Deception (26 page)

It was raining quite heavily when they left the restaurant but Eve declined Steven’s offer that she should wait in the dry while he went to pick up the car and bring it round. Instead they both ran through the puddles. Steven reached out his hand and Eve took it. It was a nice moment and helped dispel the cloud that had settled over Eve. Halfway home however, she said, ‘You know, I can’t see how oilseed rape, GM or otherwise, could have caused a behavioural change in the rats. A change in the weed-killers they’re using on the fields would be a much better bet for something like that.’

‘
My thoughts too,’ said Steven with a smile. ‘That’s always been the big worry about this kind of trial. No one really knows what effects a sudden change to the use of powerful weedkillers would have on the environment.’

‘
You know, it would be a good idea to check out the rats for traces of chemicals in their bodies,’ said Eve.

‘
It’s in hand,’ smiled Steven.

Eve looked at him sideways and smiled. ‘Of course it is,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. Now I feel stupid. That was probably the first thing you did.’

‘
You’re a very long way from being stupid, Eve,’ said Steven. ‘Keep thinking about it. We’d welcome your input.’

‘
We? I thought you worked alone.’

Steven told her about James Binnie’s involvement.

‘
Nice man,’ said Eve.

Steven pulled up outside Eve’s parents’ house. ‘I’ll need your phone number,’ she said. ‘I’ll call you as soon as I’ve had a chance to talk to Trish.’

Steven wrote it down on the piece of paper that Eve tore from a small notebook in her handbag. ‘Thank you for a nice evening,’ she said.

‘
Maybe we could do it again?’ suggested Steven.

Eve looked at him for a long searching moment before saying simply, ‘Maybe.’ Without warning she leaned over and kissed him full on the lips and ran her fingers softly down his cheek. Steven was surprised but did not draw away. Eve sat back and looked into his eyes. ‘I hope that’s guilt I see and not revulsion,’ she said.

‘
Definitely not revulsion,’ Steven assured her.

‘
Good Night.’

FIFTEEN

It was a little after midnight when Steven got back to his new hotel but he still found room in the car park round the back. He supposed that some guests had been put off by the narrow potholed lane leading through to it so they had left their cars out in the street instead - probably hoping to be away in the morning before the traffic wardens were up and about. Steven parked his car with the front bumper hard up against the back wall of the hotel, making it well nigh impossible for anyone to open the bonnet.

Despite the rain, he still took time to look around for a number of small stones and positioned them at strategic intervals round the car so that anyone crawling underneath the vehicle would be sure to disturb the pattern he’d made. He didn’t really think an attack on this car was likely; it was more a case of being better safe than sorry.

On the way back round to the front of the hotel, he took a good look at the building itself, noting the position of his room window in relation to what was near it in the way of pipes and guttering - routine insurance against circumstances dictating that he might have to get out in a hurry. Once inside his room he locked the door and wedged the foot of it with a cheap ballpoint pen – insurance against the opposition gaining access with a key. He turned out the light and looked out on the rain swept streets, pleased to see that the windows were double-glazed. It was well nigh impossible to throw anything through a double glazed window. He closed the curtains and switched on the bedside light before taking off his jacket and removing his holster, which he hung over the single chair in the room. The gun itself, he took out put on the bedside table. ‘And you’re the one who hates melodrama,’ he murmured to himself.

Steven lay awake for a long time. This was due in part to the wind that had got up and the rain that now lashed against his room window but it was mainly down to the sense of unease he felt about Eve. He could still feel the sensation of her lips on his. She had been right about seeing guilt in his eyes; it had been the first thing he’d felt when she’d surprised him. He knew it didn’t stand up to analysis - it just didn’t make any sense, but the feeling had been real enough. Could he really still see it as cheating on Lisa? Lisa was dead and gone and nothing was going to change that. Perhaps he was more worried about what he was seeing in Eve, he wondered, for it hadn’t escaped him that, although Eve did not look anything like Lisa, she had many things in common with her. Her Scottish directness, even her sense of humour and tendency to scythe down pretensions of any sort was pure Lisa. She was bright too, again like Lisa. Could he be sizing her up as some sort of substitute for Lisa? If he was, that would be unforgivable. Almost immediately, he rebelled against the thought. What the hell was all this about? It had only been a goodnight kiss, for God’s sake.

The rain got even louder on the window as he turned over on to his side. ‘Bloody country,’ he muttered before falling asleep.

Next morning, the Clarion trumpeted its success in provoking action over the increasing rat population at Blackbridge. ‘The Pied Paper that gets things done’ was how it congratulated itself. The self styled champion of the people had done more than all the hide-bound officials put together and had got something done about the rat menace, it asserted. While ‘they’ all sat in the Blackbridge Arms on fat expense accounts, arguing the rights and wrongs of GM crops and deciding nothing, the Clarion had cut through a veritable forest of red tape and embarrassed the powers that be into taking firm action. There was a large photograph of a white-overalled man holding a rifle on the banks of the canal. ‘Blow the vermin away!’ the Clarion encouraged.

It was a typical tabloid piece, Steven thought, but there was a worrying aspect to it that captured his attention. As was usual in this kind of situation, the paper was claiming credit for having forced the authorities to do something about the rats but he suspected that the truth of the matter was somewhat different. No one on the paper would realise it but the Clarion itself was being used by Sigma 5.

Sigma 5 knew about the change in the rats’ behaviour and therefore must have realised that something would have to be done, but if they had just arranged for a team to be sent in, too many embarrassing questions would have been asked. The authorities would have been at each other’s throats to discover who was behind it. As it was, Sigma 5 had bided its time and then used the story in the paper to make it appear as if someone high up in government had stepped in to clear up the mess in response to the paper’s story of public anxiety. The local authorities would now be too reluctant or red-faced to say anything because the move had elicited such popular support and what was more, the Clarion would crucify them if they did. Sigma 5 were not only powerful, they were clever too, an unfortunate combination in an opponent, thought Steven.

Jamie Brown in The Scotsman had covered the rat cull story too but he had concentrated on the administrative buck-passing that had been going on. He pointed out that no one in authority would say who had ordered the cull and this did not bode well for the open government that the Scottish people had been promised from their new parliament and again highlighted the lack of clear distinction when it came to who was responsible for what in the new administration.

Today, in a recap for the readers’ benefit, he reminded them which powers had been devolved and which hadn’t, and concentrated on something called ‘Executive Devolution’. This was a term applied to powers where Westminster retained sole law-making rights but the Scottish Parliament could make some lesser decisions within an agreed framework. Brown described this as, Westminster driving the car but the Scottish Parliament being allowed to blow up the tyres.

Steven overcame a reticence about the risk of disturbing James Binnie in a compromising position with a cow and called him on his mobile number again. ‘Sorry to bother you again, James but we have to talk.’

‘
I’m on my way over to Letham Mains to look at a pig,’ replied Binnie to Steven’s relief. ‘I’ll be there about half an hour and then I’m free for a bit. What would you suggest?’

Steven checked his local map, which he had on the table on front of him and found Letham Mains Farm. He saw that there was a crossroads about a mile west of the farm and suggested that they meet there.

‘
A bit cloak and dagger, isn’t it,’ said Binnie.

Steven agreed but did not offer either explanation or alternative. ‘Half an hour then.’

Binnie was sitting in his Land Rover, reading his newspaper when Steven arrived. Steven parked his own car about twenty metres down a farm track and went back to join him, climbing into the passenger seat and wrinkling his nose at the smell inside the Land Rover. He saw that Binnie’s Wellingtons in the back were covered in what he thought just might be, pig manure – the smell gave strong support to this theory. Binnie appeared not to notice.

‘
I had a talk with your friend Sweeney, yesterday,’ said Steven. ‘He hasn’t called you has he?’

Binnie said not.

‘
Pity. He’s hiding something. He said there was nothing wrong with the rat you gave him but he was lying; I’m sure of it. He had guilt written all over his face.’

‘
But why should he lie?’

‘
He was a nervous wreck. Someone must have got to him and instructed him to come up with a clean bill of health for the rat.’

‘
John Sweeney? Turn out a false report? I don’t believe it. He’s as honest as the day is long.’

‘
I suspect that the pressure came from within,’ said Steven. ‘That’s always difficult. I think they invoked the official secrets act and warned him of the consequences of breaking it.’

‘
Good God, poor chap,’ said Binnie, looking over his glasses at Steven and appearing genuinely shocked. ‘What the hell is going on in Blackbridge?’

‘
I don’t know but I have to ask you if you told anyone about taking the rat over to the vet school,’ said Steven. ‘Ann knew; I knew; who else?’

Binnie sighed and shook his head. ‘No one,’ he said. ‘I can’t think why I would tell anyone else.’

‘
Someone must have known in advance or they wouldn’t have had time to stop your friend issuing a genuine report,’ said Steven.

‘
I can see that,’ said Binnie. ‘But I just can’t think of anyone I might have told. I’d have no reason to.’

‘
If you do happen to remember, let me know,’ said Steven.

‘
Why did you ask if Jim had been in touch?’ asked Binnie.

‘
I tried to persuade him that he should listen to his conscience rather than just obey the strict letter of the law,’ replied Steven. ‘I hoped that if he felt guilty enough, he might tell you as a friend what was wrong with the rat.’

‘
Afraid not,’ said Binnie. ‘Want me to have a prod at him?’

‘
Anything’s worth a try right now.’

‘
Like that, is it?’

‘
A long time ago someone told me never to go to war with the establishment because, as he said, you’ll always lose. I feel like I’m confirming his belief at every turn.’

‘
But you work for the establishment,’ said Binnie.

‘
I thought I did,’ said Steven ruefully. He made to open the Land Rover door. ‘I’d better let you get on with your work,’ he said.

‘
I’ll call you later if I get anything out of John,’ said Binnie.

As he drove off, Steven doubted whether Binnie would be able to persuade his friend, Sweeney to tell him anything. Friend or not, Sweeney had clearly been scared about what he had got himself into. He would probably see keeping his mouth shut as the safe option. Steven started to wonder if breaking into Sweeney’s office at the Dick Vet might be a better idea. Surely Sweeney would have written down his findings about the rat, he thought, but on the other hand it seemed equally probable that all such evidence would have been removed by the people who’d applied pressure to him. He reluctantly concluded that a break-in was probably a non-starter. The chances of success would have to be very good indeed to warrant such a risky venture and they weren’t. His phone rang. It was James Binnie.

‘
I’ve just remembered,’ said Binnie. ‘I did tell someone else about taking the rat over to the vet school,’ said Binnie. ‘I mentioned it to Tom Rafferty.’

‘
Rafferty?’ exclaimed Steven.

‘
It was the day he called me over to see his dog, Khan. ‘He kept insisting that Khan was genuinely ill and that was the reason he seemed to be getting meaner every day. Although I told him that, in my opinion, Khan had always been mean, I had to defer to the fact that owners always know their pets better than outsiders. I remember mentioning to him that I was going to be going over to the vet school in the next few days to have an analysis on the rat done. I offered to take over a blood sample from Khan at the same time.

‘
That would make sense,’ said Steven. If Rafferty had known about Binnie’s intention then it was a safe bet that Childs and Leadbetter would also have known. It must have been them who had arranged for pressure to be put on Sweeney to kill the report.