‘Maybe it’s not in Scotland. Do they call lakes “loch” anywhere else? What about Canada? That’s very Scottish in places, isn’t it?’
‘But what could be the connection with Canada? I can’t believe his mother wouldn’t have noticed if he’d gone there.’
‘Maybe it’s a misspelling. He couldn’t spell “university” or “museum”.’
‘But a misspelling of what? I can’t find anything even remotely resembling Hager.’
‘I’m getting bored with Meekie. What’s the next thing?’
‘This bit of scrawl. Hart thought it was Newark, but if we can’t allow him to have gone to Canada, he can’t have gone to New York either.’
‘Let me see. I’m good at bad handwriting. Dad’s was pretty terrible.’ She studied the word and said almost at once, ‘That’s not an “n” at the beginning, it’s a “v”. That bit is the upstroke, see?’
‘Vewark?’
‘I don’t think that’s a “w” either. Look at his “m” in “Museum” – the small one. Doesn’t it look the same to you? And here, and here.’
‘You’re right. It is an “m”.’
‘So that makes it Vemark – which is pronounceable, at least,’ Emily said. ‘I suppose we ought to be thankful for small mercies.’
‘And for big ones,’ Atherton said, and the tone of his voice made her look up at him. ‘Not Vemark but Vemork. Put it in. Vemork, 1942.’
‘You know something?’ she asked, tapping.
‘There’s no end to the wonder of what I know,’ he said. ‘It comes of having an interest in history.’
‘And a brain the size of a planet?’ she said. She had been around the station long enough to have heard that friendly jibe. ‘Here it is. Vemork 1942. But it’s in Norway, not Scotland. Geographically not unrelated, I admit, but if he didn’t go to Canada or the States . . .’
‘Well, he didn’t have to go there, did he?’ Atherton said. ‘Only tippy-tap away on his rinky-dinky little computer. Vemork was the subject of a daring bombing raid during the war, because the Germans had taken it over. It was a source, they discovered, of heavy water.’
‘Heavy water? I’ve heard of it, of course, but I don’t really know what it is.’
‘It’s water enriched with an extra atom of deuterium. I don’t know all the science, but I do know it’s used in nuclear fission.’
‘And even I know the Germans were experimenting with nuclear fission towards the end of the war. Don’t they say they were on the brink of making a nuclear bomb?’
‘They do,’ Atherton said, though his voice was far away now as his brain processed. ‘But what’s Vemork and heavy water got to do with—?’
‘What?’
‘Hager Loch. It’s just ringing bells like anything, but it’s not in Scotland, it’s in Germany. You asked if they called them lochs anywhere else. Try Hagerloch, all one word, in Google.’
She tapped, and read out the prompt that came up, ‘Did you mean Haigerloch?’
‘I think we did, Danny old bean. Spelling really wasn’t your strong suit, was it – even when you were copying things down?’
‘Haigerloch, now a museum,’ she read. ‘A heavy-water test reactor. The Germans conducted experiments in nuclear fission in a cave under the Schloβkirche in a small town in Germany. The Atomkeller – cute name!’
‘It’s a cute place.’
‘The Atomkeller is now a museum. For opening times click here.’
‘That’s where the heavy water from Vemork ended up, and why the RAF had to conduct its daring bombing raid. I remember doing it at school. World War Two was just becoming compulsory, but my history teacher was a real buff, and liked to go into a lot more detail than was strictly necessary.’
‘But what’s all this got to do with Dad and Clydebrae and all the rest of it?’ Her eyes widened. ‘You don’t think—?’
His eyebrows went up. ‘That the reason we haven’t got anything on Waverley B before the Fifties is that they changed the name, and the reason they changed the name was that they were doing the same sort of experiments there during the war?’
‘Well, if they knew about Haigerloch, they’d obviously want to try to catch up,’ Emily said logically. ‘And they’d obviously have to keep it secret.’
‘Thinking’s all very well, but we need some evidence. I wonder if it’s all in this Meekie book, whatever that may be. Maybe you gave up on Meekie too soon.’
‘Spelling!’ Emily exclaimed. ‘He’s a bit of a phonetic speller, isn’t he? And suppose he’d only heard the word, never seen it written down?’
‘M-e-a-c-h-i-e. The good old Scottish name of Meachie, sept of the Mcdonalds if my memory serves me right.’
‘How can you possibly know that?’
‘I don’t, I’m just making it up,’ he grinned. ‘How do you think I got my reputation for omniscience? People hardly ever check up on you.’
‘You charlatan!’ She put Meachie into Google and hesitated. ‘There’ll be five million entries.’
‘Try Meachie and Clydebrae,’ Atherton suggested.
She added the word and hit enter. ‘Bingo,’ she said softly. ‘Angus Meachie: The Clydebrae Glory. The Scottish maritime historian and archivist tells the story of the Clydebrae shipyard from 1869 until its takeover in 1943 by the Ministry of Defence.’
‘We’ll have to get hold of that book. And I wonder what else he found out at the Scottish War Museum – the clue is in the title, folks – and the other places. If it was secret, there won’t have been much in the public record office, you can bet.’
‘Whatever he did find out,’ Emily said, ‘he will have passed on to Dad. And that’s probably what was in the file they took away.’
‘But your father wouldn’t have had only one copy, would he?’
‘Not if it was important.’
‘He didn’t have a safe, or a safe-deposit box or anything?’
‘Not that I know of. But I still don’t understand what this has to do with Richard Tyler and Anderson-Millar and all the rest of it, and why it was important enough to want to . . . to kill Dad for.’
Atherton laid his finger beside the last line of Danny’s list. ‘Cad and Ber. There’s a full stop after each word. They’re abbreviations. Dopey old Mrs Masseter said he talked about Cadbury’s and someone called Beryl. If she remembered those words, he must have repeated them a lot.’
‘I’m not there yet,’ Emily confessed.
‘Cadmium is used as a barrier to control nuclear fission. And beryllium is an isotope moderator.’
‘How do you know these things?’
‘I read a lot. But the thing you need to know about cadmium and beryllium is that they’re both extremely toxic, particularly beryllium.’
She looked stricken. ‘The Scottish Ornithological Union notes there are no more red-throated divers at Clydebrae,’ she said quietly. ‘Or Forster’s terns.’
‘Or much of anything else, I imagine. We’d better go and see the guv.’
Eighteen
The Ego Has Landed
It all makes sense,’ Atherton said to the assembled desk-squatters. ‘Clydebrae was a ship-building yard until 1943, when the government takes it over. They use the site for secret nuclear experiments, trying to catch up with the Germans. After the war they hand it back for shipbuilding, but change the name in case Clydebrae has any associations for anyone. But the land is contaminated with cadmium and beryllium. Nobody realises this, but the yard is known as an “unlucky” one with a high absentee rate. Not the workers being naturally bolshie, but falling sick rather too often, and not feeling terribly well when they are at work.’
‘And there are no seabirds any more on the nearby beach that used to be a bird-watching site. I wondered why there was a road to nowhere,’ Emily added.
‘Finally Dansk, the latest in a series of owners, decides it can’t make a go of it, and decides to sell. And then the government gets involved, because there’s an election coming up and the
loss of two thousand jobs could just swing the seat in favour of the Nats. Anderson-Millar buy it, but they don’t really want to run a shipyard there where everyone else has failed. They want to sell it for development.’
‘Like Salford Quays,’ Joanna said quietly, from Slider’s shadow.
Atherton nodded towards her. ‘Freddie Bell said the profit of a development like that depended on what you had to pay for the land.’
‘But if the land was toxic and had to be decontaminated, it would add millions to the cost.’
‘Could be a billion or more,’ Atherton said. ‘And it would ruin the cachet—’
‘The what?’ said Hart derisively.
‘Who would want to visit, let alone live and work in, a development they knew had been built on contaminated land?’ he translated for her. ‘Even if they were told it had been cleaned up. It could never be a prestigious, luxury venue for the movers and shakers with that reputation. On the other hand, if you don’t tell anyone . . .’
‘Nobody could be that cynical,’ Joanna said, shocked. ‘You’re talking about risking people’s lives.’
Slider said, ‘Two of the players, at least, have no particular reverence for life.’
‘If they knew about it,’ she said.
‘Somebody knew about it,’ Emily said. ‘There was a big housing development project supposed to happen right next door after the war. But it didn’t go ahead. They cleared the land and demolished most of the houses, but they never built on it. Why, when they were so short of housing? I think somebody back then knew the truth and the project was just quietly dropped.’
‘It would be something to know the history of that,’ Slider said, ‘and who owns the land now.’
‘If it was bought for council housing it must be the council,’ Atherton said. ‘And they’ve just left it empty. Maybe that was one of the things Danny was looking into.’
Hart came in. ‘All Danny’s protests were environmental things. He tried to get the Hartlepool ship-recycling thing stopped. And he’d borrowed that book from the library about breaking up nuclear submarines. So he’d know about the toxic chemicals that came with it.’ She clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Blimey, I forgot to ring Reading Library, to get them off Ma Masseter’s back.’
‘What does it matter? They can buy another copy, can’t they?’ Fathom said, wanting to get back to the exciting bit.
‘It’s not like the new Dan Brown,’ she told him severely. ‘It costs two hundred and fifty quid a copy.’
‘Yeah, and it’s rubbish,’ Hollis said. ‘You could never make a film out of it. Guv, it occurs to me that Richard Tyler was junior minister in the Department of the Environment. So any questions about cleaning up a toxic site would come to him, if anyone. And he was supposed to be tight with Sir Henry Paxton, the boss of Anderson-Millar. Suppose Paxton had found out about the contamination, and went to Tyler quietly, saying what are we going to do? We know Tyler was in to make a lot of money out of the development, through his shares in Key Developments . . .’
‘Do we?’ Atherton said. ‘I thought that was only a supposition until we got an answer from Vollman Zabrinski.’
‘All right, we assume Tyler had the shares, and who knows what other bungs and percentages he might have through his mate Bates? So he says to Paxton, I won’t tell if you don’t tell. And the plans get pushed through.’
‘Until Danny Masseter finds out something, and goes to Stonax because he’s known as an eco-warrior,’ Mackay said. ‘And maybe his interest in the place is known about in eco circles.’
‘And maybe also because he knows he’s been in Dutch with the government,’ said Swilley. ‘Sorry, Emily – but Danny wouldn’t want to take it to an establishment figure, and he might well think your dad had a grudge and would be more willing to listen to him because of it.’
‘You don’t have to apologise,’ Emily said patiently.
‘And it just so happens,’ Atherton continued, ‘that he hit on the person who already knew more than he wanted to about dear old Waverley B.’
Joanna was shaking her head, though Slider knew it was more in despair that people could be so corrupt than in disbelief of the scenario. He knew it was a far cry from working things out to proving them, but it all felt right, and it covered all the aspects. And it was no chickenfeed they were talking about. ‘A development like that,’ he said to her quietly, ‘could be worth several billion. Well worth fighting for. But if the contamination story got out, it was all over.’
‘But then why didn’t Ed Stonax go public with it?’
‘Because he didn’t have all the information,’ Emily said. ‘Or the proof. And he couldn’t go public without the whole dossier – the one, presumably, poor Danny Masseter was preparing for him. He must have asked too many questions and made someone suspicious.’
‘So Tyler contacts his old friend and co-conspirator Trevor Bates, and says I’ll help you get out of jail free, if you’ll get rid of the problem for us,’ Atherton concluded. ‘Silence Masseter and Stonax before it all gets out, and make sure you get all the documents.’ Out of sight of the others, Emily pressed his hand in thanks for using the word ‘silence’ instead of ‘murder’, something she still found hard to say, even in her head.
‘And Bates thought he’d take the opportunity to get back at me,’ Slider said. ‘He thought he was invulnerable. He was too smart to get caught for the jobs he was doing privately for himself and Tyler. Dave Borthwick and a hit-and-run driver would stand up for those. And I was to go in a gas explosion – nobody’s fault at all.’
‘For God’s sake,’ Joanna muttered.
McLaren spoke up from the back through the last mouthful of Mars Bar. ‘Yeah, well, it’s all very nice but it’s just Goldilocks and the Three Bears, innit, unless we get some evidence.’
Swilley looked at him, impressed. ‘Blimey, Maurice, you come out quite sensible sometimes.’
‘It’s maybe not as bad as it looks,’ Slider said. ‘We’ve got Mark on evidence, as soon as we can catch him, and if the damage on the car matches the damage on the motorbike, we’ve got him for Masseter’s murder. Mark is Bates’s right-hand man, and if that’s not enough, we now know Bates gave him shares in Ring 4, so that ties him in with Bates. It was Tyler who gave Bates the government IT contract, so that ties them. And if Vollman Whatnot confirm that it’s Tyler who owns the BriTech shares, it gets them both tied in with the Waverley B development.’
‘But we’ve still got nothing on the pollution, and without that, there’s no motive for Stonax’s death,’ Mackay said.
‘Well, the evidence is out there, and if Danny Masseter managed to find it, we can,’ Slider said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. It could take for ever – and there was always the risk that tracks would start to be covered and documents shredded. Worse still, people who had answered questions might get shredded in the process. ‘We just have to hope Jimmy Pak can get into the encrypted files somehow. I’m willing to bet that’s where the evidence is. Meanwhile – ’ he hoisted himself off the desk – ‘we have to concentrate on finding Bates, which means finding Mark. No luck on the relatives, I suppose, Norma?’
‘No, sir. I can’t find any at all, never mind in the area. Could be he was an only child.’
‘So Bates is the only friend he has. And Tyler’s the only friend Bates has,’ Slider said. ‘Well, I think I’ve had about enough. We’ll call it a day and start again tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow’s Sunday, boss,’ Swilley said. ‘Do you want us in?’
‘Sunday’s a good day for legwork. People are at home, you can catch them there. Tomorrow is Find Bates and Mark Day. We’re going to visit every place they’ve ever been, every person they’ve ever spoken to, and find them if we have to wear our legs down to nubbins. I’ll OK the overtime with Mr Porson, so you can take that look off your face, McLaren.’
‘I haven’t got a look on my face,’ he protested.
‘Oh, no, you’re right, it’s chocolate,’
said Slider. ‘That’s it, boys and girls.’
They all moved away except for Joanna, Atherton and Emily.
‘What are we going to do?’ Joanna said. ‘With all our worldlies stuffed in the car and no home to go to?’
‘We’ll go to an hotel,’ Slider said.
Atherton and Emily exchanged a look. ‘It’s all right,’ she said to him.
‘It makes it look a bit official,’ he said nervously. ‘I don’t want to rush you into anything.’
‘If I remember rightly, I did the rushing. Come on, a friend in need and all that sort of thing.’
‘Shall we leave you two to talk code in peace?’ Joanna said.
‘We don’t want you to go to an hotel,’ Emily translated. ‘There are two bedrooms at Jim’s house, and I don’t mind sharing with him – or more specifically, I don’t mind you knowing I’m sharing with him. I know it makes me look like a fast hussy, but there it is.’
‘Who are we to judge?’ Slider said. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ they both said at the same moment, and looked at each other and smiled.
‘Well, thanks,’ Joanna said. ‘It’ll be a lot nicer than an hotel.’
‘I have to go and see Porson,’ Slider said. ‘Why don’t you three go on ahead and I’ll join you later.’
Porson listened gravely to Slider’s exposition. ‘It all sounds all right,’ he said, ‘and, my God, if you’re right this is going to cause a stink.’
‘It’s my betting that it won’t,’ Slider said sadly. ‘They’ll cover up for him, like they did before.’
‘No, laddie, he won’t get away with it this time. You’d have to spin like a dervish in a washing machine to get this one to come out straight. They’ll dump him hard and let him take his knocks, believe me. But we’ve got to have all the evidence, dot every tee, or it’s all deniable.’
‘If we can find out about those shares, to start with . . .’
‘I’ll do a bit of leaning. Anything else?’
‘Reading police – matching Mark’s car with the motorbike damage?’
Game Over Page 23
