I think I might be the only one with an appetite. Tilbury picked at his food, and Wheatley made no better performance. Sheena ate nothing, sitting opposite me staring at her plate.
She excused herself, and when she came back in five minutes, white and shaken, her eyes red with the physical strain of violent retching.
The two-digit experts sent over from the peninsula occupied an hour and a half, fingerprinting the inside of the effluent monitoring room, collating, and tabulating their results. The handle of the heavy steel door and the areas adjoining the combination lock, smeared with a cotton or linen material, -- perhaps a handkerchief. We couldn't ignore the possibility of an outsider at work.
Fitzgerald came in towards the end of the meal. He devoted all his time, taking statements from the temporary jobless workforce and maintenance technicians barred from the structure and not finished yet by a long way.
Every statement made by those interviewed about their activities the preceding evening would be cross-referenced. He didn't say anything about his progress, and I refrained from questioning him.
After lunch, Constable Smee turned up from the mainland and continued the interviews, while I accompanied the detective to the central entrance.
"The family stays safe." I told him, and the sigh of relief echoed around the whole twelve-mile spit of shingle.
"How come?"
His eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
"Don't ask."
"No, of course not."
He said, the emotion in his voice clear.
"A secure house in Bury St Edmunds until we work out the mole, working at the establishment."
"Positive, this is an inside job?"
"Without doubt."
"What next?"
"Can we borrow a helicopter?"
He seemed surprised.
"Whatever for?"
"I need to inspect the Russian trawler twelve miles out."
"No, I can understand. Give me a bit of time to contact Suffolk HQ and confirm if they can send one out to us."
"Brilliant! Right, let's talk to the guardhouse. Someone poses as Inga Luzhny walked out of here last night, and the guard responsible showed no vigilance at all."
We strolled to the barricade, and from the man on call, we found the person accountable for confirming the clocking out the night before. After a few minutes, a tall, blond, fresh-faced individual arrived.
"Name, son?"
"James Prime, sir."
"Take a seat. We want to ask some questions about the slaying of Inga Luzhny."
The shock techniques functioned better than any amount of gentle probing. The young man, lowering himself into his chair, dropped the remaining few inches, grateful to take the weight off his feet. His eyes widened in a gaze of shocked disbelief, and the opened mouth would be within the compass of any competent actor. The perceptible draining of colour from the cheeks befell something else again.
"Murder?"
He repeated.
"Dead?"
"Murdered."
"In the effluent surveillance room."
I interjected.
"We acknowledge for a fact, Inga Luzhny never left the premises. But she signed out. Who gave her assurance tag and ordered to forge her inscription? Or did someone do this on their own volition? How much did they pay?"
He stared at me in numbed bewilderment, before the numbness passed, and his native Suffolk toughness reasserted itself. He stood up, his face darkening.
"Sir."
He whispered.
"I do not possess your name. Someone important, I suppose, one of those MI5 people. But I will say this. Repeat the comment again, and I intend to deal outside."
"I believe every word."
I smiled and turned to the Sergeant.
"Not guilty, eh?"
"He couldn't be this capable."
Fitzgerald agreed.
"I don't think so. Forgive me. I needed to find out fast, investigating an assassination and sabotage. Neither of these things are pleasant, and sometimes I use tactics which aren't courteous either. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
He said, uncertain. A tad mollified, but only a touch.
"Dr. Luzhny. How -- I mean, who -- ?"
"This log-book here says she left at eighteen thirty-two hours. This correct?"
"If the book says so, the time stamp remains automatic."
"Accepted her protection key-fob from her. -- this one?"
I held up the fob.
"Yes."
"Didn't speak to her?"
"Yes."
"About what?"
"The weather. Friendly to us. And her cold, all about her ailment. She caught a bad one, coughing and blowing her nose."
"Certain the person leaving this place couldn't be anyone else but Inga Luzhny?"
"Course I did. Been guarding her for two years, and I recognize her as well as my mother. Dressed in her usual long black coat, hat and those strong glasses of hers."
"Swear in court? About the doctor, I mean?"
He hesitated before replying.
"Yes, sir. And both my mates on shift spotted her. Ask them."
We asked before returning to the administrative block.
"Any chance she stayed behind last night?"
I asked.
"No."
He admitted.
"The signature genuine?"
"As legitimate as any, no one ever signs the same way twice. I think contacting Suffolk Constabulary at Martlesham and getting an all-out examination on Luzhny might turn up something fascinating, in particular, past contacts."
"A complete wastefulness. Inga Luzhny sat in one of the hottest seats in Europe, -- boss of the DEFRA organization at Cape Ore. Every step taken from the day she walked, every word spoken, each person ever met or made love to, verified, and established a hundred times over. Luzhny stands clean. Too huge a fish to pass through."
"If you read the newspapers, several other characters like her are now either in prison or in Moscow."
Fitzgerald said.
"Let me telephone headquarters now. Find out about the aircraft before checking on the fingerprint boys. Want to come?"
"No. Like to verify with the officers on duty last night and mooch around on my own a little."
He shrugged.
"I possess no authority. But if anything turns up, tell me?"
"Of course."
He nodded with suspicion and left me. I spent the next hour with the internal guards on observance of the night before and learned what I expected to learn -- nothing. They all worked at the plant at least three years. All their stories tallied, and none helped at all. With two men, I made a minute survey of all windows and the entire roof area of the wastewater treatment, and this proved to be another waste of time.
No one glimpsed Neil Morris from about 11 p.m., till they located his body. No one would ever expect to encounter him, for after making his rounds, he retired for the night to the little concrete house less than a hundred yards from the effluent control room.
This cottage faced a long glass corridor, and as a security precaution, the lights burned twenty-four hours. I didn't need Sherlock Holmes to guess, he glanced at something suspicious and went to investigate. No other reason may account for his presence.
I made my way to the sentry box and asked for the register book showing the names and nature of business of all those who checked in and out of the complex the day before. Several hundred of those, but all but a few, employed staff.
A constant flow of groups of visitors. Visiting scientists from around the world, and an occasional small group of MPs given to asking awkward inquiries in the Commons, brought here to view the work done here.
Such organizations witnessed what Sheena Ryder wanted them to experience and came away no wiser.
On the previous day, a drop in from investigators of the Health and Safety Executive and the purpose of their visit aroused my curiosity. Written in the column next to their signatures, an explanation about the inspection of the discharge pipes and manhole covers.
No one mentioned this incident. Why? Therefore, what did Mark Wheatley and his crony Grant Tilbury come to Suffolk for, and now suspect in a major investigation?
Fourteen callers, and apart from the two HSE guys, the rest concerned with the delivery of various supplies. I copied down their identity and the reasons for their visits and left.
I used the phone from the gatehouse and phoned Alexis Fawx. I asked her to speak to local farmers and check whether anyone from the facility visited their farms in the last few days. A dangerous chink in the establishment's armour's bio-security. With the human movement, it is no longer a matter for the institute, but for the police. Unlikely an accident might spread this.