According to the police statement the university had received threats in the past from various animal rights groups, and it is likely that whoever planted the bomb had detailed knowledge of the layout of the building and had deliberately targeted those who worked in the department while avoiding as much as possible harm to animals. Most of the animals currently being kept at Princeton survived the explosion unhurt, as they are housed in a designated area at the far end of the Science Research Building, some distance from the laboratory where experiments are conducted.
The explosion occurred just before eight thirty a.m. and, according to our Princeton sources, the head of the animal research department, George Kadinsky, who died in the blast, was known to start work early, often with research students alongside him. It is believed that the deaths of two other scientists, Professor Paul Ruders and psychologist Connie Pike, uninvolved in the animal research project, were almost certainly unintentional.
Well, thought Jones, so that was it. Or was it? asked a small voice buried somewhere in her head. Wasn’t it strange that the RECAP lab, where the bomb had unquestionably been planted, had not been named? But perhaps not, if the bomb’s location really had no significance other than its proximity to the animal research department. Jones reminded herself that conspiracy theories had become almost a mainstay of modern life.
The police statement made perfect sense. Jones knew well enough some of the outrages which had occurred in the UK in the name of animal rights. The body of an elderly woman, whose family bred animals for experimentation, had been stolen from her grave. The destruction of property was common place. Violence directed at those involved was certainly not unknown. And this would be far from the first time that explosives had been used. Most animal activists were uncomfortable with the use of violence leading to loss of human lives. But as with any such movement, there were plenty of extremists prepared to go to almost any lengths for their beliefs.
‘Animal rights activists, eh?’ The voice came from behind Jones. ‘Well, I doubt Connie will be convinced.’
Jones turned to see Marion had come into the living room, and had clearly picked up the gist of the news bulletin.
‘I don’t suppose she will, but I may have to try to make her be convinced,’ said Jones thoughtfully. ‘Ed just called. He’s quite certain now that we, I mean I...’ She stopped herself in mid-sentence. She had nearly let slip that she had told Ed about Connie, and she was still not ready to confess her indiscretion.
‘...That I got it all wrong,’ she continued. ‘That there is no conspiracy. It’s not just the news bulletin. He’s talked to his police contact, who confirmed that the cops are absolutely sure about the animal rights thing.’
‘Really?’ Marion’s voice was quizzical. ‘All the same, I hope he didn’t call on your usual cell phone.’
‘No. Absolutely not. It was the new burner.’
Marion headed for the kitchen area without any further comment. There was suddenly the crash of shattering crockery.
‘Goddamn it to hell,’ said Marion loudly.
‘Problem?’ called Jones.
‘Smashed a mug and a plate, that’s all. Norman will not be pleased. He’s terribly house-proud you know.’
In spite of everything Jones felt the corners of her mouth twitch. The very thought of that muscle-bound man-mountain fussing about his crockery was just too much.
‘And that’s not the worst news,’ continued Marion. ‘I can’t find any coffee. Think we must have drunk it all yesterday. No juice either. And no more food. We finished that for supper last night. Or rather I did.’
Jones was just beginning to realize that she’d woken feeling very hungry indeed, in spite of the burger she’d picked up on her drive back from Princeton. The events of the past few days did not appear to have impeded her appetite.
She also knew how serious the lack of coffee would be for Connie, a caffeine addict, and from the tone of her voice suspected it was much the same for Marion. Given a choice, Jones was not a coffee drinker in the morning.
She walked across the room to join Marion.
‘Norman got any tea?’ she enquired hopefully.
‘Never touches the stuff.’
Jones ran her tongue around her fuzzy mouth. At least she had re-acquired her toothbrush and toilet kit, but only tea would ultimately clear that fuzziness. Let alone clear her head.
‘Right, well why don’t we all go out to breakfast?’
‘Why don’t we all do what?’ enquired Connie, as she emerged from the bedroom.
She was wearing a towelling dressing gown which presumably belonged to their host as it was about five sizes too big. Her abundant red hair formed a kind of fuzzy halo around her face.
‘Go out to breakfast,’ Jones repeated. ‘Why don’t we?’
‘How can I go out to breakfast?’ Connie asked. ‘My face has been plastered over every newspaper and every television news bulletin. I’m not exactly indistinctive. I’d be recognized.’
‘Do you think so?’ responded Jones. ‘I never think people take these things in. In any case you’re supposed to be dead. People only see what they expect to see. You said that yourself yesterday.’
‘It would be an unnecessary risk, Sandy. I’m not hungry, anyway. I feel vaguely sick if you must know. I have done ever since the explosion. All I want is coffee.’
‘There isn’t any,’ said Jones.
‘Look Connie, you should know that Ed just called Sandy, and there’s been a development,’ interjected Marion. ‘It was on the news.’
‘Really?’
Connie glanced questioningly at Jones, who gave a quick summary of both Ed’s phone call and the news bulletin she had just watched.
‘Ed has also spoken to his police contact, who confirmed everything,’ Jones continued. ‘He believes the authorities are being totally straight.’
‘That will be the day,’ countered Connie defiantly. ‘This is America you know. Think Watergate. Think Irangate. Think Bill Clinton. We had a president who even tried to reinvent the definition of the sex act, for God’s sake. And I don’t know where to damned well begin with what’s happening in the present day. The powers that be in this country don’t know how to be straight, Sandy. It isn’t in their genetic make-up.’
Jones smiled in spite of everything.
‘I’m not totally convinced yet either, but I’m not entirely convinced by you either, Connie—’
‘Just look back at the long history of lies the people of this country have been fed, for fuck’s sake,’ interrupted Connie.
Jones held up both hands in a soothing motion.
‘Whoa Connie,’ she said. ‘OK. We should go through it all again. Treat it like lab data. Apply some physics. But you don’t function properly in the mornings without your coffee, and I certainly need my tea. So why don’t Marion and I go out for a quick breakfast, and bring some coffee back, and maybe some other provisions? Then we’ll talk. Huh?’
The sense of urgency Jones had felt yesterday had diminished somewhat overnight, particularly following Ed’s phone call. She just wanted to calm Connie down.
Connie looked at Marion. Marion nodded almost imperceptibly.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Off you go to breakfast. But have you seen the weather?’
Jones glanced out of the window. Autumn had suddenly arrived with a vengeance. The sky, which had been so bright and clear the previous day, was leaden. It was raining heavily, and a small gale appeared to be blowing.