‘ Another beer?’
‘ Maybe coffee.’
When he got back to the car, Steven checked his phone for the Sci-Med text message he’d asked for. He called the number he’d been given at Edinburgh University and asked to speak to Dr Susan Givens.
‘ Speaking.’
‘ My name’s Dunbar. I understand the Sci-Med Inspectorate has been in touch?’ said Steven.
‘ Indeed they have, Doctor. I take it you have the samples?’
‘ I’m just about to pick them up from the police lab. Will it be all right if I bring them over this afternoon?’
‘ I have a meeting at two, so any time after three? Say three thirty?’
‘ Three thirty, it is then’ said Steven. ‘And you are in the Institute of Cell and Molecular Biology, room 923?’
‘ That’s right. It’s the tower building on your left as you enter through gate 4 in Mayfield Road.’
Steven drove across town to the forensics lab and was shown immediately into McDougal’s office where he sensed that McDougal seemed a deal less friendly than last time.
‘ All ready for you,’ said McDougal with a weak attempt at a smile as he pushed a polystyrene container sealed up with yellow tape across his desk. ‘There are two samples of semen and the wash obtained from the buccal swab of David Little taken at the time. They’re all in crushed ice. I take it you’ve already made arrangements for the analysis?’
Steven confirmed that he had without saying more.
‘ I can’t say I wish you luck because I’ve no official idea of what you’re setting out to do. I’d be lying of course, if I pretended that I couldn’t work it out for myself. Let’s say, I wish you a result, which shows that you’re wasting your time.’
‘ Fair enough,’ smiled Steven.
‘ There’s one thing I think you should know,’ said McDougal.
‘ What?’ asked Steven.
‘ I was asked yesterday to carry out a discreet analysis on these self-same samples.’
‘ By whom?’
‘ People with an impressive amount of scrambled egg on their hats,’ replied McDougal.
‘ And?’
‘ I declined.’
‘ Can you do that?’
‘ I’ll find out over the next few days,’ said McDougal with a nervous smile.
‘ Why did you refuse?’
‘ I don’t want anything to do with what went on in this lab in Ronald Lee’s time. I’m not going to be tainted by association. I’m gambling that they won’t want me fuelling the fires of publicity by resigning on a matter of principle.’
‘ Seems a safe enough call,’ said Steven. ‘Let’s hope for everyone’s sake that the scrambled egg stays on their hats and doesn’t slip down on to their faces when the results come back.’
‘ Amen to that,’ said McDougal. ‘You wanted a word with Carol?’
Steven nodded and McDougal excused himself in order to go find Carol Bain.
Carol Bain, when she came in, sat down in the same prissy fashion as she had on the occasion of their last meeting, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirt. ‘How can I help you, Doctor?’ she asked.
‘ You can tell me about John Merton,’ said Steven simply.
‘ I haven’t seen John for years. As I said before, when Dr Lee retired John left too. He worked in the medical school for a while and then there was some talk of him setting up his own business but that’s about as much as I know.’
‘ Any idea what kind of a business?’ asked Steven.
Carol shrugged. ‘I don’t remember him having any other hobbies or interests outside science so I presume it would have to have something to do that. That’s about as much as I can tell you.’
‘ The last time we spoke, you told me that John took it upon himself to look after Dr Lee in the lab, make sure he didn’t mess up too many things, minimise the damage and generally keep an eye on him.’
‘ That’s right,’ agreed Carol.
‘ Why?’ asked Steven. ‘Why did he do that?’
‘ Just John’s nature, I suppose. I’m not sure I know what you mean,’ replied Carol.
‘ What do you think would have happened if John Merton hadn’t covered for Dr Lee?’
Carol thought for a moment and said, ‘I suppose matters would have come to a head much sooner.’
‘ Perhaps that might not have been a bad thing?’
Carol moved uncomfortably in her seat. ‘In retrospect, I suppose not,’ she conceded. She raised the palms of both hands, trying to fend off an unpleasant notion. ‘Who can say?’ she said. ‘What’s done is done. It’s always easy to be wise after the event.’
‘ John wasn’t always successful in protecting Dr Lee, was he?’ asked Steven.
Carol looked defensive.
‘ I mean there were occasions when things slipped through, things that defence counsel exposed and exploited. It must have been a bit embarrassing?’
‘ I suppose.’
‘ Guilty men walked free on occasions?’ asked Steven.
‘ Unfortunately yes,’ said Carol in a low voice.
‘ Did John apply for the position of head of the lab when Ronald Lee was forced into retirement?’
‘ No,’ said Carol with a decisive shake of the head. ‘There was no question of that.’
‘ Why not?
‘ He wasn’t medically qualified. That’s a requirement.’
‘ I see,’ said Steven. ‘Well, thank you for your help, Miss Bain.’
Steven checked his watch as he left the building and saw that he had forty minutes to kill before his meeting with Susan Givens. It would only take him ten minutes to drive to Edinburgh University’s science campus in Mayfield Road so he stopped at the first hotel he came to and ordered some coffee. It came on a silver tray accompanied by a small plate of shortbread fingers.
Steven sat in the lounge, which at 3 o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon, was deserted. This encouraged him to take up cup and saucer in hand and wander around the room viewing the eclectic mix of artefacts that for some reason hotel lounges always managed to accumulate. He supposed that there might be a large warehouse somewhere that prospective hoteliers called up in order to buy assorted junk by weight. ‘Forty kilos of Victoriana please.’
He moved to one of the large windows and looked out on the car park and what had once been an impressive orchard beyond. It now lay neglected and overgrown, a tangled mess of intertwined boughs and ill-defined paths, one of them leading to the tumbledown remains of a greenhouse without glass. It looked a mess but only because the human eye searched for order and functionality. Here, nature was simply reclaiming her own. The tangled branches had buds on them. They were very much alive. In a few years there would be no trace left at all of man’s efforts to order the garden because the green stuff had one big advantage over cinder paths and brick walls, it had DNA, the self-replicating life force. It was no contest.
Susan Givens was discussing experimental results with one of her research students, a Chinese boy, when Steven arrived.
‘ I’ll be with you in a moment,’ she smiled.
Steven took in the stunning view of the city from the window of her office, which looked out due north to Edinburgh Castle. The conversation continued in the background.
‘ The graph shows big rise,’ said the Chinese boy enthusiastically.
‘ But so does the control culture,’ countered Susan, holding up two sheets of graph paper in front of her and comparing them critically.
‘ Not so much,’ insisted the boy. ‘I think result is significant.’
‘ The control doesn’t show as big a rise because you’ve plotted it on a different scale from the experimental
