how the opposition got their hands on a monkey to plant in the wilds of Norfolk for the army to find,’ said Steven. ‘But I drew a blank. The only orders for primates placed in the previous three months came from recognised research labs.’

‘That’s true,’ said Macmillan. ‘But one of them was the Crick.’

‘Professor Devon was using them to test his experimental vaccine on,’ said Steven.

‘The last order - for six monkeys - was placed a week after Devon died.’

‘Shit, I missed that.’

‘The real question is who wanted them and why?’ said Macmillan. ‘According to your report, Professor Devon was the only researcher using monkeys at the institute. When Dr Martin took over the work on a vaccine against Cambodia 5 there was no question of her being able to try it out on animals. Apart from there being no time, everyone had learned their lesson from the Devon debacle. Any animal tests to be carried out involving Cambodia 5 would have to be done out at Porton Down.’

‘Good point,’ agreed Steven. ‘Maybe I’ll go up to the Crick first thing tomorrow and find out who placed the order . . .’

Steven smiled as he put down the phone. It was good to see that John Macmillan was still as sharp as ever. He called the garage to ask why his replacement car had not turned up.

‘We were promised it this morning but it didn’t happen,’ said Stan Silver, the owner of the small garage who’d supplied Steven’s cars and who had looked after them for several years. Although they’d never served in the regiment at the same time together, Silver had also served with the SAS. ‘I phoned at the back of four and they said it was ‘in transit’. It’s still not appeared.’

‘I need a car first thing in the morning, Stan.’

‘There’s an old Nissan Primera you could have . . . rear spoiler and everything . . . Hello? Are you still there?’

‘I assumed you were having a laugh,’ said Steven coldly.

‘Okay, okay, look, there’s a Porsche 911 I could let you have but I have to have it back by tomorrow night at the latest. A customer’s coming in to see it first thing on Thursday morning and I need this sale. Definitely no cliff diving. Understood?’

‘Highly amusing,’ said Steven. ‘I’ll have it back, Stan; I promise.’

 

In the morning, Steven decided to drop in and see Frank Giles before driving on to the Crick Institute. As it happened, Giles was just coming out of the building as Steven was parking the Porsche.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Giles. ‘A silver Porsche . . . supplied by Stan Silver Motors,’ he said, reading from the rear screen. ‘You’ve come up in the world.’

‘It turns into a pumpkin at midnight,’ said Steven. ‘Mine for a day.’

‘Bad luck. You coming to see me?’

‘I was passing so I thought I’d pop in and see if you’d caught the bastard who rolled me off the bridge,’ said Steven.

Giles shook his head. ‘He abandoned the stolen vehicle half a mile up the road and disappeared into the night. We’ve absolutely nothing to go on.’

‘May he rot in hell,’ said Steven.

‘Mustn’t let a little thing like attempted murder become personal,’ said Giles. ‘It strikes me as odd though . . .’

‘What does?’

‘According to your statement, he reversed and deliberately pushed you off the bridge.’

‘He did.’

‘Why? Your car was disabled and you didn’t get a look at him on the way past: you said he was all wrapped up against the cold. Why stop, reverse and try to kill you?’

‘Who knows? I suppose I was pretty abusive: I shouted at him.’

‘You must have really pissed him off . . .’ said Giles. ‘If a bit of road rage escalated to that . . . in such a short space of time . . .’

‘Sign of the times,’ said Steven.

‘Maybe . . .’

‘Well, I don’t think I want to go there right now,’ said Steven.

‘Just a thought,’ said Giles. ‘Where
do
you want to go right now?’

Steven told him about going to the Crick and why.

‘Let me know how you get on.’

 

Steven did not have much interest in cars but had to admit that the drive over to the Crick in a Porsche 911 was something to savour. He knew the car had a marvellous reputation and now he understood why. It stuck to the road like glue as he pushed it harder and harder through the corners. He was feeling quite exhilarated and more than a little disappointed that the journey was over when he reached the institute and nursed the car in through the gates to park in front of the newly rendered façade of the building.

‘I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again,’ said Nick Cleary with a smile. He’d come along to Reception to meet Steven. ‘I’d like to think this is social but I fear not?’

‘There’s something I need your help with,’ said Steven. ‘Monkeys. The Crick put in an order for six of them a week after Professor Devon died.’

‘Did we? I can’t think why off-hand but I can check if you like.’

‘If you would.’

‘It may just have been a repeat order placed after the loss of the six after the attack . . .’ Cleary turned to the girl behind the desk and said, ‘Karen, could you look out the lab animal order book?’

A few moments later a black ring binder was placed on the desk and Cleary started to leaf through it. ‘Here we are . . . Six Rhesus monkeys ordered by . . . Leila.’

‘Leila?’

‘Like I say, she was probably replacing the ones that went missing.’

‘But why? She knew she wouldn’t be doing any animal testing,’ said Steven.

‘Good point,’ agreed Cleary. ‘Maybe she didn’t know that at the time she placed the order.’

‘Would anyone else in the institute have reason to use monkeys?’

‘No.’

‘So the animals will still be in the animal house?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Could I see them?’ asked Steven.

‘Of course.’

Cleary led the way through corridors where only the smell of paint remained as a reminder of what had happened there. They finally descended two flights of stairs and came to the primate house where Cleary inserted his pass card into the lock.

‘Good Morning Freda,’ said Cleary to the middle aged woman who was mopping the floor. He turned to Steven. ‘Freda is our new animal technician.’

Steven smiled and nodded. He wondered how Robert Smith’s widow was getting on. Did she still live in the ‘tied’ house at the end of the drive?

‘Well, there they are,’ said Cleary.

Steven walked slowly past the cages and the monkeys flung themselves at the bars, filling the air with excited screeching.

‘What’s all the fuss about?’ demanded Freda as if she were speaking to naughty children. ‘Just you stop all that nonsense . . .’

Steven smiled at the antics of the animals but then the smile faded from his face.

‘Something wrong?’ asked Cleary.

‘There are only five,’ said Steven.

Cleary counted. ‘So there are,’ he agreed, sounding puzzled. ‘Freda, do you know why there are only five animals?’

‘There were only five when I started,’ replied Freda.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course, I’m sure,’ replied Freda, sounding bemused. ‘You’re not likely to miss a monkey . . .’

‘Of course not,’ said Cleary. ‘Could I see the primate book?’

Freda propped her mop up at the side of one of the cages and went into her little office, which didn’t seem to be much bigger than a shower cabinet. She returned with an A3 sized record book.

Cleary flicked through the pages and said, ‘There’s no recorded entry of any monkey being used but then of course, there was a bit of a hiatus after Smithy . . . well, you know, so perhaps records weren’t kept as diligently as they should have been.’

‘Six were received?’ asked Steven.

‘Let me see . . .’ said Cleary, flicking back through the pages. ‘No,’ he said, his eyes opening wide with surprise. ‘Only five have been entered in the book.

‘Who made the entry?’

‘Smithy. Well, I suppose that clears up the mystery - if we only ever received five,’ said Cleary.

‘But six were ordered,’ said Steven.

‘Primates aren’t as easy to obtain as other experimental animals,’ said Cleary. ‘Five was probably all they had. The invoice will probably confirm this but we’ll have to go back upstairs.’

Once again Steven stood by while Cleary this time looked through the institutes accounts for the past two months. ‘Here we are,’ he announced. ‘Bronington Life Sciences . . . Oh, that’s odd, we’ve been charged for six animals . . . it must be a mistake.’

‘Maybe you could ask the company to check?’ said Steven. ‘I presume someone would have had to sign for the animals when they arrived as well as entering the delivery in your record book downstairs?’

‘Of course. I can’t imagine us getting six if Smithy only entered five in the book. There has to be some mistake. ’

Steven found that he could imagine only too well what had happened to the missing monkey but didn’t say it.

‘Let’s go to my office,’ said Cleary. ‘I’ll call from there.’

Steven looked out of the window while Cleary made the call. Looking at the institute surroundings, he found it hard to believe that such a genteel place had been at the centre of such recent violence and intrigue. He smiled wryly as he saw it as the sort of place that Agatha Christie might place a body in the library, but as for an al-Qaeda attack and the theft of lethal viruses . . . that was the stuff of nightmares from a different world. He heard Cleary slam the phone down and turned round.

‘Bronington insists that six animals were delivered and signed for but they can’t make out the signature on the driver’s delivery note. It’s a scrawl they say. Sounds to me like the driver might have been doing a little business on his own.’

‘Maybe,’ said Steven. ‘I think I’ll call Leila in Washington about this before we start making any accusations.’ He looked at his watch and said, ‘A bit early for the States, I’ll do it later. In the meantime, thanks for your help.’

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t clear this up,’ said Cleary. ‘Give Leila my best when you speak to her.’

 

Steven decided to call in on Giles on the way back.

‘I didn’t expect you back,’ said Giles. ‘I thought you’d just phone.’

‘They ordered six monkeys but only recorded delivery of five,’ said Steven. ‘Bronington Life Sciences insist they delivered six.’

‘And you think the sixth one was the monkey that was put out for the army to find?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘It would be stretching coincidence too far to think anything else,’ agreed Giles. ‘But they must know who ordered the monkeys?’

‘Leila . . . Dr Martin,’ replied Steven.

‘Did she say why?’

‘She’s gone back to the States. I’m going to phone her later.’

‘Who took delivery of them?’

‘That’s really why I came by,’ said Steven. ‘They say the signature is a scrawl: they can’t decipher it. There’s a possibility the driver might have done some kind of deal on his own and hoped that the paperwork would slip through without anyone noticing . . .’

‘But he reckoned without Sci-Med,’ said Giles. ‘I take it you’d like me to have a word?’

‘I’d be obliged.’

‘Who could say no to a man with a silver Porsche?’

 

Steven rang the university in Washington and asked to speak to Leila Martin in the Department of Immunology. He didn’t have her direct line number because of the agreement that she would call him first.

‘You’re through to Immunology, caller.’

‘Hello. My name is Dr Steven Dunbar. I’m calling from England. I’d like to speak to Dr Leila Martin please.’

‘I’m sorry. Dr Martin is currently in Europe.’

‘No, she returned to the States on Tuesday.’

‘One moment please.’ . . . The minutes seemed to pass like hours before the woman came back on the line to say, ‘I’m afraid that’s news to everyone here, Doctor.’

But I saw her off at the airport myself.’

‘One moment please.’

Another wait.

‘I’ve just spoken to Carla Brunner, Doctor. She’s a post-doc who’s been staying in Leila’s apartment while she’s been away. Carla hasn’t heard anything about Leila’s return either.’

 

 

 

 

 

EIGHTEEN

 

Steven put the phone down feeling utterly bemused. Leila hadn’t turned up at either her apartment or the university. There had been no indication at the airport that she intended going anywhere else first so what the hell was going on? It made him wonder about her insistence that she should call him rather than the other way around. If it hadn’t been for the query over the animal order she’d placed, he wouldn’t even know that she wasn’t back in Washington. ‘Oh, Leila,’ he murmured softly. ‘Leila . . . Leila, my beautiful Leila, what are you playing at?’

Steven wondered whether Leila’s apparent lack of frankness was personal and had something to do with some other relationship she might be engaged in - but maybe this was personalising the problem too much. However difficult he found it, he must try to avoid that and make his head rule his heart. It was however, possible to reconcile both with his first decision. He had to find out where she’d gone. Although her work might be over for the moment, Leila was still a major figure in the fight against any attack involving the use of Cambodia 5 virus. He called the duty man at Sci-Med and asked him to get on to Heathrow and find out as quickly as possible which flight she had boarded and where she’d gone.

While he waited for a reply, Steven called John Macmillan and told him what had happened.

‘Maybe she decided to take a holiday first,’ suggested Macmillan. ‘She’s been working round the clock for the past few months.’

BOOK: The Lazarus Strain
8.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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