‘Dorothy did her best to make the case for religion being perfectly compatible with science — it was all a matter of open-minded interpretation, she claimed and, to be frank, she did well, but there were questions about what she might do if she actually came up against scientific facts that utterly disproved all religion.’
‘A toughie.’
‘You’d think so, but she simply replied that she thought that would never happen. But, if it did — and this was a bit of a show stopper — she maintained that she, as a scientist, would have to accept proven scientific facts.’
‘Wow,’ said Steven, ‘good for her.’
‘Mm, but things went a bit downhill after that. An angry young man asked her if that were the case, why had she blocked the submission of his work to the scientific journals.’
‘One of her post-docs?’
‘Paul Leighton.’
‘What a moment, how did she handle it?’
‘Really well, she came over as an indulgent mother dealing with the impetuosity of the young. All it needed was a bit more work, she lectured, and everyone laughed. I think the guy wanted to say more but the moment had gone.’
‘So, you and Dorothy knew each other before you turned up as advisor to a bunch of lawyers?’
Tyler shook his head. ‘No, there were hundreds of delegates at the meeting. I was just a face in the crowd near the back. I did seek out the post-doc who asked the question afterwards however. He told me that Dorothy had pulled the plug on his work, but our conversation was interrupted by the bishop joining us: he seemed intent on urging the lad to open up his mind to the holy spirit. A few days later he was dead along with Dorothy’s other post-doc.’
‘Carrie,’ said Steven. ‘Carrie Simpson.’
‘It sounds like you’ve been making a few investigations of your own.’
‘I’ve requested copies of the police and fire department reports from the US,’ Steven admitted. ‘Maybe you’ve already seen them?’
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ laughed Tyler. ‘I’m a loner, a freelancer, I have no official position and no access to official documents. I depend on friends.’
‘I’ll let you know if I find out anything.’
Steven found John Macmillan looking despondent and asked why.
‘Sometimes I feel like I’m running in mud. I ask the police and MI5 if they’ve caught Barrowman yet and I’m told not, but I don’t know whether I believe them. They haven’t exactly been open and honest about anything in recent times and that breeds suspicion. Even the Home Secretary is playing silly buggers. I’m beginning to think we’re turning into East Germany before the wall came down.’
‘We’re not,’ Steven assured his boss. ‘Sci-Med wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with the Stasi around.’
Macmillan gave a small embarrassed smile at Steven reminding him of the much-feared East German police and conceded, ‘Perhaps I was exaggerating a little.’
‘But I share your frustration,’ Steven added. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think they have caught Barrowman yet and they’re finding it humiliating. They don’t understand why with the combined resources of the Met and MI5 hunting him down he’s managed to evade capture. He may have been transformed into a psychotic killer, but he has no background as any kind of criminal. He’s never been on the run before so it’s hard to see how he could have gone to earth so easily. Where would he go? Who would he turn to for help? Who would give it to him?’
‘All good points,’ said Macmillan. ‘All he has going for him is that... he’s bright... armed... psychotic... Have I missed out anything?’ said Macmillan.
‘Purpose,’ said Steven as if it had just occurred to him. ‘We don’t know what’s driving him. His research was the most important thing in his life; nothing was allowed to get in the way of it and suddenly it’s gone. He has lost what he cared about most and this has left him feeling... what?’
‘Angry, confused, filled with hate, fear, loathing, a desire for revenge against those who conspired against him, of which... you are one, the man who met with his wife behind his back on the night it all went wrong.’
‘A happy thought.’
‘I suggest you pay a visit to the armourer,’ said Macmillan in a tone that made it more than a suggestion.
‘Will do,’ said Steven reluctantly. He hated this moment. He knew it was a sensible precaution, but he always saw the moment he felt the presence of a pistol under his left arm as being symbolic of distancing himself from everyone else in society, a feeling he didn’t like, not least because Tally loathed the idea of it too. He had always gone to great lengths to assure her his job was nowhere near as dangerous as she feared — he was simply an investigator engaged in finding out the truth — but a gun hanging over a chair in the bedroom always suggested, mutely but very loudly, that there might be more to it.
Steven told Macmillan about his conversation with Tyler and what he’d learned about the Yale meeting before the fire.
‘It would appear that Professor Lindstrom’s open-mindedness might be subject to question,’ said Macmillan thoughtfully.
‘She did assure Jane Lincoln that the truth, whatever it turned out to be, would be submitted for publication.’
‘Mm.’
‘God, I could do with some good news,’ said Steven. ‘You’re not the only one who feels he’s running in mud.’
‘I think I can help there,’ said Macmillan. ‘It would appear that the public aren’t the slightest bit interested in Moorlock Hall and its inmates and the press have had to give in to public opinion for fear of damaging their circulation figures. Their attempts to whip up outrage have been dismissed as “liberal leftie crap” to quote one of my sources and there’s been a bit of a rush by MPs to distance themselves from the whole thing too with an election coming up next year. They don’t want to be found disagreeing with a public who think the bastards have got exactly what they deserve if a noose wasn’t available.’
‘Does that mean they’re going to leave things as they are?’ asked Steven incredulously.
‘In a word, yes, but they can’t all be seen to be walking away. My source tells me that the redoubtable Mrs Leadbetter has been left holding the baby. She has been tasked with fact finding, compiling a comprehensive report and making recommendations which will be considered in due course by committees yet to be set up.’
Steven broke into a smile. ‘Serves her right,’ he said. ‘Does that mean that Groves, the superintendent, won’t be retired after all?’
‘My source didn’t say.’
‘Actually, I think he was looking forward to it.’
‘I can’t see anyone else wanting the job, can you?’
Steven shook his head.
Steven checked with Jean that no information had come in from the USA before going off to the armourer to be issued with a 9mm Glock pistol and Burns Martin shoulder holster.
‘It’s been a while,’ said the armourer, checking the record book.
‘Not long enough,’ Steven replied.
‘Better safe than sorry.’
Steven gave him a look that suggested clichés were neither required nor welcome.
‘I see it’s also been a while since you visited the range.’
‘I just don’t feel at home there...’ said Steven but the joke fell flat and the armourer continued, ‘I recommend a session.’
Steven was about to decline when the armourer added, ‘We don’t want the public being at risk from stray bullets, do we?’
Steven felt he had no option but to go downstairs to the range to be issued with ammunition, sign for it and don ear protectors after hearing what was required of him.
‘In your own time.’
Steven pumped rapid fire shells into the bad guy dummy and waited while it was reeled back for examination.