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“Very definitely. My late wife’s dream had been to set up a private clinic to care for cancer patients. After she’d died, I continued with her plans, and opened up the Foundation with my very good friend, Iain Ross. I won’t bore you with the details, but we do receive some government funding, which we can use for some people who cannot afford the cost like most of our clients.
“PC Close and his mother Christine are a very deserving case. I’ve known them all their lives. I’ve never met harder working people, or two people who have had their fair share of tragedy. I suppose I also feel quite an affinity to Gary, because I was there when he was born. I’ve watched him grow up into a fine young man.”
The door to the study opened and Miss Bradshaw wheeled in a hostess trolley, which she left at the side of the desk. She handed each person a drink and a small plate, and then put a tower of cakes on the edge of the desk, much to the delight of Sean Reilly.
“Miss Bradshaw, you’re a treasure, so you are.”
She smiled and left the room.
“Help yourselves to pastries and biscuits,” said Sinclair.
“Are you not having any?” asked Reilly.
“No, Mr Reilly, I’m afraid I have a very strict diet.”
When they had all settled themselves, Gardener explained briefly what had brought them to the surgeon’s door, and drew out both the pump and ICD from an inside pocket.
“I wondered if you could tell us anything about these items? I understand this is an implantable insulin pump, used to treat diabetes.”
He pushed it forward for Sinclair to gain a better view, although it was unlikely he would need it.
Sinclair studied the pump before he started talking. “Originally, yes. They are surgically implanted under the skin of someone who has diabetes. The pump then delivers a continuous dose through a catheter, usually into the patient’s abdominal cavity. Where did you find yours?”
“Inside the patient, but it wasn’t being used for its intended purpose. The pathology results tell that it had been filled with caustic soda.”
“Good grief,” said Sinclair. “That wouldn’t have been pleasurable. And the victim is obviously dead because you mentioned the word ‘pathology’. How horrific, it would have damaged the blood vessels without question, not to mention the blood. Very few of the major organs would have survived. I don’t envy your job, Mr Gardener.”
“Can you tell us who makes them?”
Sinclair’s expression was pretty tormented. “You’re going to have a problem with that, Mr Gardener.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” said Reilly. “We’re having our fair share of those things you call problems.”
Sinclair sat back and sighed. “I can imagine. Under normal circumstances, you could find out that information from the pump itself. I can see that this one has no markings. They always have a serial number. It might be recorded as sold or supplied in one country, but used in another. It’s a very grey import market.
“The manufacturer’s records may show a pump as being sold or supplied to a customer in Brazil, but if it eventually turns up in England, they would most likely refuse to acknowledge that serial number. They do not want any liabilities, like giving a guarantee, if it’s used in a different country to the one intended. You have to remember, Mr Gardener, that these liabilities might be in the region of several million pounds, should a case go to court and damages be awarded against the company.”
Sinclair continued. “However, reps will give goods away as ‘loss leaders’ to try and gain lucrative contracts. This is another grey area as far as the companies are concerned. They may condone it without acknowledging that it happens, then if something goes wrong, the rep is sacked or sued, and the company denies all knowledge of the transaction.
“The serial number on this pump has been removed. Maybe it’s a demonstrator that it’s been stolen, which is another possible scenario. I can’t see any identification marks on it at all. And even if I could, we’d have a devil of a job getting the company to cooperate with us, depending on whether or not it implicates them in dodgy supply deals.”
Gardener was beginning to realize how intelligent their killer had been.
Reilly pushed forward the ICD. “Is it same in this case, with the defibrillator?”
Sinclair examined it and expressed the same conclusion.
“How was this used, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Gardener told him.
“That’s awful,” replied Sinclair. “I can’t imagine the pain that poor girl was going through. And you say that all the cables were leading into her teeth?”
“Yes,” replied Gardener.
“What kind of monster are you trying to catch?”
“You’re the second person to ask us that in a matter of hours.”
