And, just like that, my chance to save the world slips past like the rainclouds gathering in the sky above.
Chapter 36
Bradford
Back at The Fort waiting for Professor Carlton to join them, Gus was drawn once more to the sketches that had been sent to his mum and the two that had accompanied the bodies of the two hanging victims; Miranda Brooks and Beatrice Flateau. They’d sent images of the nursery rhyme and the sketch as well as the foetal scan to Compo, who had printed them out and was now jumping about like a rogue space hopper on speed.
Every time Gus’s eyes were drawn to the one of his mum, the vile rhyme her mum sang popped back into his head.
‘Coco the nig nog gollywog,
Ugly little dog.
Coco nig nog Gollywog,
Flush you down the bog.’
Her eyes had been sad when she’d recited it, but her tone was … well he wasn’t entirely sure how to describe her tone. It hadn’t been acceptance, but it certainly wasn’t the fiery indignation he was used to hearing from his mum when racism reared its ugly head. He would give anything to erase her memory of that and wondered where she learnt to store up so much love, when that had been the first example she’d ever seen.
He grieved for that little girl. The one with the frightened tortured face, hearing that song, having her head flushed down a loo. It was despicable. He’d asked her where her mother was now, but she’d shook her head. So, against his better judgement, Gus had done the very thing he knew she would have hated. He’d enlisted Compo to find out about his grandmother. Gus wasn’t sure what he would do if she were still alive, however, despite his mum not wanting to know anything about her, he was compelled – he had to see this woman who had made his own mother’s childhood so miserable.
‘Gus … Gus? You with us?’
He stirred himself and moved over to sit down, ignoring the questioning look that accompanied Alice’s irritated words. ‘Sorry. I’m all yours.’
Compo beaming and rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet, seemingly not understanding the memo about the change of SIO, directed his excited words to Gus. ‘Got a link … Boss.’
Alice tutted and rolled her eyes.
Misinterpreting her actions, Compo slapped her on the shoulder, nodding vociferously. ‘It’s brill innit? We needed a break, didn’t we? Prof Carlton’s gonna be chuffed to bits.’
Gus smothered his grin as Alice muttered under her breath. ‘I’m SIO, but I’m still bumped down to third place in terms of order of command.’ She paused, rolled her eyes, and continued, ‘And a bloody civilian’s beaten me too.’
Uncertainty lined Compo’s face. ‘Don’t know what you’re on about, Al.’
Resigned, Alice wafted her hand indicating he should continue.
The PC geek’s face transformed, all confusion thrust to the back of his mind, forgotten already. Like that fish in that bloody film, Mo’s youngest was addicted to. Dory, that was its name. Compo reminded Gus of a more intelligent, yet simple Dory from Finding Nemo. Arms crossed over his chest, one leg bent and resting on the opposite knee, Gus averted his gaze, reckoning that if he avoided eye contact, Compo would address his findings to Alice and she would be mollified.
‘Both women had fertility treatment.’
Resisting the desire to look up, Gus closed his eyes and said ‘Thank God’ under his breath. Not that he was religious, but the second victim gave them something concrete to work with – lines of investigation to follow and he was glad they’d got something so quickly. He bit his tongue, aware that Alice would ask any necessary questions in her own time. No way did he want to step on her toes again and end up having her reconsider his position on the edges of the team. Not at this crucial stage.
‘Please tell me it was the same clinic?’ Alice’s eyes sparked with excitement too and she nudged Gus in the ribs none too gently.
Obligingly Compo nodded and repeated Alice’s words. ‘Yes, it was the same clinic. The Hudson Fertility Treatment Clinic in Leeds.’
‘Bloody brill, Comps, you’ve outdone yourself!’ Alice jumped to her feet and slapped him on the shoulder – just a little harder than he’d slapped her earlier, judging by the way Compo rubbed his shoulder and pouted.
‘What else do you have on this clinic?’
Compo consulted his tablet but edged away from Alice as if anticipating another shoulder slap if she was pleased with his findings. ‘Established in 2002, CEO is Gerard Hamelyn. The clinic makes around 6.5 million per year and is flourishing.’
‘Not sure how this ties into my mum or Rory Robertson, but it’s certainly a lead we have to follow – maybe they have a clinic in Scotland. Maybe an employee who’s moved south?’
But Compo was shaking his head. ‘No, no Scottish links that I can ascertain.’
Alice looked at Gus. ‘You fancy taking Compo to have a chat with the CEO? Maybe one of his employees or even he himself are responsible. Maybe they know an employee who has gone rogue.’ She paused, frowned, and tapped her finger against her lower lip. ‘Don’t let him go all warranty on us. The victims are dead, so we need any info he can give. Also, Compo, while you’re there, can you ascertain how stringent the clinic’s data security is and who has access? We can’t rule out a security breach at this stage … in fact we can’t rule out anything. This bloody killer’s invisible so far.’
As Alice spoke, Compo’s face fell. He raised his hand like a kid at school dancing about like he was in urgent need of a loo break, Gus smirked. He suspected what the lad was going to say before he uttered the words.
‘Al. Boss, I mean, DS Cooper. You mean after Professor Carlton comes back, don’t you? He may have something for me
