The Fallen (26 page)

‘Are you sure?’ she said again.

This time, he thought about it.

‘I can’t give you one of my knives,’ he said. ‘Too risky. It’s standard issue from the company I work for. But I can give you something with a blade. It’s not much, but better than nothing. Nobody will miss it—it was a freebie. They handed out hundreds of them as gifts, and this one’s been lying here for years.’

Leaning into the back of the ambulance, he rummaged around in one of the lockers and then handed Jade a small penknife.

It was so tiny it could have fitted into a Christmas cracker. A miniature oval-shaped handle with a blue and white logo, and a shiny, slender two-and-a-half-inch blade.

It was practically a toy. It couldn’t have sliced the tenderest, most perfectly cooked piece of fillet, never mind pierced human skin. It was useless for anything except perhaps cutting through a thin length of fabric.

If Jade was attacked, the best she could hope for would be that her assailant died of laughter when he saw her defence weapon.

‘I appreciate it,’ she said.

The paramedic closed the ambulance door and Jade wriggled into the Lycra pants. She pushed the knife into the waistband. A while later, she heard a knock on the side of the ambulance.

She scrambled out. The car park was empty and the paramedic was standing a few paces away with his back towards her.

Jade’s number one rule for getting anywhere without being stopped was simply to move purposefully. In a business-like, but not aggressive, way; as if she knew exactly where she was going and was in rather a hurry to get there.

That attitude had certainly given her access to quite a few places where she would otherwise have been denied entry. The fast walk also helped, of course.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and headed into the hospital building. One way or another, she was going to see if she could get to David.

Visiting hours were long over. With a shock, she saw that the clock on the wall was ticking its way towards eleven
P.M
. Where had the night gone? It was slipping away like sand through her fingers and, with every hour that passed, her chances of catching up with the criminals were growing smaller.

A uniformed receptionist was at the front desk, head bent over a magazine. A nurse was standing beside her, looking through a pile of files. To Jade’s surprise, they didn’t so much as give her a second glance. It was as if the women hadn’t even noticed her at all.

Puzzled, because it wasn’t usually so easy, Jade continued through the foyer and into the main corridor of the hospital.

She realised what had caused the foyer staff’s inattention when she saw a small group of casually dressed people walking down the corridor in the direction of the exit doors. They were wearing name tags and carrying gift bags with the logo of a drug company emblazoned on the front.

There had been a function or launch of some kind at the hospital, and guests—the last of a larger gathering, perhaps—were now leaving. One or two of them cast curious glances at Jade’s bare feet, but most of them had their sights firmly set on getting home.

Glancing at the signs above her, Jade turned in the direction of the
ICU
. More of the departing crowd passed her. Some casually dressed, some smartly dressed, only a few in uniform.

And then a well-groomed brunette wearing a cream-coloured skirt and jacket called out a name she recognised.

‘Dr Abrahams!’

Abrahams?

The hospital chairman; the man who might be able to tell her more about her mother?

Jade stopped and looked.

The brunette click-clacked her way towards a group of business-suited men further down the corridor. She was carrying a briefcase in one hand and, in the other, a white
A
4-sized envelope with the logo of the same pharmaceutical company on the top right-hand corner.

A drugs rep, then.

And the tall, silver-haired man who stopped, turned and greeted her warmly—he must be the same Dr Abrahams the receptionist had told her about. The retired doctor who was now the chairman of the hospital board, and the person that Mrs Koekemoer had said knew the secret about where her mother was buried.

Although the receptionist had said she would pass on Jade’s details to him, the doctor obviously hadn’t bothered to contact her and probably never would. This might be the only chance she had to learn more about Elise de Jong.

The rep hadn’t lingered. She was already walking away. Dr Abrahams, now holding the envelope she had given him and engrossed in conversation with one of the other suits, was making his way towards the exit.

‘Dr Abrahams,’ she said quietly, as he reached her.

Once again, the silver-haired man stopped. He didn’t look nearly as pleased to see Jade as he had when he saw the drugs rep. He looked down his hooked nose at her, the same way a bird of prey atop a crag might consider a rabbit that it wasn’t too interested in eating. His demeanour made Jade remember everything she had ever heard about famous surgeons and their egos.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m Jade de Jong. I left a message for you a couple of days ago.’

‘Jade …’ His frown deepened when he noticed her messy
hair and bare feet. Suddenly, Jade wondered whether the receptionist had given him the message at all.

‘My mother died in this hospital, a long time ago. I’m down here on holiday and I thought I’d try to find out more about her. I never knew her, you see. I was a baby at the time.’

Now Dr Abrahams was staring at her with an expression on his face that suggested she might benefit from a day or two in the psychiatric ward. A couple of his business-suited colleagues were giving her the same look. She even heard one of them chuckle.

‘I’m afraid that really is impossible. Our records don’t even go back that far. If she’d died in the last five years or so, we could have pulled something out for you. But beyond that, no. I’m sorry, but you’re asking for something that cannot be done.’

The doctor pushed back his jacket sleeve with a neatly manicured finger and checked the time on his gold Rolex, making the gesture sweepingly obvious.

Jade stood her ground.

‘Mrs Koekemoer said you would know something.’

‘The old maternity ward head? You’ve spoken to her?’

‘Yes. Just this morning, in fact.’

The chairman shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. This function ran late and I need to be on my way now. I don’t know what information I could provide that Koekemoer couldn’t.’

‘Nor do I. But she said you’d remember.’

Abrahams gave an impatient sigh.

‘What was your mother’s name?’

‘Elise de Jong.’

As she said the words, the chairman’s eyes narrowed and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. When he spoke again, the impatient tone was gone.

‘Well, Mrs Koekemoer was right. That name I do remember.’

‘Would you have time to …?’

‘Tomorrow morning. I’ll be here from nine to ten. Look out for me in reception.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Jade called out to his retreating back.

As she left the hospital a while later, Jade heard the clicking of heels and the well-dressed medical rep hurried back down the corridor. She looked tired now. Her mascara was smudged below her eyes, as if she’d been rubbing them, and she was carrying a large and heavy-looking bundle of equipment in her arms.

‘Can I help you with that?’ Jade asked.

The rep stopped and frowned at her, just as the doctor had done. Looked at her bare feet and her untidy hair.

Then she glanced down at the stuff she was carrying and Jade saw her thinking, as clearly as if she’d said it aloud: This is only a bunch of posters and banners. There’s nothing valuable here, so why not?

‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ the rep said aloud. ‘I’ll go back for the rest of the stuff, then. My car’s parked just outside the main entrance. It’s a silver Renault.’

Jade took the armful of equipment from the lady and headed out to the car park, where she found the car. The boot was unlocked, although the doors to the car itself were not, and Jade stacked the equipment carefully inside. From the amount of signage, it was clear that this drug company knew how to fight a propaganda war.

The rep had soon returned carrying a large cardboard box in her arms. She pressed the remote control to unlock the doors and stowed it carefully on the back seat of the car.

‘Is that everything?’ Jade asked.

‘Yes, it is.’ She looked at Jade, and once again a small frown creased her forehead as if she was wondering who she was and why she had offered to help.

‘May I ask a favour in return?’

‘What?’ the woman responded, in a tone that suggested she would rather have said no.

‘Could I borrow your cellphone for five minutes? I need to make an important call. It’s local. I won’t phone overseas or anything.’

‘Well, I … yes, I suppose you can.’ The rep dug in her handbag and produced a BlackBerry. She handed it over reluctantly.

Jade walked a few steps away before dialling.

After the number had rung ten times she thought that no one was going to answer. It was, after all, very late in the evening to be phoning. She decided to give it another five chances. Craig picked up on the third.

‘Jade? I thought it might be you, but I didn’t recognise the number.’

‘I’m borrowing a phone.’

‘Can I call you back, then?’

‘Yes, please.’

She cut off the call, waited for the phone to ring, and answered immediately.

‘Listen, I need your opinion.’

‘My opinion? On what?’ Now he sounded as if he was smiling, although Jade knew that his good humour would soon disappear when he heard what she had to say.

‘Tell me more about used engine oil, Craig. Please tell me exactly what it does to the environment.’

‘Do you want the short answer or the long answer?’

Jade glanced over at the medical rep who was now walking back towards the hospital entrance. Perhaps she was giving Jade some privacy. Or maybe she’d remembered there were more banners piled up in the function room.

‘The long one,’ she said.

‘Well, the difference between new and used engine oil is that, during its use, the oil picks up a lot of heavy metals. Arsenic, barium, cadmium, lead and aluminium, among others. They are toxic and are also known carcinogens, as well as being teratogenic, which means they cause a higher risk of birth defects if
people—and animals—are exposed to them. But that’s not the biggest problem.’

‘What is?’

‘The biggest problem is the number of
PAHS
, sorry, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons that this oil contains. These hydrocarbons do occur naturally in oil deposits, but they’re also formed during combustion in motor engines, so their concentration in used oil is extremely high. Do you want me to explain what they are?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Well, they are chemical compounds that basically consist of a number of rings fused together. They’re known as aromatics, because their atoms emit a powerful aroma—it’s what gives used oil that sharp, almost choking smell. They can be incredibly toxic—far more so than the heavy metals themselves, and they are a lethal organic pollutant.’

Craig took a deep breath before continuing.

‘Benzene is the simplest of the aromatic hydrocarbons, and probably the only one most people have heard of, but you won’t find it in used engine oil. You’ll find the more complex ones there. The more dangerous ones, known as priority pollutants. Naphthalene, pyrene, fluoranthene, phenanthrene, benzanthracene, benzoperylene. And others, too. There are probably more than twenty different
PAHS
in that oil, including the alkylated phenanthrenes and naphthalenes.’

Jade felt her heart sinking so heavily it was just about down on the tarmac next to her bare feet.

‘What do they all do?’ she asked.

‘Long term, a number of them are known human carcinogens. They’re also teratogenic, as well as mutagenic, which means they are capable of changing your
DNA
. Most commonly, this will increase the incidence of various cancers over time.’

‘What about the short-term effects?’ she asked.

‘Exposure to the fumes can cause nose, throat and skin infections, as well as lung irritation. The eyes can be affected as well.’

Jade could understand that.

‘Exposure to the oil itself would cause skin irritation,’ Craig
continued. ‘Allergic contact dermatitis. Itching, sores, swelling, redness. The hydrocarbons can be absorbed through the skin. They are stored in the body’s fat cells. People who come into contact with used engine oil have an exceptionally high risk of bladder cancer, because the hydrocarbons are detoxified by the liver, but retoxify in the kidneys as the body tries to excrete them. But we’re back to the long-term effects now, because the latent period for disease after exposure can be as long as twenty or twenty-five years.’

‘That’s the risks for humans?’ Jade said.

‘For humans, yes.’

‘What about animals? Smaller organisms?’

‘The smaller the organism, the more serious the effects will be. Just one litre of used engine oil is capable of contaminating a million litres of water. And it ends up in the water. It always does, even if it’s spilled on land. Whether it’s washed away by rain over time, or seeps down through the soil to the water table, it will cause severe pollution. It will kill off fish, plankton, frogs, anything it comes into contact with. The ones that survive exposure to the oil itself will die later, as a result of disease. A high concentration of used engine oil dumped into a water system could cause an environmental catastrophe.’

Craig cleared his throat softly.

‘Why are you asking, Jade?’

‘I need you to sketch out a hypothetical scenario for me.’ ‘Go ahead.’

‘I don’t know if you remember a news report a while ago, about one of Pakistan’s old tankers that was headed for recycling with a load of used oil, and ended up sinking just off the coast of Sri Lanka.’

‘Yes, I remember that well. What about it?’

‘What would happen if another of those tankers ended up sinking just off the coastline here, and discharging its load of used engine oil into the St Lucia estuary? And what if it happened later tonight, at the peak of the spring tide?’