Antman (17 page)

'There are several things going on here, Professor. I need to come and talk face to face.'

'Fine, it's a question of dates, so if you'll wait a second I'll call my secretary and we'll work something out.'

'Immediately, if possible.'

'I am extremely busy.'

'It's extremely important.'

'I can appreciate that.'

'Hang on,' said Tom, 'I've a meeting soon after two which I can't miss. I'll be finished by five, say five-thirty to be on the safe side.'

'That's fine. I've a job to clear up at my former post and an appointment I can't shift this afternoon. I should be finished by four-thirty. It'll take me a few minutes to drive through the rush hour traffic. It should be enough, allowing half an hour to be on the safe side.'

'Fine. Do you know where I am? The Research Centre is on the main University campus on Cottingham Road. Turn right off Beverley Road right on Cottingham Road and right down the second right turn into the campus itself. Ask for the Biological Sciences building and they'll direct you.'

*  *  *

Bradshaw's phone rang. It was the ACC. He spoke immediately, quickly, with the presumptiveness of the very senior officer of the old school.

'Bradshaw, some members of the police committee are becoming extremely fidgety about the lack of an outcome on that murder investigation.'

Bradshaw thought fast.

'You've caught me at a busy moment, sir. I'm about to leave for the University to set up a systematic trawl on everyone who might have the skills, or the bent shall we say, to carry out such gruesome crimes involving insects.'

'Glad to hear it. Can I give my members a positive message?'

'You can inform your members we're optimistic. We have some good leads and we should be in a position to give a positive update shortly.'

'Does that mean we have a suspect?'

'We're optimistic about that, sir.' When under pressure, Bradshaw was prone to exaggeration.

'Good, good, let me know as soon as you have some kind of result, preferably before the weekend.'

'We're pulling out all the stops, sir.'

*  *  *

Bradshaw's heart was thumping. He checked in the office to see who was available. Only DC Livesey was in, snatching a sandwich at his desk.

'Is DCI Winchester around?' asked Bradshaw.

'No, sir.'

'Strange how she's never around when she's wanted.'

'She's clearing up a job at her former station, sir, but she may be back later this afternoon.'

'I see.'

Livesey could see he wasn't best pleased.

'I've a job for you, Livesey. Come with me.'

Livesey stood up, leaving his half-eaten sandwich on the desk.

'No, finish your sandwich, then we'll go. Were you doing anything?'

'I've these files to check, sir.' Livesey nodded to the pile beside him.

'They'll wait till you return.'

'When will that be?'

'Difficult to say. How long's a piece of string?'

He replied that he didn’t know. ‘That’s how long we’ll be,’ came the reply.

*  *  *

Two o'clock and there was a knock at the door of Professor Tom Fortius. His secretary had advised him the meeting was delayed till three and he'd only just sat down to some long-delayed paperwork.

'Come in,' Tom called. It opened and two men stood there. Seeing their cheap but smart suits and short haircuts, Tom's irreverent thought was they were either police or Mormon missionaries. He put his money on the former. When the more senior and older one spoke, his voice was as smooth as gravel dumped on the carpet.

'Superintendent Bradshaw, East Yorkshire police. This is my colleague, Detective Constable Livesey.'

Tom wondered momentarily whether he'd imagined the part of the conversation with Inspector Winchester where they'd put the interview off till late this afternoon.

'Mind if we have a few words?'

'Be my guest,' said Tom. 'I had a free slot now and originally – well, that doesn't matter, now you're here.'

'Strange', said Bradshaw, 'I was just saying to DC Livesey how every road keeps turning back in your direction, Mr Fortius.'

Tom shrugged. In the normal way, people who barged into his office without a by-your-leave would have received short shrift. But he presumed this was in some way linked with the phone call from Chief Inspector Winchester. Perhaps she'd decided her colleagues could do the interview. Or he'd mixed up the times – not unknown in Tom's experience. Primarily though, he didn't react because his preoccupations with many other matters made protesting about police inquiries low priority.

'First the body, or rather bodies,' said Bradshaw. 'Then the links between possible suspects and your previous employees. Now the questions about who has the know-how to advise us.'

Tom started. 'I'm not quite sure what you're referring to. Can you explain what this is about?'

'Of course,' said Bradshaw. 'We're investigating a mysterious incident involving the killing of a pig, possibly in some ritual or other, and the death of a woman.'

'Is this a formal interview, Superintendent?'

'No, sir, a purely informal discussion, which you can terminate at any time.'

'On that basis, I'm willing to continue, the only caveat being my other commitment, which is a meeting I'm attending at three. I'd like some time before that to prepare my papers. In response to your question, it's not really surprising that many roads in the field of insect experimentation lead to us. This University has almost the monopoly of research expertise in parts of this field in the UK, if not the rest of Europe. That's especially in the area of the hymenoptera, sorry, the social insects, particularly ants, rather than bees and wasps.'

'I gather modesty is another of your strong points.'

Tom curbed his anger at the man's impudence. 'There isn't much to be modest about. It's a simple matter of fact. Every laboratory and Research Centre in the country survives only by virtue of developing a reputation for its ability to focus on certain topics more than others. The problem comes, of course, when the particular specialism is no longer wanted, for one reason or another.'

'Hence the disappearance of certain technicians from your workforce, at certain times?'

'It isn't as simple as that. We have employed people on short term contracts. Researchers are commonly engaged on that basis. Although we have been fortunate in the past decade in that we've managed to re-engage most of our contracted researchers on successive projects. So, with a few exceptions, we have retained most of our technical staff associated with the major research programmes.'

'And the exceptions?'

'People are always coming and going at the margins, for a variety of reasons. I see that as part of the normality of life.'

'You haven't mentioned yourself and your senior colleagues.'

'No.'

'Is that because you regard yourselves as above suspicion?'

'It's because we're out in the open. We're here long-term and you can easily gain access to us, as you've just proved.'

'You haven't answered my question.'

Tom didn't care by this time how irritated Bradshaw became.

'You're the detective. I leave you to decide on the questions. I'll decide whether or not they warrant a response from me.'

'I'll be frank with you, Mr Fortius. Our killer is displaying a particular knowledge of ants. You happen to head up a research department specialising in ants, half a dozen miles away. It would be logical for us to interview you early on in our investigations, if only to eliminate you from our enquiries. You see the point.'

Tom replied, barely attempting to keep the irritation out of his voice:

'Only too plainly. I'll be frank with you, too, Mr Bradshaw. Pursue your enquiries into me as quickly as possible so as to leave us both free that much more quickly to get on with more productive activities.'

Then Tom threw in the final hand grenade.

'By the way, gentlemen, if part of your enquiries are about the missing clerk to the coroner at Beverley, you do know, I suppose, about the note I sent to your department in confirmation of my phone call, when she failed to turn up as arranged at our meeting the other week.'

'You telephoned us, and wrote subsequently?' Bradshaw looked at Livesey, who shrugged. 'I shall follow this up, Mr Fortius. I suppose it would be too much to ask whether you kept a copy of that letter.'

'It wouldn't at all. I typed it myself. The new technology has its uses, despite our grumbles about it. Just a moment while I bring it up on screen and print you out a copy. There.'

'You seem very well organised – a regular one-man office. Do you have any secretaries to monitor the administration?'

'If I was sensitive, Mr Bradshaw, I'd say that remark is downright patronising and insinuating. However, I'll content myself by observing that most academics work in resource-starved institutions and are used to spending a good deal of time working on admin tasks alongside their office-based colleagues.'

'How does that go down with the University?' asked Bradshaw.

'As long as we bring in the research income and support ourselves, it goes down very well.'

'You're a practical man.'

'My personal preference,' Tom said, 'has always been more to work in applied science. I don't mind writing research proposals and on the odd occasion getting up on my hind legs and performing. But my preference is to spend my time on applied projects. There's plenty of demand for my kind of science, Mr Bradshaw. And where there's a demand, there's money. Now, if you'll excuse me, my time is up. I must go.'

*  *  *

Tom was back in his office when Chris arrived at five-fifteen.

'Sorry,' she panted. 'The traffic's a swine.'

She saw his surprised expression.

'Don't I know it. Hull's visitors used to arrive in the summer. These days, tourism and industry clog the roads up all the year round.'

'Have you still time to talk?'

'To be frank, I haven't long,' said Tom apologetically. 'I only returned from my meeting ten minutes ago and I have to send some e-mails before going home tonight. I had been intending to finish them earlier, till your colleagues turned up.'

'Colleagues?'

'You should have warned me you were sending in the heavy artillery this afternoon, to soften me up.'

Chris looked puzzled. 'I don't understand.'

'Your police officer friends,' said Tom. 'I had an entertaining half hour with Superintendent Bradshaw and one of his accomplices in crime.'

Chris's face was a picture.

'Are you pulling my leg? Did he ring you to ask for information?'

'Nothing like that. He turned up. Fortunately, I'd offered you the space and Jean my secretary hadn't reallocated it. I couldn't get used to being a murder suspect though.'

'A what?' She was aghast. 'He didn't accuse you.'

'Not in so many words. But I gathered the gist.'

'This is so embarrassing. I'm apologising.'

'Do I presume the fur will fly back at the ranch?'

'You do. I'll be frank about this. I'm new to this locality and I've been put in charge of this investigation. But the words in charge seem to have a local meaning.'

'Like people can come in and tread over your patch.'

'Rather like that, yes.'

'I know how you must feel. There are academics like that.'

Chris looked at her watch. She was anxious to move the meeting on.