explosives. I mean, short of a full-blown assault on the place, there’s no way anyone could get at our stocks of either raw materials or finished product. I told you, your people have been over the place with a fine-tooth comb. If you like I can show you the protocols, the security cameras, the locks and alarms, the inventory audits…’
He took them into his office and offered them the reports prepared by security consultants, compliance certificates from the local authority, fire brigade and health and safety inspectors. ‘Your counter-terrorism officers didn’t give me any documentation as such, but I can tell you who was here and when. You can easily check with them for yourself.’
‘Where do your chemicals come from?’
‘All over. Mostly locally, in the south of England, some from up north, some from overseas. But all carefully tracked and accounted for.’
‘Thanks,’ Kathy said. ‘It sounds as if we’re wasting your time.’
Mr Pigeon relaxed a little, wiping his pink brow. ‘Oh, I know you have to be careful about these things. It’s the kind of business we do, and the times we live in.’
‘What about your staff? Do they get any security clearance?’
‘Eh? Well, most of the senior people have been with us for years. Otherwise we get extensive references. We took on a new research chemist recently, most impressive CV, all checked out.’
‘What about support staff-cleaners, drivers and so on?’
‘Well, it depends. Some are supplied by contractors. Our own people I interview personally.’
‘Do you do a criminal record check?’
‘Well, no, probably not. Is that a problem?’
‘It’s just a thought. Anyway, we won’t take up any more of your time, Mr Pigeon. Thanks very much. We’re concerned about a batch of arsenic trioxide that’s come to our attention. Perhaps you might check to make sure it couldn’t possibly have come from here?’
‘Gladly, gladly, but I can tell you now it isn’t ours.’
When they got back into the car, Kathy asked, ‘What do you think?’
Pip said, ‘Okay, you’re a driver and you pick up a consignment of chemicals from some factory somewhere, and you’ve been told you have to be careful with it. Maybe you don’t know it’s arsenic, maybe you’ve just heard that it can knock you out, and you’re thinking you could spike a girl’s drink with it. So on the way back you stop the van, open a carton, and take a bit from a container and replace it with something else-flour or caster sugar or something, to make up the weight.’
‘Wouldn’t that be noticed?’
‘Maybe not. I mean, if you doctored explosives, the fireworks wouldn’t work and you’d be in trouble, but this is to make coloured light. Maybe it just wouldn’t be so bright.’
‘Nice theory.’ Kathy started the car. ‘Or maybe he did know it was arsenic. Maybe he didn’t just want to knock her out. I think we should talk to Keith Rafferty about how well he really knew Marion. You got time to go there now, or did you want to knock off?’
‘No, I’m fine, boss.’
‘I just wondered.’ She glanced at Pip’s short skirt, high heels. ‘Thought you might have a date or something.’
‘Not tonight. I’m all yours.’
•
They drew up outside the block in Bradshaw Street, and were unbuckling their seatbelts when Kathy paused. ‘Hang on,’ she murmured. The front door of flat number three had just opened, and she saw the figure of Keith Rafferty silhouetted against the light. He turned and yelled something back into the flat. Kathy wound her window down and heard a woman’s voice, Sheena’s, scream an obscenity.
‘And fuck you, bitch,’ Keith roared. He turned and marched off along the deck. They watched as he sprinted down the stairs at the end and headed towards the street, shrugging the collar of his leather jacket up as a cold gust of wind caught him. He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and made a call as he strode off. Kathy started the car again.
They followed him out onto the main street, which was almost deserted, past shop windows to a pub on the next corner, the Three Bells. He reached the door and yanked it open. A burst of loud music blasted out.
‘That’s nice, isn’t it?’ Pip said. ‘Your wife’s just lost her daughter and you piss off down the pub with your mates.’
‘It’d be interesting to hear what they talk about, wouldn’t it?’
‘What, fancy a drink do you, boss?’
‘Unfortunately Keith knows my face.’
‘He doesn’t know mine.’ She flicked the sunshield down and examined herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair and pouting her lips. She put on more lipstick.
‘You can’t go in there on your own.’
‘Why not? It’s only a pub. I’ll just keep my ears open, all right? I’ll be waiting for a friend.’
Kathy hesitated. ‘You’ve got my number in your phone? Give me a ring, let me know what’s happening. Just be careful.’
‘Sure.’
Pip got out of the car and hitched her skirt a little higher, tossed back her head and made for the pub door. Kathy watched her go with a sense of foreboding.
Ten minutes passed, the car cooling. Kathy gave a shiver and reached for her phone just as it began to buzz. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi! Where are you?’
Kathy could barely hear for the music, a raucous rhythmic thumping.
‘You okay?’
‘Of course! Well, don’t take too long, will you? I’m having fun.’
‘Do you want me to come in?’
Pip giggled. ‘You sound like my mother.’ She rang off.
Another ten minutes went by, then another, and Kathy tapped her hand on the steering wheel, feeling cold and uneasy. She tried Pip’s number but didn’t get a reply. She waited another five minutes, then jumped out of the car and headed for the door.
The music was too loud, the lights too bright, and the smell of beer rancid. The place was packed, and she had to force her way through the crowd, mostly men, who smelled of sweat and beer and jostled her as she pushed through. She saw a glossy black head of female hair at the bar, but when she got there found it wasn’t Pip. She could see no sign of Keith Rafferty either. She saw the door to the ladies’ toilets at the back of the room and struggled through to it. Pip wasn’t there. Panicking now, Kathy made her way out again, through the throng, ears battered by the noise, and saw another door at the back marked FIRE EXIT. A male voice called, ‘Oi, darlin’!’ She pushed through into a narrow corridor with another door at the far end with the same fire exit sign. Beyond was a small courtyard with boxes, crates and beer barrels. Kathy stumbled over a pile of boxes, through an opening in a brick wall and into a puddled laneway. A white van was parked up ahead, its rear door open, figures huddled. They looked up as she charged towards them. She saw Keith Rafferty’s face, eyes ablaze, and then a woman’s legs, hanging half out of the back of the van. Another man turned towards her, swearing, hand raised up. She grabbed his fingers and he screamed as she twisted his arm behind his back.
‘Police! Stay where you are.’
Rafferty was looking around, over her shoulder, as she struggled with the other man. Then he turned and hauled the woman out of the van and dumped her on the ground, slammed the door and turned to go.
‘Stay where you are, Keith!’ Kathy shouted. She had the phone in her hand now, pressing buttons. ‘Officer in trouble.’
Keith Rafferty turned back towards her, fists up. For a moment they stared at each other, then he deflated, unclenched his hands and held them up. His friend stopped struggling. On the ground at his feet Pip gave a low moan.
‘This is all a mistake,’ Rafferty said. ‘We were just trying to help the lady. She was legless. We just offered her a lift home. Isn’t that right, Brendan?’
•
