The Secret

‘Dr Laing, I understand you attended the recent polio eradication meeting in Prague?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘The organisers arranged a trip for delegates to the Strahov monastery where a tragic accident occurred. Did you go on that trip by any chance?’

‘Yes, I did. It was a beautiful place but, as you say, a French aid worker fell to her death from the gallery in the library. It was absolutely horrific.’

‘I’m sorry if this sounds insensitive, but did you see it happen?’

‘No. That is, I was in the gallery at the time but I didn’t see her go over, if that’s what you mean.’

‘I suppose you’d be admiring the ceiling like the others?’

‘Actually no, I was looking down at my feet. Someone had lost a contact lens and we were all too scared to move.’

Steven felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck. ‘Was this anywhere near where Dr Ricard fell?’

‘Yes, quite near. Why do you ask?’

Steven ignored the question. ‘Do you happen to know who it was who lost their contact lens?’

‘No, sorry. Why are you asking these things?’

‘Just routine, doctor. Thank you for your help... Oh, shit,’ murmured Steven as he ended the call. ‘A diversion.’

‘So where do you go from here?’ Tally asked, soaping Steven’s back. It was ten o’clock; she had only been home for half an hour and Steven had just arrived after a hellish trip up the motorway in heavy rain. They had decided that a warm, relaxing shower was called for and Tally’s newly installed wet room was proving ideal.

‘Depends what Med Sans in London think about us getting involved when John puts it to them. In the meantime I’ll talk to some other folk who were on the library trip and see if I can find out who the contact wearer was.’

‘In the meantime... you’ll do no such thing,’ purred Tally, becoming more wide-ranging with her soapy hands. ‘Stop thinking about work.’

Steven sighed appreciatively. ‘Yes ma’am.’

‘Good heavens...’ said Tally. ‘I do believe I’m gaining your attention...’

Ten

‘You know,’ began Tally as they had breakfast together, ‘if you’re right about this person creating a diversion... there must have been two of them, one to create the diversion and one to... push your friend over.’

‘That’s right,’ Steven agreed.

‘Scary, huh?’

‘Crazy. And all because she was going to bad-mouth another organisation? I don’t think.’

Tally gave a shrug of resignation and asked, ‘Are you going back to London this morning?’

‘No, I’ll phone around a bit, see if I can pick up anything more about what happened in the gallery.’

‘Then I might see you later?’

‘Indeed you might,’ said Steven. ‘There’s not much I can do in London until John talks to Med Sans.’

‘I’ll be off then.’ Tally bent down to kiss Steven on the cheek. ‘You can do the washing up.’

The outside door clicked shut and Steven sat for a few moments in the silence wondering where all this was leading. It was not a good feeling. All he could see ahead was the wall at the end of a blind alley. The silence became oppressive; he got up and turned on the radio before clearing the table. Justin Webb on the Today programme was interviewing a spokesman on behalf of ME sufferers in the wake of the third attack in recent weeks on the home of a scientist working on the problem.

‘Surely you can’t condone this behaviour?’

‘Of course not. We deplore violence in any form but people are angry at not being taken seriously. ME is a very debilitating condition and the public are being encouraged to believe that it isn’t. The government’s continual refusal to fund proper research...’

‘What exactly do you mean by proper research?’

‘A properly organised search for the organism responsible for the condition.’

Webb turned to a government spokesman. ‘Well, why don’t you?’

‘Simply because there is no evidence at all that a bacterium or virus is responsible. Many have looked...’

‘They’ve played at looking,’ interrupted the ME man. ‘A few individual scientists coasting along on the grants gravy train, pretending to search and determined to find nothing that would stop the train rolling along...’

‘You can’t seriously suggest that scientists don’t want to find the cause,’ exclaimed Webb.

‘It’s ridiculous,’ agreed the government man. ‘I think it’s more a case of ME sufferers being unwilling to face facts...’

‘Which are?’

‘That there is a... psychological element to the condition, something that ME sufferers seem dead set against.’

‘Because it’s baloney,’ asserted the ME man. ‘The government want to brand us all as indolent layabouts because it’s a damned sight cheaper than funding proper research.’

‘Gentlemen, I’m afraid the clock has beaten us...’