The Anvil Read online

  ‘Doesn’t that just exacerbate the condition?’ asked MacLean.

  ‘Yes,’ smiled Tansy. ‘Go on with the story.’

  ‘Eventually I got a job in the burns unit at Queen Charlotte Hospital.’

  ‘Right up your street,’ said Tansy.

  ‘In a way,’ agreed MacLean, ‘but it was so depressing to go back to long, painful skin grafting regimes for the patients after the magic of Cytogerm.’

  ‘Can I ask a silly question?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Was there no way that patients could be screened for dormant cancers before being given Cytogerm treatment?’

  MacLean smiled and said, ‘That’s not a silly question at all. It’s one I asked myself a thousand times in Geneva but the answer always had to be no.’

  ‘The risk was too great?’

  ‘The best figure we could come up with suggested that one in twelve patients would die from Cytogerm side-effects. No drug company could contemplate applying for a license with statistics like that and no government in its right mind would grant one. Mind you… ‘

  Tansy waited for MacLean to continue but he hesitated. ‘Go on, say it,’ she prompted.

  ‘It’s a purely personal view but assuming there were no legal problems, I think if my face was burned beyond recognition and someone offered me a chance of complete recovery at these odds I might just say yes.’

  ‘Just what I was thinking,’ said Tansy. ‘So why didn’t the company hold on to Cytogerm?’

  ‘I suspect the legal problems would have been too great,’ said MacLean. ‘Apart from that the drug would not have made any money for the company under these circumstances. It couldn’t be used for cosmetic purposes. In fact, it couldn’t have been used for anything but the very worst burns cases.’

  ‘That doesn’t explain why the company wanted all traces of the drug eliminated,’ said Tansy.

  ‘No it doesn’t,’ agreed MacLean. ‘I’ve had a long time to think about that and I’m still no nearer an answer.’

  ‘Is money always the prime consideration with a new drug?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘In a word, yes,’ replied MacLean. ‘With the best will in the world you cannot run a drug company for anything other than profit. That’s just a fact of life. The best companies will take on some charitable commitment and the worst will not but profit is the first motive for them all.’

  ‘I’ve never been able to understand how drug companies can sit on mountains of drugs while people all over the world are dying of the very diseases they could cure,’ said Tansy.

  ‘That’s a very simplistic view,’ said MacLean. ‘In our society you can no more give away drugs than you can TV sets.’

  ‘You sound as if you support them?’ said Tansy.

  ‘I’m a realist,’ said MacLean. ‘If the last three years have taught me nothing else, they’ve taught me that. Only governments have the power to give away drugs.’

  ‘So why don’t they?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Tansy smiled and apologised. ‘I’m sorry, I’m giving you a hard time. Go on. You had this new job?’

  ‘Everything seemed to be going well and then it started all over again. It was August, one of these beautiful summer evenings when the air is still and the grass green, the trees hung heavy with their leaves and the whole world seemed a haven of peace. There had been a brief shower of rain about seven o’clock, but just enough to feed the flowers and make the grass smell fresh. I left the hospital about nine and started to walk home, feeling good. As I turned the corner into the street where I lived I noticed a man standing on the other side of the road. He was looking in a shop window. I’d walked another fifty yards or so before I realised that I’d seen him before.

  ‘You knew him?’

  ‘No, but I’d seen him. He’d been looking in the same shop window on the previous evening.’

  ‘Maybe he was waiting for a bus?’ suggested Tansy.

  ‘I went through the list of possibilities too,’ said MacLean. ‘But I’d arrived home at a different time on the previous evening, so he couldn’t be waiting for the same bus. My instincts had been sharpened by Doyle and Leavey. I had to at least consider the possibility that he was from the company.’

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘My first reaction was to panic,’ confessed MacLean. ‘I couldn’t believe that they were still after me. I didn’t want to believe they were still after me! I jumped on a bus and went down town, giving myself time to think. I wandered round aimlessly for a couple of hours and came up with a thousand innocent reasons why the man should be waiting near my flat but in my heart I knew different.’

  Tansy put her hand on MacLean’s shoulder.

  ‘When I got back I approached the flat from a lane that ran along the back of a public park near where I stayed so that no one would see me coming. Sure enough, he was in a doorway opposite my apartment. He hadn’t bothered to follow when I went down town because he knew where I lived. He knew I’d be coming back; he had followed me before. He was doing his homework, establishing the patterns of my life, biding his time, waiting for the right moment. This was no skinhead waving a union jack. He was a professional and I was scared. Nick Leavey used to say, “Don’t bother about the leather-jacket mob. They come out of slot machines in packets of five; knock one down and they’ll all wish they’d stayed home and watched telly. Real pros look like bank managers. They don’t have to look hard; it’s a positive advantage not to.’

  ‘Did you go to the police?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘Tell the Glasgow Police a man was following me?’ said MacLean with a smile. He shook his head.

  ‘You could have told them the whole story,’ said Tansy.

  ‘I had tried the Swiss police and the French,’ said MacLean. ‘Ours would have been no different. All police forces are uncomfortable when asked to investigate the established order of things and Lehman Steiner was certainly part of that. It’s much easier for them to write off one individual as a head case than rattle any cages in the realms of power and influence.’

  ‘I think you do them an injustice,’ said Tansy.

  ‘Like I said, I’m a realist,’ said MacLean.

  ‘So you didn’t go to the police,’ said Tansy. ‘But you obviously survived. What happened?’

  ‘The man underestimated me. It was his only mistake and it wasn’t really his fault. He had done his homework. He knew who I was, where I lived and where I worked. There was no way he could have known about my year with Doyle and Leavey. He also didn’t know that I had spotted him. It was time to put what my friends had taught me into practise.’

  ‘How did you feel about that?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘Nervous,’ confessed MacLean. ‘I felt as if I had learned to swim from a book and was now going to dive into the water for the first time.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Tansy.

  ‘No you can’t,’ said MacLean without smiling. ‘I deliberately altered my routine every day so that he couldn’t plan to make the hit along the route to the hospital. It would be too dangerous for him to attempt anything actually in the hospital so I was forcing him to opt for the flat. That meant the evening. For four nights in succession I watched him from behind the curtains standing in the shop doorway across the street. On the fifth night he was carrying a briefcase. I knew he was going to make the hit.’

  ‘The tension must have been unbearable,’ said Tansy.

  ‘When I saw him cross the street to enter the building I thought I was going to be physically sick. When the doorbell rang I was so paralysed with fear that he had to ring a second time before I answered. I opened the door slowly and casually, gambling that a pro would not shoot me on the public landing. He introduced himself as Mr Miller from the Prudential Assurance Company. He wondered if I was interested in life insurance.’

  ‘Good God,’ said Tansy.

  ‘A nice touch,’ agreed MacLean.

  ‘He held out his card and
I pretended to take it. Instead I grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm up his back. He reacted well. He nearly took my head off with his other hand but I knocked him out and dragged him into the flat.’

  ‘You didn’t kill him did you?’ asked a shocked Tansy.

  ‘No, I searched him and found the gun in the briefcase; it was already fitted with a silencer. There was no identification on him so I waited till he came round before I stuck his own gun in his face and suggested that he tell me everything.’

  ‘Did he admit that he was working for Lehman Steiner?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘He admitted nothing,’ replied MacLean. ‘It was almost as if he found the whole thing funny in some way.’

  ‘Funny?’ exclaimed Tansy.

  ‘I know it sounds ridiculous,’ agreed MacLean. ‘My hands were shaking and my pulse rate was topping a hundred and fifty and he sat there smiling as if in some way resigned to everything that was happening.’

  ‘Surely he said something?’

  ‘Nothing that made any sense,’ said MacLean. ‘He said, ‘You surprised me, Doctor but it’s no use. You can’t win. Der Amboss is too big.’

  ‘What did he mean?’

  MacLean shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You must have called the police at that point? You had the man and the gun as evidence,’ said Tansy.

  ‘I tried,’ said MacLean.

  Tansy looked puzzled.

  ‘I went out into the hall to call them and I had got to the second nine when I felt a breeze on my cheek. Someone had opened a window. I rushed back into the room to find that my guest had left.’

  ‘He escaped?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘In a way,’ replied MacLean. ‘I lived on the fourth floor… When I looked out I saw him spread-eagled on the road below.’

  ‘He jumped out the window?’ exclaimed Tansy in horror.

  MacLean nodded.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Fear,’ said MacLean.

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Again, I don’t know.’

  ‘What did you tell the police?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘Nothing. There had been no one around when the man arrived. I closed the window and gambled on no one having seen him fall from my apartment. I hid his gun and briefcase and sat tight.’

  ‘But the police must have come to your door?’

  ‘They were very polite. They asked if I knew a Mr Henry Miller. I said, no.’

  ‘And they didn’t ask any more?’ asked Tansy in amazement.

  ‘I was Doctor MacLean remember? A pillar of the establishment,’ said MacLean, driving home his earlier point about the police.

  ‘But you still had the gun and the briefcase,’ said Tansy.

  ‘I added a couple of bricks and dropped the lot in the Clyde next day.’

  ‘You sound like one of these “professionals” yourself,’ said Tansy.

  MacLean stared at her and Tansy sensed that she had said the wrong thing. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… ‘ she began but MacLean stopped her with a shake of the head. Tansy sensed that he wanted to say something but it wouldn’t come. She silently willed him to try.

  ‘I suppose I was,’ said MacLean. ‘Doyle and Leavey had taught me well and I had passed the test. But… ‘

  ‘Go on,’ said Tansy gently.

  ‘It was… wrong. I could play the game but it felt so wrong… ‘ MacLean looked at Tansy with eyes that appealed for understanding. ‘The truth is I spent a great deal of time being sick in the toilet and reliving every moment with the man from the company. I was Sean MacLean, a doctor not a killer. I couldn’t sleep; I couldn’t eat. I came to question what the hell I was doing and the answer didn’t help. I was simply waiting for the next hired killer to come along so it could start all over again. There would be no end to it unless I stopped it myself. Does that make any sense? Can you understand?’

  ‘Now that I know what you’ve been through, I’m afraid I do,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s the last thing on earth I should be saying to you but I do. It all sounds perfectly hellish.’

  ‘A good choice of word,’ agreed MacLean.

  ‘So you decided on taking your own life,’ said Tansy quietly.

  ‘I decided to let the next assassin do it for me. If I didn’t run I reckoned I wouldn’t have to wait long before he turned up. When he did, I would make it easy for him. It would be over quickly and probably with no pain.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Less than two weeks. He was sitting doing the Times crossword when I came into the hospital restaurant one day. Smart suit, muted tie, spectacles, looked like an administrator. I started to establish a repetitive pattern to my life to make it easy for him to plan the hit. I even picked the place.’

  ‘How?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘Every night at nine I would leave the flat, have a beer at the local pub and then take a walk by the river. It was dark and secluded down there and usually pretty deserted at that time. It was an obvious place for him to pick.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘I liked the spot; it was quiet and peaceful. Grass, trees, the river, all the things I liked. It was a good place to die.’

  ‘But you didn’t,’ said Tansy.

  ‘And I still don’t know why,’ said MacLean.

  ‘He didn’t try?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said MacLean distantly, ‘I heard the gun go off. It was silenced but I heard it. I even stood there like an idiot waiting for the lights to go out but nothing happened.’

  ‘He missed?’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it. For a pro to have missed at that range was impossible.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I was confused,’ said MacLean. ‘I lost my nerve. I couldn’t do it again. I took to my heels and ran. I didn’t stop till I was back in the flat and the door was locked behind me. I remember standing there in the dark with my back against the door, feeling the sweat trickle down my face, trying not to breathe too hard so I would hear his foot-steps on the stairs. He didn’t. Next morning the papers led with a story of a man being found dead by the river walk.’

  ‘He shot the wrong man?’ exclaimed Tansy in amazement.

  ‘That’s what I thought too,’ agreed MacLean. ‘I hadn’t seen anyone else down there but that seemed to be the only conceivable explanation. The paper said that the dead man carried no identification but the police had issued a description. It sounded familiar.’

  ‘Familiar?’

  MacLean continued, ‘I went down to the city mortuary and pretended that I thought the description of the missing man fitted that of my neighbour whom I hadn’t seen for several days. They let me see the body.’

  ‘Who was it?’ asked Tansy.

  ‘It was the “administrator” himself.’

  Tansy’s mouth fell open. She shook her head as if unable to cope with what she was hearing. ‘You mean he’d shot himself?’ she asked.

  ‘Not through the back of his head he didn’t,’ said MacLean. ‘Someone else did it. The best I can come up with says that there were two hit men detailed to eliminate me — not unreasonable after the failure of a couple of weeks before — and that one shot the other for whatever reason.’

  ‘But you don’t really believe that?’ said Tansy.

  ‘No, but I was past caring. I resigned my job, put my affairs in order as they say and caught the first train to London.’

  ‘Running again,’ said Tansy.

  ‘Only temporarily,’ said MacLean. ‘I needed a bit of time to recover enough nerve to do the job myself. I started to wonder if there was anything I wanted to do before I died. I found I had this hankering to visit the haunts of my childhood, go back to the neighbourhood I was brought up in, see the schools, the parks, the canal.’

  ‘That’s what you were doing when you saved Carrie,’ said Tansy.

  MacLean nodded. ‘Now you know everything.’

  Tansy stayed silent for a moment then she rolled her eyes upwards and
let out her breath in a long sigh. ‘Quite a story Dr MacLean.’ She took both his hands in hers and said, ‘And what now? What happens now?’

  MacLean looked away and said quietly, ‘Nothing’s changed Tansy. The nightmare is still out there. I’ve just had a few days off that’s all.’

  ‘Stay,’ said Tansy. ‘Stay here with Carrie and me.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said MacLean. ‘I would only bring death to this house like I did to Jutte. They would find me.’

  ‘But they only found you when you stayed openly under your own name and worked as a doctor. No one found Dan Morrison. You could be him again!’

  ‘It wouldn’t be right,’ said MacLean.

  ‘Rubbish!’ exclaimed Tansy. ‘Stay!’

  MacLean held up his hands and said, ‘Wait! I have to know why you are doing this. I have to understand.’

  Tansy looked him in the eyes. She said, ‘I’m not sure myself. I only know that it feels right.’

  MacLean considered for a seemingly endless moment.

  ‘Just give it a try?’

  MacLean wavered then finally nodded.

  The cold, sterile winter yielded to a hesitant Scottish spring. Buds sprouted on the trees by the canal and sunshine sparkled on the raindrops on their branches. The garden of the small, white bungalow awoke and demanded attention which MacLean and Carrie were happy to give it. Three months had done much to repair the damage to MacLean’s mind. He’d learned to laugh again. The haunted look had gone from his eyes and his cheeks had begun to fill out. All three of them had found a happiness and contentment, which they jealously guarded from the outside world as if it might suddenly disappear like morning mist. No plans were ever made and the future never mentioned.

  Tansy gradually withdrew from her former circle of friends, which made MacLean feel guilty but she insisted. ‘Do you know what I heard one of them call you behind my back?’ she said. ‘My bit of rough!’

  MacLean found it funny, particularly as Tansy was so angry.

  ‘Well, I am a labourer,’ he smiled.

  ‘But you are far more intelligent than any of them!’ stormed Tansy. ‘You’re kinder, more gentle and… ‘ She was lost for words and MacLean held her in his arms. ‘There, there,’ he soothed. ‘Don’t be too harsh on them. They’re just people. They need someone to look up to, someone to look down on and they’re probably jealous of what we have together.’