‘If you’re sure you want to take the risk.’
‘Let’s do it. Pick you up at seven?’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
Dunbar arrived at Lisa’s place on time and found her ready, She had dressed up for the occasion. He smiled and said, ‘You look wonderful.’
‘Well, thank you. All this new-found freedom is making me feel dangerously like a human being.’
‘How is your mother, by the way?’ asked Dunbar, remembering the key to Lisa’s freedom.
‘She’s holding her own.’
‘I’m going to have to rely on you to suggest where we go this evening.’
‘I thought we might drive up to the Lake of Menteith. It’s not that far and there’s a nice hotel there. It’s right down on the shores of the lake.’
‘Sounds good. Do you think we’ll get in?’
‘I took the liberty of booking after you rang,’ Lisa confessed.
The drive up to the Lake of Menteith was straightforward and uneventful, and Dunbar was glad to see there were only four other cars in the car park as they drew to a halt. He wanted a quiet evening with time to talk. They both sipped gin and tonic while deciding what to eat. It wasn’t until they had ordered and the waiter had left that Lisa said, ‘So, what sort of an idea do you have to come up with?’
‘One that explains how you and Sheila Barnes could still be right in spite of everything.’
‘It sounds as if you took our part in London.’
Dunbar nodded.
‘Well, you were right to,’ she said.
Dunbar looked at her in silence for a moment, then said, ‘It’s a comfort to hear you sound so sure. You haven’t wavered once, have you?’
‘I came pretty close when you told me of the pathologist’s findings,’ she confessed. ‘But I know what I saw, and it was not the result of the transplant of a compatible organ.’
‘So our starting-point must be that Amy was definitely given the wrong kidney.’
‘Yes,’ said Lisa flatly.
Dunbar paused as their first course arrived. Then he said, ‘So if the correct donor kidney was found inside Amy after the exhumation… it must have got there some time after her operation. In fact, if she died of rejection problems, it must have been put there sometime after her death… At the first post mortem, of course!’ he exclaimed as things slipped into place. ‘As simple as that. Amy was given the wrong organ but it was switched to the right one after she died.’
Lisa’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘That’s exactly what must have happened. But why?’
‘Let’s see. A donor organ becomes available; Medic Ecosse obtains it from the source hospital… but instead of giving it to the patient, they use him or her for one of their animal experiments.’
‘And if it goes wrong, they cover their tracks by substituting the correct one at post-mortem!’ said Lisa.
‘But how do we go about proving it?’
There was a long silence.
‘Let’s eat first,’ said Dunbar, picking up his knife and fork. ‘We’re doing okay.’
They didn’t talk much as they ate, largely because they were both deep in thought. They reached the coffee stage still without coming up with any good idea as to how to prove their theory. It was, however, early days and both of them were pleased about having solved the first bit of the puzzle.
As they left the hotel and wandered down to the jetty to take a look at the lake in the frosty moonlight, Dunbar said, ‘Medical researchers are trained scientists, meticulous people, precise in all things. Facts and figures are of paramount importance to them.’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever come across a researcher who didn’t keep notes.’
‘So?’ said Lisa.
‘It’s a basic requirement of the job that you keep accurate records of everything you do in order to write up your results for the journals. You also have to be in a position to show data to back up your claims, should the scientific community request it. All your work is subject to peer review.’
‘I still don’t see what you’re getting at,’ said Lisa, snuggling down deeper into her coat.
‘They must have records somewhere.’
‘Secret notebooks, you mean?’
‘More likely to be computer files these days,’ said Dunbar.
‘So if you could get your hands on them you might find all the evidence you needed?’
‘That’s what I’m thinking,’ he agreed. ‘They must have kept records of all the experiments they’ve done, what went right, what went wrong, what their conclusions were, what they’re going to do next.’
‘Makes sense. But how on earth are you going to get your hands on something like that?’
‘Presumably the records are kept somewhere in Ross’s research lab. I’d have to get in there somehow, but nothing has happened to spook the people in the transplant unit. They’ve no reason to be on their guard. I’m sure I can think of a way and once inside I think I’ll be able to lay hands on what I need. If I could hand the police records of experiments involving the kids, I think we could nail them.’
Lisa looked dubious. ‘I don’t think you should rush into this. It could be dangerous. You don’t really know what you’re up against.’
‘They’re not professional criminals,’ said Dunbar. ‘I think we’re talking about a few ambitious bastards who’ve been cutting corners to speed up their research.’
‘But they’ve killed two children and we think they’re also killing a nursing sister and her husband. Don’t you think that’s an unusually high price for even the most ambitious of researchers to contemplate?’
Dunbar had to agree. ‘You think I’m missing something?’
‘I think it’s possible, and I wouldn’t like it to kill you,’ said Lisa.
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
‘You haven’t had any more thoughts about the isotope, have you?’
Dunbar shook his head. ‘I suppose Medic Ecosse were just too clever and careful to use one that could be traced back to them. They seem to think of everything — including switching the organs in corpses in case anyone should dig them up and examine them.’
‘You’ll get a break soon,’ said Lisa, slipping her arm into his as they turned back to the car park. ‘I can feel it.’
Dunbar phoned Sci-Med first thing in the morning and spoke to Macmillan. ‘Sir, you asked me to reconcile the nurses’ allegations with the pathologist’s findings. I think I can.’
‘Amaze me,’ said Macmillan drily.
‘They switched the organs after death, probably during the post-mortem.’
‘After death?’
‘It’s still possible they’ve been carrying out experiments on children, using animal organs. They wait until a compatible donor organ becomes available for their patient and then obtain it. But they don’t use it; they just keep it as insurance. If their experiment fails, they replace the animal organ with the human one before releasing the body for burial.’
Macmillan said, ‘Good God, what an awful thought. It’s possible, I suppose, but damn nearly impossible to prove I’d have thought.’
‘I’d like to try but I need more time.’
‘But even supposing you’re right, Dunbar, don’t you think they’d have stopped after the first death?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Why didn’t they abandon the whole thing after the first patient died? Why would they continue, knowing the experiment was a failure?’
‘Perhaps they believed they’d solved the problem,’ ventured Dunbar.
‘Mmmm,’ said Macmillan, unconvinced.
Dunbar offered no further argument. Lisa had suggested there was more to it than he thought. Macmillan was doing the same. It was just possible they were right.
