The Grotto's Secret: A Historical Conspiracy Mystery Thriller

by Paula Wynne

  Before Barker had time to say a word, the lard arse propelled him into another extravagant room and ushered him to a chair in front of a plush oak desk.

  Gorden slumped into his leather seat, which squeaked as he went down. ‘Did you find it?’

  ‘Almost there.’ Barker tried to control his irritation. ‘What can we do in the meantime?’

  ‘Nothing happens without the goddamn plant.’

  ‘Agreed, but we need to hit the ground running as soon as we find it.’

  Gorden bristled; his tone barbed, ‘Listen, Barker, you’ve been around these woods long enough to know that new medicines go through rigorous tests.’

  ‘Of course, but if rizado is such a life-saver, we should get the process ready for when it comes in.’

  ‘Not that easy.’ Gorden shook his head. ‘Let me explain.’

  Barker ignored him and tried not to scowl. ‘If rizado stacks up, it will revolutionise the drug market.’

  Gorden said, ‘But first we have to file a new drug application to allow rizado to be tested on humans in clinical trials. That’s the biggest hurdle.’

  ‘The trials will show it’s not hype. From what I can see, this stuff will benefit the industry.’

  ‘Uh, huh, but some would say rizado is too risky.’

  Barker had the feeling Gorden wasn’t keen to bring rizado to

  the market.

  ‘Anyway, we’ll use Inter Mezzo as our sounding board on this one.’

  ‘They’re a bunch of criminals in white coats.’

  ‘Good God, man, why do you say that?’

  Barker cleared his throat. ‘MG’s annual reports show they’ve prevented at least three of your new medical innovations.’

  ‘That may be your view, but hundreds of medical organisations belong to the Mezzo. They check every stage of a clinical trial before deciding if a new medicine is safe.’

  ‘What are you saying? I get the distinct feeling rizado doesn’t excite you as much as it does me.’

  Barker hated being strung along by idiots.

  Idiots like Gorden.

  54

  With eyes burning from lack of sleep, Kelby glared at the two policemen. Ever since Gary’s death, she’d hated the police because she believed they hadn’t investigated it properly.

  Kelby bit her lip, intending to make a big song and dance about it, but not yet. She couldn’t risk telling anyone about the rizado findings.

  Parking his skeletal body on her sofa, PC Pike asked, ‘We’d like to talk to you about Teresina Piccoli.’

  Kelby nodded her head.

  PC Gardenia gave her a smug grin. ‘We wanted to find out about your relationship with her. We know you’ve exchanged insults.’

  Kelby reeled inwardly, but kept a controlled exterior and said as calmly as she could, ‘That’s personal.’ She crossed her legs, wiping her clammy palms along her thigh.

  ‘Not when it’s on national telly.’

  ‘It’s a reality show, what do you expect?’

  ‘Did you have to have a slanging match when she won the first mentoring round?’ The Turkey-neck absentmindedly swung the loose skin under his chin back and forth. ‘Seemed a bit odd to me.’

  Kelby cringed, hoping the idiot police constable couldn’t hear her heart pounding. She couldn’t think of a sharp retort and rubbed her hands along her leg again.

  ‘You okay, Miss Wade? You look a little nervous.’

  ‘I’m pushed for time. My diary is stacked and I have lots of calls to still make before my meetings start.’

  PC Pike took over the conversation. ‘We understand, but we have lots of interviews to do to help the Italian police.’

  PC Gardenia jabbed his elbow into his young colleague’s ribs. Raising his eyebrows, he indicated something in the notepad.

  PC Pike flipped the notepad closed and asked, ‘Is it true Miss Piccoli said that,’ he dropped his head in embarrassment, ‘Sorry to repeat this, but she said you’re way too ugly to be on the Sunday Times Rich List.’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘And what did you do about it.’

  ‘What could I do? Have her dropped in the ocean with an anchor tied to her ankles?’ Kelby immediately regretted her words. Good God, what’s wrong with me! Of all the moments to display a flash of temper.

  As before, PC Pike scribbled his notes while PC Gardenia rubbed Kelby up the wrong way. ‘Did you retaliate by calling her …’ he tapped his colleagues notepad and emphasised his words, ‘Mafia money.’

  ‘I apologised for that remark. I admit she did rile me. We’d been under tremendous pressure with a hectic few weeks of twelve-hour days on location. The pressure erupted and we had a tiff on the show.’

  ‘Is that how it was?’ PC Gardenia’s eyes penetrated hers.

  Kelby squirmed; he was bent on driving her into a corner of suspicion. She tried to remain patient. ‘PC …’ Her mouth opened and closed, but his name wouldn’t come out. Damn, not good. They expect people with a smidgeon of respect to remember their names.

  ‘PC Gardenia.’

  ‘Thank you. What you didn’t see is Teresina riling me and provoking me off camera. She had an incredible knack of winding people up.’

  ‘No-one is forcing you to take the bait. Or is that part of the show?’

  ‘I suppose you could say that. It’s not something I want to do,’ Kelby said, her eyes glued to him, ‘but the pressure the producers place on the team is ridiculous.’

  He held her stare, but blinked repeatedly as if he didn’t believe her.

  She continued, ‘It’s a reality show. That’s what we have to do. We also have to put the contestants under pressure. Make them sweat and get jumpy so they stumble and forget their pitch. That’s how we find the strong ones, the ones worth fighting for.’

  ‘Thank you for explaining, Miss Wade.’ PC Pike scribbled notes in his book.

  ‘Any more questions, officers? I’m sorry, but I’m pushed for time today otherwise I’d offer you a coffee.’

  ‘Your man secretary already did.’

  Kelby winched. Jimmy would go ape if he heard them call him that.

  ‘We declined. The coffee, that is.’

  She rose to show them to the door.

  ‘One more thing, Miss Wade.’

  Kelby groaned.

  PC Gardenia pushed out his chest as though his body stance should intimidate her. ‘Miss Wade, your man secretary told us Miss Piccoli called about something urgent.’ He pointed at Jimmy outside her interlinking window. ‘Why did Miss Piccoli call you?’

  ‘I have no idea. I wish I knew.’

  ‘Then why did you refuse her call?’

  Kelby prickled. ‘I didn’t refuse her call. I’m sure Jimmy explained, I was in a meeting when Teresina called. I was due to call her straight back after my meeting ended …’ Her voice faded as guilt consumed her.

  God, how she wished she had taken that bloody call.

  She avoided the police officer’s eyes and wrapped her arms across her chest while her mind raced.

  Both men stared at her. She could see the older one didn’t believe her, while the younger seemed too nervous to voice his opinion.

  Eventually Turkey-neck nudged PC Pike. The string bean cleared his throat and said, ‘Miss Wade, are you aware Miss Piccoli’s call to you was her last call before she died?’

  Kelby gawped at him. ‘No. I’m so sorry to hear that. Do you have any more details about her accident?’

  ‘Such as?’

  She blushed. ‘I’m not sure … how did it happen? More importantly how could it happen? She was an excellent driver. She even had another Maserati imported to use over here.’

  ‘The Italian police are keeping us informed of new developme
nts.’ PC Pike’s voice sounded far too official.

  PC Gardenia added, ‘What my colleague is trying to say, is that the Italians are still investigating the incident. At this stage, they’re taking anything into consideration, even foul play.’

  ‘You say that as though …’ her voice trailed off, her earlier morning thoughts suddenly became real. Should she tell them about the magazine found amongst her knickers? They didn’t have time to check that out. Besides, Hawk would handle it.

  PC Pike frowned. ‘As though what, Miss Wade?’

  ‘As though this wasn’t an accident.’

  PC Gardenia’s smug glow returned as he said, ‘No, Miss Wade, we didn’t indicate that at all. You did.’

  ‘Maybe the stalker I told you about was also after her.’

  ‘Unlikely, but we can check into it.’ PC Pike shook the notepad as though trying to squeeze answers out of it.

  Turkey-neck stepped to the door, saying, ‘Miss Wade, if we have more questions for you, we’ll be in touch. Everyone is a suspect until this matter is cleared up. Even you, Miss Wade, even you.’

  Kelby flinched. She couldn’t believe they were treating her as they would a suspect. Then reality hit Kelby.

  Oh, my God. Teresina must have been murdered!

  55

  Time slowed as María waited for Tío to explain what other bad news he had brought. Yet her pulse quickened.

  ‘There is una problema for healers.’

  ‘Is that because the Holy Office is against women healers?’

  ‘Yes, yes, that is correct,’ he croaked, ‘the Tribunal del Santo Oficio de la Inquisición.’

  María swallowed hard, dreading what would come next. Tío had taught her about the Inquisición Española and how the king and queen had intended to maintain Catholic rule in their kingdoms.

  Tío took the last sip of his vino medicinal and shook the leather pouch close to his ear. ‘Please, querida. Una gotika, a little drop. I must keep drinking. This news has my heart skipping a beat in my chest.’

  María wished her mother kept mead in the cottage. Instead she reached for a jug and poured him a cupful of wine, hoping he didn’t notice it had been watered down.

  Tío said, ‘I warned your mother about the men who have been trained as doctors. They believe knowledge is harmful to women. I also told your mother how the nobility have been cultivating their own university courses to be trained as doctors.’ Tío leaned over and patted María’s hand. ‘Have faith. One day, querida, your little stories will be big.’ He tapped his head. ‘La pacencia es media cencia. Patience is halfway to wisdom. You have a good head on your shoulders.’

  He’d often told her how smart she was and she’d beamed with pride. Now, she sat in glum silence.

  ‘Like your mother,’ he patted her hand again, ‘you too will make a fine balabaya, a good homemaker.’

  María tried to smile at his faith, but it turned into a sardonic smirk. ‘Tell me of el problema for Madre.’

  Tío drank deeply from the cup and accidentally slammed it on the table. His eyebrows asked for more and María topped up his drink.

  ‘Your mother is useful to our village. Most of us would be in ill health without her remedies.’

  ‘And as a komadre. Most of the children around here would not have been born without her.’ María added with pride.

  ‘Yes, you’re right. This village would wither away without your mother.’

  María cursed under her breath and covered her mouth in shame.

  ‘It is okay, querida, we know your mother is a good woman. Quien bien faze, bien topa. He who does good, finds good.’

  ‘Yes, it is terrible so few women are educated.’

  ‘That is why your mother asked me to teach you privately. The life of most women is to sweep, wash and raise children.’

  Tío drained the drink as if just speaking of these heinous crimes parched him. María refilled it, not wanting their conversatio to end.

  ‘El Dio que nos guardre de medico y de endevino. May the Lord protect us from doctors and fortune tellers.’ Tío scratched his head again. ‘The church has legitimised doctors. So wise women like your mother are now viewed as heretics. If any of the villagers fall sick or die unexpectedly, your mother could be accused of being una bruxa,

  a witch.’

  María bolted up in her chair. ‘Mama, a witch? Because she is skilled at midwifery and her medicina?’

  ‘Si, querida. If a woman dare to cure without studying, she is a witch and must die.’

  María felt the hair rising on her back and rocked forward in her chair.

  ‘Priests can command anyone knowing a wise woman to reveal her name, so the church can report her as a heretic.’

  María wished she could stand up for Madre and show the church what good her mother did for the local villagers.

  ‘Sadly, if anyone accused your mother of being a wise woman, she would be bold enough to show the children she has delivered, and the people she had healed. And that would be all they need to condemn her.’

  María leapt to her feet. Behind her, the rickety wooden chair crashed to the floor. She ignored it and started pacing in front of the hearth.

  ‘We still have faith there will be peace. We must be confiensa.’

  María couldn’t understand how Tío could be confident; her armpits felt clammy and her insides were boiling.

  ‘Un buen siman, querida, a good sign.’

  Madre wasn’t a heretic or a witch.

  But what if La Reina Isabel believed such nonsense?

  56

  Barker watched Gorden through slitted eyes. Most of the time the runt was hard to read.

  Like now.

  Gorden squeezed his chin. ‘Developing a new medicine takes at least ten years and costs a couple of billion.’

  ‘I’m not worried about that. Rizado will be worth more.’

  ‘Maybe. But less than twelve per cent of new medicines on clinical trials are approved.’ Gorden peered far too intensely at him as though part of him enjoyed having superior knowledge.

  Barker stared back, refusing to be humiliated by this trumped up prick. ‘We don’t have to make it so long-winded.’

  ‘The rizado must go through the right process before it even gets to human subjects. And there are regulations for testing on people. There’ll be control groups monitoring the whole process.’

  ‘Okay … And?’ Barker’s tried to keep the barb out of his voice.

  Gorden swivelled in his squeaky leather seat and placed his foot on an open drawer at the side of his desk. ‘And we can’t have Herman Schmidt sticking his nose in. He had the nerve to accuse us of exploiting people in the Indian and African trials.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know, the scientist who founded WMW.’ Gorden pointed his stumpy finger at a cork board with hundreds of press clippings stabbed with colourful pins. They reminded Barker of Stacie Wade’s ear studs. And they gave him a great idea to shake up Kelby.

  ‘The World Medical Watchdog.’ Gorden rattled on.

  Barker shook himself, forcing his focus on the runt.

  ‘They investigate pharmaceutical activities in poorer countries. He has the cheek to insist test patients receive medicines after the study is over.’

  ‘Most of those monkeys live in extreme poverty. They don’t get medical care. They’ll jump at the chance of free medicine. And they won’t realise or even care if it’s tests,’ Barker said dismissively.

  ‘Too risky. Schmidt will tear us to pieces.’ Gorden gave him another intense stare. ‘After hearing that, I hope you’re not disappointed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re still in the pro camp?’

  ‘Why not?’ Taken aback, Barker asked,
‘Is there any other camp?’

  ‘Think of the cost to the industry if suddenly there’s a way to speed healing.’

  ‘I’m not with you.’

  ‘Pharma could lose billions in lost revenue from medications that slowly heal or don’t even heal, but people buy them anyway.’

  ‘So, you’re saying it’s better to stop rizado hitting the market? Just because it will rival traditional meds?’

  ‘Good God, man, not me, but some in Inter Mezzo may believe the impact will be terrible for the economy.’

  They were silent for a moment. Staring each other down.

  ‘Sounds as if you’re in their camp.’

  ‘I’m neutral.’

  Barker didn’t believe it; he could hear the tension in Gorden’s words. They radiated between the lines, ballooning the invisible implication into a whole new significance.

  Without moving a muscle, Barker tried to absorb the concept for a moment, but the thought of the billions he could make still gave him an instant hard on.

  ‘Don’t bother about them and their opinion. The board will take a vote and decide.’

  Barker had heard enough.

  Gorden and Inter Mezzo thought rizado would kill the pharmaceutical industry.

  57

  Kelby accompanied the policemen to the lift. PC Gardenia asked to use the bathroom and Kelby waited for him in awkward silence with PC Pike.

  After a moment, the police officer glanced over his shoulder and stepped closer to Kelby. ‘Listen, Miss Wade, I don’t believe Miss Piccoli’s accident is connected to you. I’m just doing my job.’

  ‘Like you did with Gary’s death?’ Kelby regretted the words as they spilled out of her mouth.

  His voice dropped, ‘I know you’re still peeved about that. Between you and me, his death wasn’t properly investigated.’

  Unsure if she should bellow at him or be thankful someone had believed her, she asked, ‘Can you do anything?’