‘But your father was dead.’
‘They wanted to use dad’s research for something else.’
‘And your stepfather may be involved?’
‘I hope not, but it’s best to hear from my father first.’
‘We should tell the police.’
‘To hell with the police, mother. He’s my father, your husband. We owe him our confidence, at least for now.’
‘You’re right. If you see him again, let him know that I want to see him.’
It’s complicated, isn’t it?’
‘Impossible, that’s what it is. Where will it all end? Gwen asked.
‘Badly, that’s for sure, but what else can we do?’
‘Nothing. We must continue, hoping for the best, expecting the worst.’
***
Malcolm Woolston was aware that his daughter had visited her mother. He knew that his ability to blend in was remarkable. A man wearing overalls and a hard hat, not uncommon in an area where every other house seemed to be involved in renovations.
He had wanted to knock on the door and go in, but he had seen the police car cruising slowly past, and besides, he did not know what Gwen’s reaction would be, and whether he should meet her again. He knew that he wanted to throw his arms around her and to make love to her, but would that be possible, should he even consider it? Both had regarded marriage as exclusive, but now she was married to another, and he had been dead to her for years.
It was late afternoon before Sally left her mother’s house. Woolston followed at a discreet distance. He waited until she was inside her own home before he left. He did not know why he had followed her; he certainly had no intention of contacting her that day. How many times had he followed her home in the past? He’d helped her on one or two occasions, even thrashing one man who had made her unhappy, and now she was unhappy again, and he was confusing the situation.
If those who had wronged him knew he had been in contact with Sally, his family would be used as levers, but how could he protect them? His decision to return to the real world and to deal with those who had dealt with him came with its attendant disadvantages: the risks to his family.
And Ed Barrow was carrying on with Sue Christie, and his wife did not know. Should he tell her? Should he tell her why he had returned? Would she understand? She had always been a stickler for the concepts of right and wrong. She would never understand that he had killed for a reason, although his daughter had; but then, she was more like him.
Woolston considered the way forward. If he announced what he knew to the media, they would not believe him. It may generate debate, but what use would that be? Officially the government would agree that there needed to be tighter controls on research and its misappropriation for illegal purposes, and that the government should not be involved in selling weapons to nations that had an unenviable human rights record, but those assurances had been given to him before, and then what had happened? Nothing. Just empty words flowing out into the ether.
He needed to protect his family; he needed help.
‘Detective Chief Inspector Cook, this is Malcolm Woolston.’
‘Mr Woolston, we have been looking for you,’ Isaac said. ‘How did you contact me?’
‘Please tell Bridget Halloran not to trace this call.’
‘How do you know the names of my staff?’
‘Let us not fool ourselves here. You are aware of my academic achievements.’
‘Yes, and what you have done since you’ve returned.’
‘We can talk now, or I will phone back later.’
Isaac signalled to Bridget to stop trying to access the originating location of the call. Larry came into Isaac’s office. ‘DI Hill is here as well. Is that acceptable?’
‘Yes. Please listen. Over eleven years ago, I was a research scientist at a government department in London. You’ve visited it, so I don’t need to repeat the address.’
‘That’s true.’
‘I, along with others, was working on a project to generate vast quantities of low-cost energy.’
‘This we know.’
‘What do you suspect?’
‘That there was a plan to use it for non-peaceful purposes.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Helen Toogood.’
‘Is she safe?’
‘From me she is, and there’s no way that she will be able to solve the problem. No one will harm her?’ Woolston said.
‘What about Ed Barrow?’
‘We’ll come to him in a while. There is a problem with the final solution that only I can solve. Some people will stop at nothing to force me to give them that solution.’
‘Are you sure? This is England, we have rules and regulations.’
‘Idealistic, I’ll grant you. This country is as sadistic as any other given the opportunity, and those who have died, who must die, are not worthy of compassion.’
‘George Arbuthnot?’
‘The man was there when I was tortured, even took part. I had told Ed Barrow that I would not let my work be used for violent means.’
‘And Barrow told others?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Self-preservation, financial aggrandisement, power.’
‘You’ve mentioned torture.’
‘They tortured me. Do you want me to describe what happened?’
‘The basics.’
‘Harold Hutton was there and Ed Barrow was behind the scenes. I refused to give them what they wanted. Arbuthnot and his partner beat me for almost two weeks, sleep deprivation, electric shocks, the works.’
‘Why was it so important?’
‘I knew what they wanted to do. They wanted to take what I had and weaponise it. Then they would sell it to the highest bidder.’
‘Government-sanctioned?’
‘With the military, yes.’
‘And now Ed Barrow is married to your wife. Why were you living on the street for eleven years?’
‘I could protect my wife and daughter. They’ll not hesitate to use them to get to me.’
‘Is your research still relevant.’
