Double Blind (28 page)

I picked one up. “Welcome to Litton Bernhoff Hall,” I read out loud. “Now it makes sense. This place must belong to LB Pharmaceuticals. Maybe a conference center or a hospitality center where they entertain customers?”

“There’s nothing very hospitable about this place,” Anita said, unlocking the front door. “Let’s go.”

We ran down the steps to the gravel driveway, and past the Land Rover that I’d arrived in. “Damn,” I said. “We should have got his keys so we could drive out of here.”

“No time to go back,” Anita said. “Keep moving.”

An amber moon appeared from behind a bank of clouds, giving us just enough light to see where we were going. We’d walked about ten yards, when a sudden sweep of headlights in the distance made my heart pound. I pulled Anita off the driveway, finding shelter behind a thick and prickly bush. The lights soon faded, and I stood up.

“That’s good,” I said. “We must be closer to a road than I thought. I say we make a run for it. A straight line along the driveway. Can you do that?”

She nodded and stood up, leading the way around the shrubs back to the gravel. Suddenly a hand grasped my shoulder. I turned to see the bloody, wrecked face of Lizardman.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” he said. “Because I certainly intend to kill you.”

He swung at me, his fist connecting with my cheekbone. Pain ricocheted around my head, coming to rest at my lower temple. Staggering, I fell to my knees. He seized the knife from my hand. The moon reflected in the blade as it curved towards me, aiming at my neck.

He was so focused on me that he didn’t see Anita move behind him. She jumped up, wrapping one arm around his neck, her legs around his waist. He flailed around, trying to throw her off, the knife in his hand whipping to and fro, perilously close to my face. I wanted to move but I couldn’t; there seemed to be no muscles left in my legs or arms. Anita yelled at me to get up. As I clambered to my feet, Lizardman lunged forward, throwing Anita off. He raised the knife again, poised to stab me in the neck.

With a scream like a warrior going into battle, Anita ran at him and stabbed the box-cutter repeatedly into his shoulder. For a second, I thought he hadn’t even felt it. Then he fell forwards in slow motion, his bloodied features looming over me before he collapsed on top of me.

Adrenaline fueled a burst of strength, helping me to push him off so that he rolled on to his back on the gravel. Blood flowed freely from his nose, like ink in the light of the sallow moon. A puddle collected near his shoulder.

Anita bent over him, holding a finger to his neck. “He’s alive,” she said. “What do we do with him now?”

“Nothing. We leave him and keep going,” I said, moving my head from side to side, trying to dislodge the pain.

Suddenly, there was a flood of white light at the end of the drive, the revving of an engine as tires gained traction on the gravel. It had to be Macintyre.

“Help me,” I said to Anita, grabbing Lizardman under his arms. She raised his feet a few inches off the ground and we dragged him off the driveway, over the grassy verge and behind the bush where we’d sheltered before. I prayed that Macintyre couldn’t see us from the drive.

A black Audi flew past us, the tires spitting up small stones. The second I saw its tail lights, I grasped Anita’s wrist. “We’re going to run for it. Ready?”

She glanced at Lizardman. “We can’t leave him here. He could die without attention to those wounds,” she said.

“Who cares? We don’t have time. As soon as Macintyre sees that we’re gone, he’ll be out here looking for us.”

We ran. The driveway ended at a set of wrought iron gates, flanked by stone walls about six feet high. I grabbed the handle, but the gate was locked.

“It’s on some kind of motion detector,” Anita said, pointing to a wooden post set eight feet back from the gate with a small box mounted on it. I ran back, waving my hands in front of the box. “Not enough mass to make it work,” I panted. “Now what?”

Without hesitation, Anita ran at the wall, jumped up and gripped the ledge at the top. I followed her and held both her legs, pushing her upwards until her waist hit the ledge and she was able to scramble up on top of the wall. She leaned down to grab hold of my outstretched hands as I used my feet to clamber my way to the top. We dropped to the other side, onto a bank at the edge of a road. I pulled my phone from my bag, almost crying with relief that we had service back now we were out of the basement. I called Parry.

“Where the hell are you?” he asked.

“Where the hell were your men?” I responded. “Listen, we need help urgently. Dr. Reid’s killer is at a place called Litton Bernhoff Hall. I don’t know exactly where it is, but it’s close to the river, probably east of Greenwich.”

The roar of an airplane engine drowned out his reply.

“And I think we’re close to City Airport,” I said. As the engine noise faded, Parry told us to stay where we were.

Help was coming, but when he clicked off, I felt nervous and vulnerable. There were no streetlights, just thick woods opposite us and the wall at our backs. If Macintyre came out, he’d see us at once. We crossed the road to the trees on the other side. Picking our way across fallen branches and through brambles, we found a clear grassy area with a good view of the road. We crouched down to wait. Less than a minute later, there was a sweep of headlights on the mansion driveway, which meant that Macintyre must be leaving. The lights stopped moving for a while, giving me hope that the police would arrive in time to cut off his exit. But then the lights came closer. Seconds later, the gates swung open and the Audi turned out of the driveway, accelerating up the road. He was getting away.

After a minute or two, I pulled Anita to her feet. At least with Macintyre gone, we could wait at the gates for the police. Five more minutes passed before two squad cars arrived in a rush of flashing lights and wailing sirens. A WPC grabbed a first aid kit from the back of one car and tended to Anita’s cut in the light from the headlamps.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said. “You won’t need stitches.”

While she worked, I stared at the aura that still swirled over Anita’s head. Damn, damn, damn. We’d escaped, but she was still in danger. From Lizardman? From Macintyre? Or something else I wasn’t aware of yet? She looked exhausted, and there was a bruise on one cheek that I hadn’t noticed in the gloom of the cellar. Her hair had come loose from its ponytail and hung limply on her shoulders.

I told one of the police officers that Macintyre had gone already. He talked on his radio to someone, maybe Parry, while another officer worked out how to open the gate.

When the WPC had finished tending to Anita, she helped us into the back of one of the cars. “The driver will take you to Detective Parry’s office now,” she said. “Take care of yourselves.”

The back seat smelled of sweat and something musty, a vestige perhaps of a previous occupant.

“What was going on today?” I asked the driver. “I was supposed to get police support hours ago.” I hoped I didn’t sound too whiny.

The officer nodded, looking at me in his rear view mirror. “I’m sorry, miss. Did you hear about the bomb? We were all put on high alert.”

“A bomb?” My mind immediately went to Simon Scott. “What happened?”

“Someone called in a message about a bomb in central London. I think they were targeting a politician. Scott, the leader of the opposition, was due to drive right past where they said the bomb was. He was diverted.”

“Was it a hoax or was there really a bomb?”

“Not sure. They don’t tell us everything. If it was, they must have defused it. But it was most likely a hoax, just to make the security forces jump.”

I leaned back in my seat, thinking. If it had been an actual bomb, who’d set it? Someone on my list, or some third party I didn’t know about? I hadn’t heard from Chris for a couple of days and, of course, we hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms. The memory of those chemical stains on his hands stuck with me.

I glanced at Anita. Sad to see that aura still spinning, I sank back in my seat, with my hands over my eyes. Anita didn’t notice. She was already asleep.

Anita dozed as we sped through the outer reaches of East London, past the O2 arena, which was brightly lit for an event. The moon that had helped us find our way to freedom was completely obscured now by dark clouds. Rain beat against the windows. It wasn’t the first time I’d ridden in the back of a police car, which was surprising, given my law-abiding nature. Only sort of law-abiding, I amended. Last year, I’d almost strangled someone and tonight I’d stabbed Lizardman. It was all in self-defense, but I wondered what it meant, that I could resort to violence when necessary. Are all humans inherently violent? A propensity that, for most, remains dormant until provoked? That certainly wasn’t true of Macintyre. He seemed to need very little reason to hurt or kill. The memory of his flat, colorless eyes still made my heart pound.

I shook Anita gently, impatient to get answers to a million questions. At first she grumbled, but then sat up straight. “I need coffee,” she said.

“We’ll get some as soon as we reach the station, I promise. First you need to call your mother. She must be frantic with worry.”

“You and my mum could be the same person, you know that?” she said, taking my mobile. The call didn’t last long, but I heard Mrs. Banerjee crying and yelling at her husband that Anita was safe. Anita rang off after swearing up and down that she was absolutely fine and would see them soon.

“Tell me more about your notes,” I said when she gave me back my phone. “How the hell did Macintyre even know they existed?”

She stretched her arms above her head. “God, I ache all over. The notes? Macintyre saw them in my office. I feel like such a fool, but I had no idea at the time. He’d asked to meet me to talk about a blood pressure medication from Eric’s company, PharmAnew. Obviously, Macintyre wanted the hospital to replace it with the version from Litton Bernhoff. Our computer system was down for maintenance, so I dug through the notes in my drawer to check some data. He asked me what the notes were all about and I told him. He was charming and complimentary, telling me how impressed he was that I was advancing my learning, blah, blah, blah. I never gave it another thought until Dr. Reid asked me about the notes, at the same time he said he needed to meet with me. That was the day before he died.”

“And how did Dr. Reid know about the notes?”

“I’d often take notes when we were working together, and I’d told him why. He thought it was a good idea too. But when you and I had compared them to the electronic files, I got nervous, so I found a plastic box in the store room and hid them in the kitchen until I’d have time to go through them properly.”

Anita turned to look at me. “Where are they now? The real ones that Macintyre wanted?”

“In the morgue. Grace hid them in an unused refrigerator drawer.” I grabbed my mobile. “Oh, damn. I need to call her to let her know we’re okay.”

Grace picked up as soon as I rang. I explained that we were safe and that the police were tracking down Macintyre, but I skipped the gory details of Macintyre’s threats and our escape.

“I’ve been so worried,” Grace said. “I can’t wait to see Anita again. The morgue is all locked up for the night. You can retrieve the notes tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“We’ll see you in the morning. Thanks again, Grace.” I clicked off, vaguely worried that Macintyre might still work out where the notes were. But it seemed unlikely. And, even if he did, he couldn’t break into the morgue.

Anita picked at a nail she’d broken during the scramble over the wall. “Do I still have the aura?” she asked. “Has it gone?”

“It’s still there.”

“That makes no sense,” she said. “We escaped. Lizardman didn’t kill me.”

“I know. It means we have to continue to be careful.”

My heart ached for her. She’d already been through so much, and it obviously wasn’t over yet. We slowed in traffic as we came into the City.

“Take a nap,” I told her. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Anita closed her eyes, leaning her head against the back of the seat. While the car idled at a traffic light, I watched the rain form rivulets on the window. They wound in serpentine patterns, their motion dictated not by the laws of gravity, but perhaps by infinitesimal flaws in the glass that disrupted their flow. Two rills eight inches apart curved as though irresistibly drawn to each other, creating one larger stream that meandered to the bottom of the window.

I traced its path with my finger on the inside of the glass, imagining that I could feel the cool water on my skin. The car pulled away, but I didn’t hear the engine or the hum of tires on wet road. It seemed that all sounds had stopped except a rushing noise in my head like the roar of a waterfall.

The two cases, Simon Scott’s and Dr. Reid’s, were connected. There was a common link between them, I was almost sure. I tried to shake Anita awake. She gazed at me for a moment through heavy-lidded eyes before going back to sleep.

Macintyre was looking for records that implicated his company, Litton Bernhoff Pharmaceuticals, in a cover-up of side-effects. In the back of my mind, I recalled seeing the company name somewhere else recently, somewhere outside the hospital. I pulled out my phone, looking back through the notes I’d taken when reviewing Simon Scott’s files at Colin Butler’s office.

There was one annotation, more cryptic than I’d have liked, of an appointment with the CEO of Litton Bernhoff. Someone in Colin’s office had noted that the meeting was on Scott’s agenda, but I couldn’t recall any details.

Maybe I’d been on the wrong track the whole time, by assuming that the threat to Scott was from someone with a grudge against him. My initial meeting with Eliza, and my concerns about Chris and the binoculars man had convinced me that Scott was in danger from someone who resented his rise to prominence, someone he’d harmed in the past. Perhaps that was all wrong. It could have been Macintyre who’d planted the bomb in the underground car park.

When we got out of the car outside the police station, my legs were shaking. I linked arms with Anita and took a few deep breaths of cold, damp air. To my surprise, it was Clarke who was on the steps waiting for us. He handed me a thin beige raincoat, which I put on and buttoned up to hide the bloodstains on my jacket.