The Secret

Steven had decided to put aside thoughts of work for the day and offer Tally his full support, although it did occur to him as they drove out of town, heading for the south coast, that the fact that Liam hadn’t contacted him yet probably meant that he’d failed to locate the disk.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked when they’d placed their order at the country pub he’d decided on.

‘Exactly how you think I’m feeling,’ Tally replied with a wry smile. ‘I think I may have over-reached myself in applying for this one.’

‘Nonsense. You couldn’t do any such thing. You’re the best. I keep telling you that.’

‘You do and I thank you for it but I think I’m the realistic one in this duo. I mean, Great Ormond Street, what was I thinking of?’

‘You’ll see tomorrow. Your references will be fantastic and they’ll see in you exactly what they’re looking for: an outstanding physician who cares deeply about her patients — to the extent that she refuses to take a holiday even when the job is threatening her health.’

‘Let’s not go there. There’s nothing wrong with my health,’ Tally growled.

‘Nothing that a holiday wouldn’t cure.’

‘Dunbar!’

The waitress, a pleasant Australian girl who was ‘doing Europe’, returned with their food and interrupted what Tally was about to say. Tally and Steven sat looking at each other while the plates were placed before them, Tally adopting a mock threatening expression while Steven favoured a smug, schoolboy grin.

‘Things will be easier when you’re a consultant,’ said Steven, continuing with the tease. ‘We’ll be going away all the time.’

‘Are you going to stop this?’

‘Mind you, in my experience, there are certain things you’ll have to do if you hope to be accepted as a real medical consultant.’

‘Like what?’

‘Wear red trousers and a bow tie, adopt a very loud voice and play golf.’

Tally couldn’t stop herself laughing. ‘You’re impossible,’ she said.

Twenty two

By Thursday evening Liam Kelly was disappointed that he hadn’t heard anything more from Steven Dunbar. Over the past twenty-four hours he had undergone a change of heart. His initial reluctance to become involved in anything not entirely above board had been replaced by the seductive thought that he might actually be entering the world of spies and secrets; Bond film territory. He recognised it was a bit soon to be changing from Guinness in the students’ union to vodka martinis at the Ritz — damn, he couldn’t remember if they should be stirred or shaken — but to a 22 year-old red-blooded male the idea of being part of a scenario involving top secret defence establishments, the CIA and classified research was proving very exciting indeed.

Maybe if his association with Steven were to go well, a position with Sci-Med might even be a possibility — after he’d finished his PhD, of course. His research was still important to him, and, up until now he hadn’t even considered an alternative to a career in academia, but it wouldn’t do any harm to widen his horizons a little.

Steven had mentioned at one point that all Sci-Med investigators had to be well qualified in either science or medicine so he was on track there. He didn’t know what other qualifications were required but he could see himself presenting his ID, just as Steven had done... the embossed government crest... the photograph... Dr L. Kelly, Her Majesty’s Sci-Med Inspectorate. Pulling power or what?

Liam put aside the scientific paper he’d been reading; new work on viral receptors had momentarily become less intriguing than wondering how he might speed things up in his other ‘mission’. He’d managed to sneak a look through the stuff on the shelves above Dan Hausman’s desk that very afternoon but without success. There had been no sign of the disk but he’d had to hurry as there were others around in the lab and any one of them might have come into the small office area at any moment. His heart had been pounding and he’d felt physically sick when doing it — perhaps not the best of starts to his new career but lost ground might be recovered if he were to go back to the lab tonight and conduct a more thorough search. He would don a pair of surgical gloves and work his way through the drawers of Dan’s desk.

Steven could not fail to be impressed if he were to turn up with the disk and casually hand it over. It would be a big step in the right direction. He could even see them having a celebratory drink afterwards, just a couple of guys who’d outwitted the CIA in the interests of Her Majesty’s Government. He put on his denim jacket, checked the back pocket of his jeans for his lab card-key and told his flatmate he was ‘going out for a bit’.