‘That simple?’
‘That simple.’
‘Can I ask what you are investigating?’
‘The GM crop problem on Peat Ridge Farm.’
‘I don’t think it’s an investigator that’s needed,’ said Eve. ‘It’s a couple of sheep dogs to sort out these squabbling clowns down at the hotel. I don’t think they can agree on what day of the week it is.’
‘The politics of the situation don’t concern me directly,’ said Steven. ‘Just the science and what they’re doing with it.’
‘All right, I won’t ask any more questions,’ said Eve.
‘I’d like to ask you one,’ said Steven. ‘Do you know how I could get in touch with Trish Rafferty?’
Eve looked at him out of the corner of her eye. ‘Why?’
‘I need to talk to her.’
‘What about?’
‘Life with Thomas.’
‘She’d probably question you calling it a life.’
‘That bad?’
‘He didn’t beat her up, if that’s what you mean. He’s just a lazy drunk. Great fun for his pals in the pub but a complete pain in the arse to be married to, I should think.’
‘I gather he was pretty much always like that,’ said Steven.
‘So?’
‘So what finally pushed her into leaving him?’
‘Funny you should ask that,’ said Eve. ‘I remember wondering about that at the time because he didn’t seem to be behaving particularly badly, in fact, he’d just bought her a new car a few weeks before she left but she never told me why she walked out and to this day, the subject is still off limits.’
‘So you’ve seen her since she left him?’
‘Once or twice.’
‘So are you going to tell me where I can find her?’
Eve hesitated for quite a while before saying, ‘Trish was the nearest thing to a friend I could get around here. She’s much older than I am but she’s an intelligent woman and I enjoyed her company. We could talk about things other than what was on telly last night. I’m not at all sure about your interest in her. What aspect of her life with Tom is it that you want to know about?’
‘I understand how you feel,’ said Steven, ‘and I respect your loyalty but Thomas Rafferty told me that everything he’s doing these days he’s doing in order to get his wife to come back to him. I want to know what his chances are.’
‘Why? What on earth has the Raffertys’ private life to do with your investigation?’
‘If Trish Rafferty tells me that she’s considering coming back to Rafferty when he’s sorted himself out, well and good. I’ll wish them both well, but if she says that there’s no chance of a reconciliation, Rafferty probably knows that too and there’s some other reason behind his sudden passion for organic farming.’
‘Trish lives in Edinburgh. She has a flat in Dorset Place. It looks out on the canal, would you believe?’
‘The same canal?’
‘The very same, about fifteen miles from here.’
Steven wrote down the details and thanked Eve for her help.
‘I feel like I’ve betrayed her,’ said Eve.
‘You haven’t, believe me.’
Steven drove slowly into Edinburgh, wondering again about the GM crop and whether or not there was a connection between it and the change in the rats’ behaviour. If there was, then he had just found the missing motive for attempting to discredit Agrigene and having their crop destroyed. The worrying drawback to this conclusion was that it implied that someone already knew about the rats’ behavioural change. But who and how exactly?
Had this type of crop been tested on some other site? Was the problem confined to the Agrigene strain or was it a more general problem connected with the weed-killers rather than the crops? The questions were coming thick and fast, not least was the one concerning the warning off that Sci-Med had received at the outset. This suggested strongly that it was the government or some part of it who knew that there was a problem with the crop but clearly, they were not willing to deal with it openly.
Could it be something so sensitive? Something so liable to attract scandal and adverse publicity that they felt forced to disrupt the trial surreptitiously and come up with an excuse to destroy it? Steven could even find support for that theory in the pension deal that Gerald Millar had received. That must have had official sanction. Millar must have been encouraged to concoct a misleading report in order to discredit Agrigene and put an end to their trial but then again, Fildes, his boss had known nothing at all about it, nor had Millar’s colleagues.
This suggested to Steven that it had not been sanctioned through normal channels but that it had been part of a covert operation being run from within government circles and possibly with the blessing of someone in high office. He could even put money on knowing its code name. Sigma 5. That would explain the reaction when he had asked Sci-Med to inquire about it. The whole thing had obviously gone badly wrong on the ground when the ranks of officialdom spawned by two governments had started locking horns over responsibility for what was going on in Blackbridge.
Steven tried to step back from the details and take a look at the bigger picture. He supposed that it all made some kind of chilling sense. The days when people imagined that the British government wouldn’t do that sort of a thing were long gone. Too many embarrassing cover-ups and manipulations had come to light in recent years. The fact of the matter was that the public were dead set against the idea of GM crops and the government had flown in the face of public opinion by granting a plethora of licenses to research companies to carry out trials on them.
It was true that many of these permissions had been agreed before public awareness had been heightened by press coverage of the subject and ‘genetic’ had become a scare word — Agrigene’s license was an example of this, but once granted, the permissions lasted for several years. Agrigene’s license ran until the year, 2003. Now it was all looking like a recipe for disaster.
But if the problem were a general one, concerned with the use of powerful weed-killers, there would be no point in just destroying the Agrigene crop on its own, Steven concluded. There were similar trials going on all over the UK. Herbicide-resistant oilseed rape was one of the commonest GM crops around. This tended to imply that there might be something specifically wrong with the crop up on Peat Ridge Farm. But what? He felt uncomfortable with this thought. From what he’d seen, the crop was exactly what its designers claimed it to be.
‘Damnation,’ Steven sighed. Theories were all well and good when everything fitted but when there was something that didn’t fit — even if it seemed like a tiny detail — it was his experience that that usually turned out to be the hole below the waterline. He would proceed with caution and try to keep an open mind. This meant that he would have to consider other possibilities as to why a secret government initiative had been mounted in order to discredit and destroy a perfectly harmless crop.
Steven turned into Dorset Place and found visitors’ car parking space outside a pleasant block of modern flats, sitting on the south bank of the Union Canal. He checked the number of Trish Rafferty’s apartment on the paper in his pocket and got out to walk over to the entrance and press the entryphone button.
‘Yes?’
‘Mrs Rafferty? My name is Steven Dunbar. I’m with the Sci-Med Inspectorate. I wonder if I might speak with you?’
‘The who?’
‘The Sci-Med Inspectorate. It’s a government body. I can show you identification.’
There was a long pause before Trish Rafferty activated the door release and Steven walked into the hall and headed for the stairs. He ran up them two at a time and knocked gently on the front door that had been left ajar.
‘Come.’