something about women and handbags when he felt a sudden pain in the back of his left thigh as if he’d been stung by a wasp. He clutched at it and turned to see a male figure who had been walking towards them turn on his heel and run off.
‘What the…’ he gasped as his senses started to reel and he felt his knees become weak.
‘Steven!’ Tally cried out in alarm as she ran round to the passenger side to find him slumping to the ground. ‘What’s happened?’
Steven was fighting a losing battle but he pulled out the thing that was sticking in the back of his leg. It was a small dart — the kind that could be fired from an air pistol. He matched this up with his observation of the man who had taken to his heels. Something about his suit said that he wasn’t English… he was east European, maybe Russian. ‘Sweet Jesus,’ he murmured as he realised that he had been wrong about the two Russians who had driven him off the road. It hadn’t been a case of mistaken identity at all. It had been him they’d been after all along.
Steven looked at the dart through blurred vision as consciousness threatened to leave him. ‘Ricin…’ he murmured. ‘Ricin… There’s no antidote. I’m so sorry.’
Tally, her eyes wide with horror, saw the dart fall from Steven’s hand and did her best to cushion his head as he slumped unconscious to the pavement. She put him in the recovery position and snatched her mobile phone from her bag to dial three nines. With her fingers resting lightly on the carotid pulse in Steven’s neck and feeling a mixture of shock and anguish, she brought out a pair of tweezers from her bag and picked up the dart from the pavement.
‘Welcome back,’ said the voice as Steven blinked at the whiteness of the ceiling and started to take in his surroundings. He tried to focus on the figure in white who had spoken but everything was just too bright.
‘Before you ask, you’re in hospital: it’s ten thirty on Tuesday morning and you are a very lucky man.’
‘Tuesday?’ murmured Steven, suddenly realising that he had lost a couple of days of his life. ‘Tally… must see Tally.’
‘I take it you mean Dr Simmons? She asked to be kept informed when you woke up. I’ll give her a call in a moment,’ said the nurse. ‘Mind you, she’ll have to fight her way through the heavies on the door. I thought it had to be Brad Pitt or George Clooney lying helpless in here when I came on duty last night.’
‘Sorry,’ said Steven with an attempt at a smile.
‘Oh, I don’t know…’ said the nurse with a grin as she left the room.
Steven had barely a moment to rest his head on the pillow and think back to Sunday before a middle-aged man in a suit came into the room and introduced himself as George Lamont, the doctor in charge of his case. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I thought there was no antidote to ricin,’ said Steven.
‘There isn’t,’ said Lamont. ‘But it wasn’t ricin.’
Steven looked at Lamont, feeling confused and wondering if his recollection of events might be flawed. ‘But the dart…’
‘Was poisoned, but not with ricin,’ interrupted Lamont. ‘And you have Dr Simmons to thank for saving your life. She picked up on the slight smell of almonds coming from the dart when she picked it up to examine it and you can be eternally grateful that she made the right call. The dart delivered cyanide not ricin. She and the paramedics managed to counteract the poison with amyl nitrite when your heart stopped and then we took over.’
‘My God… I assumed…’
‘Everyone remembers the Georgi Markov story,’ said Lamont. ‘Poisoned-tip umbrellas and all that.’
Tally arrived and entered the room, wearing a white coat and with a stethoscope slung round her neck. Lamont smiled and made to leave, saying that he would give them a few minutes together before having to give Steven a thorough examination.
‘I hear I owe you my life,’ said Steven.
‘The very least I could do… after Saturday night,’ smiled Tally. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like I’ve got the worst hangover in the world,’ replied Steven. ‘I’m so sorry for exposing you to danger like that. Christ, it could have been you.’
‘You weren’t to know that somebody was going to make an attempt on your life,’ said Tally, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing his hair back. ‘But I am curious to know why…’
‘I got it wrong,’ said Steven. ‘I should have known better at the time but I made the wrong call. I believed what I wanted to believe.’
Tally looked puzzled and vaguely uneasy as if she suspected that she was about to hear something she really didn’t want to know. ‘I don’t understand.
Steven told her about the attack on the motorway and the two Russians who had perished in the flames. ‘I thought it was a case of mistaken identity… that they were after the previous owner of the car but that’s what I wanted to believe when it was me they were after all along.’
Tally had gone pale. ‘Steven, you’re scaring me. I know you’re an investigator but I thought… you were sort of like a tax inspector… You might have to ask awkward questions from time to time… But Russians forcing you off the motorway and cyanide darts… This is all getting a bit much for me.’
‘I think that’s what I was afraid of hearing when I went for the mistaken identity conclusion rather than even consider it had been me they’d been after,’ said Steven.
‘What else haven’t you been telling me?’
‘You know everything else,’ said Steven.
Tally looked less than convinced. ‘So where exactly do Russians and poison darts fit into an investigation into British children being given unlicensed vaccines?’
‘I don’t know,’ he confessed.
Tally looked as if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not.
‘I really don’t.’
‘Oh God,’ sighed Tally, putting her hand to her forehead. ‘I knew this was a bad idea…’
‘No,’ said Steven, stretching out to take her hand. ‘It’s a good idea,’ he insisted. ‘When this is over, I promise I will do whatever it takes to make you see that it is, even if it means giving up my job and selling double glazing in Leicester… Just don’t give up on me?’
Tally’s expression softened. ‘You know very well how I feel about you,’ she said. ‘But this…’ Words failed her and she looked everywhere but directly at Steven. ‘I need a bit of time. Dr Lamont wants to examine you and there are a lot of people out there waiting to speak to you. I’ll come back later when I’ve finished my shift.’ She kissed Steven gently on the forehead but left him feeling uneasy in his mind.
NINETEEN
As soon as Lamont had finished examining Steven and given him a clean bill of health, Steven requested that he be allowed to make some telephone calls.
‘Calling Sci-Med?’ asked Lamont.
Steven nodded.
‘I’ve already informed Sir John Macmillan that you’re back in the land of the living. He left instructions when you were admitted that he be kept informed of your progress at all times. I gather he’s the one responsible for the guards on the door. He’ll be expecting your call.’
Steven called Macmillan but spoke first to Jean Roberts who said how worried they had all been. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right. When we heard it was cyanide… well, you know…’
Steven was touched by the note of genuine concern in Jean’s voice. He had to swallow before saying, ‘Thanks, Jean. I was very lucky. I wonder if you’d mind phoning my sister-in-law in Scotland and telling her why I’ve not been in touch. Don’t tell her the whole story, maybe just that I’ve been away on operations and I’ll call as soon as I can? Give her my love and ask her to tell Jenny that Daddy loves her very much. He’ll be in touch as soon as we’ve caught the bad guys.’
‘Will do. John’s had a bit of a job squaring things with the local police and trying to keep the story out of the papers.’
