'Are you saying that Dr Goring never discussed the closure with you?'
'The only time was when he told me that East Dorset was to remain open. Not otherwise.'
'Did he ever discuss the research director post with you?'
'No. I informed the directorate that I wanted to create the post, but I never at any time discussed the matter directly with Adam.'
'Is it possible that, knowing about the post, he kept the centre open on the assumption that Dr Derby would get the job?'
'That would have been quite an assumption – there's been a great deal of interest expressed in the post from some very strong candidates.'
Tom kept silent, and after a moment Goldman continued: 'Besides, the decision to keep the centre open was made long before the post was actually announced – that wasn't until October. I can show you the paperwork with the dates if you like.'
'No, that won't be necessary. But you have become aware of Dr Derby's interest in the post since the centre's future was secured?'
'I was aware of his interest, yes, but I do take exception to the word secured.'
'I'm sorry?' Tom feigned surprised. 'What's wrong with it?'
'It smacks of collusion, of deals – as I'm sure you're well aware.'
Your words, doctor… Tom thought. 'Did you know that Dr Derby has withdrawn his application?'
'Yes, I do. Just as well, really – he wouldn't have got the job.'
'Why d'you say that?'
'I thought you said just now that you'd met him. I can assure you there are many other candidates more prepossessing.' After a pause, he continued: 'Forgive me, Mr Jones, but why are you hounding Dr Goring's memory in this way?' His voice had gained in confidence now.
'I'm not hounding him or his memory, but this rumour does have to be investigated.'
Goldman said, 'Well, I hope I've convinced you that it's absolutely baseless.'
Like hell, Tom thought, but realised that to push him any further would be almost certainly counter-productive. 'You've been very helpful, Dr Goldman,' he said truthfully.
Goldman grunted his satisfaction. 'My pleasure.' He stirred. 'And now, if there's nothing further…'
Tom had already thought out his next move. 'Nothing I need bother you with, although I would like a word with one of your staff before I go.'
'Oh?' Suspicion flooded back. 'Who, may I ask?'
'Only the lab manager.'
'Why?'
'To pass on regards from his opposite number.'
'Oh, I see. Very well, I'll take you along to him.'
As they walked in silence along the corridor, Tom reflected that if there was any truth in Jessie's story – if - then Goldman must suspect that someone in East Dorset had been talking to her. They reached an office and Goldman tapped on the open door.
'Tony, this is Mr Jones from the Department of Health. He wanted a word with you. Mr Jones, Tony Chase.'
Chase stood up and shook hands with Tom. 'Hello.' Goldman watched them.
Tom said, 'It's only that I've been working in Tamar this week and Jessie Pengellis asked me to pass on her regards to you.'
'Did she? Oh right.' Confusion crossed his face as Goldman watched. 'Nice of her. Do reciprocate them.'
'I'll do that.'
'Er – didn't I hear that she'd been suspended?'
'Yes, pending an enquiry into the TV interview she gave.' He decided not to mention yesterday's emergency.
'That was an unfortunate business… I wish…' Whatever it was he wished, he suddenly thought better of it and said, 'Who's been acting up for her?'
'Dominic Tudor.'
'Well, he's an ambitious lad, so it'll be good experience for him. Not that I imagine it's a particularly onerous job at this stage.' Still Goldman watched and listened.
Tom said, 'Actually, he's got quite a lot on his plate at the moment, what with his own department and his CJD research.' He was marking time now, filling the air with talk to confuse Goldman and make sure he had no reason to suspect Diana Small.
'What CJD research is that?' Chase asked.
'He's screening donor blood for antibodies to some bacterium or other…' Tom searched for the word…
'Acinetobacter?' said Chase.
'That's the one.'
'So he's doing it too, is he?' Chase grinned. 'Must be catching.'
'You're doing the same thing here?'
'Yes,' said Chase. He looked at Goldman. 'It was Dr Goring's idea, wasn't it?'
'Professor Blom's originally,' said Goldman. 'Adam's idea was that we could back him up by looking for antibodies in donor blood.'
Chase's phone went. 'Excuse me,' he said.
'Time I was going anyway,' Tom said, glad of an excuse to break off.
'Give Dominic my regards as well while you're about it,' Chase said as he reached for his phone.
As Goldman saw him off the premises, Tom hoped that he hadn't just blighted Chase's relationship with his boss, especially since he hadn't learnt anything from him. Interesting though, the way Goldman had stuck to them, watching and listening to every word…
He made his way back to the General Hospital and found a phone booth, from where he rang the centre and asked to be put through to Diana Small.
'Hello?'
'Ms Small, my name's Jones. I'm from the Department of Health and I need to talk to you.'
'What about, Mr Jones? It's Mrs, by the way, Mrs Small.'
How much should he tell her over the phone? He had to get her away from the centre… 'I've been talking to Jessie Pengellis at the Tamar centre and – '
'I've nothing to say about that,' she said quickly, 'I don't wish to discuss it.'
Tom said, 'Don't hang up… I've rung you like this so that no one would know about it, and no one will if you just give me a few minutes.'
'I don't wish to discuss it,' she repeated, her voice sibilated as though she was whispering. 'Please leave me alone.'
'You may have to discuss it one way or another. My way prevents it becoming official.'
Silence.
'Talk to me now and no one need ever know of your involvement.'
'Where are you?' she said at last.
'At the main hospital entrance.'
Another silence, then: 'I'll be with you in five minutes. How will I know you?'
'I'll be by the phone booth – ' he spotted a flower vendor – 'with a bunch of flowers.'
'All right.'
He bought the flowers. After a few minutes, the realisation came over him that he needed the loo rather urgently, but that would have to wait…
After nearly fifteen minutes, he was debating whether to ring her again when a short, rather dumpy figure with permed brown hair came in. She spotted him immediately and came over.
'Mr Jones?'
He handed her his card.
She said, 'I'm sorry I'm late but I didn't want to leave my lab too obviously after your call.'
'That's all right,' Tom said, wondering what kind of place East Dorset centre was. 'Shall we sit down?'
She looked round nervously before speaking. 'You can tell Jessie I'll never forgive her for the way she let me down. I'll never trust her again.'
Tom nodded, thought it better to let her get it off her chest.
'I've got two children, my husband is out of work and if I lose my job, we lose our home – d'you understand that?'
'Yes, I do, which is why I approached you the way I did.' He thought it best not to tell her he'd already seen Goldman.
'What do you want to know?'
Her lips pursed as he quickly explained.
'D'you swear to me that it won't ever come out that I told you?'
'Yes,' said Tom, hoping it was true.
'It was a coincidence,' she began at last, 'the purest coincidence…'
She'd been working late and had remembered some photocopies she'd left in the secretary's office. No one was there, the director's door was shut and there was a low murmur of voices from behind it. As sh
e'd picked up the photocopies, she'd knocked a bottle of Tippex on to the floor and it had rolled under the desk. She'd had to crawl underneath to retrieve it and Goring's voice had hit her as though from a radio:
'… asking for, Charles, is that you give Mike the chance.'
'And you'll fund the creation of the post and ensure that East Dorset doesn't close?'
'Yes.'
There was a grille beside her head and some trick of the acoustics was funnelling the voices through.
Goldman said, 'I have to say that Mike wouldn't be my first choice. He doesn't exactly inspire confidence.'
She knew she should go but was welded to the spot by what she was hearing.
'And I'm telling you, Charles, that he's made for the job. Haven't you read his research in BMJ on the structure and function of complement?'
'No, I don't think I have.'
'Well, do read it, and you'll see what I mean. He's no extrovert, I'll agree, but he's brilliant, capable of the very best research. He won't disappoint you.'
There was a brief pause, then Goldman said, 'Adam, forgive me for being so cynical, but it does occur to me that it's a foregone conclusion anyway that East Dorset stays open rather than Tamar.'
Goring said softly, 'Well, of course, there's nothing to stop you gambling on that, Charles. Calling my bluff.'
'Oh, I hope that won't be necessary,' Goldman said quickly, then, 'It's just that it's often occurred to me that we in the Transfusion Centre get so little recognition for what we do…'
Goring gave a chuckle. 'I think I see what you're getting at. Would Charles Goldman MBE go some way to redressing your concerns? It would seem to have a certain ring to it ...'
'Mm. It would seem that we both have something to think about.'
'Indeed we have.' A chair scraped. 'Read his research, Charles, and I'll come and see you again tomorrow.'
It was too late for her to move now, the door opened and Goring's immaculately polished shoes appeared beside her. 'Please don't trouble, Charles, I'll see myself out.'
She froze, terrified he would notice the white of her lab coat under the desk.
'Until tomorrow then, Adam.'
Goring's footsteps faded down the corridor and Goldman withdrew into his room, shutting the door behind him.
She'd waited for several moments while she drew in some deep breaths, then eased herself out and made for the door. Without warning, Goldman's door had opened again.
'Diana – what are you doing here?'
'I just came to collect these, doctor.' She held up the photocopies.
'All right,' he'd said. 'I just wondered.'
She'd gone back to her lab and sat down for a few minutes trying to look normal before taking off her lab coat and going home. The Tippex had still been in her pocket…
'And this was six months ago?' Tom asked her now.
'Yes, last July.'
'I realise you didn't hear all they said, but was it your impression that the research director post was Dr Goring's idea?'
'No. I think it was something Dr Goldman had applied to do anyway.'
'From what you told me earlier,' Tom said after a pause, 'it's very much to your advantage that your centre stays open.' His bladder was screaming at him, but he had to assure himself she was telling the truth.
'So it may be,' she said primly, 'but that doesn't alter the fact that corruption is wrong.'
Prim she may have been, but Tom believed her. She was, he reflected, the honest salt on which the NHS depends, and the asset it's most prone to abuse.
'Whatever persuaded you to tell Jessie, knowing the situation Tamar was in?'
She shrugged helplessly. 'Wine, Mr Jones, wine persuaded me…' They'd been to a symposium and she'd had some wine with her lunch. 'Always a mistake with a head like mine.' She sighed. 'And I felt so sorry for her, knowing the pickle she was in. Never again,' she added darkly.
'You know she's been suspended, pending enquiry?'
Diana sighed. 'Yes… I wouldn't have wished that on her.'
Tom quickly went through it again with her, then asked if anything she'd heard had suggested that Dr Derby had known about it. No, it hadn't, she said. He thanked her and let her go, and she disappeared as discreetly as she'd arrived.
He almost ran to the loo, then had a sandwich for lunch in the League of Friends bar before starting back to Tamar.
So what did it all mean?
The most likely scenario was that Goring, knowing that Goldman wanted to set up a research post, had used his knowledge and position to try and influence him… although Goldman had probably been correct in thinking the decision to close Tamar had already been taken. So where did corruption begin? he wondered. And had Derby known about it?
Something we’ll never know for sure, he thought, although he tended to think not. The whole thing was academic anyway. Even if poor Diana was forced to make a statement, it would be her word against Goldman's.
Did anything he'd learned indicate who'd trepanned his car? To whose advantage was it if he hadn't made it to Poole?
Goldman? Can't see how. Medlar? Jessie?
Jessie – it always came back to Jessie, even though he still couldn't understand why she didn't want him to get to Poole. To help Medlar in some way?
What was it Bennett had said? If Verity was the one who'd left the note about Dominic on his desk, then she could have taken his ID card and the phallus home with her then… to be found later by her killer…
Jessie… who'd found Verity's body… who could have sabotaged his car while Sarah Medlar kept him busy… but why?
Had Diana said anything which might have incriminated her?
He systematically cast his mind back over everything he'd heard that day…
It was dark by the time he reached the outskirts of Tamar. He'd intended finding Jessie, to have it out with her, but now he headed for the city centre and the public library. It was still open. After half an hour there, he drove to the Transfusion Centre.
Chapter Twenty-Five
He roused Arthur and told him he'd come to check on something. Then, leaving him to his TV, he went into the manager's office to look for the key to Microbiology – alone of the labs, Micro was kept locked because of the hepatitis and HIV material stored there. It was, as he'd half expected, hanging in the open key box on the wall. He'd often wondered why people bothered with key boxes when they were nearly always left open.
He walked softly down the corridor stippled with shadows, round to the Micro Lab and unlocked it, unaware that Arthur had forsaken his telly for a moment to watch him.
Darkness, and a loud whispering noise… He found the light switch and blinked in the sudden brightness. A large room with benches all around its perimeter and more forming an island in the middle; the whispering came from the air-conditioning vent in the ceiling and he remembered that Microbiology was always kept under negative pressure because of the hazardous material.
He looked round. Where were the record books most likely to be kept?
A small office with glass walls separated this room from the next. He went in, glanced over the ledgers and folders on the shelves, then sat down to go through them.
Nothing.
He went back into the main lab again. Heavy dispensing equipment lined the central benches. There was no sign of any record books that he could see. A large rack of glass tubes filled with blood had been left on the bench – someone had been careless… He shied away from them, pulled open a drawer and took out a book. It was marked 'TPHA' – that was something to do with syphilis, wasn't it?
He tried all the other drawers in the island, then walked slowly round the perimeter of the room. There were centrifuges, mixers, fridges, and in one corner a shower cubicle. He started going through all the drawers until, in another corner, he found a book marked 'Acinetobactor antibodies'.
He took it out and opened it – lists of donation numbers with results beside them. He turned to the beginning and found a date… May, m
ore than six months ago!
He had to make sure. He took the book with him into the office, found an outside line and phoned the East Dorset centre. An orderly there gave him Goldman's number. He dialled.
'Can I speak to Dr Goldman, please?'
'Speaking.'
'It's Tom Jones from the Department of Health here. I called on you at the centre earlier today.'
'I remember. I hope you've got a good reason for ringing me at home.'
'I have, doctor. D'you remember telling me today that Dr Goring had suggested to you that you do some research looking for Acinetobacter antibodies?'
'I do, yes.'
'Can you remember exactly when Dr Goring made the suggestion?'
'Couldn't this have waited?' His voice crackled with irritation.
'It's difficult to explain over the phone, doctor, but it really is important. Please.'
'I think it was last November.'
'November… are you sure of that?'
'Yes, Mr Jones, I am sure. Was there anything else?'
'One more thing – did Dr Goring mention that the same work was already being done in Tamar?'
'Yes. His idea was to amalgamate the work in the new research department. Anything else? No? Then goodbye.'
There was a heavy clunk in his ear. He slowly put his own phone down, reflecting that Goldman had just unwittingly given himself away, by admitting that he had discussed the research department with Goring when he'd said earlier that he hadn't -
A feeling made him turn quickly to see Dominic at the other end of the room, staring at him… the whisper of the air-conditioning had covered his entry.
How long had he been there, how much had he heard?
'Can I help you at all, Mr Jones?'
Tom stood up, moved to the door of the office. 'Not really, thanks. I just needed to check something.'
'If you'd asked me, I might have been able to help you,' Dominic said, walking towards him. 'Apart from the small matter of good manners.'
Tom forced a smile. 'I'm sorry, but you weren't around to ask.'
'I'm only a phone call away – that sounds a bit like a BT advert, doesn't it?' He stepped past Tom into the office and picked up the book. 'Acinetobacter – and it was Dr Goldman you were talking to just now, wasn't it?'
Chilling Out Page 19
