7
‘I wonder what his real name is,’ Tom said as we drove back up through the parkland that surrounded the manor and through the gate. ‘Maybe Ashby can tell us.’
‘Caliban certainly suited him.’ I withdrew a cigarette from my pack and deliberately lit it. ‘Tom, don’t you think your ignorant loudmouth act with Dr Kent was a bit OTT?’
He grinned. ‘It’s what comes naturally.’
‘I’m not joking. She took a dislike to you, and I can’t say I blame her.’
‘She’ll still take us on as patients, though.’
‘How can you know that?’
He took a breath and let it out. ‘Let’s suppose for a moment she was worried enough by the Murrell incident and the ReMLA enquiry to be on the look-out for a plant—what’s the last thing she’d suspect?’
‘I know what you’re—’
‘I’ll tell you anyway—a fully paid up member of the loudmouth tendency. She may dislike me, but she won’t suspect me.’
‘OK, but she might not want a member of the loudmouth tendency as a patient.’
‘But from what Professor Fulbourn told us, we’re just the combination she’s looking for—fertile woman and infertile man. She wants us as patients all right, why else would she have had us down here so quickly?’
‘She may have had a genuine cancellation, they do happen.’
‘Surely there would have been someone further up the queue than us. No, Fulbourn got it right: we fulfil the criteria she wants.’
‘All right.’ I drew on my cigarette to conceal my own irritation with him. ‘I still can’t understand why you had to be quite so…objectionable.’
‘Because it creates a credible character that gets under her guard, and will also be an explanation for my nosiness later on, that’s why. And now,’ he said, ‘if you don’t mind, I want to indulge in a little nostalgia.’
I gave up. After a short silence, I said, ‘Why nostalgia?’
‘I was stationed here when I was in the army.’
‘I’d forgotten you were in the army,’ I said slowly. ‘How long were you in for?’
‘Three years. Half a lifetime ago.’
‘Did you enjoy it? You said nostalgia.’
‘I did and I didn’t. Probably seems better in retrospect. I don’t regret it though.’
‘No.’ I looked at him, thinking: the services leave an indelible mark on whomever they touch. I’d seen it so often before in patients—a toughness, an independence, a stoicism, but also sometimes a bloody-mindedness and plain bloody ignorance.
I stubbed my cigarette and looked out of the window. We must have been in the middle of the plain. It stretched away as far as you could see on all sides, dotted with patchy scrub; undulating, like a carpet that’s been laid on rocky ground, its rough grass pile a vivid green.
‘Tom, stop a minute.’
He glanced at me, then pulled in to the side of the narrow road.
‘What is it?’
‘Look.’ I pointed. ‘Cowslips.’
‘Oh, yes. I can’t remember when I last saw that many.’ The ground on my side was thick with them, their bright yellow flowers studding the coarse grass like jewels.
‘Neither can I, they’re not so common now.’ I opened the door.
‘Careful, there might be unexploded shells. It’s not an army training ground for nothing.’
‘Not this close to a public road, surely?’
‘Probably not, no. But don’t go too far.’
I got out and walked a few paces, and after a moment, he joined me.
The air was an elixir: soft, not cold, but cool enough to be a foil for the warm sun and filled with streamers of birdsong.
‘Skylarks,’ said Tom, pointing to where one hung in the blue above us. He grinned at me. ‘Just think, if it wasn’t for the army, all this would have all been ploughed up years ago by some farmer. No cowslips, no skylarks. God, this brings back memories.’
We stood there in silence, thinking our different thoughts. I was thinking: maybe it’s the stress…they say that danger sharpens the senses, maybe that’s why I’m feeling all this so intensely. At that moment, I wished he could have put his arm around me, but I’d stayed in his house with his wife and that was the one thing he couldn’t do.
*
We drove down to Salisbury, where Tom had arranged to collect plans of the manor from the Planning Records Department and to visit Combes, the firm that had installed the security system.
Salisbury was rather like Latchvale, only more so, if you see what I mean. Similar narrow streets and timbered buildings, but bigger, on a more expansive scale, and somehow more aloof. The lancet spire of the cathedral dominated the whole city, unlike the more homely Ladies of Latchvale.
We found a pub, a time-warp called the Haunch of Venison opposite the Poultry Cross, where we had lunch. Tom wanted to know in detail everything that had passed between Dr Kent and myself. I told him, then said. ‘If you didn’t know there was something wrong with the place, you’d never suspect it.’
He snorted. ‘Speak for yourself. It’s obvious she’s nothing but a suppressed dyke.’
‘Oh, come on. I bet you say that about all successful independent women.’
‘Not at all. I’ve never said it about you, have I?’
‘That’s different.’
‘In what way?’ he asked innocently.
‘I’m not rising to that one.’
He smiled. ‘OK, I admit I was influenced by her appearance, hut I say it mostly because of her obvious dislike of men. She—’
‘Dislike of you, you mean.’
‘She’s supposed to be a specialist in male infertility. Yet she spent virtually all her time on you.’
‘Yes, and asked me a great many questions about you. Besides, it was elementary to check me out first. I’m the one who’d have to carry any baby.’
‘Ah yes, a women’s lot.’
‘She may dislike you, and who can blame her, but I bet she spends more time on your sperm than she did on me.’
He grinned and I realised he’d been deliberately winding me up.
‘Very funny, smart-ass.’
‘Seriously Jo, if you think she’s going to spend time on my sperm, you’re assuming she’s bona fide.’
‘It’s not impossible.’
He snorted again, then looked at his watch. ‘I’d better get over to the Planning Department. What are you going to do.’
‘How long d’ you think you’ll be?’
‘A couple of hours.’
‘I’ll look round the town, maybe go to the cathedral.’
‘I’ll meet you at the Poultry Cross in a couple of hours, then.’
I wandered through the streets, guided by the tip of the spire until I passed through an ornate gatehouse to the close.
The cathedral was stunning. Stately, remote, even cold in its very perfection, it was like an iceberg floating in a sea of green. St Chad’s in Latchvale was a cuddly baby in comparison.
Halfway across the close. I stopped beside a statue, a sculpture in bronze of the Walking Madonna by the late Dame Elizabeth Frink. But this madonna didn’t just walk, she strode, stretching the fabric of the skirt that reached down to her ankles. Her face was gaunt, her jaw clenched in absolute determination, her eyes focused inwards. This Mother of Christ was totally absorbed, totally committed.
She was also quite sexless, and looking at her, I realised that Tom had been wrong about Dr Kent. She, too, was sexless.
The time flew by as I explored the cathedral and its surroundings and I arrived back at the Poultry Cross to find Tom smoking a cheroot and looking at his watch.
‘Sorry,’ I said, not over sincerely. He’d had no qualms about leaving me for two hours. ‘Did you find what you wanted?’
‘I think so. If you’re quite ready, shall we go?’
We took the M3 back to London. Tom asked me to drive so that he could study the plans. We didn’t talk much and when we
’d reached the outskirts to London, I realised to my fury that he’d dozed off. I made him drive the rest of the way.
Marcus was in his office with Ashby when we got there. We told them what had happened, then Marcus asked Tom about the security system.
‘Well, you were right about it being more sophisticated than warranted, Dr Ashby,’ Tom said. He laid the plans on Marcus’ desk. ‘We caught a glimpse of the security guard you mentioned as well. Leila, the receptionist, referred to him as Caliban.’
Ashby smiled. ‘Apt. His real name’s Calvin Moore. He’s an American. Don’t be fooled by his appearance though, I sensed a considerable animal cunning.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
‘The point is, Tom,’ Marcus said, ‘will you be able to get round the system if you have to?’
‘I hope so.’ He spread the plans over the desk and we poured over them.
‘This is the ground floor,’ he said. ‘There are twenty external windows and two doors. The windows, which are sash, have vibration sensors, and the doors have magnetic reed contact switches.’
‘Explain,’ said Marcus.
‘Vibration sensors are just that—any movement of the window and an alarm goes off. You’ll have seen magnetic reed switches. Two small plastic plates, like this’—he held his hands with the palms parallel with each other—‘are set flush in two surfaces, one in the door and one in the door frame. The one that moves when the door opens contains a magnet, and the other a switch, which is held in the off position so long as the magnet is close to it. As soon as the magnet moves away when the door opens, the switch is released and sets off the alarm.’
Marcus nodded. ‘I’ve seen them. So that prevents anyone getting inside. But you’ll already be inside, won’t you?’
‘Yes, but that’s covered pretty effectively as well. There’s a closed-circuit TV camera with a built-in passive infra-red sensor here in the hall, covering the main stairs’—he pointed—‘and more infra-red sensors here, in Kent’s office; here, in her deputy’s office next to the laboratory; and also here, covering the back stairs.’
‘How do these infra-red sensor things work?’
‘They send out an infra-red beam which detects any movement of heat, including from the human body. They’re placed in a top corner, here’—he indicated again—‘where the beam can cover the whole room.’
‘But only in those two rooms?’
‘That’s right, which would suggest that that’s where anything useful to us is likely to be. And I did notice a fire safe in Kent’s room.’
Marcus studied the plan for a moment.
‘I can see your problem,’ he said at last. ‘If you come down either of the stairs, you’ll be seen or detected.’ He looked up. ‘What about the lift?’
‘That has a magnetic reed switch as well.’
‘Hmm. So even if you made it downstairs without being detected, the moment you went into either Kent’s office or her deputy’s, the alarm’d go off.’
‘Just one alarm, in the security room, so it doesn’t wake up the whole house.’
‘Why would that be?’
‘Combes said Kent wanted it that way, so that a false alarm wouldn’t wake up the patients.’
‘Bullshit—sorry, Jo.’
‘That’s all right.’
‘Yes,’ said Tom. ‘What I think, and Combes agreed with me after we’d discussed it, is that this system looks as though its function is to safeguard against intruders, whereas in fact, it’s just as effective against inside snoopers. No one can get downstairs at night without the security guard knowing, and even if they do, the infra-red sensors pick them up the moment they go into either Kent’s or her deputy’s room. I should have mentioned, the control panel in the security room also shows the guard exactly where the breach is, be it window, door, room, whatever.’
Marcus absently scratched the dome of his head with a finger.
‘No way to neutralise the system?’
‘None. If we attempted to cut any of the wires, not that there are any showing anywhere, a general alarm goes off.’
‘Surely, the guard isn’t in the security room twenty-four hours a day?’
‘No, he isn’t. But any interference with the control panel at any time also sets off a general alarm.’
Marcus let out a sigh. ‘That only leaves drugging the guard.’ He looked up at Tom. ‘I’m being serious, as a last resort.’
‘Even that’s covered. During the night, he has to key in a code every hour. If he doesn’t, the general alarm goes off.’
‘Combes wouldn’t tell you the code?’
‘Couldn’t tell me. It can be changed every night, if the guard feels like it.’
‘Does the same apply to the actual timing of when it’s keyed in?’
‘No, that’s set on the hour.’
‘I see.’ He paused. ‘So is there anything you can do?’
‘Oh, we’ll have to do something—I can’t think that we’ll find out what they’re up to without some snooping. There is one weakness in the system…’
‘Well?’
‘The closed-circuit TV camera plus infra-red sensor in the main hall. Kent apparently wanted it because it can be used during the day, but it has a blind spot.’
‘Where?’
‘Here.’ He pointed to the landing at the top of the main stairs. ‘Because of the ornate design of the staircase, and the angle of the camera, it’s possible, so Combes tell me, to lower oneself into the hall from the back of the top landing and get into the corridor behind without being seen.’
‘Can you use it?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’ll have to think about it and have a better look next time we go down.’
‘When will that be?’ asked Ashby.
‘We’ve made a provisional appointment for today week.’
‘Assuming she wants to treat you,’ said Marcus.
‘She will,’ said Tom. ‘For the reasons we’ve already gone into.’
Marcus called a taxi for me shortly after this. It made me feel vaguely resentful having to leave them still discussing what intimately concerned me, and then I thought that maybe I was being paranoid—that was the problem of living so far away from the centre of planning.
‘You won’t have anything to worry about until next Wednesday,’ Marcus had assured me as I left.
I’d be glad when it came and I knew where I stood, and would be able to play a full part in the planning.
Marcus, however, was wrong. He rang me at work at twenty-past twelve on Monday.
‘Jo, we’ve got a problem. Dr Kent has just left a message on the answerphone for the flat. She’s in London on business and intends calling on you at three. I think it’s essential that you’re there in time to meet her.’
8
‘Marcus, it can’t be done.’ I could hear the wail in my voice.
‘It can, Jo, I’ve—’
‘But what does it matter? We’re just not at home, that’s all.’
‘She knows you don’t have a job.’
‘So what?’
‘Jo, we don’t know why she’s calling, and we do need to know. It may be some kind of test. If she doesn’t see you, it’ll leave a question mark in her mind.’
‘But—’
‘No more arguments, just listen. There’s a train leaving New Street for London in forty minutes—a taxi should get you there in that time. Tom will be waiting for you at Euston and will get you to the flat.’
‘But what about…?’
‘Don’t waste any more time, just go.’ The line clicked shut.
For a moment my mind was totally blank, then I cleared the line to phone for a taxi. There was a knock at my door. It was Mary. I beckoned her in.
‘Are you all right, Jo?’
‘Fine. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go off for the afternoon. Can you look after things?’
‘Sure. Do you…?’
The phone was answered. ‘Hello? I need a taxi to take me
to Birmingham New Street…yes, and it’s urgent, please…from the main entrance of the hospital.’
‘What is it, Jo? Bad news?’
‘I’ll tell you when I come back—OK?’
I went to my locker, thrust my ‘civvies’ into a plastic bag, grabbed my handbag and left. I joined the knot of smokers outside the main entrance (you’re not supposed to smoke in the hospital). The taxi took an age and I’d just lit up myself when it appeared. I dropped the cigarette into the bin.
‘Birmingham New Street, was it miss?’
‘Yes. Can you do it in’—I looked at my watch—‘twenty-nine minutes?’
‘I can try.’
And he did, I’ll say that for him. I thrust him a ten pound note twenty-eight minutes later. There were queues at the ticket windows. Forty seconds to go. I ran over to the barrier past a line of shuffling people showing their tickets.
‘Hey, miss!’
‘I’ll pay on the train, OK?’
‘You’ll have to buy a single.’
Big deal. A whistle went as I clattered down the escalator. The train had just started to move as I yanked open the door and got a foot on the step. Someone’s hands round my midriff gave me a push and I had the stray thought that any other time, this would be sexual harassment. The door slammed behind me. I found a seat and collapsed.
I waited until the ticket inspector came and paid the single fare (stares from other passengers, irrational feelings of guilt), then went to the loo and changed.
Once I’d recovered my breath and thought about it, I could see Marcus’s point.
It might not count against us if Dr Kent couldn’t find me and I phoned her later, but it would be so much better if she did and could see that what we’d said about ourselves was true. I wondered what it was she wanted and worried about what I would say. Wasn’t it somewhat unprofessional for her to call on me like this?—although I’d seen my share of unprofessional consultants. Then I began to worry about the flat—would it look sufficiently like a home? I couldn’t believe Tom or Marcus capable of making it look homely.
Well, Josephine. I thought, you can certainly forget any feelings of guilt over the money they’re paying you. Curiously, this made me feel slightly better for a while, although by the time we were pulling into Euston, that feeling had evaporated and I was feeling worse than ever.
Deliver Them From Evil Page 6
