Authors: Pauline Rowson
I wrote down the dates and returned to the bike. Ten minutes later I was in the small sub office of the
Wiltshire Gazette
, just off the market square, where I was told if I needed to access the archives I would have to go to Swindon where
‘head office’ was.
As the time ticked by I set out for Swindon and decided that a call at the library might be more helpful than the newspaper office. With some difficulty and many frustrations I finally managed to locate it and persuade the librarian to allow me access to the microfiche and the local newspaper archives.
As I settled down to scan through the obituaries and reports of 1995 my stomach rumbled and I realised it was mid afternoon. But I didn’t have time to eat. I had to find someone who knew, or was related, to Gerald Drake, and who knew what had happened in 1994.
I began by looking through the notices of death; this time at least I had a date. There were several notices for the few days after Drake’s death, from relatives, friends and colleagues and religiously I wrote the names down though few gave their surnames. Still I could see that there was a ‘beloved daughter,’ who might be able to tell me something. There was nothing that referred to Drake as ‘son’, neither was there anything for ‘husband’. There were a couple of
‘nephews’. What I didn’t have was addresses, but the telephone directory might be able to furnish some at least and failing that the undertakers. I noted where flowers could be sent, a journey that would take me back to Devizes.
Frowning with impatience and worried that time was running out, I spun back the microfiche to see if there were any reports on the fire that had killed Gerald Drake. In my haste I almost missed it. There was a picture of what looked to have once been a large, country house, gutted by fire, and in the foreground were a couple of firemen and a fire appliance. The headline ran,
‘House fire claims scientist’s life.’
In anticipation I read the article.
A fire has claimed the life of eminent scientist Dr Gerald Drake (45). Four fire appliances were called to a fire at Dr Drake’s house in the early hours of Monday morning after reports of smoke and flames were seen by Dr Drake’s nearest neighbour half a mile away. After a search by fire fighters wearing breathing apparatus, Doctor Drake’s body was discovered in the drawing room. The six-bedroom former manor house, thought to date back to the 1700s, has been almost completely destroyed. There was no one else in the house at the time of the fire although it was believed that his daughter had arrived home from university for the weekend.
Dr Drake was an eminent biochemist and a member of the Royal Society of Chemistry. He had published many scientific papers and was a renowned specialist of genetic research. Police have not ruled out the possibility of arson and animal liberationists, as Dr Drake had been the target of these in the past when his groundbreaking research identified brain-clogging proteins that cause dementia.
Dr Drake, who is divorced, leaves a daughter Joanne (22).
So Simon would have known Drake quite well.
Their paths must have crossed both being experts in genetics. It was typical of Simon not to tell me more and silently I cursed my brother.
I quickly scrolled onwards until I found coverage of the funeral. The photographer had taken a shot of the grieving crowd dressed in black on what looked like a bright and blustery April day. I stared hard at the photograph.
Standing stiffly in the middle of the group was a slender young woman in her early twenties. She was dressed in black trousers and a black jacket.
A hat was pulled down low over her forehead, her eyes were mournful, her expression bereft.
The newspaper report named her as Joanne Drake. I knew her by a different name: Jody Piers.
I felt a stab at my heart. Why had she lied to me?
With churning emotions I left the library. I needed some air. I needed to time to think through the implications of this. I needed space.
Before I realised it I was through Devizes. The day was drawing in. Visibility was poor as I drove through the bleak rainswept countryside. I had only half my mind on the road the other half was trying to come to grips with what I had just learned.
Why hadn’t she told me about her father? Why let me stumble on blindly? Did she hope that I would give up and when she saw that I wasn’t going to she had given me the name of the ship?
A name that she had known all the time. How had she conveniently found lodgings next door to Jack? Had she really been in London on the day of Jack’s funeral or had she ransacked Jack’s house in search of his disks and diary? Why?
Perhaps she didn’t know what her father had been doing in that research laboratory and wanted to find out? Or perhaps she
did
know and she was desperate to keep secret the fact that he had been exporting something that had caused cancer. How had she known that Jack was investigating it though? Had Jack confided in her? Is that what he meant when he said his mouth was full of deceit and fraud, except that he meant
her
mouth?
I recalled my first meeting with Jody – her head sticking out of the window to greet me. I remembered how she had happened to be jogging along the promenade on the day I had discovered Jack’s message. Then she had been in the dockyard after I had spoken to Sandy Ditton and finally that telephone call before I headed for Bath. God what a fool I’d been! My feelings for her had blinded me. She had deliberately set out to get close to me in order to discover how much I knew and I had told her I was going to Simon. A chill ran down my spine.
How far would she go to stop me?
What had Gerald Drake been doing? Could it conceivably have something to do with chemical warfare? Perhaps it concerned the trial of a new drug or substance that had been exported illegally overseas and sold to terrorists for which Drake would have been handsomely paid. Was Jody’s father a traitor? Is that why she was so desperate that no one should get to the truth?
Behind the pain of my hurt was a smouldering anger. I didn’t like being used.
I dropped a gear and increased my speed. I rode past RAF Upavon and on to the Salisbury Plain.
Out of nowhere a car came racing up behind me.
He must have been doing a ton. He had his full beam on, blinding me. I waved my arm to try and tell him to lower his lights but it didn’t work.
I slowed down hoping the idiot would overtake me. He didn’t. He stayed behind. I felt the first flutter of fear. He flashed his lights at me. Perhaps it was the police. They had traced me.
The lights flashed again and again. He was flagging me down but I couldn’t see any indication that it was an unmarked police car and I wasn’t going to stop to find out. I could out ride him. The bike had greater speed and manoeuvrability than a car. But just as I made up my mind to do it a lorry emerged from one of the dips in the road and was heading full pelt towards me, lights blazing, horn blaring as the car behind me pulled out to overtake me. I had no option but to apply the brakes as the driver behind me seemed intent on killing himself.
With the blood rushing through my ears and my heart in overdrive the bike went into a skid, the car shot past me with inches to spare, the lorry roared away. I sped off the road over the soft wet earth, felt myself catapulted into the air and hit the ground.
It was pitch black when I awoke. It was also raining heavily. My head hurt so much I thought it might burst and every part of my body ached. With an effort and much grunting and groaning I heaved myself up. I pulled off my helmet and felt the rain lashing my face. I had to get into the dry and warm, but I was in the middle of nowhere.
I staggered up. I felt dizzy and sank to my knees.
I took a deep breath and tried again a few seconds later. This time I succeeded. I was getting fed up with being a target. I was going to make as much bloody trouble as I could before the bastards tried again.
I peered into the dark night, wondering in which direction was the road. I didn’t want to risk stumbling off deeper on to the plains. If I did, I’d probably die of hypothermia. There was nothing for it but to wait until I saw a passing car’s headlights. It was difficult with the wind beating against me and my head pounding, but I scoured the black night until, some minutes later, I had sight of a car and got my bearings. I set off in the direction of the road and was surprised and relieved to find it less than a half a mile away.
Now all I had to do was wait for a car, or lorry, that would let me hitch a lift. Looking the way I must, I didn’t hold out a great deal of hope.
Several cars passed me before a lorry ground to a halt and wincing with pain I stumbled towards it. I climbed into the cab with a heartfelt sigh of relief and much gratitude.
The driver said he was heading for the ferry port at Portsmouth. Fate it seemed was taking me back there, and once there I knew what I had to do no matter what the consequences. I had to confront Jody.
I caught a taxi to the marina where I showered and changed into dry clothes. Then I called her.
‘Adam, at last! Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you.’
I bet. Worried that whoever she was working with hadn’t succeeded in killing me. Or had Jody been driving that car? ‘Can you meet me?’ I wondered if she would notice a new hardness in my voice.
She didn’t seem to. ‘Of course, where?’
‘Northney Marina, Hayling Island. I’ll meet you outside the marina office in about twenty minutes.’
I hovered at the marina entrance until her small car pulled in. There was no one behind her or in front of her.
‘Let’s walk.’ I took her arm and we set off towards the boatyard. It had stopped raining. She said nothing. ‘I expect you’re surprised to see me,’ I said after a moment. I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
‘What’s happened, Adam? Clearly something has.’
I spun round to stare at her. ‘As if you don’t know. It didn’t work Jody. I’m still alive.’
‘What are you talking about? Has someone tried to kill you?’ She looked aghast.
I laughed scornfully. ‘Was it you driving that car?’
‘Adam, please you’re not making any sense.’
‘Good try, Jody, but it’s over. I know who you are. How well do you know my brother? Did he call you to say that he had given me your father’s name?’ She was staring at me bemused. I continued. ‘Did you kill Jack or did you have help? Are you shagging Brookfield as well as my brother? Did you get Brookfield to tell you about the tallies being switched? Did you tell him I was going to look out the fire reports so he’d better say they had gone for computerisation?’
In the dim lights along the edge of the marina I could see her astounded expression. She was almost as good an actress as Faye.
‘I know about your father,’ I said abruptly. I saw her stiffen. I wanted to shake the truth from her. It took a great deal of effort to control myself.
This was a woman who had made me love her. I wanted to hurt her. ‘Was he betraying his country is that why you can’t let the truth come out?’
A flicker of pain crossed her face before her expression changed to anger. I experienced a moment of doubt.
‘My father was not a traitor,’ she blazed. ‘And neither am I a killer or a slut. I don’t know your brother and I have never met Brookfield.’
Was I wrong? How could I be? It all fitted together. No, she wasn’t going to deceive me again. The anger bubbled up in me and burst forth. ‘How many more people are going to die because of your lies?’
‘I didn’t mean –’
‘Did you have anything to do with Jack’s death?’ I grabbed her roughly by the arms.
‘You can’t think –’
‘Did you?’ I shouted.
‘No,’ she shouted back. ‘You want to know why your friend was killed in that fire and I need to know why my father suffered the same fate. It’s taken me five years to get this far and I still don’t know the name of the bastard who killed him. I thought Jack, and then you, might find out who he is.’
I stared at her a moment longer. She held my gaze. Finally I released her. It didn’t mean I believed her.
‘What was your father researching?’ I snapped.
‘I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find out. I’ve talked to everyone who knew him, who worked with him. I’ve spoken to my father’s friends, all my relatives. All I discovered was that he worked on various projects part funded by the Department of Health and part funded by a medical research charity. The charity was based in Portsmouth. I came here. I met Jack.’
‘How?’ I still didn’t trust her.
‘Purely by coincidence. No, it was. When I found out my father had worked in Portsmouth I applied to undertake a research project in the harbour. I met Jack when he came to the dockyard on an exercise and we got talking. I was staying in a small hotel but needed to find something cheaper. He said his next door neighbour was looking for a lodger.’
I didn’t believe her. ‘When was this?’
‘Early October.’ She looked away. I knew she was lying. She continued, ‘Someone was working with my father. He’s the man who killed my father and Jack. He’s the man who can tell us what was really going on in that laboratory and I intend to find him.’
I turned and began walking back towards the marina. She followed. There were still so many questions that she hadn’t answered. I could press her yet I knew her answers would be more lies.
‘Adam, what are you going to do now?’
I wasn’t about to tell her. I drew up. Inside the marina office were two men; they were talking to the duty manager and they didn’t look like sailors. I had to think quickly. I grabbed Jody’s arm and pulled her back out of sight. ‘You were followed.’
‘I didn’t see anyone.’
I swung her round so that she was facing me.
‘Do you want me to find out who was working with your father?’ I said urgently.
‘Yes.’
‘Then do as I say. Go back to your car and drive it round to the hotel. Stop there with the engine running and get out.’
‘But what –’
‘No questions,’ I barked.
She considered for a brief moment. Then,
‘OK.’