The Anvil (23 page)

The church clock in the square struck five and brought MacLean perilously close to admitting that he didn’t know what to do. Time was passing and he was no nearer being able to get Cytogerm for Carrie. Five people had died since he had come to Switzerland and all he had really found out was that Von Jonek was a scientist and that he was in charge of a research project with a budget of 18 million dollars. Whether it had anything to do with Cytogerm was still his guess; it had not as yet been confirmed. And of course, the name of a woman, May Haas.

‘Don’t change the plan unless you have to,’ repeated MacLean to himself in the darkness. The question was, did he have to? How could he find Von Jonek if he didn’t know how to go about it? The answer was simple when it finally came to him: he needed help; he needed expert advice about cracking Lehman Steiner. He needed someone to tell him how to go about getting the information he required. There were two people in his past with that kind of expertise, Doyle and Leavey. He would have to find them.

MacLean checked
post restante
at the main Post Office and found a letter from Tansy waiting for him. She had finally snapped under the strain of being nice to Nigel and Marjorie and had moved out into a rented flat on her own. She was worried about Carrie because the surgeons were beginning to make noises about starting surgery and she did not know if she could stall them much longer. Could he possibly phone her? Now that she was living on her own, it would be quite safe. The number was written at the foot of the letter in black marker pen as if it had been added just before posting.

MacLean called Tansy in the early afternoon and had to swallow at the sound of her voice. He told her that he was coming home on the first available flight.

‘You’ve got it?’ said an excited Tansy.

MacLean confessed that he hadn’t and screwed his eyes tightly shut because of the disappointment he knew he was inflicting. ‘It’s a bit more complicated than I thought,’ he said.

‘I see,’ said Tansy. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t be stalling the surgeons after all?’

MacLean heard the flat note that had crept into her voice and dug the fingernails of his left hand into his palm in a subconscious attempt to inflict pain on himself rather than her. ‘I haven’t given up,’ he said. ‘It’s just a change of plan.’

MacLean’s flight was fifteen minutes late in getting in to London Heathrow; not a lot but just enough to ensure that he missed the British Airways shuttle connection to Edinburgh. He caught a British Midland flight an hour later and consoled himself with gin as they climbed out of the murk and mist shrouding London to find blue skies and sunshine.

Another hour and the aircraft crossed the eastern fringes of the Scottish capital to bank steeply above the Firth of Forth and start its final approach. His seat on the left side of the aircraft allowed him to see the two mighty bridges that spanned the estuary immediately below him, the old, Victorian rail bridge with its dull red maze of intricate ironwork and the road bridge with its simple suspension design. He had seen this view many times but, even now, with his troubled mind, it gave him pleasure.

He called Tansy from the airport and was relieved to hear that she sounded better. He had been afraid that his failure to get Cytogerm for Carrie might have pushed her into deep depression but it seemed that she had come to terms with the news. She gave him her new address and he said that he would be there in twenty minutes, just as soon as he found a cab.

Tansy flung her arms round MacLean’s neck as soon as she opened the door and they held each other for a long time before either could speak. When they did break apart Tansy said, ‘Thank God you’re all right. I was so worried about you. I should have told you that on the phone but when you said you hadn’t got the damned stuff all I could think about was Carrie and the consequences.’

MacLean held her tight again and said, ‘It’s all right, I understand. I feel the same way and I meant it when I said it’s not over yet.’

Tansy looked at him questioningly.

‘It’s going to be more difficult than I imagined,’ said MacLean. ‘I’ve come back to get help. I can’t do it on my own.’

‘Then you know where to get Cytogerm?’ asked Tansy.

MacLean told her what he had learned in Geneva, stressing the positive aspects first. Lehman Steiner were spending 18 million dollars a year on a research project headed by Hans Von Jonek, the man who had demanded the Cytogerm files from him under the pretext of being an archivist. It was odds on that Cytogerm must feature in this research. Jean-Paul Rives had discovered where Von Jonek was carrying out this research but had died before he could tell him.

‘Died?’ asked Tansy, as if she was afraid of hearing the answer.

MacLean almost balked at going on with the story but felt he had no option but to tell Tansy the full horror of what had happened. He saw her visibly pale.

‘All these people,’ she whispered, shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘I know,’ said MacLean softly. ‘But there’s no going back.’

‘But your friends were innocent people and now they’re dead,’ protested Tansy with tears in her eyes.

‘They didn’t just die Tansy,’ said MacLean. ‘They were murdered. They were murdered by Lehman Steiner, just as Jutte and all the rest were. That’s the measure of what we are up against. Eva and Jean-Paul died trying to help Carrie. We must go on, we owe it to them.’

Tansy wiped her eyes and took several deep breaths before she could speak. ‘Just what is it you intend to do?’ she asked in a low monotone.

‘I’m going to find Doyle and Leavey,’ said MacLean.

‘The men on the oil rig?’

‘Like I say, I can’t fight Lehman Steiner alone.’

‘Do you think they’ll help?’

‘When I tell them why, yes.’

‘I hope so,’ said Tansy, looking up at him. ‘I can’t bear the thought of you being in such danger. She broke into tears and MacLean held her close to him.

In the morning MacLean phoned the Oil Company that he had once worked for and asked to be put through to Offshore Personnel. He asked to speak to a member of staff he knew vaguely and, after an exchange of pleasantries, he enquired about Doyle and Leavey. Leavey still worked on the Celtic Star rig but Doyle was no longer on the company register. MacLean asked about work schedules and learned that Leavey would be flying into Aberdeen on Thursday, two days away. This was a stroke of luck it could have been two weeks away. He write down the ETA of the helicopter at the company’s helipad in Aberdeen, accepting the ‘weather permitting’ proviso as a matter of course.

On Wednesday, Tansy and MacLean went to visit Carrie at the hospital. MacLean did so with some trepidation but his fears about how Carrie would react to him proved groundless and in the end it turned out to be the best day he had for a long time. Carrie’s eyes sparkled when she saw him and she immediately took his hand in proprietorial fashion as the three of them walked round the grounds together. It felt like their old Saturday morning expeditions. True, Tansy was with them but she was happy to take a back seat in the proceedings, enjoying every moment and rejoicing in the fact that all three of them were together again.

Carrie’s chatter was, of course, missing but her enthusiasm and love of life was all around them. When they got to the cherry trees MacLean turned to look at Tansy. He nodded as if to re-affirm the promise he had made to her there and she smiled to camouflage her tears.

Their walk in the grounds was a prelude to their planned meeting with Dr Coulson, Carrie’s consultant. MacLean knew that this was going to be difficult because he felt sure that Coulson was going to announce the scheduling of a first operation on Carrie’s face and put them in the difficult position of raising objections. The onus would fall mainly on Tansy as the child’s mother while he, as Carrie’s ‘uncle’ could say very little.

‘Dr Coulson will see you now,’ announced the young nurse and the three of them trooped into Coulson’s office. Coulson, as usual, gave the impression of being a man in a hurry, anxiously moving papers around his desk while Tansy and MacLean sat down on plastic chairs in front of him. It seemed that speaking to relatives was a necessary evil for Coulson, to be got over as quickly as possible. MacLean noted the golf clubs in the corner.

‘We have pencilled Carrie in for surgery next Wednesday Mrs Nielsen,’ said Coulson, expecting routine approval.

‘I’d rather you waited a bit, Doctor,’ said Tansy.

Coulson looked surprised and paused with his pen in mid air. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

‘Carrie is just beginning to get back to being her old self. I’d like her to have a week or two to build up her strength?’

Coulson adopted a patronising smile and said, ‘I really think that I am the best judge of your daughter’s readiness to undergo surgery Mrs Nielsen.’

‘I don’t question your professional competence Doctor,’ said Tansy. ‘But I’m Carrie’s mother I know my daughter. I’d like you to wait.’

MacLean, who was sitting in enforced silence, was filled with admiration for the way that Tansy was handling the situation.

‘Mrs Nielsen, the sooner we get started the better Carrie’s chances will be,’ said Coulson.

‘Of what?’ asked Tansy.

Coulson was becoming annoyed. He spread his hands and blurted out, ‘Of regaining some semblance of a face … ‘ He left out ‘you stupid woman’ but it was implied.

‘Some semblance of a face,’ repeated Tansy quietly.

MacLean closed his eyes and dropped his head on to his chest. Coulson had been pushed into saying it. With one slip of the tongue he had destroyed hope in his patient’s mother and now he tried to justify his stupidity by saying, ‘Well, the damage to the child’s face is extensive.’ He did not look Tansy in the eye.

MacLean hoped to defuse the situation by asking exactly what Coulson intended to do.

Coulson launched into what MacLean could only think of as a ‘popular surgery for the masses’ routine. He spoke down to them, using words he thought his audience might understand, pausing frequently to ask if he had made himself clear. MacLean found himself becoming alarmed, not at the man’s manner - pompous oafs were ten a penny in any profession - but at what he was saying. Coulson was outlining surgical procedures that had been out of date for years, techniques that had been pioneered on burned pilots in the Second World War. Pomposity was one thing, incompetence was quite another. MacLean found that he could not hold his tongue any longer.

‘Wasn’t that technique superseded by the Gelman Schwarz operation some time ago?’ he interrupted.

Coulson stopped talking as if he had run into a brick wall at speed. ‘I didn’t realise … ‘ he began uncertainly.

MacLean backed off to let Coulson out of the corner. It was very tempting to keep him in it and slowly nail him to the wall but he cautioned himself that that would be counter-productive. The objective was to delay commencement of surgery, he reminded himself. ‘I read a lot,’ he explained. ‘I thought I should find out a little about Carrie’s prospects.’

Coulson’s confidence was restored. Like so many ‘experts’ he relied a great deal on the ignorance of others. It was important to keep a comfortable distance between himself and the layman. Any signs of relevant knowledge in the masses was a worry. ‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘Actually medical opinion is divided on the matter.’

Oh really? thought MacLean without saying so. It must be divided into those who don’t want their patients to end up looking like plastic Pinocchios and those who haven’t bothered to read a textbook in the last twenty years! ‘Medical Opinion’ was such a convenient cop-out for so many. It tolerated fools so well. MacLean had come to an easy decision; there was no way Coulson was going to lay a finger on Carrie.

Tansy did not know what was going on but she was grateful that MacLean was now involving himself in the conversation. She could see that there was an undercurrent of anger bubbling inside him and that a change had come over Coulson. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but for some reason he had become vulnerable.

Coulson finished his talk and glanced at his watch. He said to Tansy, ‘I hope you can now see why we should start surgery on Carrie as soon as possible Mrs Nielsen.’

With a quick glance at MacLean to signal her uncertainty Tansy opened her mouth to reply but MacLean took over. He said to Coulson, ‘Doctor, the reason we would like you to delay surgery for a little while is that Mrs Nielsen is considering sending Carrie to the Mannerheim Clinic in Zurich. No reflection on you of course, but Dieter Klein’s work on facial reconstruction is world famous and we would like to do the best we can for Carrie. I’m sure you’re familiar with Dr Klein’s work?’

‘Of course, ‘ stammered Coulson. ‘You should have said so at the beginning. When will you know?’

‘We expect to hear from Dr Klein within the next two weeks,’ lied MacLean.

‘Then we will put everything on hold for the moment,’ said Coulson.

‘Thank you Doctor.’

When they were out of earshot Tansy said to MacLean, ‘Coulson seemed impressed with the name.’

‘It was enough to stall him for the time being,’ said MacLean. ‘And keep his paws off Carrie.’