The Jonah (13 page)

Ellie passed the empty quayside and looked across at the various yachts and motor launches tied to their buoys on the water’s calm surface. Earlier, she had phoned the
Customs and Excise London headquarters and requested information on Sir Anthony Slauden. She had rung back an hour later and was discouraged by what she learned. Sir Anthony was a well-respected
figure in the City, the chairman of a large investment corporation and a director of five other companies, which varied from publishing to pharmaceuticals. He had been a colonel during World War
Two, and had been decorated twice. A useful but undistinguished career in the Foreign Office after the war had eventually led to a position in the unit trusts and shares company, which eventually
resulted in his chairmanship. The only slight on his name, if it could be called a slight – embarrassment might have been a better word – was that his knighthood had come from a certain
retiring Prime Minister’s honours list, a list that was regarded with suspicion by the public because of various honours bestowed upon businessmen of somewhat dubious reputations. However,
that was hardly Sir Anthony’s fault.

He owned three properties in Great Britain: one in Scotland, a small castle no less, Eshley Hall in Suffolk, and a terraced house in Westminster. He often holidayed at a villa he owned in the
Algarve. There were no scandals in his life apart from a wife, now dead, who had divorced him seventeen years ago, and a father who had shot himself over a gambling debt when Sir Anthony was only
seven. Slauden was sixty-one, played tennis, squash and golf, rarely drank liquor, did not smoke, and regularly gave to various charities. Sir Anthony Slauden merited ten lines in
Who’s
Who
.

So it looked like his invitation to Kelso had been perfectly genuine; the sequence of events had encouraged Ellie and Kelso to believe it had some special or sinister significance. Ellie turned
away from the harbour and began walking back towards the town. On impulse she changed direction to cut across the fields, wanting to take another look at the Preece house. That family were the key
to all this, they were the initial reason for the investigation. How had they become the victims of an hallucinogenic drug?

What she saw as she approached the allotments behind the houses made her stop and stare. With a rush of excitement Ellie realized she might – just might – have stumbled upon the
answer.

‘Nobody thought of checking their food.’

Ellie studied Kelso’s face, waiting for a reaction. He shook his head as though refuting her theory, but it did little to dampen her enthusiasm.

‘Don’t you see, if one of the Preece family had died, they would have had to perform an autopsy; I’m sure they would have found traces of lysergic acid in their digestive
system.’

‘But the whole canal would have been contaminated for . . .’

‘Not necessarily. Look, when I crossed that field today, the old man, the same one we passed yesterday on his allotment, was dipping a watering can into the canal, stream or waterway,
whatever you might call it. I spoke to him and he told me it was normal practice for gardeners to use that water for their vegetable crops.’

‘But it drains from the marshes; it would be salt water.’

‘No, that’s just it. It isn’t entirely a salt marsh. They’s why there’s such a mixed combination of salt- and fresh-water marsh wildlife there. Only the lower
section has been penetrated by sea water. There
is
a stand tap the gardeners who work the allotments use, but it’s further up towards the houses. Unless they want to hose their crops,
they find it more convenient to use the canal.’

‘It still doesn’t explain why no one else was affected.’

‘Preece was unlucky. I think the water he scooped up contained a minute sample of acid – it may have been in crystal form – but it was still undiluted enough to have effect. A
million to one chance, I admit, but stranger things have happened.’

‘You’re saying he sprinkled acid on his own vegetables?’ Kelso’s voice was incredulous.

‘That’s my guess. And it’s not so illogical, is it? Not when you give it further thought.’

He was already giving it further thought. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

She smiled, and it was that hard smile, without warmth. ‘You got it. I believe there’s a drugs factory somewhere in the area.’

‘But they wouldn’t be stupid enough to deposit chemical waste, let alone pure acid, into the water system.’

‘Of course not. It would have been an accident, a careless mistake that Preece and his wife and son paid for. I’ll bet we find they had some nice spring vegetables for their dinner
that night.’

‘We’ll leave the local police to find
that
out.’ Kelso rose from the caravan’s kitchen table and walked through to the lounge area to retrieve his shoulder-bag. He
rummaged inside and came back to the table, laying out the carefully drawn map of the locality. ‘Let’s see where that waterway runs to,’ he said.

Ellie moved her stool around to sit next to him and they both stared intently at the map. Kelso’s finger found the waterway and traced its route, travelling away from the coastline. His
hand stopped moving and he let out a deep breath. ‘It’s just open country.’

‘Wait a minute. Look here, another waterway runs into it.’ She pointed eagerly at the junction and Kelso quickly followed the other waterway’s route. ‘I don’t
believe it.’ He looked at Ellie, his eyes wide.

‘What is it?’ she asked impatiently.

‘You see where it runs through the wooded area? That’s part of Slauden’s estate. The waterway passes near to Eshley Hall.’

They stared at each other, neither saying a word. Then Ellie giggled and Kelso’s eyes began to narrow and he was grinning, beginning to laugh, himself.

‘D’you think it’s possible, Jim?’ Ellie had stopped laughing, a little wary now of the implications of their suspicions. ‘I mean, he’s
Sir
Anthony
Slauden, a war hero, a patron of the arts, the chairman . . . oh my God. Something else I learned today: one of his businesses is a small pharmaceutical company.’

‘So it would be no problem to get hold of large quantities of calcium lactate or any other precursors he needs.’

‘Oh Christ, I can’t believe it myself now; it fits too well.’

‘No, it doesn’t. It’s all circumstantial. The very character of the man goes against everything we suspect. He’s a leading figure of the Establishment. He owns his own
bird sanctuary. He’s even a bloody health fiend!’

Their elation was beginning to dwindle fast.

‘Circumstantial or not, Jim, it does seem to point a finger.’ Ellie’s tone was insistent. ‘Doesn’t it?’

‘It’s worth checking out. We’ll keep this to ourselves for now – I’d hate to look stupid – but I think we’ll have a closer look at Sir Anthony.
Let’s take a walk along that waterway tomorrow, see where it goes to in his estate. It might just turn up something.’

‘You didn’t find anything suspicious today?’

‘Not a thing. Of course, I wasn’t invited to snoop around near the house; I also had the impression I was going through some kind of interrogation. But then, maybe I’m not the
type he likes wandering around his estate – I guess I look a bit radical for his tastes.’

‘You don’t look like fuzz, that’s for sure.’

‘I’m a long way from Hendon.’

‘I bet they’re pleased.’

Kelso grunted and Ellie wasn’t sure there was a word contained in the sound. He began to fumble in his pockets for his cigarettes.

‘You smoke too much,’ she said.

‘Yes, Ma.’ He offered her one and she shook her head. ‘Hungry?’ he asked.

Ellie nodded. ‘And thirsty. I took the trouble to eat today, but I suppose you didn’t’

‘Uh, no.’

‘Okay, let me freshen up and I’ll cook us something.’

‘Let’s eat out, save you the trouble.’

‘Deal. I’ll pay, though; I feel like celebrating a little and I don’t think police funds cater for my mood.’

‘Let’s not get carried away, Ellie.’ His tone and expression were serious. ‘All this may be just wishful thinking; we’ve no real evidence as yet.’

‘I know, I know. But own up: it looks a little brighter since I came on the scene, right?’

He laughed aloud. ‘Yeah, I’ve got to admit that.’ Then he hesitated before speaking again. ‘I rang HQ today on the way back from Eshley Hall.’

‘Oh yes?’ She became wary.

‘Ellie, I tried to get you taken off the investigation again.’

‘For Christ’s sake, why?’ she said angrily. ‘I’m not incompetent, am I? I’m not getting in your way? What the hell did you tell them?’

‘It doesn’t matter. They refused, anyway. They said exactly as before: you’re a good operative and our departments have to co-operate with each other. They told me to grow up,
too.’

‘Grow up?’

‘I said it was awkward sharing a caravan with a woman.’

Her eyes rolled heavenwards. ‘And they told you to grow up.’

‘And to make the most of it.’

She flushed red for a moment ‘Did you report that I’d been knocked out by an intruder?’

‘No.’

‘But . . .’ she began to say.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, cigarette pointed towards her as though it were a full stop to her protests. ‘If I had, they’d have sent a team down here. Softly, softly,
would have become crash, bang. You know what they’re like when women – ours or yours – are involved. Christ, they’re bad enough when there’s violence against one of
their men. I couldn’t take the chance of letting them spoil a low-profile operation. You understand that?’

‘Yes, of course I do. I’m in agreement. So that’s why you used the lame excuse of our sharing the caravan.’

‘I felt pretty stupid.’

‘It
was
pretty stupid. But let’s forget it, okay? I told you before, you’re stuck with me, so you might as well resign yourself to the fact. Now, let me get myself
together and I’ll treat you to a feast. You look kind of untidy yourself, by the way.’

‘You’re not angry?’

Ellie was standing, ready to move away from the table. She stared down at him. ‘I’m angry; but there’s no point to it.’ She rested her hands on the table-top. ‘Is
there anything else on your mind, Jim? Anything else you’re worried about?’ Come on, she thought silently, bring it out into the open. You’re no jinx; it’s just a label
others have stuck on you.

He drew in on the cigarette and avoided looking into her eyes. ‘No, there’s nothing. What else should there be?’

‘Okay.’ She turned away and closed the sliding door between the kitchen and sleeping quarters. Kelso ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and listened to her movements. His face
was grim.

The restaurant, which was really part of an inn, was situated on a quiet road leading towards the main London route. There were a few diners that evening and the atmosphere was
relaxed, informal, the lighting subdued, the service unobtrusive.

Ellie looked across at Kelso, smiling as she watched him concentrate on the huge sirloin steak before him. He ate steadily, as though devouring the food was a task that needed all his attention
and deliberation. The candle at the table’s centre glowed warmly through the red glass in which it was encased, giving his face a rounded softness that usually was not apparent. With his hair
neatly combed and wearing the only tie he owned – a narrow one which, he professed, had been in fashion when he had bought it, became dated with the advent of broader widths, and was the
current height of fashion once more – he looked a world apart from the unshaven, tousled-hair character she had first met. His nose was slightly crooked, his chin only just firm enough, his
lips about right; but it was his eyes that drew the attention. They were of the deepest blue, almost black in the subdued lighting of the restaurant, and were strangely both soft and intense when
staring directly at her. They were framed by dark lashes that any girl would have envied and only his eyebrows, rising to sharp corners at their apex before descending towards his cheekbones, gave
his features a harshness that was attractive yet a little intimidating. He reached for his wine glass and caught her gazing at him.

He smiled, raising his glass to her, and she quickly reached for her own wine, feeling her face flush red again, this time in schoolgirlish embarrassment rather than anger.

‘How’s your stroganoff?’ he asked quietly.

‘Fine. Your steak?’

‘It’s good. I didn’t realize I was so hungry.’

‘It seems you never do.’

He sipped the wine, watching her over the rim of his glass. ‘You still haven’t told me why,’ he said, putting down the glass. She looked enquiringly at him. ‘Why
you’re not married,’ he said, cutting into the steak once more.

‘Oh.’

‘Any reason?’

‘The usual. I’m still waiting for the right one to come along. I suppose I’m somewhat naïve.’

‘I don’t think so. Have you looked hard enough?’

‘Haven’t tried. I like my job too much, I guess; it takes up most of my time. Jim, I want to ask you something, and I’d appreciate a straight answer.’

‘Is this Leap Year?’

‘Be serious, just for a moment’