‘A switch?’ Steven murmured.
‘Let’s not run before we can walk. I’ll call you as soon as I figure out more.’
Tally was in bed reading when Steven got home. She put down her book and smiled as Steven lay down beside her fully clothed. ‘You smell like a lab,’ she complained.
‘That’s just where I’ve been.’
‘Can I take it from your cheesy grin that you’ve had a good day?’
‘You certainly can. Want to hear about it?’
‘Sure do.’
Twenty-Five
In the morning, Steven controlled his urge to drive directly over to Crompton Lane to find out how things were going, knowing that Lukas needed time to go through Barrowman’s results and wouldn’t welcome someone standing over him while he worked. He knew that they weren’t in a race with MI5, but there was that feeling about it when, in fact, it was more complicated. It didn’t matter who managed to interpret Barrowman’s findings first as long as both of them succeeded in doing it. Things might start to get awkward if Five succeeded and Lukas didn’t because Five’s findings would almost certainly be smothered under a security blanket for as long as it took Five and probably Porton Down to assess any discovery in ‘defence’ terms. Success for Lukas would mean any important findings being added to scientific knowledge and made accessible to all.
Steven was beginning to relish the idea of a day off when his mind begged to differ — it pointed out he had things to do. Nothing needed urgent attention, but they still had to be done. Dorothy Lindstrom and Jane Lincoln had to be told about the extent of Fidei Defensores’ activities both in the USA and here at home in the UK and how it would almost certainly lead to an immediate stop to funding when the leak to Vatican resources was plugged. He was still intent on advising Dorothy how they might be restored through revealing in the right circles that she knew who had blocked her Research Council funding at the outset. The Home Secretary could hardly lecture the churches about interfering in scientific research when she had done exactly that herself.
After mulling this over, Steven changed his mind. He wouldn’t tell Dorothy about Five’s involvement after all. Dorothy might be a fine scientist but she was no diplomat. John Macmillan was, and he knew the value of letting people work things out for themselves. He would ask John to right the wrong and look forward to hearing from him that the Home Secretary had expressed her gratitude for his suggestion and that Government funding would indeed be found to enable Professor Lindstrom to continue her exciting work. This would be preferable to Dorothy phoning the newspapers.
Although Steven had decided not to visit Lucy Barrowman, he still had an interest in finding out how much progress the police had made in catching her attacker. He was on the point of calling them when John Macmillan phoned him.
‘Bloody Keystone Cops,’ stormed Macmillan.
‘What’s happened, John?’
‘He got away, that’s what’s happened. He turned up at the sorting office and he got away. Can you believe it?’
Steven had little choice. ‘Was it Barrowman himself who turned up?’
‘No, it was a postman.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘A cheerful postman came into the office and gave the password. Special Branch’s finest thought it was Barrowman dressed as a postman and pinned him to the floor. Turns out it was a real postman. A man in a car down the road had stopped him and offered him ten pounds to collect his parcels for him — said he was recovering from a knee operation and it was playing up.’
‘And by the time they ran to the car it was gone?’
‘Correct.’
‘And it’s not even the pantomime season,’ said Steven.
‘At least we have his data,’ said Macmillan.
‘Yep, all of us can have a bad day.’
For Steven, the feel-good factor of the day had completely disappeared, but he pressed on with his plans and phoned the police, asking to speak to the officer in charge of the Lucy Barrowman case. As soon as he heard Detective Inspector Morris speak he knew something was the matter. There was an apologetic tone to his voice.
‘I’m sorry... I’ve been meaning to phone you,’ said the DI.
‘You’ve not made an arrest,’ Steven suggested.
‘I’m afraid not. To be quite frank we were hoping for some forensic help but somewhere along the line it went wrong.’
This was a new one on Steven. You either had forensic evidence or you didn’t; it didn’t ‘go wrong’. ‘In what way?’
‘We got a DNA match but it was wrong.’
‘You mean it was contaminated?’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s the word.’
Steven knew how sensitive modern methods for DNA fingerprinting were. Part of the process involved amplifying the tiniest trace found at the scenes of crime. Great care had to be taken that none of the investigators contaminated the scene with their own DNA.
‘One of the officers?’
‘No, actually... we matched it to er... Malcolm Lawler, which of course is impossible. He’s been inside for years.’
Steven shuddered at the name.
‘To be quite frank,’ continued the DI, ‘there must have been a cock-up at the lab. Samples from the first assault on Mrs Barrowman must have got mixed up with those taken from the second...’
‘Where does Lawler’s DNA come into it?’ snapped Steven.
‘Mrs Barrowman’s husband had been to see Lawler on the day he attacked her. He probably had traces of Lawler’s DNA on him which transferred during the assault... on to Mrs Barrowman and her clothes.’
‘I see,’ said Steven. It was the best he could do. A few skin cells would have been enough... that and, of course, the most appalling bad luck that they were picked up by the police forensic people.
‘I’ll keep you informed,’ said the DI.
‘Thanks.’
Steven fidgeted away the rest of the day, feeling that the whole world was against Sci-Med if not him personally. His earlier resolve not to interrupt Lukas weakened and finally gave way to a need to hear something positive. He drove over to Crompton Lane. His fear that Lukas might not have been too pleased to see him disappeared when he was met with a big smile and the words, ‘This is amazing.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I know a lot of people think that junk DNA is there to stop too many mutations accumulating in the coding stuff — it takes the hits that life throws at it rather than the vital regions — and I’m sure they have a point, but when you think that over seventy percent of the human genome is what they’re calling junk and has no function, well, you have to think...’
‘And you think he’s shown it’s involved in switching mechanisms?’
‘Yes.’
Steven smiled, but had the impression that Lukas was sitting on something else. ‘Anything more you’d like to share?’ he asked.
‘Somewhere along the line Barrowman came across something he refers to as “a great danger”. If I’m reading it right, he thinks there is one particular switch sequence which, if triggered the wrong way, can lead to absolute disaster. A number of genes are involved; some are turned on and others off.’
‘What sort of disaster?’
‘His lab notes suggest that, if switched one way, you get evil incarnate, a personality devoid of all empathy and sympathy, no trace of decency, no vestige of what we like to call humanity. Barrowman actually refers to it as the Satan Switch in his notes.’