Fatal Impact (25 page)

43

A
nya sat in the car with the door locked. Tiredness flowed through her veins and she took a moment to mould her back into the car seat, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. Oliver was unofficially helping out with a review about Patsy’s death. She wondered if Len’s murder was related.

Oliver had made sure she received a copy of Patsy’s post-mortem report as soon as possible. Hammond had been keen to know what was inside the envelope. She dismissed suspicions about his possible motives as paranoia, and peeled back the envelope flap to slide out a series of stapled pages. The report lay on top. She wound the window down a little and sorted through the pages, stopping at the medical report on Patsy Gallop.

According to the notes, thirty-one-year-old Patsy had gone for her usual lunchtime run. She normally worked out of the TIAA building but was utilising facilities at one of the laboratories inside PT headquarters. Around 3 pm, she complained of acute abdominal pain, diarrhoea and dizziness following a meeting.

According to a secretary who suggested getting the company nurse to review Patsy, Reuben Millard instead demanded an ambulance be called, and the paramedics found her to be hypotensive, with a critically low blood pressure of 75/50. On arrival in the emergency department at Longford Hospital staff were concerned about an abnormality on her electrocardiograph, what was described as a prolonged QT interval. It could occur as a rare congenital condition or be brought on by certain medications. Either way, it was life-threatening.

She was having trouble breathing and arterial blood gases showed normal oxygen concentration, but a low level of carbon dioxide. She was hyperventilating and developing acidosis. One of the nurses noted her breath smelt strongly of garlic.

The doctor on call organised for urgent transfer to
Launceston
Hospital. The emergency team there continued fluid resuscitation and an infusion to increase her blood pressure. Blood tests showed high levels of potassium. She had begun to have short runs of a life-threatening abnormal heart rhythm. By now, her kidneys were failing and she was vomiting continually, despite administration of powerful anti-vomiting drugs.

She was transferred to the intensive care unit on a ventilator. Two hours later, she suffered a cardiac arrest. Despite every effort by the staff to resuscitate her, she was pronounced dead just after 7 pm.

Anya considered the possible diagnoses. A flu or gastroenteritis, in someone who had a predisposing heart condition. It did not escape her that food poisoning from E. coli was a possibility, although that seemed to be quickly discounted. An alternative cause was acute poisoning. The intensivist’s notes described Patsy’s breath as garlicly and her teeth slightly reddish.

Anya flicked through the pages to the post-mortem report, dated the following day.

The most notable features were oedema – fluid leakage into the lungs and brain. The liver was badly damaged, necrosed. Once she’d presented to hospital, Patsy’s death was rapid and unpreventable.

Len Dengate had been at work in Hobart and hadn’t made it back to the hospital in time. A toxicology screen was performed and, according to the report, results were pending.

Three knocks on the window jolted Anya out of her thoughts. She pulled the papers to her chest to hide the contents then relaxed when she saw Oliver Parke’s face peering in.

He moved around the front of the car to the passenger side. Anya leant over and unlocked the door so he could join her.

‘Anything interesting?’ Inside, he opened a briefcase and pulled out an apple before clipping it shut.

‘I haven’t got to the toxicology report yet.’

‘Selenium.’ He bit into the crunchy fruit. ‘They use it to make glass, rubber, photoelectric cells.’

She rested her head back. That explained the garlic breath, acute abdominal symptoms and reddish teeth. Selenium was an important component of the human diet, but it was easy to overdose on. Or be poisoned with. ‘You forgot to mention that some antidandruff shampoos contain it. And it’s in cold-bluing solutions to help stop guns rusting.’

‘Which means almost everyone with a firearm could have it.’ He sat forward and scratched the back of his head with his spare hand. ‘She was dieting for the wedding, apparently, and watching everything she ate, exercising like mad. Could she have taken it as a supplement for a health reason – shiny hair, whiter teeth, some latest fad?’

‘Only if she had prostate cancer, which I’m pretty sure we can rule out.’

He glanced sideways at her with a half-smile. ‘I’ll take your word for that.’

‘Besides, regular small doses didn’t kill her. She died from acute ingestion, so has to have consumed the selenium within hours of her symptoms becoming apparent.’

Oliver chomped down again on his apple. ‘She worked in an agricultural laboratory. Any chance she accidentally ingested it, or spilled it on herself? Maybe inhaled it? I’m wondering if selenium was already in her system and her saliva. That’s why it was found in her drink.’

‘That isn’t possible. Do you know where and how it was kept in the lab?’

‘In the chemical cabinet. The only fingerprints on the bottle belonged to Reuben Millard. And,’ he chewed, ‘the bottle was empty. According to the prosecution, records indicate he’d ordered a new supply the week before Patsy died.’

She was impressed. Oliver had extracted a lot of information from the files in a short period of time. ‘So the police think he ordered more so he could poison her?’

‘Now, that’s the thing. It hadn’t arrived. The empty bottle they found was months old. And before you ask, McGinley seized the sports drink bottle from Patsy’s belongings at the lab. It tested positive for selenium.’

The toxicity screen would have taken days, at least, to come back and selenium had to be specifically tested for. ‘What would make a country cop automatically think of that? It could have been a flu, gastro, or heart failure for all anyone knew.’

Oliver rotated what was now an apple core, nibbling on anything edible that remained.

‘Here’s the thing. McGinley got lucky. Seems an anonymous caller tipped him off before Patsy Gallop’s body was cold. The caller alleged Patsy and Millard had had an affair and Patsy had called it off. Jury took less than two hours to convict the vengeful, jilted lover.’

Anya knew how unusual a short deliberation for a guilty verdict was in homicide. If the jury were so quickly convinced, Len Dengate’s support of Millard was even more remarkable.

Oliver exited the car and deposited the core in a bin, then took off his suit coat and lay it neatly across the back seat.

‘What are you doing?’ Anya asked as the detective walked around to the driver’s side.

‘Well, McGinley cocked up a crime scene, deliberately or through breathtaking incompetence. And now there are questions raised about a related case which, coincidentally, he was involved in. I have a job to do and thought you’d want to come along. Find out from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Unless you want me to go to Hobart by myself. No one visits Reuben Millard anymore. Didn’t you hear? I got an anonymous tip-off, something about the investigation wasn’t up to scratch.’

‘Why are you standing there?’

‘I like to drive. It helps me think. And you can read on the way.’

Anya hid a grin and climbed out.

‘Fine.’ She liked the way his mind worked and was interested to know what Millard had to say.

There was still hope that the truth Len wanted told would come out.

44

T
hey headed south on the Midlands Highway.

‘What do you make of Alison Blainey and POWER?’ Oliver asked. Anya was surprised by the question.

‘Not a lot. She instantly appeared after the health inspectors showed up, saying she could launch an offensive with the media, and deflect negative publicity by suing PT for ruining Len’s organic status. She also helped organise the protest at PT the next day.’

He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm rested on the top of the driver’s door sill. ‘Where the ubiquitous Mincer Leske turned up. That brawl reminded me of the rumble between the Jets and the Sharks from
West Side Story
. And before you ask,’ he hit the indicator and changed lanes to overtake, ‘a girlfriend in high school made me sit through every movie musical from
South Pacific
to
Grease
.’

‘Held you down and forced you to sit through all those films.’

‘What can I say? It was the chivalrous thing to do. Mind you, Olivia Newton John in those black pants was the fantasy of a generation of teenage boys.’

‘And the nightmare of adolescent girls who thought the only way boys would like them was to dress like that.’

He became serious again. ‘Back to Alison Blainey and POWER. The way I see it, they promote themselves as David versing Goliath Corporations.’ He tapped his wedding band on the steering wheel.

‘Did you just say “versing”?’

‘Technically, language is evolving and my kids use it as a verb all the time.’

‘My eight-year-old does too.’ It was something Anya had to adapt to.

‘I’m curious about POWER,’ Oliver said. ‘Why would an international organisation bother with a small organic farmer who caused a deadly outbreak of food poisoning? It’s not exactly a PR win for them. There’s got to be another agenda.’

Anya reflected on the meeting at Len’s home. ‘Like GM crops. She said she tested for GM plants in Len’s crop with a kit she carried. His spinach causes a bacterial infection never before seen in Australia and instead of concentrating on its origin, she tests his crop for GM contamination.’

‘Maybe she thought the two were related. Could the GM seeds contain the bacteria?’

‘I asked the vet to do some tests. I suspect it came from run-off from the feed lots, from the cattle manure next door at PT.’

‘You and a vet worked this out but an environmental organisation couldn’t.’

Anya wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not.

They overtook a van with more than a dozen pushbikes on top. The tour bus was full.

‘That’s something I’d like to do some day. Cycle around this state.’

Anya preferred the car. It was safer on the roads.

‘Do you think POWER employed Mincer Leske to provide some aggression at the protest and then set fire to the crop the next day?’ Oliver asked.

Anya wondered. ‘Alison was assaulted and had her arm broken. There was no sexual assault, just a beating, and it sounds like it could have been Mincer’s handiwork, although Alison said a woman stopped her car and she didn’t see who hit her. She didn’t exactly deny destroying the crop, but from what I can gather she was trying to implicate a university branch in the fire lighting. Penalties for arson are much higher than for vandalism, it seems.’

‘She should know. She is a lawyer.’

‘Do you mind if we look into the medical student from that branch who was arguing with Alison this morning outside the station? Her name’s Madison Zane.’

‘No problem. If you can spare the time.’

Anya could. She decided to start looking through the notebooks she’d found under the chicken pen. She reached into the back for the calico bag in which she’d stashed them. Inside one of the books was a series of documents and PT emails. She first looked at a flow chart: names circled with arrows connecting them in various configurations. It looked like something her mother had drawn in her giant scrapbook.

‘What have you got?’ Oliver enquired.

‘I’m not sure. It’s a whole lot of company names in a flow chart. And individuals as well. Names I haven’t heard of.’

‘Try me.’ Oliver quickly looked over, then turned his attention to a log truck ahead of them.

She read them out. Clarkson Evergreen. PT. Christian Moss’s name was on it. ‘Minister Moss, Mr Progress, as he calls himself, is on a committee about giving approval for GM trials. It’s also got the CEO of PT on it, Graham Fowler. He, coincidentally, is on the board of the therapeutic medicines association, responsible for approving medicines in the country. Mum and I saw him and Christian Moss in a private meeting the day before the fire.’

‘Not surprising, they’d be meeting.’

‘Moss said it was an emergency meeting to save tourism and minimise damage to the economy following the E. coli outbreak. Craig Dengate was there as well as Moss’s chief of staff. It was a private meeting but had been arranged well before the E. coli scandal even became public. A researcher from the Tasmanian Institute of Agricultural Advancement, which is on PT property, was there too.’

‘Curious.’

The car slowed. They were temporarily boxed in by trucks.

Anya followed the links from Christian Moss’s name. They
extended to a Chinese name at the top. The Chairperson of Clarkson Evergreen. PT was beneath, alongside four other companies. Graham Fowler was also on the board of a
government-appointed committee on science and development.

On the surface, it looked like a large number of companies, but the same names kept coming up, like an incestuous family.

One name she hadn’t seen before was on an email. She checked. ‘One of the men who works for the legal department at PT is mentioned. His name is Jerry Dyke.’

‘How do you spell it?’

Anya spelt it out.

Oliver pulled over into the emergency lane and stopped. ‘Can I see?’ He looked across at the flow chart. ‘Something’s missing.’ He pulled out a pen and wrote before handing it back to Anya and returning to the traffic.

Reuben Millard.

‘What’s the connection?’ Anya had no idea.

He tapped the page with his left hand. ‘Dyke is the lawyer who defended Reuben Millard in the homicide trial.’

45

A
phone call to the university was put through to Madison Zane in the Department of Medicine building at the university. As head of the Medical Students’ Association, she was easily locatable.

She recognised Anya immediately and looked alarmed when Oliver walked in.

‘Am I being arrested?’

‘No, we just want to talk to you, about the protest and the night of the fire,’ Anya said, explaining that Oliver was present for unrelated business.

Madison seemed resigned to another interrogation. ‘The other researchers have lectures today, so we have this place to ourselves.’

‘You made good time coming back,’ Anya said.

‘I had to. I need to get experiments set up.’ Her flat shoes made a short scuff on the lino floors. She moved gracefully, back straight, feet slightly turned out. She could have been walking onto a stage at the ballet. ‘I still can’t believe the minister didn’t take our petition.’

‘What was the petition about?’ Oliver asked.

‘We want a moratorium on the government approval for PT to conduct human trials of GM foods like corn, soy, linseed and wheat in Australia, at least until their safety is actually established.’

‘Who’s we?’ Anya was curious to know how wide-reaching their organisation was. The one Alison Blainey accused of being amateur.

She recited a list. ‘Medical students, Doctors for a Better World, mothers’ groups, senior citizens, Wise Up Australia–’

‘Okay, that’s a lot of people,’ Oliver admitted.

Anya wanted to know, ‘Are you aware of the outbreak of E. coli cases at Livelonger Organics?’

‘I read it was a new strain and resistant to antibiotics. That was just the first one that went public.’

‘Do you mean there have been other infections?’ Anya was surprised the doctors hadn’t mentioned it. ‘How do you know?’

‘Half of our state is a laboratory for GM experimentation. PT and its owners are in the business of creating mutations. They inject bacteria and viruses into plant DNA, and animal DNA into plants. Nature evolves to survive and they found a way to inject a suicide gene into seeds.’

‘Can I ask something?’ Oliver interrupted. ‘Why would you want seeds to die?’

‘So they only survive one planting.’

Oliver looked perplexed.

‘That way you sell more, because to grow the plant again next season, you’ll have to buy more seeds That’s what they’re in the business of selling. Suicide genes mean there’ll always be demand.’

He raised his hands in surrender. ‘Why don’t people just buy seeds somewhere else.’

Madison squinted her eyes as if trying to work out whether he was joking or missing her point. Either way, the discussion was going nowhere. What about other infections. How many other children like Emily Quaid would suffer?

‘You mentioned other infections?’

‘They may take some time to appear. There’s no guarantee that the organisms they inject into DNA and RNA will be broken down by normal digestion. For the past twenty years, people have been consuming what are essentially foreign bodies, things to which our bodies have not previously been
exposed. Is it any wonder food allergies are a pandemic?
Our bodies haven’t had the chance to evolve to cope with it all.’

Anya was surprised the medical student knew so much about it. She looked around the lab. Bottles of energy and sugared drinks were lined up in a row, each labelled with a number from one to ten. In front of each was an index card of ingredients. They included the iced tea her mother regularly drank.

‘PT and companies like it make it difficult to trace anything back to its source. Sure, they try to cut down on the risk of things like infection in their foods.’

The medical student had a broad knowledge and moved from one topic to the next. The mention of infection piqued Anya’s interest. Len Dengate’s spinach had been infected and he had some of PT’s plants growing in his fields.

‘You said they cut down infection risk. What sort of infection risk do their plants have?’

‘Sorry. I didn’t explain. They don’t just manipulate plants and seeds. They produce Frankenmilk, beef and other meats too. They use toxic chemicals on top of the chemicals they’ve already introduced into the food chain. Did you know PT change the animals’ diets, castrate them, then inject artificial hormone replacement to accelerate growth. If that isn’t enough, after slaughter, the company either irradiates the meat products or washes them in ammonia. It looks like red meat, but what part of it is natural?’

‘Makes you want to become a vegetarian,’ Oliver shook his head at the concept. ‘Is that even legal?’

It must have been. Anya had seen the cattle with the plugs behind their ears releasing growth hormone and other chemicals like testosterone on the night of the fire. ‘There is some logic behind it. Castrated cattle are easier to control and produce leaner meat, which is what certain markets demand. They are manipulating nature for maximum profits.’

Madison was on a roll. ‘PT has its fingers in lots of money making pies. The parent company, Clarkson Evergreen, already makes pharmaceuticals, so why are they investing in things like malaria vaccines or vitamins incorporated into rice? Why not just give people the vitamins or vaccines?’

It was a good question. Glenn Lingard mentioned the potential for augmented foods but Anya hadn’t questioned the true motive.

Oliver nodded for Madison to go on.

‘Because a vaccine would cure the disease. Eventually there’s no demand, like for smallpox. But .
. .’
She hoisted herself onto a bench. ‘If they put it into the rice, people will be dependent on those seeds, ones that can’t be reused, to maintain their immunity. It’s extortion. They’re drip-feeding nations with a cure that only works if they keep eating the product.’

‘That’s completely illogical, not to mention morally questionable,’ Oliver concluded. ‘Why are these companies so keen to own land here? Between higher wages and the costs to reach their export markets, how is business even viable here? Why not just produce in China?’

‘I wish our politicians asked the same question. Our laws say you don’t have to label GM foods if they are used in restaurant meals or processed food. Export markets to Europe, Canada and the UK have dried up because of public opinion forcing legislation to outlaw them. This is the only country in the world that has approved human trials for GM wheat. It appears in Tasmanian bread and no one’s told.’

Anya understood the reasons for concern. ‘Because bread is considered a processed food.’

‘Look,’ Madison said, sliding down from the bench. ‘Don’t get me wrong. It’s possible that GM wheat with increased fibre and a lower glycaemic index could be a good thing, and prevent things like bowel cancers. My thesis,’ she pointed to the bottles of drink, ‘is looking at GM sugar inserted with leptin.’

Oliver interjected, ‘Isn’t that the hormone that switches off hunger?’

Madison’s face brightened. ‘Right. In theory, it’s a great idea. We need to find out more about how it affects consumers. People I know who drink these are weight conscious, but never drink just one. They’re supposed to be full, but they guzzle at least two to three a day.’

Anya thought of her mother drinking the iced tea from a bottle. In preference to almost anything else.

‘Clever marketing?’ Oliver offered.

‘It has to be more than that. So far, people are going back for the drinks that contain the GM sugar. It’s as if it’s addictive. At least, that’s my hypothesis. I have a year to prove or disprove it.’

Jocelyn wasn’t likely to fall for the marketing blurbs aimed at young people. It had to be something in the taste or delivery of the drink. Anya wondered if it had anything to do with her mother’s new immune condition.

‘The iced tea. Is there a chance that has GM sugar in it?’

Madison grabbed a pen. ‘Yes. Why? Do you drink it?’

‘My mother does and she’s just become unwell.’

‘In any of these drinks, preservatives and even the artificial sweeteners can contain GM bacteria as well. How many of us have a clue as to what we are really putting in our bodies and how much that contributes to the incidence of disease?’

Oliver rubbed his chin. ‘Then how can long-term effects be measured? Surely it’s got to be a nightmare to trace back.’

Anya knew that in the past fifteen years there had been an unprecedented increase in the numbers of allergies, immune conditions like coeliac disease, and food intolerances diagnosed. Not just in Tasmania, but worldwide. It also coincided with an explosion in the number of cases of autism and attention deficit disorders. Doctors were better at diagnosing all of those conditions, but that didn’t necessarily explain the exponential rise. That period of time was how long GM foods had been in the food system, in multiple forms.

‘You get it.’ Madison’s shoulders and neck relaxed. ‘They can’t be accountable for any long-term consequences. In US supermarkets, up to ninety per cent of the products contain corn syrup made from GM corn. Now corn has become one of the top food allergies around the world. Only no one’s withdrawing corn syrup from the market or banning it in schools.’

The facts were staggering.

‘Medicines are controlled and are only approved after rigorous, peer-reviewed long-term studies. The process of publishing medical research is arduous and many studies get rejected, which means the results can’t be considered valid. The same standards don’t apply when our food is manipulated and chemically or genetically altered. PT can do their own testing, and select which results they make public to support their cause.’

‘So how do we get the government to intervene?’ Oliver seemed enthusiastic about taking up the cause himself.

‘All we want is more independent scientific rigour. Not just the three-month studies on pigs or rodents that the laws stipulate. Like I said,’ she picked up the iced tea, ‘this stuff could actually help with the world’s obesity pandemic. But what if the sugar or its substitutes turn out to be as addictive as cocaine?’

Madison was well informed and remarkably articulate about the facts. Anya wanted to know why she and Alison Blainey had argued. ‘Aren’t you and POWER on the same team?’

‘We’re considered a branch of POWER but recently we’ve become disillusioned by them. We want facts and civil discussion. They’re only interested in campaigns that bring them lots of publicity and donations. POWER’s campaigns aren’t evidence-based. They’re reactionary.’

‘What you’re saying,’ Oliver ventured, ‘is your enemy’s enemy isn’t necessarily your friend.’

‘You should be investigating Alison Blainey,’ Madison added.

Anya moved away from the sample drinks. ‘Why?’

‘She’s supposed to be this big shot crusader against PT. What’s the first thing she does when she gets to Livelonger Organics?’

Anya flicked a glance at Oliver. ‘Tested the crop for GM contamination.

‘The kit was in her car, right?’

‘That’s what happened,’ Anya agreed.

‘Then she offers to sue PT. If she’s so clever, why didn’t she know that no one’s ever won a case against them? It’s the way Clarkson Evergreen and all its companies like PT operate. The moment they know their seeds are on someone’s property and that property hasn’t paid for the right, they sue for breaching their patents. Courts don’t care if the seeds blew in or were washed into their fields. They always find in favour of PT.’

‘If it isn’t the farmer’s fault?’ Oliver argued.

‘That doesn’t matter. Farmers in Canada, Mexico, and the US have been bankrupted because courts determined they had infringed seed patents. PT is a powerful company. They have
never
lost a case like that.’

Anya let the statement sink in. Alison Blainey did have her own agenda, and it had nothing to do with saving Livelonger Organics. As a lawyer who was familiar with Clarkson Evergreen and PT’s histories, she would have known they would not win a case against the company for contaminating Len’s organic crop.

It was as if her actions worked in favour of PT. Maybe someone knew she was working for the enemy and the assault was a warning.

Whatever her real agenda, the assault hadn’t deterred her. Alison seemed determined to finish what she started.