‘I might ask you the same question, Professor,’ replied Gordon. ‘Bit late for a clinic, is it not?’
Thomas seemed to take this as a challenge. He stared at Gordon without blinking for a few moments. Gordon suspected this was a technique the man used for intimidating nurses and junior doctors when something had displeased him. He returned the stare and Thomas blinked first.
‘I had to spend the day in London. Another of these damned research council meetings. I thought I’d pop in to see that everything was all right.’
Gordon was delighted to hear that Thomas had been away all day. It meant that he hadn’t had a chance to do anything about Anne-Marie’s body. ‘I’m here to check up on a few things to do with the Megan Griffiths business,’ he volunteered.
‘At this time of night?’
‘Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today,’ said Gordon. It didn’t get much of a smile. They walked together towards the main door in silence but just before they reached it, Thomas stopped beside a dark green Jaguar car and looked puzzled.
‘Something the matter?’ Gordon asked.
Thomas appeared not to hear him at first and then realised he had been spoken to. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I asked if something was wrong,’ said Gordon.
‘No, nothing.’
‘Good. Perhaps you can help me? I need to gain access to the Pathology Department.’
‘Pathology?’ exclaimed Thomas.
‘One or two procedural things I need to check on.’
‘Surely that sort of thing is best done when the staff are actually there?’ said Thomas.
‘Maybe, but I’d just like to have a look around on my own and get a feel for a few things that have been bothering me,’ said Gordon.
‘I don’t think I understand,’ said Thomas.
‘I have the same sort of feeling,’ said Gordon. ‘I don’t think I understand why you requested that Anne-Marie Palmer’s body be brought here to Caernarfon.’
Thomas was taken aback. ‘What has that got to do with... Who told you that?’
‘No matter,’ replied Gordon. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’
‘I wanted to carry out a few tests. Dr French was kind enough to give me permission.’
‘As to whether it’s in Dr French’s power to grant you such permission is another matter,’ said Gordon. ‘Personally, I find it odd; he seemed quite a stickler for the rules when I asked if I could do much the same thing.’
‘Of course,’ nodded Thomas, suddenly remembering Gordon’s interest in the case. ‘Your belief in John Palmer’s innocence. You are meddling in something you don’t understand here, Doctor. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll leave things as they are.’
This for Gordon was a seminal moment. It confirmed that there was something to ‘meddle’ in. ‘Thanks for the advice, Professor, but what I really need to know right now is how I get into Pathology?’
For a few seconds it seemed that Thomas might lose his temper; his mouth twitched and his eyes flashed but he kept control. Finally, he simply said, ‘I’ll accompany you to the office and they’ll give you a key.’
Things had worked out better than Gordon could have hoped for. The fact that he was being given a key meant that he would be alone in Pathology. Getting a tissue sample from Anne-Marie was going to be a much simpler business all round.
The elderly man on the desk rose from his chair as Thomas entered. He was short, tubby and wore red braces over a green striped shirt; they held the waistband of his trousers somewhere between his navel and his nipples. He had been watching a small portable television and his eyes still seemed reluctant to leave it for more than a few seconds. He kept glancing back at the screen as Thomas made his request, taking sideways looks at it as he collected a key from a row of keys hanging up along the back wall of the office. He slapped it down on the desk and brought out a grubby hardcover notebook from under the desk. He opened it where a pen had been inserted as a marker. ‘Sign here,’ he said, sliding the book around through 180 degrees and pushing it across to them. Thomas indicated that Gordon do the signing and he did. He took possession of the key and the man returned to his television programme, never really having ever been away.
‘Remember to take the key back when you’re finished,’ said Thomas when it came to the parting of the ways. Gordon assured him that he would and wished him goodnight. Thomas grunted in reply and walked off leaving Gordon to go downstairs to Pathology.
The bottom corridor was badly lit but totally deserted. Gordon unlocked the door to Pathology and stood for a moment in the darkness before switching on the lights and listening to the stutter of the fluorescent tubes as they struggled up to full brightness. It was about time he had a bit of luck, he thought and this was proving a dawdle so far. He would have what he’d come for and be on his way within minutes.
He walked through the labs and into the post mortem suite where he looked for and found a couple of sterile specimen containers and some surgical gloves. It was important that he did not contaminate the sample with any other source of DNA. For this reason he planned to take a cell sample from Anne-Marie’s internal tissue rather than surface material that could conceivable have been tainted with foreign material during earlier examinations. He selected a scalpel and fitted it with a new sterile blade before replacing it temporarily in its foil sheath while he opened up the clasp bolts on the fridge door.
There were four bodies inside; Anne-Marie’s remains were on the lower left shelf. He engaged the hooks on the transporter trolley and slid out the body, deciding that there would be no need to transfer it to an examination table. He’d simply open up the body bag and carry out the procedure while it lay on the trolley. He recoiled slightly at the smell when he unzipped the bag then steeled himself to continue.
He cleaned up an area on the outer aspect of Anne-Marie’s upper arm and made an incision with the scalpel before inserting a pipette and withdrawing some material, being careful to avoid touching the edges of the cut. Almost as an afterthought, he decided to take a second sample from a different site just to make sure. Two matching DNA fingerprints from different sites should rule out any suggestion of cross-contamination at a later stage.
He was just about to expel the contents of the second pipette into a specimen container when he sensed that he was no longer alone. He hadn’t heard anything; he just felt a presence. His mouth went dry and he imagined that it had suddenly turned colder. He was just about to turn round when the inside of his head exploded in white stars of pain and he was sent hurtling into oblivion.
Twenty
Gordon could not believe the pain inside his head when he finally came round. The pressure behind his eyes was such that it seemed his skull must explode. He was suffering so much that he almost wished it would. The pain took up so much of his attention that it was some time before he got round to considering other factors like what had happened to him and just where the hell was he now?
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that someone had come up behind him in the mortuary — someone who had taken great exception to him being there — and hit him over the head very hard. He was currently in complete darkness and there was something over his mouth... God, there was something in his mouth too, he realised, a piece of cloth — rough cloth. Someone who didn’t believe in half measures had gagged him securely. He couldn’t make the tiniest sound.
This thought was replaced by one that suggested he might actually choke on the cloth should it move too far back. He flung his head to the side, knowing that he would have to avoid lying on his back at all costs. His next discovery was that his arms and legs were tightly bound, something that did little to improve morale and much to encourage a growing feeling of despair. He lay absolutely still for a few moments, sweat trickling down his face, fear causing his stomach muscles to cramp as he tried to work out what was likely to happen next. Whatever it was it seemed that there was very little he could do about it. Not a happy thought.