'Simon's told me about Alison.' Faye shuddered beautifully, but instead of making me angry or defensive it made me laugh. That stung her to retort, 'I don't think it's anything to smile about. God, if only I'd known all these years that I'd been living with a madman and a probable murderer.'
'Lucky I don't want to kill you, then.' I marvelled at my ability to be so flippant about something that would certainly have sent me over the edge a few weeks earlier. Simon's head came up; he had obviously noticed the change in me.
'Don't worry, Faye. You can have your divorce,' I said. 'If Harriet leaves Simon, perhaps the two of you can team up. I think you suit one another admirably.'
'What do you want, Adam?' Simon interrupted sharply.
'I want her to leave.'
'You'd better go, Faye,' Simon said, glancing at her. Faye looked furious.
'I will not.'
'For Christ's sake, get out.' Simon shouted.
Faye flushed. Her eyes flicked between us, and clearly aware that she was not going to be the focus of attention, replied vindictively, 'Sod you then. Sod you both. You'll be hearing from my lawyers, Adam.' She flounced from the room. 'You can collect your things from the house, including your sodding cat and don't bother coming to my parents for Christmas.'
If I hadn't been so worried I might have cheered.
Neither Simon nor I spoke until we heard the front door bang shut a few minutes later. Then I said, 'OK, I want to know who was working with Drake?'
'What is all this about Drake?' Simon said wearily. 'What is going on, Adam? The police haven't been to question me yet but no doubt they will. I can't afford to have a brother of mine splashed across the Sunday newspapers, wanted for murder. I've already lost the American finance deal but I've got the chance of going in with someone else. You're not going to ruin that for me.'
'Just tell me who Drake was working with, Simon,' I said.
'I don't know.'
I made to leave. 'Have it your own way, but if I get caught by the police I'm going to tell them that I don't think Father fell down the stairs. You pushed him.'
Simon paled. 'They won't believe you.' He tried to bluff it out but I could see he was nervous.
'No? Who had a private detective follow me to make sure I stayed away? Who inherits everything? Who spent hours with him before he died? Who is in debt?'
Simon sprang out of his chair and paced the room. The terrible truth of how far my brother might have gone to get hold of the money sucked the breath from me.
Simon said, 'He was old. He was ill and confused. He fell.'
'Convenient, though, for you. Were you really in meetings in Bath that morning? Perhaps I should check. Just think what the newspapers would do with that. Then there's Faye; my brother screwing my wife. The tabloids will love it.'
I heard Simon's laboured breathing above the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. I couldn't see his expression because his back was to me.
'Who gave you Drake's name?' I said quietly.
Simon spun round. 'Does it matter? You asked me to find out. I did.'
'But who told you?' I persisted.
'You've gone mad. Why this obsession?' But it was bluster.
'Simon…'
He returned to the table to pour himself another whisky. Finally he said, 'Tim Davenham.'
It was my turn to look surprised. I recalled Davenham at my father's funeral: the tall, good-looking man. My brain began to slot the pieces into place. Davenham must have taken my file from the back of my motorbike. Why? Because he must have been working on the project with Drake. He had given Drake's name to Simon and set me up so that he could be ahead of me when I went to Devizes, and then he had tried to kill me on Salisbury Plain. Jody and Davenham wanted to ensure that the secret research project remained just that: secret. My fist clenched and a chill entered my heart.
Steeling myself for his answer, I said, 'What made you ask Davenham?'
'It was fortuitous really. He called me on Sunday. He wants to put some money into one of my research projects; we had discussed it at Father's funeral. I told him you wanted to find out about this laboratory on Salisbury Plain.'
Oh yes, how fortuitous. If I wanted proof that Jody was working with Davenham then there it was. It didn't explain the men in the marina though, or the fact that her car was fitted with a tracking device, unless Special Branch were keeping an eye on her as well as me. I still didn't have all the answers but I would soon.
'Davenham's address, Simon?' I demanded.
Simon nursed his whisky.
'I need it now,' I said firmly.
He stared at me a moment longer, then with a shrug gave it to me.
CHAPTER 17
By the time I reached St Charles Street in Mayfair it had stopped raining but the wind was gathering in strength.
I wasn't stupid enough to think that after confronting Davenham he'd let me quietly go back to Portsmouth and resume my career as a marine artist. This was the end of the line. Soon I would know it all. And soon, said the small voice inside my head, you'll be dead like Jack.
I rang the bell and waited with my heart knocking against my ribs, from anticipation not fear. There were none of the symptoms of the panic attacks that had once tormented me. My fury was making me bold, and perhaps even foolish, but I didn't care.
The door drew open and Davenham was smiling at me. 'Adam, come in, I've been expecting you.' His voice was silky smooth.
I wanted to round on him there and then, to hit that smug, smiling countenance, but I forced myself to wait. Time for that later, when I had the answers, I told myself, as he showed me into a large, splendidly proportioned room, elegantly and extravagantly furnished.
Davenham said, 'You're very persistent, I must say. It would have been better for you if you hadn't been.'
I should have been afraid but I wasn't. This was the end, the truth. And even if he didn't kill me, or I managed to escape, I was still glad I had come. I vowed that before I went I would do something to hurt him, to take revenge.
I said, 'You were responsible for giving those fire fighters cancer and for killing Jack.'
'I haven't killed anyone.'
I tensed myself in anger; I wanted to ram my fist into his grinning face.
'Why don't you take off your wet jacket,' he suggested politely. 'I don't think you'll be needing it again, and you're dripping water all over the parquet flooring.'
I ignored him. He shrugged as if to say please yourself and waved me into a seat easing himself in the seat opposite, pinching up his beautifully tailored light grey trousers, and crossing his legs.
I didn't sit but continued to loom over him. I could take him at any time. I was strong, fit and younger than him. Was he alone in the house, though? If I attacked him here and now would someone come running? Would they call the police? What chance did I have then of setting the record straight? No one would believe the word of a man wanted for murder against an affluent and respected man like Davenham. I listened for any sound that might tell me if the house was occupied, but apart from the ticking of a clock there was nothing.
Davenham went on, 'If it's murder you're talking about, I rather think it's you the police want.'
'You took my file from my bike, when I went back inside to say goodbye to Faye.'
'Of course.'
'And you tried to force me off the road in a Mercedes.'
'I don't normally do that sort of thing but I thought it might be fun. I didn't expect you to be riding home so slowly.'
'How did you know where to find me?' Then I answered my own question. 'Simon told you of course but you couldn't have got ahead of me on the dual carriageway,' I added, puzzled as I tried to work out the timing of the incident.
'No, that wasn't Simon. You were being followed anyway, not only by that boy, Ben Lydeway, but by Special Branch.'
I already knew that. 'Because of Jack?'
'He just wouldn't give it up.'
'How do you know Special Br
anch were following me?'
'Because of me.' A tall, gangly man stepped out from the dining room.
I was astounded to see it was Pete Motcombe from Red Watch. It took a fraction of a second for my mind to connect him with Jack's last message to me. His mouth is full of deceit and fraud. My mind raced, rewinding conversations I'd had with Motcombe trying to find any sign or clue of his deception. Hatred and anger course through me. I clenched my fists and glared at him.
'You arranged for Jack to swap duties with Ian to make sure he would go into that fire first,' I said. Then the blood froze in my veins. Ian? He was missing. 'You bastard.' I spat. I was beyond fear. Anger consumed me. I lunged out and grabbed Motcombe by the throat before a violent blow struck me on the side of my head. I fell to the floor.
Someone kicked me in the stomach. I doubled up with pain. I heard snatches of conversation before I was hauled up and thrust in a chair.
'Let's have no more heroics, Adam,' Davenham said sternly.
With a throbbing head and a sore stomach I wasn't in very good physical shape to attempt them, but the fury inside me was far from subdued. It had been stupid of me to attack Motcombe. If I wanted to get out of this alive then I'd have to do better than that. I had to use my brain. I needed time to think. I also had to know the truth.
'How did you get on the watch, Motcombe?'
'I was transferred from London, or so my cover story went. Everyone accepted me for who I was, including you.'
'But I still don't understand, if you're with Special Branch then what are you doing helping this murdering bastard?'
Davenham laughed.
Motcombe said, 'Let's say that Special Branch have a special interest in Mr Davenham, and so do I.'
It clicked at last. 'You're working for Special Branch and for him.' I jerked my head in Davenham's direction and then wished I hadn't as a sharp pain shot through it.
'I told you he was clever,' Motcombe tossed at Davenham.
I wished I was clever enough to find a way out of this. I said, 'Special Branch put you into Red Watch when Jack started getting curious about those deaths and the fire. How did you know what he was doing? Who told you?' Jody, of course. My heart sank at the extent of her deception.
Motcombe said, 'I don't think you need to know that.'
Davenham disagreed. 'It won't do any harm to tell him, after all he's not going to be around long enough to repeat it.'
'Suit yourself.'
Davenham rose to fetch himself a drink. My eyes flicked to Motcombe wondering if I could take him. Motcombe read my thoughts. 'Don't even think it, Adam. I am trained to kill.'
'Drink, Adam?'
'Why not.'
'I think you'd be more comfortable if you removed your sailing jacket.'
After a moment's delay, I stood up and did so wondering if I threw it at one of them, would it cause enough of a distraction for me to make my escape? But Motcombe's protruding eyes never left me. As Davenham handed me the drink Motcombe took a gun from his pocket.
I wouldn't be able to overpower the two of them and escape a possible gunshot wound. Motcombe was a professional he wouldn't miss. The odds were stacked too high.
'So come on, who told you what Jack was doing?' I wanted to hear Davenham tell me it was Jody. I had to know for certain.
'Bransbury, the Minister for the Environment, Energy and Waste.'
I started. It wasn't the answer I had been expecting. When I recovered from my surprise my heart sank. Now I understood.
Motcombe took up the explanation. 'Bransbury's telephone was tapped. He had double-crossed one political party, he might do it again. He was vulnerable to blackmail having crossed the floor. And he is gay.'
Davenham must have seen my surprise because he said:
'No one knows. Not even his wife.'
There was something in Davenham's tone of voice that made me wonder. Was Davenham his lover?
'Rutland telephoned me after your friend Jack visited Honeyman,' Davenham explained. 'Honeyman had called the gallant captain to say that Jack Bartholomew was asking questions about a certain cargo that was carried in 1994. I had to warn Bill. The Minister for the Environment, Energy and Waste involved in disposing of hazardous waste and possibly causing the death of those firemen? Can you imagine the scandal?'
'So this is where you came in, Motcombe. You had to hush things up?'
'I was sent in to find out what the secret was that could cause a scandal and possibly wreck the government. Jack was good, he led me to Honeyman and Honeyman led me to Rutland. After a little pressure Rutland told me who had paid him to take the cargo.'
'And you thought you'd earn yourself some extra money?'
Davenham said, 'I'm a wealthy man, Greene, and everyone has their price, even your brother.'
My mind was racing. How could I go for Motcombe and get that gun from him? How long did I have?
'What was in that cargo?' I asked tersely. 'You can at least tell me that before you kill me.' For a moment I thought of Simon but Davenham must have read my mind.
'I shouldn't rely on Simon coming to your rescue. As I said, everyone has his price. He'll soon get through your father's inheritance, my offer of help will be rescinded, and that will be the end of him unless he plays ball. Simon, as you must know, doesn't care about anyone or anything except success and that means continuing his research and getting his product to market.'
I felt some pity for Simon. 'The cargo?' I prompted. There just had to be a way out of this. 'It came from the laboratory on Salisbury Plain?'
Davenham answered. 'Yes. I was researching into developing a new anti-ageing drug. The project was highly secret as you can imagine; if competitors got a sniff of what I was doing there would have been no end to the industrial espionage. It was a government project; Bill helped me get the funding for it. At the time he was a Conservative MP. I convinced him of the need to look into researching a drug that could help keep people fitter and healthier longer. I was working with an enzyme called telomerase. It was first discovered in 1984. Telomerase is found in a wide variety of cancers which have a genetic mutation allowing them to manufacture telomerase.'
'You've lost me,' I muttered.
Davenham smiled patronizingly. 'In the 1970s it was discovered that the ends of our chromosomes have little, er shall we say, caps on them which prevent them from getting frayed. If these caps, called telomeres, are lost, then the chromosomes stick together and the cell eventually dies. More cells die, the more you age. In a normal cell the telomeres fuse gradually becomes shorter and shorter and eventually the cell commits suicide. We grow old.'
'So by using this enzyme and manufacturing telomerase you can stop the cell committing suicide and prevent, or hold up, the ageing process?'
'In its simplistic way, yes. We're all living longer – well some of us are.' He grinned.
My body stiffened. The adrenaline was pumping through me preparing me to attack. I thought what have I got to lose? But not yet. Motcombe wouldn't kill me here; it was too risky. They would have to take me somewhere, and maybe only Motcombe would do that. One against one, even with a gun I stood a better chance of staying alive.
Davenham was saying, 'If we could just slow down the ageing process and therefore stave off some of the diseases of old age, Parkinson's, cancer, osteoarthritis… Oh I know they're not confined to the elderly but the majority of cases, except possibly cancer, are. Just think of the savings to the NHS. The elderly and their ailments are a great drain on it.'
'So it was done purely for the good of the country to help save the National Health Service money,' I scoffed, tossing back some of the whisky, which until then had stayed untouched in my hands.
Davenham shrugged. 'It would have had commercial implications too, of course, but I didn't worry too much about that then. I just wanted my own laboratory and to conduct my research. I had ideas, which I wanted to test. I had met Bill at university, which is where I also met your brother, as you know. I lost touch with
Bill for a few years before coming across him again at a dinner. I told him about my ideas and he agreed to help.'
I bet he did, after Davenham had seduced him and then blackmailed him. I also presumed the relationship was still active.
Davenham swirled the whisky in the beautifully cut crystal glass with his slim elegant hands. 'During the course of my research I experimented with many chemicals, which included what are coarsely known as gender benders – PBDEs – polybrominated diphenyl ethers – if you want the full name. They disrupt hormones, and are known endocrine disrupters, which damage sperm. The processes also involved the use of Acrylamide, a suspected carcinogen, but there isn't sufficient data to prove it causes cancer in humans. After all, how can you test it on humans to see if it is known to cause cancer?'
In Cold Daylight Page 17
