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Chapter 131

BillHershaw went through his post-crisp routine of folding the empty packet in on itself until it was a small triangle. Popped it in the bin under his desk. He had been with Chapin-Hag Industries for four years. Four years sitting in his little booth, eating his stale sandwiches and reading his facile paperbacks. A nothing man doing a nothing job. He wasn’t murdering him, Beck thought, he was putting him down.

Bill was a stout man, not fat, but not far off. A heart attack by the time he was fifty, if nature was allowed to run its course. Maybe by the end of the night, if things went as Beck expected them to. Bill had a thick beard and even thicker spectacles. Beck’s research had been so thorough he even knew the man’s prescription: -4.25 in his left eye, -4.00 in his right. Blind as a bat. He wore a stupid security uniform and never took off his peaked hat, not even when he was having a cigarette.

Beck reckoned the best time would be thirty minutes after Bill had eaten. If he was going to feel tired, it would be then. Six in the morning, before the first employees arrived, would have worked as well, but Beck had less reason to be there at that hour. Thirty minutes after midnight he was just another obsessed scientist returning to the lab to check his research. Bill wouldn’t recognise him, of course, but Chapin-Hag Industries had international contracts and professionals visiting out of hours wasn’t uncommon. He hadn’t been able to get the proper ID card, but he knew enough of the right language to deceive Bill.

And if he couldn’t, he would simply wait until he was dead.

Beck approached the front door – basically a glass wall, although it would be stronger than it looked – with the confidence he knewpeople like Bill fell for. Look as though you have the right to be somewhere and the chances were no one would stop you.

Bill looked up from his novel and watched him approach. He got to his feet and met him at the door. He pressed the intercom and said, ‘Can I help you, sir?’

‘I hope so,’ Beck said. ‘I was in earlier today working on the AS9 protein breakthrough and I need to recheck some numbers. Make sure the board’s report is accurate in the morning.’

‘It’s very late, sir.’

‘I prefer to think of it as very early.’

Bill didn’t respond. Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as he looked.

‘Science never sleeps’ – Beck made a show of leaning in to read Bill’s name badge – ‘Bill. And, as you know, this protein has got us all very excited. We’d previously assumed AS9 was only carried in inheriting patients, but this breakthrough proves that, just because it isn’t forming disruptive clumps in the motor neurone cells ofnon-inheriting patients, it doesn’t mean it isn’t being disruptive.’

And that’s how you baffle an idiot.

‘Do you have identification, sir?’

‘I’m on the oversight committee,’ Beck replied. ‘We don’t carry formal ID, but you’re welcome to see my driving licence.’

‘I’m supposed to see something official, sir.’

The idiot still wasn’t budging.

‘Fine,’ Beck sighed, faking a frown. ‘The chairman knows I’m coming in. Please call him. He can verify me.’

‘It’s almost one a.m., sir. I don’t think I should be waking the chairman.’

‘That’s your call, Bill, but I need to check those numbers.’

Bill’s brow furrowed as he grappled with his predicament. After a few moments he buzzed him in, as Beck had known he would. Exceptionally replaceable people were terrified of coming to the attention of people who could dismiss them like an annoying waiter.

‘You’ll have to sign in, sir.’

‘Of course. What is it you’re reading?’

‘Excuse me, sir?’

‘You were reading a novel,’ Beck said. ‘I thought I recognised the cover.’

‘A Private Cathedral. It’s by James Lee Burke.’

‘Ah, yes. One of the Dave Robicheaux novels. Great book.’

‘You’ve read it, sir?’

‘I have.’

He hadn’t. He’d simply made a note of what Bill was reading the night before, assuming he would still be reading it tonight. He then went on to a popular crime-fiction review e-zine and read an in-depth review. It was details like this that made him stand out from the crowd. Why he would never be caught.