Page 32 of The Quarterlands (Dark Water #4)

Rowing. It was hard to get excited by it, but then Josiah found ducks equally dull, while other people loved them.

He wasn’t into sports generally, and would have been just as nonplussed by a famous footballer or track athlete.

The people in this clubhouse were clearly passionate about their sport, though, and the rest of the country had been so ecstatic that one of their athletes had finally won an Olympic gold medal again after thirty years that they’d become experts in rowing overnight.

The entire nation had suddenly formed an opinion on the direction of the wind, the pulling of the oars, and the timing of the famous late burst.

Josiah got talking to the young woman behind the bar.

“I was wondering if anyone here trained with Charles Lytton?” he asked .

“Oh, loads! Jim Lacey will be in shortly. I’ll send him over to you.”

Lacey was a tall, muscular man in his thirties.

“I hear you’ve been asking after Charles?” he said, taking a seat opposite Josiah a few minutes later. They had a good view of the water and watched as a team of young men whizzed past in a boat.

“Looks like hard work,” Josiah observed.

“It is. Not as hard as the single sculls, though.”

Josiah raised an eyebrow.

“That’s the event Charles won, and it’s the hardest. That’s why it’s sometimes called the king’s class. It’s tough – physically, mentally, and emotionally. It’s just you out there with an oar in each hand. It’s the hardest rowing event of them all.”

“Right.”

“You could do it. You’ve got the physique for it,” Lacey said, glancing at Josiah’s muscular chest and shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not from the media, are you?

Only, a few journalists have been sniffing around lately because of this Tyler trial.

Looks like the Lyttons will be in the limelight again. ” He rolled his eyes.

“Charles will be pleased,” Josiah commented slyly, sensing an undercurrent.

Lacey snorted. “Oh, yeah. Charles loves all the attention.”

“Was he always that way?”

“Yup.”

“Were you close?” Josiah took a sip of his tea.

“Nah. Well, we trained together sometimes, but I wouldn’t say we were close. Charles was popular. Everyone liked him. But to be honest, I wouldn’t say he was that close to anyone. Too focused on his training.”

“What about Isobel Lytton? Did you see much of her?”

“Well, yeah. She and Charles were joined at the hip. She pushed him.”

“Did he need much pushing?”

“No, he was up for it, but…” Lacey paused and glanced out of the window.

“But?” Josiah prompted.

“He wasn’t the brightest button in the box. She was the brains behind his whole regime. She ran his training schedule. He just did as he was told.”

“Did you see George Tyler hanging around here?” Josiah asked.

“Yeah, a few times.” Lacey looked uncomfortable. “Hey, you never answered my question. Are you media?”

“No.” Josiah shook his head firmly. “I’m from an IA.” He showed Lacey his badge.

Lacey looked at it, then at him. “You’re that indiehunter. I don’t follow the news much, but I’ve seen your face a few times. Hey, do I need to be worried? Is this official business?”

“None of this is on the record. I’m not taking your statement. It’s more by way of background checks on the Lyttons, so I can understand them,” Josiah said.

“Okay, cool. I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask, but fire away.”

“What’s your opinion of Charles as a rower?” Josiah asked.

Lacey looked surprised. “Well, he was good enough to win a gold medal.”

“Was he?” Josiah sat back and stared at the man.

He didn’t have a particular line of questioning, but he had a technique of randomly challenging people’s statements during informal interviews like this, to see what happened.

“I know nothing about rowing, that’s why I ask.

” He followed that with a disarming smile.

“Well…” Lacey gave an uncomfortable shrug. “I guess he had a lot of help. His dad was loaded, and his mum was forever pushing him. Most of us don’t have that kind of support.”

“So, it was a team effort, rather than his natural talent and hard work?”

“Sure. It always is, really, but yeah, in his case, more than most, I think.” He chewed on his lower lip.

“Do you think he deserved the medal?” Josiah took another sip of his tea. Something was bothering Lacey. What was it?

Lacey shrugged. “I guess. He trained hard, so, yeah. I suppose…” He hunched his shoulders and leaned forward.

“It was surprising. I mean, he’s a nice chap, hard-working, decent and all that, but he seemed to lack the killer instinct, you know what I mean?

Nobody he re thought he’d do it. He was good, but was he good enough? He surprised us all.”

Josiah remembered some media reports that had questioned much the same thing prior to Charles’s win. Maybe they’d been managing the country’s expectations. “One of the reporters asked if he was just too nice to win,” he said.

“Yeah. There was that famous quote his brother gave: nice guys do come first.” Lacey sat back.

“What was your view of Isobel’s relationship with Tyler?” Josiah asked.

“Well, we all assumed they were shagging.” Lacey grinned. “Isobel Lytton was hot – I mean, sizzling. Plenty of us had a crush on her. Then Tyler showed up and he was all over her. I saw them holding hands a few times. I did wonder about her husband, but really it was none of my business.”

Josiah thought of Tyler with all his smartwall footage and his known blackmail operation.

Then there was Isobel and all the accounts she’d had to submit to Noah, who went through them with a fine-tooth comb.

Noah had said he’d give her any money she needed, so why was she going to Tyler for cash?

What was it for? Was it possible that Tyler was bribing officials to make sure Charles won?

“Did you ever meet Noah Lytton?” he asked Lacey.

“No. He was always busy working. I saw him from afar during a few of Charles’s races, but didn’t speak to him. He never came to training. That was just Isobel and Charles, and sometimes Tyler.”

“What’s bothering you, Lacey?” Josiah asked, throwing caution to the wind and slinging it out there. “Something is.”

“Nah. I mean… no. It’s nothing.”

“Tell me,” Josiah urged. “I promise it won’t go any further.”

“No. Honestly.” Lacey shook his head firmly. “That poor bastard broke his spine, and his mum is dead. Best let things rest there.”

“It’s off the record. Your name will never be attached to any information you give me,” Josiah said softly.

“I can’t.” Lacey turned to look around the clubhouse. “It’s not fair. I don’t know anything. It’s just…” He hunched his shoulders.

“A feeling? An inkling? ”

“Something like that.” Lacey made a face.

“Do you think bribery was involved?” Josiah asked, showing his hand. He didn’t want to lead his witness, but Lacey was clamming up.

“What? No. I don’t think so.” Lacey looked so bewildered that Josiah knew he was barking up the wrong tree.

“So, what was it? Do you think Charles cheated in some way to win the gold medal? Did Tyler somehow swing that win for him?”

“No.” Lacey glanced around the clubhouse again to make sure they weren’t being overheard, then leaned forward. “I know I’m not the only one to suspect it, but nobody said anything. Why would we? He was never caught.”

“Who wasn’t? Tyler? Charles? Caught doing what?”

“Flex.” Lacey spoke the word in such a low voice that Josiah struggled to catch it.

“What’s that? Some kind of training programme?”

Lacey suddenly turned bright red and got to his feet. “Forget I said anything. It’s just gossip. I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” he muttered. Then he left.

Josiah turned to his holopad and searched for Flex. He read for over an hour, considering all the possibilities, and then put his holopad to one side and rubbed his face wearily.

He gazed out of the window for a long time. He could leave this, drop it and walk away. He’d be serving no great public interest by pursuing it. If his suspicions turned out to be correct, then everyone would be much happier if he left it, including Alex.

He considered it, weighing up all the pros and cons, then reached for his holopad again and made some calls. He was an investigator – this was what he did. Maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was, he really did, but he couldn’t bring himself to drop it. He had to know the truth.

A couple of hours later, he knocked on the door of an unprepossessing house on the edge of a lost zone.

A thick-set, middle-aged man who at best could be described as plain and at worst as downright ugly opened the door.

He had thinning dark hair and ferociously bushy eyebrows, and was wearing a bright yellow polo shirt which stretched a little too tightly over his big belly.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me at such short notice, Mr Buzzard, and on a Sunday, too,” Josiah said politely.

“Well, it sounded important. I take my work extremely seriously, and when WADO told me that Investigator Raine of Inquisitus had asked for me personally, I felt duty-bound to see you.”

He ushered Josiah into a small, sunny conservatory and offered him a seat on a comfortable wicker armchair, then sat down opposite.

“So, how can I help you?” He looked cautiously intrigued, but calm.

“You work for WADO – the World Anti-Doping Organisation?”

“Yes.”

“Am I right in saying you took a blood sample from Charles Lytton at The Orchard a few weeks after his gold medal win?”

Buzzard’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “That’s correct.”

“You’re aware that was the day he was involved in a terrible duck accident?”

“Yes. It was tragic for all concerned.” Buzzard nodded brusquely.

“Can you explain the testing regime for world-class athletes such as Charles Lytton?”

“Of course. Charles gave a urine sample immediately after he won his Olympic gold medal. He would have been accompanied at all times by a chaperone.”

“Was his urine sample clear?”

“Yes.”

“What other testing is there?”