Hooley looked at the determined expression on Roper’s face and realised they would just go around in circles until he agreed.
“You win. So, tell me, where and when?”
“It’s at a clinic in Harley Street and you need to be there by 7am.”
Hooley performed a double take. “Are you sure that’s the right time? I was expecting a little later...”
Roper waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Of course, it’s the right time. This man may be the best cardiologist in London. That means he’s in high demand and is used to working with business leaders who hate wasting time, especially when it’s about their health. He offered to see you an hour earlier, but I told him you would be grumpy if it was too early. If we get there at 7am we should be out in an hour and be here by 9am.”
Hooley rolled his eyes but didn’t complain. He would have moaned about getting up any earlier. He’d also picked up on the “we”. Evidently, Roper had every intention of being there too.
That night, despite feeling bone weary, Hooley slept restlessly. For long hours, his night was punctuated by unsettling dreams that left him feeling washed out when his alarm clock went off at 5am. Feeling sluggish, he spent an extra ten minutes under a hot shower to restore some sense of wellbeing.
By the time he reached the clinic on Harley Street, it was already 6:45 am, and there was Roper, draining the last of the extra-large cup of coffee he’d bought.
Handing Hooley a bottle of water, he said, “I'm not sure what you’re allowed to have before the tests, so better safe than sorry. “If you have a cup of coffee now, they may just cancel the tests today and make you come back tomorrow."
His words made Hooley feel a little wobbly, since they reminded him of the potential seriousness of what was about to happen. Without another word, he rang the bell – only to be greeted by a young man in his early 30s wearing jeans, a blue shirt, black shoes and sporting a full beard.
“Mr. Hooley, I'm Andy, your nurse today.” At least he had a welcoming smile, and his manner was calming. “You’re our first patient, so I thought I’d get you settled, then go off and prepare everything. I promise you – I’ll have everything nicely warmed up in no time.”
The DCI was anxious to look untroubled. “Do you work here all the time?” he asked, in what he hoped was a calm sounding voice.
“Oh no. I do this as a little extra on top of my NHS work. I don’t mind working odd hours, so I’m perfect for this job. Then I do a normal shift just down the road. I’m one of the lucky ones. I don't have any family to support so I use the cash to pay for nice holidays and a few treats.”
At that point a man appeared, radiating energy. His thick black hair was flecked with strands of grey. He had large brown eyes and a warm, reassuring smile that said, “you’re in safe hands now.”
He could have featured in an advert hailing the positive effects of healthy living – and, with his smooth skin, he was probably about forty years old. He was dressed in a sombre black business suit and dark blue shirt, but no necktie. Hooley decided he liked this touch of informality.
The doctor held out his hand. “Robert Turner,” he began, “and I’m guessing you must be Jonathan's boss? I’ve heard so much about you. I just wish that the people who worked for me were so enthusiastic.”
Andy laughed and walked off. “I'm going to make sure everything is ready,” he said.
Dr Turner showed them into an office and Hooley took what turned out to be a very comfortable seat in front of the desk, while Roper sat off to the side.
The doctor looked at them both and said, “Are you happy for Mr. Roper to be in for this consultation?”
The DCI smiled and shrugged. “If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn't be seeing you in the first place, so why not?”
The doctor asked a series of questions including how he was feeling. Hooley told him he wasn’t sure. “There’s nothing really obvious apart from feeling a bit tired, which I thought was normal for my age.”
“What about any chest pains, or shortage of breath?”
“Nothing I’ve really noticed. I did struggle during spin cycling – but I thought that was normal. I certainly haven’t felt any chest pain.”
“What about going up stairs, or maybe getting into bed?”
The DCI thought for a moment and then pressed his hand to his chest. “Now you ask, yes, I do sometimes feel a bit short of breath. Nothing terrible though.”
Doctor Turner asked Hooley to remove his shirt while he listened to his chest through a stethoscope. Soon, he seemed to spend a lot of time hovering over a small area on the front left-side.
Hooley had been around too many interview rooms and suspects keeping things to themselves not to recognise the signs.
“Find something doc?”
“Maybe.” The doctor’s face gave nothing away. “I don’t want to say anything more until we’ve done the echocardiogram we’ve lined up for you. I know that can sound alarming, but it will give us a clearer picture and we may have to do some more tests. So… let’s get you through to Andy. He’s one of the best around so you’re in safe hands.”
Hooley put on a brave face – but now he was fearing the worst. In the corner of his eye, he saw that Roper couldn’t keep the anxiety off his face.
The doctor led him into a room with a bed and a medical machine with a large monitor. Here, Andy got him to lie on his left-hand side and rubbed a clear gel over the paddles before placing them on his chest.
Like the doctor, he zeroed in on the same area, while closely studying the results on the screen.
“I suppose the good news is that I do indeed have a heart,” said Hooley. His voice sounded a bit thin and he was glad that it didn’t break.
The nurse patted him gently and smiled. “Don't worry. I just need to go and talk to Dr Turner. Then he can tell you what he thinks is going on.”
He watched the nurse go. For moment he worried about Roper being left in the consulting room, but thought it was too late to be concerned now. He rolled onto his back, stared at the ceiling and let his mind go blank.
After a short while the doctor reappeared, told Hooley to get dressed and follow him back to the consulting room. Moments later, he walked in, nodded at Roper – who didn’t look as though he’d moved a muscle – and waited for the worst.
Dr Tuner did not beat about the bush. “Okay Brian, I can tell you that you have a problem with your mitral valve. I'm going to need to have another look, in more detail, at what is going on there. Now, I know that sounds quite frightening – but there is some good news. I can safely say that we have caught this in time. These things often show up after someone has had a heart attack, so at least it hasn’t damaged your heart.” He paused. “In other words, you seem to be in decent shape and that is going to make a positive difference, whatever happens next. But I do need more information before we make any decisions.”
Hooley was surprised by how calm he felt. He looked at Roper. “Good job he’s here. I expect I’ll need him later to remember everything you tell me.”
Turner smiled. “I don't want you to think I'm rushing this because it's an emergency, but I could do one of the tests in a couple of hours. You mentioned you haven’t eaten since midnight… so what do you think? Shall we crack on?”
Hooley seemed uncertain.
“My guess is you’re one of those people who needs answers. I’m proposing we give you an angiogram. It’s a small camera inserted into an artery in your arm and it allows me to look inside your heart.
“It’s a well tried and tested examination – so there’s very little danger. Although I do have to warn you that some people can react badly to it. I’d suggest you take the rest of the day off and I’ll get you some information to read while you think about it.”
Hooley knew sensible advice when he heard it. He didn’t like to think through the implications of what he was being told, but it was clear the cardiologist was worried.
He looked at the doctor. “I wan
t to get this done as soon as I can but, right now, we’re in the middle of an investigation and it may be that lives depend on us. I’m not saying it can’t happen without me, but I need to make sure people are ready to pick up the reins.” He hesitated before going on. “Do you have a private room Jonathan and I could borrow for a short while and make some phone calls?”
The doctor stood up. “This room can be all yours. I have another consulting room. I’ll see my next patient and we can talk again in about an hour, maybe less.”
After he had gone, the DCI talked to Roper. “Get on to Susan and explain what’s happening. Then I think you need to get back. We can’t afford both of us here and it looks like I have no choice. I’ll ring Julie and tell her.”
Roper didn't argue, just pulled out his mobile and tapped in a number from memory. A few minutes later, Hooley was explaining his situation to a shocked Julie Mayweather. She agreed to hang fire until he had more news.
Three hours later, with the procedure complete, he was back in the doctor’s office. He felt oddly guilty at undergoing tests while Roper was back at Victoria pushing the investigation forwards. The procedure hadn’t been painful, but Hooley had disliked the sensation of the camera going into his body. It made him feel strangely vulnerable.
Taking a drink of water, he waited for the doctor to tell him what was going on. Again, when he returned, Turner was highly professional.
“You’re going to need surgery, Mr. Hooley, and if there is one surgeon I would recommend, without hesitation, it is Mr James Thomas. I’ve already sent in your details and he’s agreed he will see you. His team will go through what I’ve sent over, including all the video of the tests carried out, then get in touch with you to arrange an appointment for you to see Mr. Thomas. Not only will you be under a great surgeon, this is an operation with a very high success rate. I know you haven’t experienced any obvious sensations, but I predict you will feel a lot better.”
Hooley sat very still. Every word was hitting home like a hammer blow, but he did his best to remain calm. “How long until I need the operation?”
“You need to determine that with the surgeon… but I don't think you're anywhere near a crisis so you may have a few weeks. As I say, it will be sooner rather than later, but you really should give Mr. Thomas the final say.”
With that, Hooley stood up, thanked Dr Roberts and walked out into Harley Street. Suddenly, he felt totally alone and couldn’t help thinking about his wife. She had always been the strong one where illness was concerned. He’d never known what to do when other people had health problems - now here he was with a heart condition that needed urgent treatment and he didn’t know what to think.
Had he brought this on himself? Too much stress, too much fatty food, too much alcohol, not enough sleep and heaven knows how many times he had ignored his wife’s entreaties to work less and lose weight. And why hadn’t he asked more questions while he was with the doctor?
He started to choke up gripped by an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling… fear. Was this it? Was his time up? Angrily he pushed the panic away. What had the doctor said? It was very routine and treatable. He needed to remember that. And he must thank Roper for nagging him. What might have happened otherwise?
He switched his thoughts to the investigation. He wanted to stay on it, but the doctors might say otherwise. He hoped Roper would cope if he had to pull out.
In their new role they hadn’t operated as they might normally. This was all different, but certainly Roper was responding well to the new rules of engagement, coming up with a steady stream of ideas and theories.
With a sudden sense of self-awareness, he knew he was struggling to adapt to new ways of working. This insight relaxed him. He had never thought he was indispensable, and he knew he wasn’t now.
He needed to put his trust in the new processes that he, Roper and Julie Mayweather had discussed at length. He laughed as he recalled one especially relevant comment from the Commissioner. “You have to trust that other people will do their jobs,” she had told herself. “I want you and Jonathan making sure you’re directing efforts in the right direction. Do that and we’ll win.”
He was glad Roper had been there today. He might not be a conversationalist, but he was company.
He’d gone a short distance when he received a message.
It was from the surgical team. An appointment had been arranged for his consultation. In two days’ time, he would find out if he was going to be taken out of action in what was proving their toughest case yet.
For now, he was going back to work. He intended to make the most of the time available.
Chapter 31
Mary Lou Healy was lying on her bed, beaded in sweat. Sleep was proving elusive tonight, and her fevered imagination was filling her mind with troubling thoughts. Even though she knew her brain was playing tricks, everything felt so real.
The strange thing was that, wearied by everything she’d been through that day, she had gone to sleep the moment her head had hit the pillow. But twenty minutes later she was wide awake, trying unsuccessfully to slow her racing thoughts.
Miss Kitty was proving no help at all. Curled up at the end of the bed, she had briefly woken, stretched and gone back to sleep, not even sparing her mistress the faintest glance.
After a restless two hours, Healy could no longer stand it. Even the touch of the expensive cotton sheets was proving uncomfortable against her body. Giving up the fight, she decided she might as well go with the flow. What she needed was the comfort of a strong cup of tea – she was well past worrying about the stimulating effect of caffeine – and then try to distract herself with some early hours TV.
As she made the brew, she rattled a couple of tins to try and attract Miss Kitty’s attention, but the cat was far too smart to fall for that one and carried on ignoring her.
After the tea was made, she found a channel re-running an old episode of CSI Miami and briefly wondered if the show was always on somewhere in the world. Then, holding her steaming mug in both hands, she did her best to relax.
To her surprise, the familiar programmes sucked her in and she jumped when her regular alarm went off at 3.30am. Reluctantly, she turned the TV off and hauled her body, which was aching all over, towards the shower.
Afterwards, she dried off, got dressed, and applied minimal make-up, mostly comprising of a touch of lipstick. With a final check in the mirror, she was ready to go. Her flat was walking distance to the office which was, in turn, close to Old Street Underground station and the famous Moorfields Eye Hospital. There, she was greeted by the security guards. Just seeing other people helped ease her tension.
Walking into her office, she fired up her computer and watched as message after message flashed up. They were all in the same vein: routine administrative tasks that were essential to the smooth running of the Ryder Corporation. It was a mountain of work and would keep her busy for hours, but this pleased her; it meant she could genuinely claim not to have time for anything else.
By midday, she had already completed what most people would view as a full working day and went for a walk. Despite not eating since the previous day, she had no appetite and marched past her favourite takeaway spots. As usual, the area felt like it was designed more for cars than it was for people, although the pavements were busy enough with pedestrians going about their lunchtime business.
Back at her desk, she tried to drag out the rest of the work, but by mid-afternoon she had cleared the backlog of urgent business. For the first time since walking through the doors early that morning, she could no longer afford to ignore the problem that had so far cost her a night’s sleep - and might prove a lot more damaging than that.
She put her head in her hands, trying desperately to think through the problem and come up with a different solution. Nothing presented itself that was more likely than what she already suspected.
The realisation that she had no choice brought her close to tears. What cut her to the quick was a bitt
er irony. The only way she could find out if someone was betraying the organisation was by committing her own betrayal.
Checking the time, she saw that it was a little after 3pm, making it 7am in California, a perfectly reasonable time to ring Josephine Taggert. Reasoning that her boss would probably be expecting a call about now, she hit the speed dial.
The mobile had barely started to ring before it was answered. Taggert, it seemed, was ready to roll. “I'm so glad you called,” she said. “I’ve been having a terrible time with jet lag and I can't take any more American TV. The BBC may have its critics but at least there aren’t any adverts.” She paused. “But enough about me. You never call without a reason, so give me the worst.” The last was accompanied by a laugh.
The comments induced a bout of coughing, forcing Healy to take a drink of water. “Apologies for the choking fit,” she said. “My throat went dry. Do you want me to carry on talking on this line or call you back for a video call?”
Taggert laughed even louder. “You must be joking! It’s far too early for anyone to be looking at me, not even you, the person I trust most in all the world.”
Healy couldn’t stop herself stiffening at this remark. She was glad her boss couldn’t see her.
“Fair comment! I don’t feel that fragrant myself. Let's stick to the ‘old ways.’ As you requested, I’ve got calls out to everyone I can think of who could be behind the manufacture of the screens, but there's no joy yet. I haven't given up hope – only about a quarter of my contacts have got back to me – so you never know when we'll get an answer. It could be a few days before everyone replies.”
She thought about what to say next and launched in at the same time as Taggert. After a burst of confusion, her boss insisted Healy go first.
“I think we need to turn the spotlight on ourselves. I hate to say it, because it will disrupt and unsettle people, but the police have made some interesting points. They’re especially keen on finding out who knew that John Taggert was here in London. I've tried explaining that he rarely kept us fully informed of his movements, but they’re asking how we can be so sure that no-one here knew anything. Once you think about it, that’s a very difficult thought to shake. I think we need to pursue it.”
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