‘ I’d still bet on a clean up,’ said Susan.
Steven, remembering their earlier conversation about what kind of alteration was acceptable, asked the question.
‘ A toughie,’ smiled Susan. ‘Usually ghosting occurs as the result of small amounts of material leaking away from the inoculation wells and causing faint bands at the side of the main track — a simple mechanical fault, if you like — but these are different. The extra bands aren’t ghosts of the originals because they occur at different positions and they also occur in the same track as the major bands.’
‘ What do you think that means?’ asked Steven.
‘ Possibly breakdown products because the samples are old.’
‘ But if that were the case, they wouldn’t have been present on the original gels so there would have been no need to clean them up?’ suggested Steven.
‘ Good point,’ conceded Susan. ‘The truth is I simply don’t know.’
‘ Would an expert viewing these gel photographs at the time have noticed that they had been cleaned up?’ he asked.
Susan said, ‘Almost certainly. The technology wasn’t good in these days. Gels were usually a bit messy so a very clean one would immediately have aroused suspicion.’
‘ If it had ever been shown to an expert,’ murmured Steven, thinking about Verdi’s failure to question the prosecution evidence.
‘ I take it it never was?’ said Susan.
Steven shook his head and said, ‘Do you think the presence of these ghost bands would have been grounds for questioning the evidence?’
‘ No,’ said Susan firmly. ‘I daresay some lawyers might have tried it but the bottom-line as far as science is concerned remains that the semen came from David Little. There’s no doubt about that.’
‘ As long as that’s clear,’ said Steven; he took another look at the gel photographs lying on the light box and murmured, ‘Truth lies at the bottom of a well.’
‘ Who said that?’ asked Susan, smiling at the pun.
‘ It’s a Greek proverb,’ said Steven.
‘ Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes,’ said Susan.
‘ I fear the Greeks…’
‘ Even when they bring gifts,’ completed Susan. ‘Virgil. A Roman sentiment.’
Steven smiled and said, ‘Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.’
‘ You’re welcome. I’m sure the university will charge the Home Office handsomely for it.’
‘ Don’t you get paid personally?’
‘ That’s not the way the university does things,’ smiled Susan.
‘ Then maybe I could buy you dinner?’
‘ That would be very nice,’ said Susan, sounding at first surprised and then pleased. ‘Thank you.’
‘ I’ll be away this weekend — I’m going down to Dumfries to see my daughter — but I’ll be back on Monday. How about Monday night?’
‘ Fine,’ said Susan.
Steven left, saying that he would call her at the university on Monday to finalise arrangements. He was already looking forward to spending the evening with her. He suspected she knew a lot about a lot and he enjoyed the company of bright women.
Steven wondered which of the three he should tell first, Macmillan, McClintock or David Little. He decided on Little because it seemed only right although he knew that Little was a man almost beyond caring. Forty-five minutes later he was standing in an assistant governor’s office at Barlinnie, hearing him say, ‘I think we know who talked to the papers but we can’t prove it.’
Steven nodded. He didn’t much care because the damage had been done. He was not interested in apportioning blame after the event. ‘The tests confirmed Little as being Julie’s murderer. I’d like to tell him personally,’ said Steven.
‘ Well, thank Christ for that. Claiming wrongful conviction seems to be a national sport these days. Little’s been moved. He’s not well. I’ll get someone to take you down.’
Steven had to wait for a few minutes before being escorted to see Little by the same prison officer who’d accompanied him on the last occasion, the man with the harelip. Steven would have put money on him being the source of the leak but he didn’t give any outward sign of this. He did wonder however, if the same man was under suspicion by the prison and this was why he’d been detailed to accompany him again. This time the authorities might be counting on him leaking the new result to the papers.
As they walked along the corridors it became clear that the prisoners had their own ideas about what had been going on. A muted chorus of, ‘McGregor’s off to sunny Spain, Viva Espa n a,’ broke out to mark their progress and brought an angry flush to the cheeks of the officer. Steven pretended that he had heard nothing. His inner feelings of amusement evaporated in an instant however, when he saw the state of Little.
Little had been moved to accommodation of the type used for prisoners who were ill and required medical care but who were not going to be moved to hospital for whatever reason. Little was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and taking rapid, shallow breaths. If anything he seemed even paler than last time and his cheekbones were making him look positively skeletal.
‘ It’s you,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Come to tell me it’s all been a horrible mistake.’ He tried to laugh but a cough beat him to it and seemed to rattle his very ribs. He picked up a metal bowl that sat beside his bunk and spat into it. His lack of energy and co-ordination made it a messy business and bloodstained sputum trickled down his chin as he fell back on the pillow, seemingly exhausted.
Steven took out a couple of surgical gloves from the box by the sink and put them on. He picked up a pack of surgical wipes and cleaned Little’s face before dumping both gloves and the used wipes in the pedal bin marked ‘Biological Waste.’
‘ No, I haven’t,’ he said. ‘The tests proved beyond doubt that it was your semen they found in Julie Summers’ body.’
Little shook his head despairingly and resumed his survey of the ceiling. ‘It just cannot be,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t do it.’
Steven remained impassive.
‘ Christ!’ exclaimed Little angrily after a moment’s thought. ‘I actually allowed myself to believe that you were going to come up with something where the others failed or didn’t even bother. And what happens? I get kicked in the balls again. Fuck! I just can’t win.’
Little’s emotional outburst brought on more coughing and Steven gloved up again before helping him through it. He held his bony shoulders while Little hacked in protest at the pneumonia that was attacking his defenceless lungs. A sudden clunk in the bowl made him look down to see with revulsion that one of Little’s teeth had come out of his gum and now lay in the bowl attached to a stringy piece of bloody tissue. Little’s gums had been retracting with his severe weight loss. ‘I’ll get you some help,’ Steven said.
Little spat out some blood from his mouth and held up his hand. ‘No,’ he said, looking at Steven with eyes that were dark pools. ‘Just fuck off, will you?’
Steven arranged for medical staff to see to Little before walking back to the office with McGregor.
‘ I take it you had bad news for him then,’ said the officer. ‘Good. Maybe that’ll stop the bastard playing the injured innocent from now on.’
‘ Si,’ said Steven as the strains of Viva Espa n a broke out again.
Steven called Macmillan from the car park and gave him the news.
‘ I won’t pretend I’m not relieved,’ said Macmillan.
‘ I’ve just told Little,’ said Steven. ‘And now I feel awful.’
‘ You raised his hopes?’
‘ I didn’t mean to, but yes, I did. For whatever reason — and don’t quote the Boys’ Own Psychiatry Manual at me — the man still clings to the delusion that he’s innocent. He must have seen me as the saviour he’s been waiting eight years for. For my part, I just had to make sure the DNA tests were right.’
‘You intentions were honourable,’ said Macmillan. ‘You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘ Thanks,’ said Steven.
