Deception (10 page)

‘
I’m sorry?’ said Steven, failing to pick up the last bit of what Eve had said about the hotel.

‘
I’ve been working at The Blackbridge Arms during the summer vacation,’ she explained. ‘I can’t help but hear what’s going on. The civil servants have sort of made it their unofficial headquarters.’

‘
So you’ve had a first hand view of democracy in action and government inter-departmental co-operation?’

‘
Is that what they call it? If one lot says black, the others will say white on principle so in the end nothing gets done. On top of that McKay and Smith are always at each other’s throats over executive responsibility.’

‘
Who?’ asked Steven, secretly delighted at all the information he was getting.

‘
McKay is from Rural Affairs, the Scottish lot; Smith is from MAFF in London. When Smith suggests something, McKay automatically insists that it should be the province of his department, then that balloon, Barclay pops up . . . ‘

‘
Who?’

‘
Cyril Barclay. He’s something to do with Health and Safety. He pops up and says that matters concerning health have priority over them both so any decision should be his. McKay and Smith naturally disagree about this and they start arguing all over again.’

‘
Meanwhile Rome burns.’

‘
Quite so. What exactly is your “sort of” involvement in the affair?’ asked Eve.

‘
I’m just an observer of the situation,’ replied Steven. Coming as close to the truth as he could. ‘My boss asked me to get a feel for what was going on up here. You’ve been a tremendous help.’

‘
Maybe I’ve said too much but then again, no one told me not to. To the briefcases I’m just a waitress.’

‘
And what else are you?’ asked Steven.

‘
I’m doing a masters degree in Food Science at Heriot Watt University.’

Steven smiled and said, ‘You probably know more about GM crops than anyone else down there!’

‘
All they want from me is gin and tonic, so that’s what they get,’ replied Eve. ‘Oh my God . . . ’

Steven looked at her to see what had alarmed her. He followed her line of vision to a rat that was swimming across the canal. It disappeared into the undergrowth on the far bank but the look of fear and revulsion stayed on Eve’s face as she obviously relived her brother’s death.

‘
Let’s go,’ said Steven, putting a comforting arm around her and leading her away from the spot.

They walked back down the hill together to where Steven had left his car. ‘It was nice meeting you, Eve,’ he said as they stopped beside it. ‘I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.’

‘
Yes, I would probably have preferred a moonlit beach in Hawaii to the Blackbridge Canal too,’ said Eve with a smile. ‘But it was nice meeting you too. Take care.’

‘
Do you think I could contact you if I have any more questions about local matters?’

Eve looked thoughtful for a moment then she replied, ‘Wait until after Ian’s funeral.’

‘
Fair enough.’

Steven drove into Edinburgh and booked into the first large anonymous hotel he came to on the western outskirts. He was hungry; he hadn’t eaten since breakfast time so he ordered chicken sandwiches from room service and a bottle of
Stella Artois
. He set up his laptop computer while he waited and made a modem connection to Sci-Med in London. The only incoming message said that Sci-Med had as yet failed to discover who was paying Thomas Rafferty’s legal bills but they would keep working on it. Steven in turn asked them to find out what they could about the current state of Thomas Rafferty’s business. He also asked them to find out if any attempt had been made to sell Crawhill Farm and finally he made a general enquiry about, Sector One Security, the firm that Lane had brought in to provide protection at Peat Ridge Farm. Reputable or not?

By the time Steven had eaten his sandwiches and drank his beer, he had his reply from London. Rafferty’s plant hire business was still solvent but profits had been declining over the last two years. There had been no investment in new machinery at all thanks to a reluctance in the banks to lend to Rafferty whom they saw as a bad risk because of his drinking. As a result of this, many of his machines were getting a reputation for being unreliable through age and lack of proper maintenance. He was still managing to find customers but he’d had to drop the hire price considerably in order to persuade them to take the risk and it was a considerable risk. Farmers often depended on being able to take advantage of windows in the weather. One or two days delay because of mechanical breakdown could have serious consequences.

Crawhill Farm was not currently on the market nor had it been in the recent or even distant past. Lastly, Sector One Security was a reputable firm. It employed the usual motley crew that low wages inevitably decreed but management was good and the guards were subject to competent supervision. There had been no complaints about the firm.

‘
Well,’ thought Steven, ‘Nothing to get too excited about there.’ He acknowledged receipt of the message and reported that he would be visiting the MAFF lab in Ayrshire on the following day. He asked that Sci-Med warn them of his impending visit, giving an estimated time of arrival of between eleven and twelve.

Steven checked out of his hotel just after nine in the morning and began what was to be a trouble-free journey across the central belt of Scotland. The weather was grey and showery throughout West Lothian and Lanarkshire but blue skies welcomed him to Ayrshire and he pulled into the car park of the government lab at 11.15, after putting off some time by stopping for coffee at a hotel on the outskirts of Ayr. He didn’t want to arrive early.

The lab was a two storey concrete building, probably built in the early seventies, Steven thought, its squarish, unimaginative design being offset to a certain extent by the fact that it stood in attractive, well-maintained grounds. He parked in one of two spaces marked for visitors and noted as he got out that the director and several other staff had their own marked places in the car park. He saw this as an indication of the type of lab he was about to enter. Civil service labs were noted for their sense of order; a place for everyone and everyone in their place.

Steven called in at the general office, where he was checked against a list of expected visitors and invited to sign in. After this he was taken to the director’s suite on the upper floor by a small woman, wearing a purple suit and who seemed to have some difficulty in walking. Steven guessed at a hip problem. He was introduced to Dr Robert Fildes, a red-faced man in his early fifties who looked more like his image of a jolly farmer than a scientist. The image was currently bolstered by a rather loud tweed jacket.

‘
How can we help?’ asked Fildes. He sounded cultured and intelligent, causing Steven to lay the farmyard image to rest.

‘
I understand that the lab undertakes private contract work on occasion?’ said Steven.

‘
As much as we can get these days,’ smiled Fildes. ‘Changed days. Sometimes I wonder if we’re a government lab or a pizza parlour.’

‘
How does this contract business work exactly? I don’t see you advertising.’

‘
No, we don’t advertise,’ agreed Fildes. ‘But our expertise in certain areas is well known. Our staff are usually approached by commercial concerns on an individual basis to carry out work and the lab gets a percentage of the fee. It’s all above board.’

‘
I’m sure,’ said Steven. ‘So if I want to have, say, some seeds analysed, I would approach a member of the staff here and negotiate directly with him or her?’

‘
If you happened to know an appropriate member of staff, that is,’ agreed Fildes. ‘If you didn’t, you might approach me as unit director and I could tell you whether or not we had someone with the expertise you required on the staff and put you in touch.’

‘
I see. Perhaps you could tell me how the contract for this work was handled?’ Steven took out a copy of the DNA analysis on the Agrigene crop growing in Robert Lane’s field in Blackbridge and pushed it across Fildes’ desk.

Fildes put on his reading glasses and read it.

‘
A direct contact with a member of staff, I seem to remember. Our Dr Millar was approached personally and carried out the work himself.’

‘
But the report would go out as being an official report from this lab? A government lab report?’

‘
That’s right. That’s the way we do things. Contract work is treated no differently to any of the other work we do here. I’m not really with you here. Is something wrong?’

‘
No, just a routine check’ replied Steven. ‘But I’d like a word with Dr Millar, if that’s all right with you?’

‘
I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ said Fildes. ‘Gerald Millar is no longer with us. He took early retirement.’

Steven was taken aback. ‘Must have been very recent,’ he said.

‘
Just a few weeks ago.’

‘
Was this something he’d been planning to do?’

Fildes seemed a little embarrassed. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘It rather took me by surprise as it did everyone else round here.’

‘
I see,’ said Steven slowly. ‘Then perhaps you could tell me who commissioned the analysis?’

Fildes took in a deep breath and shook his head. ‘That would be a breach of confidence,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you understand how important that is for the people who contract for our services.’

Steven nodded. ‘In normal circumstances,’ he said. ‘But telling an agent of the Sci-Med Inspectorate is hardly going to constitute a breach of trust. No one else need know about this.’

Fildes looked thoughtful for a moment then said, ‘I suspect you have the powers to demand access if I refuse?’

Steven shrugged and said, ‘I don’t think it should come to that, Director, I just need the name.’

Fildes turned to the computer monitor that sat on the end of his desk and started tapping his keyboard. Steven watched a puzzled look appear on his face. Fildes adjusted his glasses and tapped some more before pursing his lips in annoyance and getting up from his chair. ‘If you’ll excuse me a moment,’ he said, before opening his office door and asking his secretary to fetch something.’

There was a wait of about three minutes during which there was a change to small talk about the pleasant nature of the lab’s location and how nice it must be to live in Ayrshire.

Instead of coming right into the room, Fildes’ secretary opened the door and said, ‘Could I have a word please, Doctor?’

Fildes excused himself and went outside for a moment. Steven heard him raise his voice and say, ‘But that’s ridiculous,’ before all went quiet again. Several minutes passed before Fildes came back into the room. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how embarrassed I am to have to tell you that we don’t appear to have a record of the contract on file,’ he said. ‘The details weren’t entered on the computer and the paperwork doesn’t seem to be around either. I can only assume that Dr Millar must have been so preoccupied with his impending retirement that his routine must have been upset.’

Steven smiled but there was little humour in it. He said, ‘In that case, I’m afraid I am going to have to ask for Dr Millar’s address.’

‘
To my further embarrassment, I’m not going to able to help you with that either,’ said Fildes. ‘Gerald’s no longer in the country. He and his wife decided to go and live in South Africa for a while. They have a married son out there I believe, but that’s really as much as I know.’

SIX

Steven had to wonder if he was being given the run-around. His only comfort was that Fildes seemed as uncomfortable telling him these things as he was in hearing them.

‘
Did Dr Millar work alone?’ he asked.

‘
No, he had and Higher Scientific Officer and a couple of more junior people working for him. Perhaps you’d like to speak to them?’

‘
Maybe just the HSO.’

Fildes picked up the phone and spoke with someone named, Roberta. He finished by asking, ‘Will it be all right if we come along just now?’

Steven gathered that the answer had been, yes, when Fildes got up and said, ‘If you’d care to come with me.’

Fildes led the way along the corridor outside his room and said, ‘I do hope Miss Jackson can help you otherwise you’ve had a bit of a journey for nothing, I’m afraid.’

This fact had not escaped Steven’s notice. They entered a bright, airy laboratory where a tall, intelligent looking woman, wearing a lab coat and with long dark hair, tied back in a pony tail, rose from her bench stool, washed her hands in a basin, equipped with elbow operated taps and walked towards them, wearing a friendly smile.

‘
May I introduce, Miss Roberta Jackson,’ said Fildes. ‘She was Gerald’s HSO. Roberta, this is Dr Steven Dunbar from the Sci-Med Inspectorate. He has some questions to ask you about the work you people do. I’d be grateful if you’d give him all the help you can.’

Steven shook hands with the woman and then said to Fildes, ‘I’m sure I’ve been keeping you back, Doctor, please feel free to carry on with what you have to do. I’ll come and see you before I go.’