came to a decision about what he would do with his second day off. It might not be the most sensible thing in the world, but he would try to see Spicer in prison. Spicer was the only man who could put right the wrong done to Caroline’s reputation. There was also a chance that the little shit might not know what he’d done to Trudi. He should know about that. He definitely should.
Tiredness was catching up as Steven logged on to his computer before bed and found that the first result had come in from Porton. The lab had carried out a tissue-compatibility test on the mitral valve taken from Mary Xavier and found it was a very good match — almost perfect, in fact.
‘Nice to know,’ murmured Steven.
‘Spicer might want his lawyer present,’ warned the prison governor when Steven made his request.
‘It’s completely unofficial,’ said Steven. ‘There’s no question of interviewing him under police caution, so there’s no chance of him incriminating himself any further. I just want a chat.’
‘A chat,’ repeated the governor with a knowing smile. ‘He may well refuse to see you, in that case,’ he said.
‘He may. But there’d be no harm in letting him think there might be some official basis for the request…?’
The governor’s smile broadened. He said, ‘All right, we’ll play it your way and give it a try, but if he asks for a lawyer he gets one. Understood?’
‘Understood.’
Leaning over the desk, the governor said, ‘There’s actually a very good chance he won’t. Our Mr Spicer has been experiencing a resurgence of self-confidence, shall we say, ever since the charges were reduced.’
‘Then it’s true?’
‘Oh yes,’ said the governor. ‘It’s what happens when your pals in high places retain the services of the best silk in the country and the local Crown prosecutor starts spending a lot of time in the lavatory.’
‘And they tell me we don’t have plea bargaining in this country,’ said Steven.
‘Like we don’t have a class system,’ said the governor, picking up his phone.
Before long a return phone call informed them that Spicer was waiting in the interview room. ‘I’ll take you down,’ said the governor.
Despite the prison clothes, Spicer looked both smart and smug, thought Steven as he was shown into the room. ‘Nice of you to see me,’ he said.
‘Just call me curious,’ replied Spicer, wearing the self-satisfied grin Steven had come to loathe.
‘I hear you got the charges reduced,’ said Steven.
‘I had every confidence in British justice, and it hasn’t let me down.’
‘You murdered Anthony Pelota to keep him quiet, and, what’s more, you’re responsible for the deaths of well over a hundred people in this city.’
Spicer’s grin faded. ‘Let’s get something straight,’ he hissed, leaning across the bare table that separated them. ‘There’s no way I could have known I had that damned virus, and you know it. My medical history’s confidential, and if any suggestion of this reaches the papers I’ll hold you personally responsible and sue your arse off.’
‘You also destroyed the reputation of Dr Caroline Anderson to score cheap political points,’ continued Steven.
Spicer relaxed back into his chair. ‘So that’s why you’re here,’ he said with a knowing grin. ‘She sent you here to try and salvage her career.’
‘She’s dead,’ said Steven. ‘She died nursing victims of the virus.’
Spicer looked questioningly at him, as if trying to see an angle that wasn’t immediately apparent. ‘And you had a soft spot for her, right?’
‘I think I loved her,’ said Steven matter-of-factly.
Spicer swallowed. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked, clearly unsettled.
‘I want you to put the record straight on Caroline.’
‘She meant that much, huh?’ said Spicer, his expression showing that he thought he might have the upper hand. ‘Well, no deal. She made a wrong decision. She should have sent out a call for all those kids at the disco.’
‘That wouldn’t have made the slightest difference. As it was, she used her common sense and prevented panic. She was a good and dedicated doctor. She deserves to be remembered as such.’
‘No deal, Dunbar. I have my own career to think of.’
Steven’s open incredulity brought a smile to Spicer’s face. He said, ‘All right, I had an affair, I admit it. I’m not the first and won’t be the last. Then some wop tried to blackmail me and accidentally got himself killed trying to stop me going to the police. No one’s going to lose much sleep over that. It’s not inconceivable that I might be forgiven in time. There’s even a rumour going around that my barrister’s sponsored by Kleenex because of the number of jurors he’s reduced to tears.’
Steven didn’t smile. He felt his loathing for Spicer become an actual taste in his mouth. ‘Trudi is in St Jude’s,’ he said. ‘She’s gone down with the virus.’
Spicer went silent and still. ‘So?’ he said eventually; but his bravado was diminished by the hoarseness of his voice.
‘We both know how she got it.’
‘Even if what you’re suggesting is true — and I don’t accept that for a moment — there’s nothing you can do. Like I said, my medical history is confidential, and there’s no way I could have known at the time.’
Steven looked at Spicer as if he were a stain on the floor but said nothing. Spicer was psyched into leaning across the table and saying, ‘Nothing you can do, Dunbar.’
‘It’s true I can’t reveal your medical record, or do anything to stop a smartarse lawyer minimising your crime, but I’m not entirely without influence.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It would be naive of you to believe that no one else knows about your involvement in the outbreak, or that rumours won’t start.’
‘So what? They won’t be able to make it public any more than you can.’
‘It’s my guess that you’re still going to go to prison — not for as long as I’d hoped, I grant you, but you’re still going down.’
‘So? I’ll catch up on my reading.’
‘That’s where my influence comes in.’
‘Just what are you getting at?’ asked Spicer uneasily.
It was Steven’s turn to lean over the table. ‘Just this. Either you admit publicly that you falsely accused Caroline of incompetence and clear her name, or I’ll put the fix in over where and how you spend your sentence. And believe me, you little shit, I’ll see to it that your arse becomes a bigger attraction than Blackpool Pleasure Beach.’
Spicer turned pale. He tried to splutter a response but nothing came out.
‘Your call,’ said Steven. He got up and knocked on the door. The warder opened it at once, and Steven was gone before Spicer could say any more.
Steven needed a drink. He headed for the nearest pub and downed a large gin. He was annoyed with himself for letting Spicer get to him again; he’d come dangerously close to hitting the man, and he knew it. He was about to order another drink when his mobile phone rang, attracting derisory looks from the other customers.
He went outside, and Macmillan said, ‘There’s been another wildcard case.’
Warning bells went off in Steven’s head: why was Macmillan phoning him personally? ‘Where?’ he asked.
‘North Wales.’
‘And?’ Steven had a nasty feeling there was bad news to come.
‘She’s not on the list.’
Steven closed his eyes and mouthed the words ‘Oh fuck!’ Aloud, he said, ‘Oh dear.’
‘Oh dear indeed,’ said Macmillan. ‘You do realise what this means?’
‘We’re not out of the woods yet.’
‘That’s one way of putting it, although the PM used a different expression when I told him fifteen minutes
