The Anvil (13 page)

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Authors: Ken McClure

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BOOK: The Anvil
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SEVEN

 

Tansy seemed much recovered after a good night’s sleep. She was even keen to discuss what Vernay had told MacLean.

‘Why would Lehman Steiner be involved in politics?’ she asked.

‘Big business is always interested in politics,’ replied MacLean. ‘They have to be. Politicians control the environment in which they operate. They set the levels of taxes and subsidies and make the conditions that affect company profitability. It’s not at all unusual for companies to donate money to whatever party will create the best environment for them to trade in.’

‘But why would Lehman Steiner be interested in the politics of other European countries? Surely they couldn’t hope to influence every country’s affairs?’

‘They’re an international company,’ said MacLean.

‘So what’s the connection with Cytogerm?’

‘I wish I knew,’ said MacLean. ‘Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe it’s just that the company uses the same bullyboys for a variety of reasons.’

‘I’ve been thinking about Cytogerm,’ said Tansy.

‘And?’

‘I think they’re still using it.’

‘And hiding the corpses?’ said MacLean sceptically.

‘I didn’t mean using it generally. I meant for special purposes.’

MacLean could see that Tansy had some ‘special purpose’ in mind. ‘Go on,’ he said.

‘Well, since right-wing politics have been mentioned … it occurred to me that Cytogerm might be being used for plastic surgery on criminals.’

‘Criminals?’

‘Nazi war criminals,’ said Tansy quickly.

MacLean looked at Tansy as if she had said something funny. He was trying to suppress laughter and she felt mildly annoyed at not being taken seriously.

‘Tansy, do you realise how old these war criminals are?’ asked MacLean.

‘I suppose they must be getting on a bit,’ Tansy conceded.

‘They are geriatrics! No one would recognise them now anyway! That’s assuming they’re still alive and even that’s doubtful,’ said MacLean. ‘But if they are, they will be broken, old men stumbling towards their graves with every prospect of eternal damnation looming before them. Being made to look like Tom Cruise isn’t going to help!’

‘All right,’ conceded Tansy, feeling foolish. ‘How about international criminals. Surely they would pay a lot to have their looks changed? And with Cytogerm it could be done in a matter of a couple of weeks, you said so yourself.’

‘I don’t question the feasibility of it,’ said MacLean. ‘It’s just that it wouldn’t make sense for a giant like Lehman Steiner to be involved in something like that. There can’t be that many Mr Bigs needing the treatment.’

Tansy agreed in silence.

‘Sorry,’ said MacLean, ‘But if Cytogerm is involved in anything it would have to be something really big, something worth many millions of pounds.’

Tansy nodded and dropped the subject. She walked over to the window and looked out at the sunshine. After a few moments she turned and asked, ‘Feel like a walk?’

 

MacLean kept his appointment with Vernay at eight that evening. The afternoon walkers had all gone home leaving the towpath to the gathering dusk and the occasional stray dog. The air was still but there was a suggestion of a blue haze and a smell of burning leaves. MacLean guessed that it came from the house about a mile further along the canal. It had a large beech hedge round it and with beech, falling leaves were always a bigger problem in the spring than in the autumn. It had been a fine day; the owners had probably spent it tidying up the garden.

Vernay was waiting for him when he arrived at the bridge. They shook hands and started to walk slowly along the towpath. MacLean had his hands in his pockets; Vernay kept his behind his back like a Royal personage. MacLean told him of his time at Lehman Steiner, the euphoria over the early results with Cytogerm and the bitter disappointment that was to come with the death of Elsa Kaufman.

‘Four of us died after the project was wound up,’ he said. ‘Kurt Immelman, Max Schaeffer, Lisa and Jutte who died instead of me.’

‘Then you must feel the same way towards the company I do,’ said Vernay.

MacLean could sense that the question was loaded. ‘There was a time,’ he admitted, ‘when I was desperate for revenge. Like you, I thought I could take on Lehman Steiner and win because … ‘ MacLean paused and smiled wryly. ‘Because right was on my side and good always triumphed over evil.’

‘What changed your mind?’

‘Three years of hell. I lost everything. Jutte, my home, my job, my friends and, in the end, I … simply lost hope.’

‘That explains your behaviour in Glasgow,’ said Vernay.

MacLean nodded and said, ‘But thanks to you I survived. Now I have a home, a job and happiness with Carrie and Tansy. I am no longer interested in the past, only the future. If you expect me to wrap a prayer scarf round my head and go crashing into the might of Lehman Steiner on some kamikaze mission you can forget it. I loved Jutte but she’s dead and nothing can bring her back. Tansy and Carrie are alive and they need me that way. They are the only things I will fight for now.’

‘And that explains your reaction at the bridge yesterday,’ said Vernay rubbing his arm and touching the graze on his cheek.

‘I’m sorry. I thought you were from the company,’ said MacLean.

‘I could have been,’ said Vernay.

‘That’s why we mustn’t meet again,’ said MacLean.

‘And Jutte is to go unavenged?’

MacLean did not rise to the bait. ‘I told you, I am not interested in revenge.’

‘I understand you wanting to defend what you have,’ said Vernay, ‘But the best method of defence is attack, is it not?’

‘Not with the odds loaded as they are in this case,’ said MacLean.

‘Do you think you can hide forever?’ asked Vernay, changing tack.

‘Maybe they won’t look for ever,’ replied MacLean.

‘Two of their agents died not sixty kilometres from here.’

MacLean wished that Vernay had not said that.

‘So you won’t help?’

‘I’ve told you all I can. I want you to go now,’ said MacLean.

Vernay shrugged his shoulders in a peculiarly Gallic way and said, ‘Well, at least I know that my sister’s death had something to do with Cytogerm. Maybe I will be able to forge a link between it and Der Amboss. What do you think Doctor?’

‘I wish you luck,’ said MacLean.

Vernay took out a pack of cigarettes, conceding defeat. He lit one and asked, ‘Will you do me one last favour?’

‘Depends what it is.’

‘Will you meet me one more time?’ Vernay held up his hand to divert the refusal he sensed on MacLean’s lips. ‘The last time, I promise. I still have some contacts in the police force back in Geneva. I’d like to ask them what they can come up with on Cytogerm. They may request more information and for that I would have to ask you. What do you say?’

MacLean was reluctant. He had already played out the scene in his head where he went back to Tansy and told her that Vernay had gone, they could now get on with their lives.

‘It’s not much to ask,’ prompted Vernay.

MacLean imagined the unspoken rider, “And I did save your life.” ‘All right,’ he said, ‘But somewhere well away from here. I don’t want you anywhere near this area again. Understood?’

‘Agreed,’ said Vernay. He gave MacLean details of where he was staying. He had rented a small flat in the city. They agreed to meet there in eight days time.

 

‘I always seem to be doing this,’ said Tansy as she welcomed MacLean back with a big hug.

‘I’m not complaining,’ said MacLean.

‘He’s gone?’ asked Tansy, expecting a ‘yes’.

‘Not quite,’ confessed MacLean. ‘I agreed to see him again.’

‘But why?’ Tansy was disappointed.

‘It seemed the least I could do,’ said MacLean quietly. ‘I owe him my life.’ He told her the reason for the second meeting.

They sat in silence for a while before Tansy asked, ‘You are not having second thoughts about helping Vernay take on Lehman Steiner are you?’

‘No!’ exclaimed MacLean. ‘All I really want is for everyone to go away and leave us alone!’

Tansy was left in no doubt as to the sincerity of what MacLean had said. She said, ‘I need you to be sure. If you fought and won you could become a doctor again and that would mean a lot to you.’

MacLean was still adamant. ‘I’m happy as I am!’ he insisted. ‘I don’t want anything to change. I’ve never been more contented in my life. It’s what goes on inside your head that really matters.’

‘Fireside philosophy,’ smiled Tansy.

‘I’m serious,’ said MacLean. ‘You and Carrie have become so precious to me. You’re all that I care about now.’

Tansy’s expression softened. She said, ‘I’ve noticed Carrie adopting you as her new father.’

‘Do you mind?’

Tansy smiled and said, ‘I’m delighted.’

‘And you?’

Tansy took MacLean’s face between her hands and said, ‘Let’s take everything as it comes?’

MacLean agreed with a grin and said, ‘OK.’

‘You woke me up, ‘ said Carrie appearing in the doorway.

‘Sorry,’ said MacLean.

‘Can I have a drink of water please?’

‘Of course. Would Mr Bear like one too?’ he asked.

Carrie was pleased. ‘Yes please,’ she said.

MacLean took Carrie back up to bed and tucked her and Mr Bear under the covers. He kissed Carrie gently on the forehead and got up to go.

‘And Mr Bear,’ said Carrie.

MacLean kissed the bear and switched out the light.

 

 

The following week passed uneventfully but the weather was abysmal throughout. Continual drizzling rain dampened everyone’s spirits and kept Carrie indoors when she would much rather have been outside. When Sunday came and the sun shone. MacLean and Tansy decided to take her to the zoo.

Carrie chattered to the monkeys, walked like the penguins and stood uncertainly in front of the tigers at feeding time. She had a ride on an elephant and learned how to milk a goat in the children’s farm. She drank lemonade and ate ice cream and generally scampered around to the delight of both Tansy and MacLean.

‘I think this counts as the first family outing since Keith died,’ said Tansy as they watched Carrie try to attract the attention of a lion who seemed more interested in sleeping on a rock.

‘First of many,’ said MacLean and Tansy squeezed his hand.

They watched the polar bears dive for fish in their pool and Tansy said they made about as much mess as Carrie at bath time. They all laughed. It was that kind of a day. The coming meeting with Vernay was not mentioned until late that evening. Tansy asked, ‘How do you feel about tomorrow?’

‘I’ll be glad when it’s over,’ admitted MacLean. ‘I can’t really tell him any more about Cytogerm than what I’ve done already.

‘You’re going straight from work?’

‘Yes,’ said MacLean. ‘I should be home by seven.’

 

MacLean knew from the address that Vernay had given him that it was a predominantly working-class area. He would not look out of place coming directly from the building site in work clothes. He found the number he was looking for and walked straight past. He crossed the road a little further up the street and came back down on the other side. It was a simple precaution that Doyle had taught him. He was in luck; there was a fish and chip shop almost opposite Vernay’s building. He went in and bought something to eat. Using this as an excuse he was able to keep an eye on the entrance across the way for nearly ten minutes. Nothing happened to arouse his suspicions: he crossed the road and entered the building.

 

Vernay’s flat was on the third floor. MacLean rang the bell and waited. Nothing happened so he rang once more and then a third time. He heard a door open on the landing below and cautiously looked over the railings. An old woman was looking up at him. She seemed disappointed when she didn’t recognise him. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I thought it was Mr Vernay.’

MacLean thought she sounded distraught. Is something wrong?’ he asked.

‘Mr Vernay must have a leak,’ said the woman. ‘Water’s coming through my ceiling.’

Alarm bells went off in MacLean’s head. His first thought was to break down the door but the woman was a problem. He made sympathetic noises and asked if she had a screwdriver he could borrow. Anticipating some remedial action the woman went off to find one.

As soon as she was out of the way MacLean took a couple of steps back from the door then, lifting his foot he crashed it into Vernay’s door just below the Yale lock. He leaned his shoulder against the door and it swung slowly open.

It was dark inside. There were no windows in the hall and all the room doors were closed. MacLean could hear the sound of water pattering on to the floor. He followed it. He called out Vernay’s name but knew there would be no reply. He did it to release some of the tension that was building inside him. The floor was wet beneath his feet and the sound of the waterfall was becoming louder. He took care not to slip on wet linoleum as he opened the bathroom door.

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