Catch Your Death Part 14

Gaunt went on: 'It's probably a coincidence that she's come back to England now of all times, but the fact that she's here makes me nervous. We don't know how much of her memory has come back over the years because of the way the whole thing was rushed. Bainbridge always a.s.sured me it would be okay, but I'm not so sure. If she starts to remember too much and goes to the police...' He trailed off. 'That's why you have to find her to make sure that those memories don't come back.'

Sampson nodded. 'I understand.'

'Perhaps I'm being paranoid.'

'I don't think so. I saw her on CCTV at the hotel where she was staying in London. She's with Wilson's brother.'

The doctor didn't react for a moment, then blinked and said, 'What?'

'The man Kate is with looked just like Stephen Wilson.'

Gaunt looked even more concerned. He pulled his computer keyboard towards him and started tapping away, concentrating on the screen.

'What are you doing?'

ht= Bringing up Wilson's file.'

Stephen Wilson's details, put together from his original personnel file and stored now in a pa.s.sword-protected computer system, appeared on the screen and the doctor started reading through it. A few moments later Gaunt swore to himself. .

'What is it?'

'I'd forgotten that.'

'What?'

'Paul Wilson. What the h.e.l.l is Kate Maddox doing with Wilson's twin brother? She is up to something.'

He stood up and paced around the office. 'She must have remembered something and come here to contact Wilson's brother. She's undoubtedly told him everything.' He looked even paler than usual. 'We have to find them immediately. Do you have any idea at all where they are?'

Sampson opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the phone on the desk rang. The doctor s.n.a.t.c.hed it up. 'Yes?'

Sampson watched as Gaunt's eyes widened with surprise, and then a smile appeared at the edges of his mouth. 'I'll get someone onto it straight away.'

Sampson waited.

'Well, speak of the devil and he, or she, shall appear. It seems we've found them.'

A few moments later, Sampson was on his way out, Gaunt's final words ringing in his ears. Get up there now. And tie up these loose ends before she turns into a loose cannon.

CHAPTER 25.

Kate got out of the car, her legs so wobbly with l.u.s.t that she could barely walk straight. She glanced down at herself and, sure enough, her nipples were rock hard and sticking out like light switches. Hopefully Mrs. B. wouldn't notice. She shook herself slightly, took a deep breath, and walked up to Mrs. Bainbridge's front door again. Business first, pleasure later. The car was still parked in the drive, so hopefully she hadn't gone out anywhere.

Kate tapped, hesitantly, thinking it less intrusive than the doorbell.

'Mrs. Bainbridge,' she called, loudly and clearly, through the letterbox, catching sight of a flash of white shirt retreating through a door into what looked like the kitchen. 'It's Kate Carling here, you and Leonard knew my parents, remember? Derek and Francesca Carling? We last met when I was a little girl, you came to our house in Suss.e.x. Are you there? I've driven up from London to see you.'

Almost immediately, Kate heard footsteps from inside, and then the sound of the door being unlocked and unbolted. Mrs. Bainbridge opened the door, but kept the chain on. Her face appeared in the gap, wrinkled and pale, but with the sort of bone structure indicating a once-powerful beauty. Kate recognized her only very vaguely, although thankfully Mrs. Bainbridge didn't have so much trouble with her.

n. Kate Carling! I'd know that face anywhere. You hardly look different to how you were at nine years old.'

Kate smiled, relieved. Mrs. Bainbridge wasn't a bit like the madwoman with the garden fork that Paul had described. 'Well, I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or not... How are you, Mrs Bainbridge?'

'Call me Jean, please,' Mrs. Bainbridge said, unhooking the security chain and admitting Kate into the front room of the cottage. 'What may I get you? Sorry if you find me a little disorganized, I had rather a shock earlier. It's been quite a day for unexpected visitors. Anyway, would you like a drink? Tea, coffee, a cold drink? You look rather flushed.'

'Oh er - nothing, thanks, I'm fine, really. And I'm terribly sorry, but I think the unexpected visitor you're probably referring to was Paul, my friend. He's here with me. We rang the doorbell before lunch, and when there was no answer, he came round the back to see if you were in the garden. I'm so sorry he gave you a fright.'

Jean looked horrified. 'Oh my goodness.' She sank down into a chintzy armchair, her thin fingers raking absently along the arms of it. 'Oh no.'

Kate sat down on the sofa next to her. 'It's all right, Jean, really. It's not a problem. We just feel awful, that he scared you like that.'

Jean shook her head. 'You don't understand. It is a problem. I had no idea he was here with you! I suppose he was trying to tell me, but I wasn't listening. I just a.s.sumed.... He asked about Leonard and the CRU.... If I'd known, I'd never have..... Oh no.'

'What?' Kate asked, confused. Jean seemed to be really over-reacting, over what was merely a bit of entirely understandable fear-induced rudeness.

'Never mind,' she said, composing herself and sitting more upright. 'So, my dear, it has been a very long time! What on earth brings you up here? You do know that my Leonard is no longer with us, don't you?' Her right hand flew to the third finger of her left, and twisted the large ruby ring around.

'Yes. I'm so sorry, Jean. I was very sad to learn of his death. He was so good to me.'

'He was very fond of you, Kate, and your parents. I perhaps shouldn't say so, but you were always his favourite, because you wanted to be a scientist just like him. You had a sister, didn't you, what was her name?'

'Miranda. She never wanted to be a scientist. In fact, I think she used to keep out of your way when you came to visit, because she'd get bored with me asking Leonard questions about experiments. She preferred to stay in her room playing with her dolls.'

'And did you become a scientist in the end?' Jean was asking these questions, politely, but under the surface she still seemed very distracted and fl.u.s.tered. Her eyes were darting between the telephone and the front door, as if she was expecting someone to arrive or call. Paul must really have freaked her out, thought Kate, as she answered Jean's question with more than a hint of pride: 'Yes. A virologist, just like Leonard. I couldn't have done it without him, though. He organised me to go to Harvard, after the fire you know, at the CRU.'

Jean hesitated. 'The fire. Yes. I remember. Dreadful business.' She patted her beautifully-coiffed silver hair. 'Anyway, so what brings you up here? You hadn't come to see Leonard, had you?'

Kate, who had already said that she knew Leonard was dead, was beginning to wonder if Paul might be right if Jean was perhaps not quite all there. But she looked so together: her immaculate hair, smart clothes, and tidy house. Kate had first-hand experience of senile dementia, with poor lovely old Lil, and you couldn't even begin to compare Lil and Jean. She decided that Jean must merely be a bit distracted at the unexpectedness of her visit.

'I'm sorry I didn't phone first, but I didn't have your number, just your address. No, I knew about Leonard. But you might be able to help me. I'm after some information, really about the fire, in fact.'

Was it Kate's imagination, or did Jean's hand tremble slightly?

'The fire?'

'Yes. It's just that I seem to have an almost complete memory loss surrounding the events of that night, which is odd, considering I wasn't badly injured or anything. I was in hospital for a while afterwards, although I'm still not sure why. I'm trying to help out my friend Paul his twin brother died that night, under slightly suspicious circ.u.mstances and we want to find out exactly what happened. You see, his brother, Stephen, was my boyfriend at the time. Paul and I have been told different versions of the same event, and something isn't quite right.'

'Oh, my dear,' said Jean, now sounding distinctly panicky. 'Don't you perhaps think that some things are best left alone? I mean, you never know what you might uncover.'

Kate looked sharply at her. What was that supposed to mean? She leaned forward and stared at Jean gravely. 'So you do know something? Please tell me, Jean. I think it's important. Not just for Stephen's family, but for my roommate, Sarah she died that night, too. And even if not for their sake, I've got this nagging feeling that something else was going on; that there was more than just research into the common cold going on I just can't remember what I'd found out.'

There was a moment's silence, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Kate realized she was holding her breath.

'I don't know,' Jean said, keeping her gaze steady. 'I really don't, Kate. There were a lot of secrets. Leonard used to fret that there might be more secrets than he knew about, and it used to keep him awake at night. But he would never tell me. He always said it was better for me not to know what his fears were. And I think it might be better for you not to know, too.'

Kate shook her head. 'Now I really want to know,' she said simply. 'Please.'

Jean stood up, her legs still long and enviably slim in smart navy trousers. She walked over to a polished walnut writing desk in an alcove under the stairs of the cottage, fished around in small china dish to retrieve a key, and unlocked the desk, folding down the slanted front of it to reveal a series of small drawers. From the largest of these, she brought out an A4 brown envelope.

'Honestly, Kate, I really don't know anything. I don't have any of Leonard's research papers or doc.u.ments; nothing, apart from what's in here. It was just a few loose sheets that I found under our bed after he died. He must have been looking over them one night before he went to sleep. I don't know why I kept them they mean nothing to me. I should have sent them back to the lab it's all cla.s.sified material. Anyway, they're mostly just numbers and formulas, as far as I can tell. Some sort of case studies perhaps. Have them. I kept them because I saw your name on one of the sheets. But I'm afraid that really is all I can offer, and I don't know if it'll be any use.'

'Thank you,' said Kate, mystified, opening the envelope. Inside were five or six sheets of printed reports. 'It's probably just my medical records from when I was a volunteer there.'

'Kate, dear, while you look at those, would you excuse me for a moment? I have a rather important telephone call to make upstairs.'

'Of course,' said Kate, engrossed in studying the sheets, trying to find her name.

Jean vanished upstairs, and it occurred to Kate that it was odd that she couldn't wait until Kate had left to make the call. What could be so urgent, and private? She heard a door close, and stood up to investigate. There was a phone downstairs, but she felt it would be too sneaky to attempt to listen in on another extension. Besides, Jean might hear the click as Kate picked up.

Kate put the envelope back in her shoulder bag, and moved silently towards the stairs. She couldn't hear Jean's voice, so she started climbing the staircase. She could pretend to be in search of the bathroom and in fact, did need it. That pint of lager had gone straight through her.

When she reached the landing, she saw the bathroom ahead. To her right was a closed door. Feeling awful, and horrified at her lack of respect for Jean's privacy, she gently pressed her ear against the door. She could easily hear Jean's voice now - she obviously had only just been connected.

'h.e.l.lo. It's Jean Bainbridge again.... No, I must speak to him.... When? Well, you must get a message to him.... It was a misunderstanding. There is nothing to worry about, he was a friend of a friend, I just panicked when he... What? Oh my word. No, I'm sure that's not right, they aren't no, please don't.' She was becoming more agitated. 'Leonard wouldn't want this. You must get hold of him and stop him! h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?'

Kate shot into the bathroom, although her need for a pee had been forgotten. She flushed the toilet, pretended to wash her hands, and waited till she heard the bedroom door slowly open again. Kate timed it so she emerged at the same moment as Jean.

'Sorry, hope you don't mind, but I was dying for the - Jean? What's the matter?'

Jean's face was ashen, and her eyes full of tears. She reached out and clutched Kate's sleeve, an expression of abject panic on her face. 'Kate, you must leave, now. You and your friend. Immediately!'

'Why? What's happened? What's going on?'

'Oh Kate,' Jean said, her voice trembling. 'I've done something very silly...'

CHAPTER 26.

Kate jogged across the road to the tennis club car park where Paul was standing beside the car, fiddling with his mobile phone. His face lit up with delight when he saw Kate, but when he saw her expression his smile vanished.

'What is it?'

'We've got to get out of here. Now.'

'Why? What's going on?'

Kate felt like the old woman who'd swallowed a fly...and a spider and the rest of the menagerie: panic wriggled inside her. Why did Paul insist on knowing what was going on before he would do as she asked? It was such a typical male trait. She just wanted them out of here, this second.

'Get in the car and I'll tell you later.'

Still, he hesitated.

'Come on.'

'All right. But I wish you'd tell me.' He got into the driver's seat and Kate jumped in beside him. She dropped the envelope Mrs Bainbridge had given her on the back seat.

'It's Mrs B,' she said. 'When you scared her earlier, she called someone, and they're on their way now.'

His eyes widened. 'What, the police?'

'No I wish it was. Listen, Mrs B was given a number to call if anyone ever turned up and started asking questions about Leonard. That's what she did earlier, after you went into her garden.'

'What? Who did she call?'

'I don't know exactly. But she almost shoved me out the door and told me I had to make myself scarce. She said I was in danger if I didn't get away.'

Paul had inserted the key into the ignition, ready to start the engine, but now he removed his hand from it. 'But these people might be able to give us the answers we're looking for. We should stay and wait for them.'

He pushed open the door and got out.

'No! Paul, don't.'

She muttered a curse, then chased Paul as he marched across the main road towards Mrs Bainbridge's house. She could see why he was reluctant to run away, but he hadn't witnessed how palpable and contagious Mrs Bainbridge's fear had been. There was so much Kate and Paul didn't know, and whoever was on their way, they didn't sound like people willing to sit down and provide them with answers over a nice cup of tea.

Paul had almost reached the house, Kate a few steps behind, when a black Audi pulled up. At the same time, Mrs Bainbridge came out of her front door and made 'go away' gestures to Paul, her face pale with fright.

The Audi stopped a few metres from Mrs Bainbridge's house and a man got out.

Kate felt her knees buckle and she almost fell. He was older and was wearing sungla.s.ses, and she hadn't thought about him for sixteen years. She flashed on an image of him in the garden at the CRU, turning to watch her as she walked past.

Sampson. That was his name. Stephen had warned her to stay away from him, that there was something predatory about him. She didn't need to be persuaded: he gave her the creeps. His chiselled good looks were cold and evil.

'Kate,' he said, unsmiling but intense, 'Good to see you again.'

'Sampson.'

Paul looked at both of them and took a step forward, saying, 'Listen, Mr Sampson, or is that your first name? I wonder if...'

Sampson pulled out a gun and pointed it at Paul's chest.

Paul immediately put his hands up at shoulder height, the blood draining from his face. Sampson took a step towards him, the gun held steady. Kate watched Sampson's finger tense against the trigger. She shouted, 'Paul!' and then somebody screamed, and the bang was quieter than she'd always imagined a gunshot to be. She realised she had closed her eyes, and when she opened them she expected to see Paul's body sprawled on the asphalt. But Paul was still standing. So was Sampson. The body on the ground was small, and old.

With surprising agility for an elderly woman, Jean Bainbridge had run in front of Paul, just as Sampson squeezed the trigger; blocking the bullet with her body. She had saved Paul's life.

Kate felt a pain go through her like she'd been shot herself. At the same moment, Paul launched himself at Sampson.

Paul was lucky: Sampson was momentarily off balance. He hadn't wanted to shoot the old lady, it was probably going to cause all sorts of problems, and he lowered the gun to his hip just as Paul threw himself at him. Paul struck him in the stomach and Sampson gasped, swinging the gun up to hit Paul around the head, but Paul lifted his arm and blocked the blow. The gun fell from Sampson's grasp and Kate stepped forward and kicked it away. It span across the road and under a parked car.