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Fitz sat back, deep in thought. “There are any number of places on the black market, if you know the right people or the right place to look. If you two are going to start anywhere there’s only one place I know in the UK.”
“Go on,” said Gardener.
“Porton Down.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Downstairs in a bathroom unit at the rear of the building, the driver opened a cupboard. Reaching inside he selected a sealed vial of iodine, and a vitamin supplement for Zoe Harrison.
His hand shook when he slipped it into the box of syringes. Before he even extracted the bloody thing he could feel his forehead sweating and his legs weakening.
He placed them in a small Boots bag before leaning back against the wall, calming his breathing.
When he felt ready he stood up straight, smiling about the fact that his prisoner thought she’d be given Carbimazole, a pro drug used to control an over-active thyroid; it stopped the thyroid gland from making too much thyroid hormone. Clearing out her riverside apartment, he had studied Zoe’s medicine cupboard. A couple of hours’ worth of research, both on the internet, and studying all her paperwork in a small wall safe she kept hidden behind an oil painting – how original – and he knew exactly what she was suffering from.
That had led him into researching things that were bad for her. People with hyperthyroidism should avoid preparations high in iodine because it can make the condition paradoxically worse. Additionally, in certain people it could provoke hypothyroidism.
Once he had emptied her cupboards he very carefully drained the sealed bottles of Carbimazole, replacing it with iodine, which was now beginning to take its toll. But it wouldn’t be for much longer.
She really needed to avoid products such as kelp. They would almost certainly interfere with the thyroid function. He knew kelp was derived from seaweed, naturally high in iodine. According to Google, it was sometimes marketed as a “thyroid booster”. He’d purchased it in dry preparations and tablets, grinding up both. As with iodine, kelp would have no health benefits for her at all.
Something else to avoid was soya, which also interfered with thyroxine absorption. That was more of a problem for him. She did not drink tea or coffee, or hot drinks of any description, only energy drinks. Soya milk would have been perfect.
Feeling calmer, he left the bathroom and headed up the stairs two at a time. He opened the door. She was still sitting at her desk, her hands flying across the keyboard. Suddenly, as he closed the door, she went into a spasm, wrapping her hands around her stomach.
“About time,” she said, through gritted teeth. “God only knows what’s wrong with me.”
He put the small bag on the table, retreating to the door, and standing with his back to it. Not that she would try to escape but he was taking nothing for granted.
She pulled everything out of the bag, inspecting it. She held the sealed packet containing the syringe in the air, at arms’ length to her, and a little closer to him than he would have liked. His breathing quickened. He was beginning to wonder if she had cottoned on and was taunting him. All his research had told him that Zoe Harrison was by far the sharpest tool in the box. He was going to have to watch her more carefully.
Another forceful movement, probably another spasm, resulted in Zoe dropping the syringe.
The driver felt it was deliberate, as she’d made sure she threw the syringe toward him.
Once the spasm had allegedly passed she glanced at him, her arms still comforting her body.
“Can you pass that, please?”
He kicked it over. He doubted very much she could unseal it and do anything to him but his training told him not to take chances. As did his trypanophobia – if you were frightened of needles you stayed away from them.
She quickly picked it up, extracting the syringe.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” said the driver, slipping out of the room.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Entering the incident room, Gardener had a number of things on his mind but prioritising his actions was uppermost. Things had changed, and no doubt they would continue to, largely depending on what his team had to say.
He studied the whiteboards, which had been updated in his absence as the news came in. James Henshaw now had one to himself.
He took a sip of water and turned to face his team.
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve learned in the small amount of time we’ve had. As you all know we discovered a second body in Butts Court earlier today, which we believe to be James Henshaw. From what we saw, Sean and I are of the opinion he’s been held captive somewhere and systematically starved, kept alive with only water. That would have been excruciating. Underneath his body were a number of items, two of which were passports; one in the name of James Henshaw, and the other in his DPA character, Jack Heaton.”
“You make him sound like a character in a game, sir,” offered Patrick Edwards.
“Right now, he’ll wish he was,” said Reilly.
