‘Good grouping,’ murmured the range commander. ‘Pop-ups next.’
Steven reloaded the pistol and took a firm stance, holding the weapon up in front of him in both hands. ‘Ready.’
A series of figures popped up at the far end of the range at one second intervals and in random positions along a twenty-metre horizontal stretch before disappearing again. A woman carrying a shopping bag... a man with a briefcase... a woman pushing a pram... a child with a toy gun... a masked man pointing a gun at him. bang, bang, bang. A boy with a football... an old woman leaning on a stick... a man putting up an umbrella... A man reaching for a bang, mobile phone... “Bugger.”
‘You put two in the baddie, pity about the guy with the phone,’ said the range commander. ‘But you’ll do.’
Steven left the building knowing that men reaching for mobile phones were going to be uncommonly safe from him for some time to come. He was still dwelling on his mistake when his own phone rang, it was Lucy Barrowman.
‘Steven, do you think you could come and see me?’
‘Of course, how about now?’
Lucy laughed and said, ‘It’s nothing urgent but there’s just something I’d like to run past you when you have some free time.’
‘That’s now, see you in thirty minutes?’
‘Great.’
Steven wasn’t sure if Lucy had been told about her husband killing the MI5 officer so he phoned Jean and asked if she would check with the police. She called back to report that Lucy knew Owen was still at large but had not been told about the murder. Five wanted to keep it under wraps.
Steven found Lucy alert and feeling better although her eyes betrayed a sadness he suspected might not leave any time soon. ‘How are you?’ he asked.
‘I’m well,’ she replied. ‘I’m pain free and looking less like a panda each day. I’ve decided to stay with mum and dad for a time when I get out.’
‘Sounds like a good idea.’
‘I understand they haven’t caught Owen yet?’
‘That’s my understanding too.’
‘How can that be?’
The question was direct and Steven could see that Lucy had been thinking along the same lines he had. ‘I honestly don’t know,’ he replied. ‘It’s not as if he has any great experience of lying low and avoiding capture. Where would he go?’
Lucy took time to ask, ‘You don’t think he’s... he’s done anything... silly.’
Steven suddenly realised Lucy was thinking about suicide, something that hadn’t even occurred to him and, feeling foolish, he admitted as much.
‘He’s got himself into such a mess he might not be able to see any way out,’ said Lucy.
‘I suppose it’s a possibility,’ Steven admitted — even more of one when the murder Lucy didn’t know about was added to the equation. It might also explain why he hadn’t been caught if his body was lying at the bottom of the Thames.
‘Is that what’s been on your mind?’ he asked.
‘No, that’s not why I wanted to see you,’ said Lucy. ‘It may be nothing but I’ve remembered something.’
Steven felt a small adrenalin surge. Could Lucy be about to give him the break he so desperately needed to make progress?
An old friend of Owen’s from his time at Edinburgh University, Dan Glass, came to give a seminar at Capital a few weeks ago, Owen must have sent him something a few days later.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I took a phone call from Dan at home a week or so after his London seminar. Owen was working late at the lab as usual, Dan asked me to tell him the package had arrived safely.’
Steven felt genuine excitement. ‘But you don’t know what was in it?’
‘I’m afraid not, but I thought I’d tell you.’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Steven. ‘Do you know which department Dan works in at Edinburgh?’
‘Human Genetics at the Western General Hospital.’
Eighteen
‘Will you be staying up in Scotland to see your daughter?’ asked Jean when Steven told her he wanted to fly up to Edinburgh in the morning.
Steven said not. ‘I’m hoping it’s just going to be a flying visit. The plan is to get my hands on the package and get back to London in time to deliver it to Lukas at the lab. This could be the break we’ve been hoping for.’
‘Does this Dan Glass know you’re coming?’
Steven said not. ‘I’d like it to be a surprise.’
‘Good luck.’
Tally loaded her fork with the smoked fish risotto ready-meal that Steven had prepared for dinner, but paused to ask, ‘Don’t you like using the telephone, or do you just fancy a jolly to Edinburgh?’
‘I just fancy a jolly to Edinburgh,’ Steven replied, filling both their glasses and pretending to concentrate on his plate.
Tally looked at him suspiciously. ‘You’re lying, aren’t you?’
Steven smiled and said, ‘I don’t know what the arrangement was between Barrowman and his friend, Glass. Assuming the package contains what we hope it does and holds data on Lawler, there may be some arrangement in place as to what to do if some stranger starts asking questions. I want to be a surprise visitor.’
‘I see.’
‘Eat up.’
‘My compliments to Monsieur Tesco.’
‘Are you taking that thing with you?’ asked Tally, inclining her head to where Steven left the gun in its holster.
‘No, I’ll put it in the safe. I should manage a trip to Edinburgh without a gunfight.’
Tally gave him an unsmiling stare, reminding Steven he should never make jokes about guns.
Next morning, Steven took a British Airways shuttle flight to Edinburgh which landed just after ten. The morning rush hour was largely over, allowing him a clear taxi ride from the airport, which lay to the west of the city, to the Western General Hospital which was to the north west. As they drew near, the driver asked which ward or department he was going to. Steven told him and the man replied, ‘That’s on the east side, I’ll drop you at the Crew Road entrance. It’s a modern building, a concrete and glass box like all the rest.’
‘You’re not a fan,’ said Steven.
This was the trigger the driver needed to unload his misgivings about modern architecture. ‘It’s the only field of human endeavour I know that’s gone backwards,’ he maintained. ‘You’d think these people had never seen a cathedral, never learned anything from guys who lived hundreds of years ago. All you get these days is concrete boxes and weird looking crap they get prizes for. See that boiler house over there...’
Steven looked over to a tall chimney.
‘Bugger got a prize for that.’
Steven tipped him well and took comfort from having provided the man with a release valve for his anger. Apart from that... he had a point.
Steven took a seat while the receptionist made a phone call. He heard one side of the conversation. Dr Dunbar... Steven Dunbar... Didn’t say, do you want me to ask him?... Right, I’ll tell him.
‘Dr Glass is coming down.’
A man wearing jeans and a black tee shirt bearing the name of a pop band he didn’t recognise duly appeared. He looked to be around the same age as Owen Barrowman.
‘I’m Dan Glass, how can I help?’
Steven presented his ID and expected the usual questions about Sci-Med. He was pleasantly surprised when Glass said, ‘I’ve heard of you, you’re a sort of scientific police force?’
‘Sort of,’ Steven agreed. ‘I’d like to talk to you about Owen Barrowman, I believe he’s a friend of yours?’
‘We were students together,’ Glass replied with a smile. ‘What’s he been up to? Not in any trouble, is he?’