‘So did I,’ said Dewar, taking Grant’s point. If MI5 and Special Branch were watching the Iraqis’ every move, how come they could mount an attempt on Sandra Macandrew’s life?
ELEVEN
When Dewar opened his eyes in the morning, the first thing he considered was the fact that no one had called him during the night. He threw back the covers, swung his legs round and dialled the hospital, to ask about Sandra Macandrew’s condition.
No change, still critical and deeply unconscious, was the report from the intensive care unit. The policemen outside her room had had an uneventful night too, without any other kind of problem. No one had attempted to visit Sandra.
Dewar was having breakfast in the hotel dining room when he was joined by Simon Barron. Without saying so, Barron gave the impression that he had been up for hours. Probably run ten miles and swam across the Forth to pick up his morning paper, thought Dewar uncharitably.
‘Hoped I might catch you,’ said Barron. ‘Have you got the list?’
‘It’s ready,’ replied Dewar. ‘Coffee?’
‘Never touch the stuff.’
Probably impedes performance, thought Dewar, refilling his own cup. ‘Did any of your lot slip up yesterday?’ he asked.
‘In what way?’
‘Could the Iraqis have gotten out to play without you knowing about it?’
‘Which ones? We’re just watching Siddiqui and Abbas,’ replied Barron. The students come and go as they please. Why d’you ask?’
Dewar thought for a moment before replying. He was considering what Barron had said about the students, in particular the possibility that one or more of the students might have been recruited to Siddiqui’s cause.
‘One of the graduate students from the Institute of Molecular Sciences was involved in a hit and run incident last night. She was knocked off her bike as she was cycling home from the lab; she’s critically ill. It could have been an accident — the police thought some drunk might have hit her, but her name’s Sandra Macandrew and she’s on the list.’
After a moment of blankness, realisation dawned on Barron’s face. ‘You think it wasn’t an accident? It had something to do with her being on that list?’
‘If she’s on the list we have to consider that she may have been approached by the Iraqis. For the sake of argument let’s assume she was and she turned them down, probably even threatened to go to the police. What d’you think would happen then?’
‘Point taken,’ agreed Barron. ‘That’s quite a thought. Turning down the Iraqi offer would be like signing your own death warrant.’
‘On the other hand, the Iraqis must know that most scientists would be outraged at being asked to do what they suggest. They can’t be planning to kill them all so they must have some way of deciding what individuals might be amenable to a business arrangement?’
‘They’d have to do their homework,’ said Barron. ‘Make discrete inquiries, find out who’s disgruntled, who has financial problems, who has secrets they’d rather not have made public, that sort of thing.’
‘So what made them think Sandra Macandrew might be a possibility?’ Dewar wondered aloud. ‘When I met her she struck me as a normal graduate student, doing exactly what she wants to do in life. Not many of us can say that. Her thesis work was going well according to Malloy, although the ban on smallpox fragments will cause some interruption. She lives in a flat with other students, she’s vegetarian, a member of Friends of the Earth, cycles to and from the lab, has occasional nights in the pub, Chinese meal at the weekend with her friends, not much money but no money worries either. If you’re looking for Ms Typical Grad Student, Sandra Macandrew gets my vote.’
‘Then maybe you’re jumping the gun here. Maybe it really was an accident,’ suggested Barron.
Dewar shrugged, unconvinced. Both men fell silent for a while then Dewar said, ‘There’s another possibility.’
Barron raised his eyebrows.
‘Sandra wasn’t approached by the Iraqis… but she knows who was.’
‘And they tried to kill her to keep her quiet? Yes, that’s a starter, agreed Barron.’
‘It would also imply that the one they approached has actually agreed to do it,’ said Dewar. ‘Otherwise the Iraqis would be more interested in killing the one who’d turned them down than Sandra.’
‘It’s hard to believe they’d use students as hit men,’ said Barron. ‘And my people are good at their job. Their report for yesterday says that Siddiqui and Abbas left the student centre in the afternoon, accompanied by two of the students but they just went round the corner to the Bookstop Cafe in Teviot Place. They stayed there for about forty minutes, talking, then returned to the centre. Neither went out again.’
‘So we’re either looking for a hit man we know nothing at all about …. or maybe the police were right and it was some drunk.’
‘I take it you told the police about your suspicions?’
Dewar nodded. ‘I wanted them to mount a guard on her last night.’
‘Her being alive really is the trump card in this game. It could make all this speculation academic if she pulls through. Her evidence could be absolutely crucial.’
‘I’ve asked that I be the first to speak to her when she comes round. Right now, finding out what she knows about the smallpox business is more important than finding out who did this to her.’
‘Right,’ agreed Barron. ‘If you give me that list, the sooner we start keeping tabs on the others the safer it might be for them.’
Dewar suddenly didn’t feel so bad about not warning Steven Malloy that he would be put under surveillance. It didn’t seem so bad if it was for his own good. He went upstairs to his room and returned with the list.
‘No addresses,’ said Barron.
‘I asked my informant for the names of people who were competent to do this sort of thing. He wasn’t happy about it, ‘felt like he was letting down his colleagues. If I’d gone on to ask for their addresses he would have seen there was more to it and clammed up altogether. I’m sure Her Majesty’s Secret Service can take it from here?’
‘Fair enough,’ said Barron. ‘You’ll let me know if there’s any change on the injured girl?’
‘I would if I had some way of contacting you,’ said Dewar flatly. ‘You didn’t give me a number.’
Barron brought out a pen from his inside pocket and wrote down a phone number on the card Dewar handed him.
‘Out of interest, why didn’t you?’
‘Never on a first date,’ said Barron.
Ye gods, the man has a sense of humour, thought Dewar, but he kept looking at Barron as if waiting for a proper answer.
‘I showed you my ID at the airport,’ said Barron. ‘You didn’t show me yours. Simple as that.’
My God, different world,’ thought Dewar as Barron left. He must have run checks on me to make sure I was Adam Dewar and not an impostor. He supposed this level of suspicion and security consciousness was a comfort. It just left him feeling bemused.
It occurred to him that Steven Malloy might not yet actually know about Sandra Macandrew. He checked his watch; it was just after eight thirty. He’d probably still be at home.
Malloy sounded as if his mouth were full. ‘Sorry, I’m just finishing my breakfast,’ he apologised.
Dewar pictured toast crumbs on the receiver and imagined the incongruous smell of coffee in church. He told him about Sandra.
‘God, that’s awful,’ exclaimed Malloy, sounding distressed. ‘How is she? Can I see her? Is there something I
