‘Well that’s hardly surprising as the whole complex was built as a war memorial. I think many families felt very strongly at the time about their lost sons and brothers – some lost husbands too of course. The great public schools suffered very badly. Disproportionate numbers of young officers were killed. If you want to feel impending tragedy, have a look at photographs of Speech Day at Harrow in 1912 or the Fourth of June at Eton that year. All the boys that you see in those photographs were born between 1894 and 1899. All would reach military age during the war. A fifth would die in action. Many more wounded and many more permanently marked by their experiences. Imagine the heartbreak.’
She turned away and sighed. ‘Just as we have finished one bloody war there could be another one on the horizon.’
Jacot slipped away quietly from the room. It had been a strange conversation. She was clearly sounding him out on something. He wondered what exactly.
Lady Nevinson’s ex-military driver grinned as he got into the car. ‘You’ll make the last train and I’ve arranged a taxi for you at Cambridge. Her ladyship has been working very late. I think there’s a flap on about the Falklands.’
VIII
Gibbs’ Building, King’s College, Cambridge
‘I understand that you have no official status here but that you have been sent down from the Cabinet Office to oversee things’. The Cambridge Coroner wasn’t at all what Jacot had been expecting. Tall, expensively and well dressed in a Savile Row suit and wearing an Old Wykehamist tie, Professor Michael Livesey looked more like a traditional university don than a pathologist who worked in a basement. But there was an unexplained note of hostility or possibly disdain in his voice.
‘Exactly, Professor Livesey. You don’t have to see me or answer any of my questions. I am not part of the investigating team but it would be helpful. I should make clear that although I work in the Cabinet Office I am neither a political appointee nor a career civil servant. I am a military man who now works for the National Security Adviser, Lady Nevinson. I am a servant of the Crown, not any political party.’
Livesey smiled. ‘Of course, of course, I’m sorry. To most people Cabinet Office means the political side of the government. Bad reputation under the last lot and little better today. Is your office close to the deputy prime minister’s?’
They both laughed. ‘And I consider it my duty to help you and Lady Nevinson out. It’s not often that the Regius Professor of Pathology gets asked to carry out a post mortem, although I do them from time to time to remain current.’
‘What can you tell me about the body?’
Livesey frowned. ‘Strange, really strange. General Verney appeared to be in pretty good health. Obviously, he was in his late fifties and was a smoker but frankly not in a bad physical state at all. No excess weight. Lungs not too bad for a smoker. Nothing wrong with the heart or the circulation. No bleeding anywhere. No injuries. Nothing. I have checked everything and asked another senior member of the medical faculty to have a look as well. It would appear that a man in late middle age in perfect health just died in his bed one night. It happens.’
‘But what was the actual cause of death?’
‘I think he just stopped breathing – passed away in the night. There are no bruises to suggest that someone suffocated him. He didn’t choke on anything. The only thing I would say is that he appeared to have had quite a lot to drink – a bottle and a half of wine and something a little stronger to finish off.’
‘In St James’ it’s always Calvados.’
‘Yes quite, Colonel. Even against a background of embalming fluid and disinfectant I could detect an appley smell. I have drunk the stuff myself. It’s rather good.’
‘Since the Litvinenko murder is not so long ago I suppose I should ask – any traces of radioactivity?’
Livesey looked hard at Jacot. The penny had just dropped that this was an intelligence matter. ‘No. The police asked me to check for that. Not surprising given what the Russians have been up to. But no radioactive substances at all present. It’s one of the easiest things to check for.’
‘Poisons?’
‘The toxicology report is clear. We have tested for all the usual stuff and most exotics. There was no curare if that is what you are wondering about or any of the modern derivatives. Although a drug like that would suffocate in the way poor old Verney seems to have died. It’s a very unpleasant way to go. You suffocate but are still conscious until the end. Horrible I should think. But there is no sign of it.’
Jacot flexed his hands. ‘What’s your view?’
‘Obviously, I don’t know the background. Don’t worry I won’t ask you. To a pathologist it looks like a natural death. But then if he was killed by opponents from the sort of world that you represent I suppose it would look like a natural death. There are a couple of more tests we need to run to exclude a couple of the more exotic, very exotic poisons. I can’t do them here but the Home Office are coming for a sample tomorrow and I understand the FBI have offered to help. I have prepared samples for them.’
‘What sort of exotics, Professor?’
‘The kinds of things used by those who might wish this country harm. Stuff that is used by other countries’ intelligence people and, of course, these days terrorists. I am not naïve Colonel. And it is not the first time I have received a visit from the intelligence services.’
‘They sent someone up about Verney already?’
Livesey laughed. ‘No not at all. Cambridge has in the past been full of spies. It still is. One head of house is a former “C” and they have people at all levels of the university in various guises nervous about our laboratories and some of our international students. And shall we say there is lots of sponsorship.’
Jacot looked out of the window over the Backs. The bulk of King’s College Chapel loomed to the right with the south front of Clare just behind running down to the river. It was an odd feeling. He was inside one of the most famous views in the world, inside the postcard.
Livesey understood what Jacot was thinking. ‘For some reason the Regius Professor of Pathology is a fellow of King’s. Funny gang. Lots of women parsons and the ugliest undergraduettes in the university. But the view is glorious.’
This was going well thought Jacot. There is no more powerful bond between modern men of a slightly old-fashioned disposition than a secretly shared political incorrectness. ‘Professor, forgive me, but I have a question.’
‘Do go on?’
‘If you wanted to kill someone quickly without making it look like a murder, how would you do it?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘No funny stuff. No 1930s thriller stuff. But a simple effective poison that would not be detected by the authorities.’
Livesey went to his bookshelf, crammed with medical books but also with shelves of amusement and civilisation. Jacot noticed row after row of PG Wodehouse, beautifully bound in dark blue Morocco.
‘I see you have spotted my secret vice – Wodehouse first editions rebound. He keeps you going if you are a pathologist. Let me make it absolutely clear Colonel Jacot that I would never discuss poisons with anyone outside the medical profession. I probably would not discuss them with anyone who wasn’t a qualified and practising pathologist. Poisons are funny things, tempting things to some people. Some perfectly innocent chemicals can quite simply be mixed into powerful poisons. Some quite powerful poisons can be administered in such a way that it would be easy to allay the suspicions of observers or even the police. All of us live in terror of a rogue doctor like Shipman. That’s why medical schools are so strict on personal discipline and character. Becoming a doctor is a bit like being ordained. It’s not just a matter of the medical or theological knowledge. Suitability is all. Worse much worse than a Shipman who was a General Practitioner would be a pathologist who turned rogue murderer. If the back office can’t be trusted we have all had it.’
‘Professor, I understand. Believe me.’
‘Well, Colonel I will mak
e an exception for you.’ He took a paperback from one of the shelves, one of those French paperbacks where you have to slit the pages yourself with a knife and gave it to Jacot. ‘Marine toxins are what I would use. It’s all in this book. It’s in French because the French keep an eye on these things because of their possessions in the Caribbean and the Pacific. These are basically toxins, naturally occurring poisons, produced by various types of algae in small quantities usually in tropical waters. The algae are ingested by creatures like oysters which are then eaten by small fish which are then eaten by large fish. Usually ones that live on reefs like barracuda. The toxins are not poisonous to the fish themselves but they build up in the food chain. By the time you get to a barracuda that’s been feeding on this stuff it can be very dangerous. They are all different and produce different symptoms but basically they interfere with the chemical messaging system in the body causing respiratory failure – sometimes quite quickly. The toxins are heat resistant so cooking does not help. But there is one upside from the safety point of view – eat some of this stuff and you are normally sick as a dog. Vomiting and all the rest of it, so very often the body is purged quite quickly.’
‘I suppose faking a virulent stomach bug would be a good way to murder but wouldn’t it be a bit obvious? In our scenario we are trying to kill without being found out,’ said Jacot.
‘Quite, Colonel. And some of the toxins have strange effects to say the least – there is one found in the Pacific and Caribbean which affects the nervous system in such a way that it changes the heat sensors in the mouth – hot will feel cold and vice versa. Bit obvious that one too. Poisoning of this sort can happen in northern climes as well, rarely though, and only with imported fish – most doctors learn something about it at medical school and then forget all about it.’
Livesey handed over the book. He seemed hesitant. ‘There is one toxin that stands apart from any of the others. But please don’t discuss it with anyone other than your professional colleagues. Other than Lady Nevinson in fact. I don’t want to put ideas into people’s heads. I would use something called Saxitoxin. It is a toxin, therefore naturally occurring, derived from certain types of shellfish. In the way I have described oysters, say, ingest a type of rare algae that produces the toxin in minute, really minute quantities and even then only in certain unusual climatic, tidal and other marine conditions. Most of the time in quantities that do not affect humans – even after two dozen oysters at Wilton’s. Through the way molluscs feed – they filter stuff out of vast quantities of water and vegetable matter – occasionally, if the water they are in has a glut of the unusual algae responsible, a harmful algal bloom, these potent toxins build up in their flesh. If a whale or an otter or human eats the oyster or whatever it is – bingo. Something called Paralytic Shellfish Poisoning occurs – PSP. The toxin, through a chemical process which I will not bore you with, shuts down the signals to and from the respiratory system. Paralysis can be very quick, usually within a few minutes of ingestion – maybe up to an hour. The unfortunate individual is usually dead within a couple of hours. It’s a kind of dry drowning. Nasty form of death I should think because you know what is happening but can’t do anything about it. And here’s the killer fact if you like – it only takes about .2 of a milligramme of this stuff to kill a normal man or woman. Bit more if you are very heavily built. And afterwards it’s very difficult to find. The tests for it are unreliable in some ways but between them the FBI and our Forensic Science Service should be able to detect it, although not necessarily.’
‘Very interesting, Professor. But there are no signs of a stomach upset with Verney. So we are back to square one.’
‘Not quite. And again you must not pass this on to anyone. We checked everywhere. But some poisons, like Saxitoxin, if injected or even inhaled, can work very quickly, at extremely low doses. The digestive system is bypassed so no vomiting or diarrhoea. Paralysis would be almost instantaneous although unconsciousness would not follow for some time, as I have said. I hasten to add there were no signs of any injections on Verney’s body. I checked thoroughly, very thoroughly.’
‘And who is likely to have this sort of stuff?’
‘The Americans used to make it. But President Nixon ordered the supplies destroyed. There is still some around in research institutes and hospitals for nervous diseases – it works by obstructing sodium channels in the nervous system. But nothing else – all the other channels remain open. So incredibly useful in research into various unpleasant diseases of the nervous system.’
‘But difficult.’
‘Difficult. Very difficult. Although if you had an oyster farm and a chemistry degree you could probably have a go. From time to time there is a worry that somehow Jihadists have synthesised a small quantity. Interestingly, it’s what the US used to give to their spies – just in case. Gary Powers the U2 pilot shot down over Russia in 1956 was rumoured to be carrying a suicide pill made of the stuff. I very much doubt that there is any of it left and it would have lost its power by now, chemically degraded. There was an antidote as well, if I remember rightly, with even more complex chemistry. I have little doubt that both the FBI and our people will draw a blank. But for what it’s worth that’s what I would do. One final thing. Despite my oyster farm image, if it were a poison of this type I would expect it to have been synthesised by a state, an advanced state.’
‘So not terrorists?’ Jacot spoke slowly emphasising every word.
‘No’, Livesey clearly understood what Jacot was asking and the implications. ‘No. It would have to be a state.’
‘And the FBI and our spooks are coming tomorrow for their samples?’
‘Yes. Someone from the embassy in London and an official from the Home Office.’
Professor Livesey was used to dealing with the authorities and clearly enjoyed dealing with people “from the other side of the green baize door”. Somehow Jacot needed him to believe that he Jacot represented a more senior authority. It was time for a little bluff.
‘Well I think we should have some more tests done. I would be grateful if you would prepare a sample for the National Security Adviser. You know Lady Nevinson of course.’
‘Well yes, a little. I mean I met her once at something in Cambridge.’
‘She wants me to arrange some more tests.’
Livesey looked nervous and undecided. It was time for Jacot to go in for the kill. ‘You understand, of course, the constitutional position – not only is she the Prime Minister’s personal adviser on intelligence matters, but also she has operational control on his behalf of the entire intelligence set up – a different creature altogether. In effect she controls promotion within the services and budgets and curiously the allocation of honours. You know MBEs, knighthoods and peerages.’
He was bluffing like mad. But it was enough. It was a tiny flash – almost unnoticeable – there just for a moment in Livesey’s body language. He had stiffened like a shooting dog waiting to retrieve a pheasant. Livesey did care. He obviously liked good suits. Who did not except for wealthy politicians trying to look poorer than they really were? His rooms were beautifully decorated and filled with lovely things, watercolours on the wall and porcelain figures on the bookshelves, which were a conscious effort to display good taste. It was expensive stuff and somehow Jacot doubted that it had been inherited. Being a senior Cambridge don was certainly comfortable and could make you money, particularly in the scientific or computer spheres. Soon Livesey would almost certainly be knighted. It came with the job. But the momentary stiffening of the body had come a split second after the word “peerage”. Lady Nevinson had certainly arranged for a couple of deserving spooks to be elevated to the House of Lords. Livesey probably knew this.
Napoleon was right enough. Men were interested in baubles – but for soldiers they were there for a reason – they encouraged bravery. For civilians it was different – some of the more humble medals meant a lot and were awarded for years of hard work or dedication. But at the more seni
or levels it was Buggins turn. And the awarding of peerages was little more than a form of spiritual corruption. Otherwise perfectly normal and honourable people seemed to lose the plot at the thought of ermine and gilt and calling themselves Lord something or other. Anyway, he had Livesey hooked.
‘I am operating under her orders. Do you want to speak to her? I can get her on a secure phone now.’ Jacot took his red iPhone from his pocket and made to look as though he was about to get through to her.
‘No, no. Not necessary. Give her my compliments when you return to London. Of course I will prepare another sample. You can have it tomorrow. Have a glass of sherry.’
‘Yes, Professor. Thank you.’
Jacot took a long sip. Trekking around Cambridge trying to solve a murder was proving tough on the liver. They both moved to the window to admire the view. It was like peering out of the Doge’s Palace or the Taj Mahal. There was a slight companionable feeling in the air, as if a deal had been done. Jacot had no idea what kind of a sample was required for exotic toxicology tests but he decided not to ask lest the spell of a possible peerage was broken.
‘I’ll have the sample sent over to St James’ tomorrow.’
‘No, thanks. I will pick it up from here.’
‘But that would be most irregular and the refrigerated box will be bar coded.’
Jacot was relieved – at least the sample, whatever it was, would be in a refrigerated box. He would go back to London immediately after picking it up and seek instructions from her ladyship. He hoped she would approve. But for now he must continue in costume and character as it were.
The Falklands Intercept Page 7
