“Do you recognise the handwriting?”
I had witnessed handwritten notes on files from various of Albert’s colleagues. In total contrast to the often unreadable scribble of most, Sylvie’s handwriting was a thing of beauty.
“Sylvie Leblanc. This is definitely penned by her.”
“And the initials SJP?”
I search my memory but come up blank. The only colleagues of Albert’s whose names begin with S are Sylvie Leblanc and Stephan Dytrovich.
“No idea.”
“The thing is, Gabriel, I don’t know what to do. Should I take this to the police? Or would they laugh at me, tell me it reads like a secret message between forbidden lovers? Which it does. I suppose I could show Edward, but would he even care? And as far as the police are concerned, the case is closed.”
I agree with her. This is further proof that something was amiss that morning. Nishan said as much about the trail of text messages between him and Leblanc a few days before the accident. Alice is correct that the note hardly constitutes solid evidence. But then, an idea comes to me.
“Would you mind leaving this with me?”
Alice visibly relaxes and closes her bag.
“I hoped you might say that. Honestly, I’ve been carrying this around with me for the past few weeks like a dead weight, wondering what I should do.”
“It’s no longer your problem. I’ll do some digging from here, but I’m not sure what else I’ll find. What are you going to tell Edward? About your visit here?”
“I will tell him that I did my best to find you, drove down a dirt trail until the Bentley could go no farther. That I was about to step out and walk the rest of the way when I realised I had my favourite beige Jimmy Choos on. At that moment, I had an epiphany. If Gabriel wants me to find him, he can bloody well get in touch. Edward will believe every word.”
“Perfect.”
I operate the gate mechanism inside the house before stepping outside and waving her off. The afternoon sun is golden, and at first she looks like a goddess, until she begins wobbling in her heels down the olive-lined lane towards the Bentley. Before closing the front door, I wait until the car heads down the track.
“She is nice, this Alice,” says Lorenzo. I had not realised he was standing behind me. His hand brushes mine and I close my eyes briefly, unable to hide a smile.
“She is. And, more importantly, I believe her,” I say before turning to him.
“Teresa called. She is on her way back withil dottore. They will be here very soon and need to speak to both of us. Shall we pretend to keep searching for the book?”
“No,” I reply, noticing the afternoon light beginning to wane. “But while it’s fresh in my mind, do you have a computer I can use? I want to check something.”
Lorenzo leads me to the kitchen, where he says he keeps his tablet. He flicks through a couple of screens, opens a browser, and hands me the device. I find what I am looking for without much trouble.
Details of the medical conference Albert and his friends were due to attend are still available online and show the original agenda. I scroll through each day’s events but see nothing that jumps out at me.
But then I notice a highlight of the conference on the evening of day two, Saturday—a panel discussion on the development of a new combination super vaccination, which not only provides six-in-one immunisation against common diseases such as tetanus and diphtheria but also provides protection against influenza and coronavirus. More importantly, the drug is touted as relatively inexpensive to produce, store and administer, and is considered a godsend for all nations, including developing countries.
Six people are listed as participating in the discussion, all with a string of letters after their names. Two are from the World Health Organisation, one from the US Centers for Disease Control, while two names I instantly recognise are Sylvie Leblanc and Stephan Dytrovich.
But the last name of the person accredited with having led the trials and of pushing various governments to commit to funding the project is one I am unfamiliar with.
Professor Sergio Jaroslav Puchinsky.
“Is there a problem?” asks Lorenzo from behind me.
I decide to share what I’ve found with him and quickly explain what Alice told me. When I show him the napkin message with the initials and the name on the screen, he nods slowly but says nothing.
“The problem is, Lorenzo, what the hell am I supposed to do with this information?”
Chapter Twelve
Ghost