The Secret

Malloy sighed. ‘Well, it’s not that unusual for bits of confiscated stuff to get mislaid for a while. Thanks, John.’

‘No, thank you, Charlie. I owe you.’

‘I’ll remind you.’

Steven and Macmillan were both suffused with a sense of relief. ‘That’s one hurdle over,’ said Steven.

‘Let’s hope for a productive afternoon,’ said Macmillan.

Steven went out for a sandwich and a walk in the fresh air. This was yet another weekend when he hadn’t managed up to Scotland to see his daughter and thoughts about this had finally worked their way to the top of the queue. He’d phoned Sue on Friday night and spoken to Jenny for a while but this only made him reflect on how often he’d had to do this in the past. But while feeling bad about this he started to wonder whether he was feeling sorry for Jenny or himself.

The truth was that Jenny was perfectly happy — she’d been bubbling with enthusiasm about her part in a new school play — and Sue and Richard were perfectly content with the situation. It was he who had misgivings and, if he were totally honest, it was because he could sense a distinct feeling of fading away into the background, of not really mattering. Was this the price that had to be paid for the sort of life he led? A failure to form secure and lasting relationships?

There was certainly precedent, he thought when he considered the ‘new lives’ of some of his former comrades in Special Forces when they returned to civvy street, the failed attempts to run pubs in the country, the short-lived marriages, problems involving the police. Maybe it was never truly over. Once you’d walked the tightrope between life and death there was no chance of truly settling down on terra firma. He was lucky; he hadn’t had to give up the high wire. Life with Sci-Med had its moments, like knowing that somewhere, not a million miles away from where he was currently standing, someone named Ranjit Khan was coming after him.

Steven returned to the Home Office to be told that the computer people were hard at work upstairs. ‘No results as yet,’ he was told. ‘Are you all right, Steven?’ Jean Roberts asked as an afterthought.

‘Sure, fine,’ he replied.

An hour later, Macmillan looked round his door. ‘I’ve got Scott Jamieson on the phone. He’d like a word with you. I can never transfer these damned calls.’

Steven went through to Macmillan’s office while Macmillan chatted outside to Jean.

‘Hello Scott, how are you? Long time no see.’

‘Yes, it’s been a while. Look, I’ll come straight to the point. You know that I took over the ME investigation from you?’

‘Yes, how’s it going?’

‘That’s the thing... I’ve caught one of the buggers. He was vandalising a car outside the home of a microbiologist who works on ME.’

‘Good for you, old son... but isn’t that the job of the police?’

‘Yes, well, you could say that. Let’s say I was alleviating the boredom.’

Steven laughed. He liked Scott Jamieson a lot; he was a good investigator and there was no one he’d rather have beside him in a tight spot. ‘Fair enough. What can I do for you?’

‘I’d like you to come and see this guy.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Steven exclaimed. ‘I’m up to my neck. I’m on a code red.’

‘I know you are,’ replied Jamieson calmly. ‘I’d still like you to come and see him.’

Steven bit his tongue and read between the lines. There had to be a very good reason for Scott’s request, one that he obviously didn’t want to reveal over the phone. ‘Where are you?’

‘Ayton Hill Farm.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘On the North Yorkshire moors.’

Steven had to work hard at stifling his reaction. No, Scott wasn’t having a laugh and yes, he did know how bloody far that was from London, He must have a good reason. He simply asked, ‘Do you have a grid reference?’

Jamieson read it out and Steven hung up.

‘Everything all right?’ asked Macmillan as Steven rushed past on the way to his own office.

‘Tell you later,’ replied Steven. He closed the door behind him and called the internal number of the duty officer assigned to his code red status. ‘I need a helicopter. City Airport to North Yorkshire. Fast as you like.’

‘Understood. I’ll call you.’

Steven smiled. This was the way things worked under code red. No questions, no form filling, no explanations until the code red was over.

The duty man called back in under five minutes. ‘It’ll be on the tarmac in fifteen minutes.’

Twenty six

‘Are they expecting us?’ asked the pilot.

‘Sorry, don’t know,’ replied Steven, looking down at the bleak moorland farm below.

‘Place looks deserted... no signs of life and thankfully not much in the way of power lines...just one on the northern boundary as far as I can see but I’d appreciate if you’d keep your eyes peeled.’

The helicopter banked sharply to the left as the pilot began a circle of the farm below, looking for possible problems on the ground. ‘Don’t want to put her down in a bloody bog.’