Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3) (10 page)

~~~~~

The
council members agreed without hesitation to a meeting, though it
was probably more to humour their missing friend’s possibly
crazed
spouse than
anything else. I chose a quiet pub in Wandsworth, where I booked a
room so we could talk in private.

Charlotte hugged me, and her girlfriend, Beth, kissed my
cheek. Harry clung to me, as upset as I’d ever seen him. Angus was
sombre, so was Andy. Karl kept back, letting the others greet me. I
ordered drinks, and the waiter set out the snacks I’d
arranged.

Then I
shut the door, and sat at the head of the table. “Thanks for
coming. This is about Nick, as I told you on the phone. The police
in Brazil are treating this as a possible homicide. I think that’s
true for the Met as well, isn’t it, Andy?” Andy nodded. “Why I
called you here, is that I think they’re wrong. I’ve spent a lot of
time thinking about the facts, the clues, the supposed narrative,
and what I’ve concluded is—Nick is being held somewhere against his
will. All this supposed activity in Brazil is designed to deflect
attention from the fact that Nick would never walk out on me as he
was supposed to have done, and would not have left under his own
free will.”

Around
the table, the expressions were carefully blank. All but Karl’s of
course, since he and I had spent hours talking about this. “Feel
free to tell me I’m nuts,” I said as the silence
lengthened.

“I don’t want
to upset you,” Harry said, “but why is it impossible that Nick has
been murdered?”

“I
didn’t say ‘impossible’. I said I don’t believe it. I don’t think
Nick was ever in Brazil. I don’t think he ever left the UK. His
passport was used. His driver’s license was used. His credit card
was used, but not where a PIN was required. No one in Brazil who
supposedly met him, was able to pick his photo out of a handful of
pictures of similar looking men more often than you can account for
by chance. I think the text message and travel to France was
supposed to convince me Nick had left me. When it didn’t, and you
put out that media appeal, Harry, someone decided to convince me
that Nick was in fact dead. I was carefully led to Brazil by the
sudden burst of credit card activity, and once I was in the
country, the ‘attack’ scene was staged in Bélo Horizonte. Andy, how
likely is it that an ordinary street robber or gay basher would
remove the body?”

“Not
very. It’s not
impossible
,
though.”

“Just highly
implausible.” He nodded. “Right. Charlotte, Nick could lose a litre
of blood without being harmed?”

“Yes, if
it was taken in a clinical setting. I mean, collected rather than
him losing it from a wound.”

“So if
he’d lost it in a stabbing, he’d have needed a doctor pretty damn
soon afterwards, but there’s no record anywhere of a foreigner
matching his description going to a clinic or hospital. But if
someone wanted to convince me and the police that Nick had come to
harm, and had a litre or so of his blood to splash around, they
could do that and Nick would still be alive.”

“Yes.
But
why
, Anton?”
Charlotte asked.

“I don’t
know. But which is more plausible? That Nick Guthrie up and leaves
me without a word of warning to me or any of you and disappears for
weeks without touching his bank account or credit card, or that
Nick Guthrie has been taken by persons unknown and the rest of it
has been set up to fool everyone into thinking he’s
dead?”

“What
about his passport?” Angus asked. “They have those biometric
thingies now.”

“Andy? Care to
answer?”

Andy
cleared his
throat. “They’re far from infallible. Good prosthetics, even
plastic surgery—”

“That’s a bit
Hollywood, isn’t it?” Charlotte said.

“Yes,
but it’s been done. If Nick wanted to disappear completely, he
knows better than most people how to do it effectively. Yet he used
his own passport, even though his companion was using a fake one. I
agree with Anton—that’s a bit suss.”

“Not to
mention that Brazil Nick suddenly took a liking to coffee, and
apparently conjured HRF out of thin air in Rio since he doesn’t
seem to have bought any.”

“He
didn’t specify HRF on his flight from Berlin either,” Andy said.
“It’s a long flight. Why would he not make sure it was available to
him?”

“All
right, I agree it’s
possible.
”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose as if what she was saying stank.
“But
why
? Nick’s a
lovely guy but he’s nothing special.” She caught herself. “I mean,
to a criminal.” She glanced at me and winced. “Sorry,
Anton.”

“It’s
okay, I know what you mean. So he’s a cop, a vee, and gay. He’s
also O-negative.”

“He’s
ginger,” Andy said. Charlotte laughed.

“And an early
adopter,” Harry said. “He was one of the earliest patients in
Britain to have the ISH treatment.”

“Yes,
that’s right. He’s in that long-term NHS follow up programme on vee
morphs,” Charlotte said. “Blood samples once a year, basic health
questionnaire.”

“Oh, I know
someone who works on that study,” Beth said. “She’s a good friend
of mine.”

“Andy, what
about a stalker or a connection through his job?” I asked.

“We’ve
followed that up as thoroughly as possible. There’s no one who’s
sworn deathly vengeance against him—any more than me, that is—and
there’s no evidence of a stalker. Doesn’t mean they don’t exist,
but we haven’t found anything to suggest it.”

“So, guys, any
ideas?”

The silence
was profound. No one wanted to meet my eyes. Hell. I’d lost them.
Karl had warned me it all sounded paranoid, even though he agreed
that my theory did fit the facts.

Then Harry
coughed. “There’s something I was planning to tell Nick about next
time we met up. You remember we were talking about clinics
supposedly offering ISH treatment on demand?”

“Yes, I
remember,” I said. “But I thought you said there was nothing to the
stories.”

“That’s what I
thought. Turns out that it’s more than possible that Jack Klein
died after private ISH treatment went wrong.”

“Who’s Jack
Klein?” Charlotte asked.

“American gay
actor,” I said. “Well known and very popular in the community.
Harry, I thought he died of an infection after surgery.”

“Yeah, that
was the official story. But a friend of mine was interviewing his
partner for the paper, and the partner hinted that the ‘surgery’
wasn’t actually that. All off the record, of course. My friend got
the impression it was ISH treatment. The point is—Klein died at a
clinic in Rio.”

Everyone sat
up as if poked in the arse. “Do the Brazilians regulate access to
ISH inoculants like they do here?” I asked. “Anyone know?”

Beth and
Charlotte shook their heads. Andy said, “Wouldn’t take long to find
out.”

“Okay,
it’s a long shot,” I said, “but
if
Klein died as a result of ISH treatment,
and
the clinic was using blood
instead of the preferred inoculant, why would Nick be attractive to
someone running that operation? There are plenty of ISH positive
people in Brazil, surely.”

Beth raised
her hand. “He’s a universal donor with that blood type, but that’s
not particularly special. But you said he was treated with the
early ISH virus?”

Harry nodded.
“It was still experimental when it was offered to him. He was dying
fast. It was worth a try.”

“It’s not my
particular field, but I do know that one of the developments in ISH
viral therapy is that the virus strain has been engineered to
reduce the incidence of vee morphs. The newer strain is also less
likely to cause adverse reactions, and almost never fails to take
effect. The old version failed in at least five percent of
patients.”

“So Nick is
infected with the strain which is more likely to produce a vee
morph. Which is what everyone thinks gives the anti-aging benefit,”
I said.

“He’s not the
only one who received that strain though,” Charlotte said. “That
follow-up program has a cohort of at least a hundred people, from
memory.”

“So why Nick?”
Harry said.

“Why not
Nick?” Andy countered. “What we need to find out is if anyone else
from that group has gone missing.”

Karl
spoke up for the first time. “The
first
thing is to find out if there’s anything to this story
about the death of this actor at all. Then you need to know what
clinic it was, and if there’s any connection to Britain. Let’s not
get too far ahead of ourselves. Anton, I don’t want you getting
your hopes up. You’ve been through a lot already.”

The others
murmured their agreement. I gave my brother a wry look. “Thanks,
Karl. The voice of reason, as always. Okay, unless anyone’s got any
better suggestions, maybe we can chase this up. Harry—”

Beth raised
her hand again. “Hang on. I don’t want to be rude, but shouldn’t
the police be doing this?”

She stared at
Andy as she spoke. He looked back quite unperturbed. “Give me
something I can take to my boss, and we can pass it on to the
investigating team. The link with Nick doesn’t exist yet. Just give
me one solid fact. We’ll chase it, I promise. Nick’s one of our
own.”

“That’s not
the impression I got when he first went missing,” I couldn’t help
pointing out.

“Situation’s
changed, Anton. Just give me something I can use.”

“I could ask
my friend if they’ve had anyone drop out of the study suddenly,”
Beth offered.

“If they have,
I can check if there’s anything suspicious about that,” Andy said.
“I’ll need names, or at least dates though.”

“Thanks, guys.
Uh...I sort of forgot to ask if you all want to help.”

Harry gave me
the finger, while Angus grinned, and Charlotte shook her head at me
in disgust. “Okay, silly of me. Look, I haven’t involved Nick’s
family because they’re not taking things well. But Nick has other
friends that you know, and who can help. If you want me to talk to
them, tell me.”

“One thing,
Anton,” Harry said. “You haven’t ruled out the possibility of Nick
being murdered in the UK, and all this flight and passport stuff is
just to confuse the issue.”

“True. That’s
another reason I don’t want to involve his family because it might
get their hopes up. I just can’t think of why anyone would want to
kill Nick, and then cover it up with such an elaborate
pantomime.”

“It might not
have been intentional,” Andy said. “If Nick was kidnapped and it
went wrong, say.”

“And the cover
up was planned so they went ahead anyway? You’re right, that’s
possible.”

But not
probable. Surely not probable.

“What about
the blood?” Karl said. “Can you draw a litre of blood from a dead
man? Can forensics tell?”

“You can’t
draw it,” Charlotte answered. “You’d have to let it drain out, so
you’d need the facilities for that. Forensics could tell if it was
straight from the body, but if it was thrown around an alley and
left to dry for a day or so, I have no idea.”

“So Nick could
be dead and still have had the blood removed, but it’s less likely
than it being removed while he was alive,” I said. “I’m having
trouble believing that someone wanted to kill Nick but was prepared
to draw blood and fake his death in Brazil before killing him
here.”

“Ugh,” Beth
said. “Kidnapping sounds positively sane next to these
theories.”

I shrugged.
“Now you see how I’ve come to this point. Beth, I don’t want anyone
involved if it’s going to upset them.”

“I’m fine.
It’s just all so weird. But I want to help for Charlotte’s sake.
And Nick’s. It’s awful if he’s being held somewhere.”

“Yes, it is.
Thank you, Beth. Charlotte, she’s a treasure.”

Charlotte
squeezed her girlfriend’s hand. “Trust me, I know.”

Angus
stretched. “I don’t know about you lot, but I think I need another
pint after all that.”

“Lunch and
another round on me, then,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’m so
grateful no one’s called to have me sectioned.”

~~~~~

Without asking
me, Karl picked up one of the bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon we’d
bought the day before in Waitrose, and opened it. “You look
shattered,” he said. He poured a glass and handed it to me.

“Yes, but I’m
wired as well. I didn’t expect much to come of that meeting. I was
mostly hoping people would offer to help.”

“Don’t get
your hopes up,” he said, pouring his own wine. “It’s a hell of a
tenuous theory.”

“I know. I’m
trying to make sure I’m the only one who suffers.”

“And you think
that makes it okay with me?” He stared at me over his glass.

“We’ve been
around and around on this, Karl. I can’t not try to find him.”

“No. But it
could be delaying the inevitable when you have to face he’s
gone.”

“Not until
there’s a body. No one can force me to accept he’s dead. Not even
legally.”

“And his
parents? How long do they wait for a funeral?”

“Look, if I
say I think he’s dead, and give up, how does that change things for
them?”

“They can move
on. More importantly, you can.”

I drank some
of the wine. “I’m not there yet. Nowhere near. Too many questions.
Andy agrees with me.”

He said
nothing, sipping his wine and looking out of the window. I wandered
back into the living room and sat down. My head was throbbing. So
much tension, for so long. What I’d give for a good night’s sleep,
wrapped in Nick’s arms.