The Disappeared (12 page)

Pulling
out his phone, Murphy said, 'Shit. There's no fucking reception in here.
Where's yours?'

'Wouldn't
you like to know more about the body?' Andy said. 'I can't prove it
forensically, but there's a chance she could have been a murder victim.'

'We'll
do all that stuff later when you write your statements.'

'Could
I get on with that now? I've got a busy day.'

Murphy
dipped his chin and turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. 'I don't think
so, my friend - you're a suspect.'

Jenny
said, 'I don't know how much you had to drink last night, Mr Murphy, but I hope
you didn't drive here.'

Murphy
opened his mouth to answer back, but Jenny caught him with a sharp look and
said, 'Ask nicely and Dr Kerr might let you use the phone in his office.'

The
detective sniffled and slouched off in search of a signal.

Andy
said, 'Is he serious? What would I want with a body?'

'Ignore
him. He's hungover.'

A
few moments later Murphy reappeared at the end of the corridor and called out
to them, 'What's the name of this lab doing the DNA tests?'

Jenny
stopped herself from slapping him down again. She'd complain to his
superintendent later, get him to teach him some manners. 'Meditect. They're out
by Parkway.'

'Interesting.
They just burned down.'

It
was early afternoon by the time Jenny made it back to the office. She could
have cut and run sooner, but Andy had looked so bewildered as a team of
forensics officers and several more detectives swarmed over his mortuary that
she felt compelled to hold his hand. They had both made statements and Alison
had emailed over the details of all those who had viewed the body or had
expressed an interest in doing so.

Initial
reports had been sketchy, but over the course of the morning it emerged that
Meditect, which was housed in a small industrial unit in a business park, had
been very skilfully razed to the ground. Alarm cables had been cut and diesel
oil pumped through the ventilation system and set alight. Another fire had been
started on nearby wasteland, which distracted the fire brigade for vital
minutes during which catastrophic damage was caused to the testing lab. Its
entire contents had been destroyed.

Jenny
and Andy went together to the hospital's histology department to track down the
blood and tissue samples from the thyroid tumour he had sent up for analysis, and
came upon a scene of unfolding chaos. Several racks of samples appeared to have
gone missing from their chill cabinets overnight. Among them were the Jane
Doe's. The in/out log on the card-swipe system showed that a junior technician
had been present in the lab for seven minutes at four a.m. She swore that she
had been in bed at the time. Murphy came up to speak to her in person, but she
broke down and asked to speak to a solicitor. The last Jenny saw of her, she
was being led away by two constables.

The
Jane Doe's DNA had been erased from the record. Even the inside of the
refrigerator drawer had been sprayed with industrial bleach. There was no
physical trace of her left in existence, and whoever had arranged it had been
thorough, well resourced and far cleverer than most criminals.

Alison
was completely caught up in the drama. Every five minutes she was on the phone
to another of her ex-colleagues, fishing for an update and exchanging excited
gossip. Wild and extravagant theories about the identity of the Jane Doe were
already proliferating.

Jenny
was opening an email sent from the office of the Home Secretary when Alison
bustled in with the latest exciting titbit. 'The lab assistant they arrested -
she claims she had her pass stolen when she went to the canteen yesterday
morning, but it turned up again in the afternoon.'

'What's
she saying - that someone cloned it?'

'It's
possible. It's just like a credit card - once through a reader and you've got a
copy in minutes.'

'Where
do you get a reader?'

'A
few pounds on the internet. It seems complicated, but it's easy. Anyone with
half a brain could do it - happens at petrol stations all the time.'

Jenny
said, 'It's not easy working out where the samples in the histology lab are
stored, believe me. They knew what they were looking for.'

'Apparently
there were several in and outs with her card yesterday afternoon. If she's
telling the truth, it looks as if someone was coming and going, getting the lie
of the land.'

Jenny
was only half listening. The email she had just opened was from the Permanent
Secretary informing her that the Home Secretary agreed that it was very much in
the public interest that the disappearance of Nazim Jamal be the subject of an
inquest:

with
the caveat that the coroner must be advised to exercise particular discretion
in matters affecting national security. In this regard the coroner may wish to
consider consulting with appropriate persons, contact with whom, it is understood,
has already been made
.

'It
seems Mrs Jamal is going to get her wish,' Jenny said. 'They're not letting you
go ahead?' Alison said incredulously.

'After
a fashion.'

'It
won't achieve anything. They'll make sure of that.' 'You don't have to be
involved, Alison.' 'Did I say that? I'm just giving you my opinion, Mrs Cooper.
No one will ever find out what happened to those boys. They reined in the
police eight years ago, and you'll be treated no differently.'

'We'll
see. But if you've got a problem with this case, or with Muslims or whatever it
is, can you get it off your chest so we don't run into difficulties later?'

'No,
I don't have a lot of sympathy with radical Muslims, Mrs Cooper. It's always
struck me as strange that we bend over backwards to be decent to these people
when we despise everything they stand for. Their views on women for one thing:
if my husband thought like they do he'd be a pariah.' 'Aren't all radicals
outcasts?'

'Try
being on the receiving end of them - see if you still feel as reasonable.'

'You've
had personal experience?' Jenny said, sarcastically. Alison set her jaw and
looked away. 'Mrs Cooper, I'm quite capable of putting personal feelings to one
side when I'm at work. I was a police officer for twenty-five years.' She
turned and walked out of the door, leaving a toxic wake.

The
inquest had been arranged for Monday morning, the second day of February. In
common with many coroners throughout the country, Jenny was still without a
permanent, or even a semi-permanent, courtroom. Alison leaned on her contacts
in the Court Service, but was told that none would be available in the Bristol
area for several months. Jenny had grown used to this sort of low-level
obstruction. She had no objection to the range of village and community halls
she had used over the previous months - some coroners had been known to convene
in scout huts and the function rooms of unlicensed restaurants (by law inquests
could not be held in licensed premises) - but part of her secretly craved the
recognition and gravitas a proper court would bring. Alison had suggested the
former Methodist chapel in which her New Dawn Church met each Sunday. Jenny
politely declined. They had compromised on an unassuming venue at the northern
end of the Severn estuary. It was in a village close to the Slimbridge bird
sanctuary, of which Alison was a life member and which had an excellent cafe,
she said.

Such
were the trivialities which competed for Jenny's attention, along with stolen
corpses, a steady stream of paranoid text messages (which had replaced the
phone calls) from Mrs Jamal, and planning tactics to extract maximum
information from the police and Security Services. And all the while she was
staving off the symptoms of acute anxiety with extra beta blockers. She had
tried emailing Dr Allen for advice, but received an out-of-office reply that
said he had gone skiing in the Italian Alps for a week. Lucky him. She had a
mobile number for critical emergencies, but feared that the moment she called
it he would be forced to sign her off sick, with or without her consent. She
had little choice but to manage as best she could.

Ross
came home late on Saturday night. Jenny was woken by his and Karen's stifled
giggles and two pairs of clumsy footsteps on the stairs. They retreated to his
bedroom, and moments later music started. It had been part of their deal that
he could have his girlfriend over to stay if her parents agreed, and Jenny had
a certain self-satisfaction in being cool enough to suggest it in the first
place. The reality was a pain. She resented him wanting to be treated like an
adult without being prepared to take an ounce of responsibility. And she was
childishly jealous. She was still just about young enough to have the kind of
good time they were having next door, but the chances of it ever happening for
her seemed increasingly remote.

The
teenagers lay in bed until close to midday, then appeared yawning and
dishevelled, complaining of being tired. Despite her disturbed night, Jenny had
spent a productive morning in her study planning questions for the witnesses
at her inquest. A rush of adrenalin had temporarily pushed her subconscious
anxieties aside. Focused and purposeful, she carried her energy into the
kitchen and set about preparing lunch. Her sense of achievement gave her the
tolerance not to be irritated by the sight of the two of them slumped on the
sofa with the curtains half drawn to keep the daylight - God forbid - from
hitting the TV screen. With forced cheer she fetched and carried cups of tea,
even drawing a smile and a thank you from Karen.

The
kids were still glued to a movie when Jenny emerged from the kitchen having
produced a full-scale Sunday lunch. She gazed on her achievement with pride:
she was capable of being a good mother.

Jenny
laid the table at the far end of the living room and they sat down to eat, Ross
and Karen appearing surprised at the sudden magical appearance of food. She
attempted to make uncontroversial conversation. It was tough going. Terrified
of being embarrassed in front of his girlfriend, Ross shot her silencing looks
each time she opened her mouth. His timidity was baffling. He was being allowed
to behave however he wanted - Jenny was doing all in her power to treat him as
a grown-up - yet he was cringing like a frightened child.

Tired
of treading on eggshells, Jenny said to Karen, 'Did Ross tell you what happened
on Friday? A body was stolen from the hospital mortuary. It completely
vanished.'

'God.
That's awful. Why?'

Ross
threw her a glance. She ignored him.

'We're
not sure. The best guess is that she was murdered and whoever killed her is
trying to dispose of the evidence.'

Ross
said, 'Do we have to talk about your gross work all the time?'

'I
don't mind,' Karen said. 'It's interesting.'

'Not
to me it isn't. Dealing with dead people all day, it's sick.'

Jenny
said, 'We have to know how people died.'

'I
don't. It gives me the creeps.'

She
held up her hands. 'Sorry I mentioned it.'

'I'm
only saying - you don't have to get uptight about it.'

She
snapped. 'Me uptight? I was trying to make an effort so we wouldn't have to sit
here in silence.'

'Well,
don't bother.'

'Fine.'

She
helped herself to more potatoes, smiled at Karen and ate in silence. What she
should have done was tell him to behave properly or leave the table, either to
contribute to the household or put up with being treated like the baby he was.
Instead she let the silence yawn and open up to a chasm. Her positivity drained
away and a sense of rising panic rushed in to take its place. Her stomach began
to knot and her hand trembled as she lifted her glass to take a sip of water.
God, she wished it was wine. Just a little alcohol would take all the pain
away, dissolve the tears that wanted to come and make her relaxed enough to
turn the atmosphere with a single light remark.

Jenny
gathered the empty plates quickly and offered to heat up some apple pie. Ross
refused on Karen's behalf and announced they were going to her house for the
afternoon. He made for the door without lifting a finger to help.

Jenny
said, 'Ross, could I have a word with you, please?'

'What
about?'

'Karen,
could you take those dishes out to the kitchen? Thanks.'

Jenny
silenced her son's protest with a look that promised a scene way beyond merely
embarrassing if he objected. He traipsed sulkily after her into the hall.

'Maybe
you can tell me what it is about letting you have your girlfriend stay the
night then cooking you both lunch that's so unreasonable that you can't even
bring yourself to say a civil word to me,' Jenny said.

'I
didn't say anything.'

'No,
you just sit there giving me looks as if you wished I'd curl up and die.'

'You're
so moody all the time. Why can't you just relax like other people?'