Solway Tide

By Andy Jarvis

*contains scenes of violence and swearing* DC Roberta Sharp is more than just your average police detective. Outspoken, sassy and determined to make it up through the ranks, she's assigned to follow the case of a body found in the sea only to find herself the one being pursued. Far from being a run-of-the-mill murder tale this gripping page turner takes the genre by the horns throwing it in a totally new direction. A nightmare of a tale that challenges the very philosophy and motivation behind genetic experimentation and what possibly could be the 'hidden agenda' behind modern medical research. A setting on the remote west coast of Cumbria provides an eerie, atmospheric, heath land backdrop to this imaginative, twisting story of murder, corruption and the darker side of human nature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291896961

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Solway Tide

SOLWAY TIDE

Andy Jarvis

Copyright © 2014 Andrew Jarvis

‘Solway Tide’

First published in 2014 by Lulu Publishing (www.lulu.com)

Andrew Jarvis asserts his moral right to be identified as the author.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the author.

The following work is fiction, set in the near future in the western part of the county of Cumbria, England. Some of the place names are fictional. All characters portrayed in this publication are fictional. The actions and dialogue of the characters are not meant to be representative of particular persons living today or in the past or generally representative of any individual in any locality in the UK or elsewhere. All reasonable efforts have been made to ensure that the characters do not resemble actual persons, living or dead. Any similarity is entirely coincidental.

With special thanks to Sarah Martin, for her feedback and input I am extremely grateful.

And to Vanessa, for much appreciated advice and invaluable final critique.

ISBN

9781291896961

Let us make Man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps across the earth.

Genesis 1:26

Deal

His Royal Highness Prince Abu Nareza was worried. The Englishman was late. He conversed ill-temperedly with his most senior aide before resuming his long pace around the palace hallways. See that he gets everything he needs when he arrives, whatever his heart desires. And let me know immediately the escort is through the gates, the Prince had said before dismissing the aide.

Eventually, having arrived by military patrol from a private airport, the Englishman walked and talked with the Prince in the lavish palace gardens overlooking the blue ocean. The Prince apologised for the bureaucracy employed by some of his family members that had delayed the Englishman’s arrival. They will be dealt with, the Prince had promised. There followed a sumptuous three hour banquet with the Prince’s close family and twelve wives.

Are we far from the conclusion of this Project? The Prince had asked after dinner.

We are so near, the Englishman assured his Highness, but we cannot rely on public funding in Britain without being scrutinised at every level. Inspectors await reports into our activity for every penny involved. To gain the funding needed would mean divulging our topmost secrets. We cannot let this thing become public or political knowledge or the Project will end.

The Prince laughed. You British and Americans amuse me with your rules and regulations and strange little traditions, the Prince had said. How you manage to progress at all amazes me. So you come to me for help? I understand a little of what you are trying to do, but please tell me what is in this thing for me?

I understand that upon ascendance to the throne, your rule cannot be succeeded until death, your Highness.

That is true.

Do you wish to remain on your throne for a very long time, your Highness?

Of course.

Then we have the way. You shall...you shall stay ruler of your Kingdom indefinitely.

How long is that?

The Englishman spoke long into the evening about the work and the discovery in the Prince’s private study. Photos were produced from the Englishman’s briefcase. Statistical data and scientific data were explained. The Englishman even performed small scientific experiments that amazed the Prince.  Afterwards, they returned to the banquet hall for more drinks and the Prince beckoned his wives to come forward. You may be my guest, the Prince had offered.

The Englishman made his apologies. I’m afraid that it is not custom in my country to sleep with another man’s wife.

The Prince laughed. That is not what I have heard, he had said. I read the English papers. But I can see that you are an honourable man and I respect your decision.

So we have a deal? The Englishman had asked.

But of course. And tomorrow we shall seal it and celebrate out on my yacht. Perhaps you would like to sail her yourself? I understand that you are a great yachtsman?

I would be most honoured, your Highness. Shukran-jazilan, thank you and God bless you, the Englishman had said, bowing gracefully.   

The Near Future

Albert was pleased. He found what he’d been looking for. He lifted the stone, feeling its weight, swinging it back and forth in his hand. It was right. From all the stones littering the ground where he squatted, this was the one. Carefully he raised it to his brow and struck the stone he held in his other hand, chipping away a large flake. Good. There was an edge to the stone, but not a sharp one. He struck again. Not so good. The shape he’d imagined was not lost, but it would be smaller. He could see that. He struck again. Better. He’d found at least something like the imagined shape he was after. He held the stone up admiring it, feeling its edge. The Whitecoats would be pleased.

They would be here soon. He looked up at the sky. The darkness was coming. Yes, they would be here any time...always when the darkness was near. He fidgeted with the stone as he heard the gate open. He watched the men approach with anticipation.

‘Good evening Albert,’ said the man. ‘What have you got for us today?’

Albert grinned, baring nearly all his teeth as he held out his creation.

‘Oh well done, Albert! Gentlemen, look at that!’ said the Whitecoat taking the stone. ‘See the symmetry in it; the clearly defined edge? He knew exactly what he was looking for, a defined edge – sharpness – for cutting. Albert’s clearly crafted a rudimentary tool, much the same as our primitive ancestors did.’

‘And what about the experiment?’ asked another Whitecoat.

‘Oh, not long, not long, the experiment is going very well, but patience, we must talk about that later. You see, we don’t rush things here at SRD. Take Albert here for example; although he’s not directly involved in the experiment itself, he is special. He’s all part of creating the perfect environment. Chimps are social animals; they suffer in isolation, much the same as humans and are stressed in loneliness. And we can’t have that. Oh, no, those that we are working on must be contented. Here they have space – as much as they would in their own territory in the wild. And they are hunters, much like ancient Man. Keep things natural, test their skills by presenting tasks and reward them for their achievement. That’s called ‘reproducing evolution in the lab,’ gentlemen. Now a species like Albert is a thinker and a perfect replica of how Man overcame extinction by using his brain. He’s quite simply made a tool to assist his survival and that, you must agree, is brilliant.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said another Whitecoat, ‘but I really can’t quite see what it’s got to do with our main objective, developing the solution. This little sideline is all very interesting, but...’

‘Shush!’ the first Whitecoat hissed. ‘Experiment, solution – call it what you will, but I’ll remind you all that this little sideline is the whole purpose of the existence of SRD. We are government funded to research animal behaviour, particularly the chimps. That is what they pay us for. As far as the experiment goes, we agreed that we would not openly discuss it. That is between a very select few of us, gentlemen. Walls have ears, as they say. Let’s keep it in the labs, just get the job done as neatly and quickly as possible. Time is of the essence and we’re not helping by rushing things.’

‘Yes, but it’s no longer an experiment as such anymore. It’s been proven by experiment. We know we can have the solution. I merely want to know when this thing can be...shared.’

‘That will be all, Saunders!’ said the first Whitecoat. ‘For the immediate time being we’re here to monitor the chimps – including this clever little fellow.’ He bent down and stroked the chimp’s head and handed him back the stone. ‘And now Albert, what would we like today?’

Albert chattered gleefully, grinning at the men and pounding the stone on the rocky ground. The Whitecoat handed him a set of pictures, which Albert shuffled through almost with the dexterity of humanity. He licked his forefinger as he had seen the female Whitecoat do one day in the lab leafing through papers, although he didn’t understand why. He stopped at a picture of a Colobus monkey, tapped the photo, handed it back to the Whitecoat and scurried off excitedly to the others.

‘We’ll discuss the experiment nearer to its completion, gentlemen,’ said the first Whitecoat. ‘Now, let’s see how Albert does in the hunt with his new tool, shall we? You can see why we named him after the greatest mind of the twentieth century, can’t you?’

‘Perhaps then you should have named him Stephen,’ said another Whitecoat.

‘I disagree,’ said another laughing as the men made their way to the perimeter gate. ‘Without Einstein, Stephen Hawking would have no ground whatsoever to start his theories, never mind reach his conclusions.’

‘I agree up to a point,’ said the first, ‘Albert Einstein was indeed the trailblazer, but he was misled by his own experimentation.’

‘Misled?’ commented yet another. ‘That’s rather harsh, he merely didn’t have the apparatus at his disposal that we have today. By today’s standards he made Hawking look like an imbecile.’

‘Imbecile?’ said the first raising his voice so that Albert looked up from his rock pile. ‘Well I’ll tell you this…’

Albert watched as the men swiped their security cards and disappeared through the first perimeter and along the path to the great white building that housed the laboratory. He sat for a long time playing with his creation and feeling very pleased with himself. 

The following day Albert sat upon his rock pile once again, picking at stones. He and the others of his group were happy for now. They had eaten, and although Colobus monkey was the hardest of all prey, its reward was greatest – the sweetest of all meats.

But life in Simian Research Development wasn’t easy. Rewards weren’t given. They had to be earned. Since Albert and the others of his group had been captured there had been changes. Life was sometimes harsh. The compound was large, and they lived as they always had, except for the presence of the Whitecoats. Sometimes they took him away to the lab. There were games to play; things to make and coloured puzzles to solve. In the early days they wired him. Later they were doing things to him without wires, but Albert could still tell it was them, the Whitecoats, that were doing it. Occasionally they gave him mild pain, but usually pleasure. And always there were pictures flashing before him or thoughts that invaded his mind unannounced. Strange thoughts. And at these times the wires poured sexual pleasure through his veins.

And sometimes they made him sleep. The first time Albert was frightened. They strapped him to a bed and pricked him with a needle. But when he awoke he was rewarded with the best of treats – candy, in all shapes and sizes: marshmallows of every colour, chocolate beans and fruity nougats that Albert could pick from a chart to his heart’s desire, the choices on display sometimes sending him into a frenzy of chattering and back-flips. Eventually – although always a little nervous – he came to look forward to these sessions and the Whitecoats no longer had to strap him down.

And afterwards...there was always candy.

Today was different. Alone on his rock pile he scoured the pieces. The sun was up, and it would be many hours before the Whitecoats came, when a glint caught his eye. He looked at the object, long and shiny. He had seen something like it before. Picking it up, he ran his finger along the blade drawing blood. He yelped, then looked around to see if the others had heard. He tapped the object against a stone and a small flake fell away with a pleasing ring. He played with the object, striking stones at random. It didn’t break. Often the hitting stone broke too, and he would have to find many stones to finish the job. Perhaps this was the right stone. But it didn’t feel quite right. It was light – too light, but Albert was reluctant to let it go. Then he stopped. He sat for a long time, playing with the object, fascinated by its glint in the sunlight, wondering exactly what to do with it. And there was something else his mind struggled with: He saw...the object...in his hand...the hand that the object had cut.  The shiny object cut...as sharp stones cut. The shiny object is...the weapon. Of course! He saw the object slashing, the blood dripping as it did from his finger, and the flesh of monkey falling away with ease.

Then he was afraid. Such an object must belong to the Whitecoats. He remembered once how he had been scolded for touching shiny things in the lab. The Whitecoats would be looking for it.

He scurried off quickly to the housing area, looking around cautiously as he entered one of the many portals. The others were all out. In a corner he tucked the knife under the straw where he slept, then ran out to enjoy the rest of the sunshine with his clan.

That evening, the moon was full, casting an eerie glow through the housing portals. The others dozed, some restlessly as they had been to the lab that day. Albert remembered his prize and reaching under the straw pulled it out to admire. He twirled it in his hand, waved it before his face in the gloom and held it aloft in wonder. Moonlight glanced off the shiny blade catching the eye of Redbeard who was only half asleep. With a grunt Redbeard was up and across the room in curiosity. Albert sat on the knife concealing it from view. Redbeard held out his hand and snarled, but Albert sat fast. Although Redbeard was the dominant male of the group and much bigger, Albert would not give up his prize so easily. Redbeard lowered his head and turned slowly as if to go, then swung around with a bellow, his long arm swiping Albert away with a thud. He looked down at the strange object for a few moments, captivated by the glint. His long fingers stroked the blade as it lay on the ground; his other hand scratching the back of his head, which he cocked back and forth, trying to fathom the meaning of his newly won prize. But Albert was quick. He snatched the knife away, retreating to his corner. Redbeard came at him on two legs, huge arms waving wildly above his screaming head. Cornered, and in desperation and fear Albert swung blindly, catching the huge ape across the chest. Redbeard staggered back howling, the blood oozing down his fur. Uncertain and fearful he stood motionless, contemplating Albert’s strange new sting. Albert saw his one chance and took it. An image flickered briefly in his mind and with a spring he was on Redbeard, plunging the blade deep into the ape’s neck.

A hideous scream pierced the housing, and the compound burst into light. Chimps screamed and danced wildly, jumping through portals, racing up walls and leaping up ropes. Gunfire cracked, and the chimps raced inside cowering into a corner.

The Whitecoat and his men looked down at the hirsute body of Redbeard and its increasing circle of blood.

‘Animal rights group you reckon?’ said one.

‘Don’t be absurd. Do you honestly think they could breach this compound? I don’t think so. Even if they could they don’t go around killing animals for a start; that’s just not their way. And that doesn’t look like a bullet wound.’

‘And only a fool would come into the house,’ said another, ‘especially at night.’

They took Redbeard’s body away. Eventually the lights went out and the others chattered excitedly, occasionally looking across at Albert in nervous admiration. Albert dozed fitfully, strange images pervading his dreams. Late in the night when the moon had set and the others slept he awoke, clambered out of the portal above his nest and retrieved the prize he had thrown out before the Whitecoats had come.

The following morning Albert sat out as usual on the rock pile. The female chimp Lucy, Redbeard’s previous companion, groomed the new leader respectfully. Albert began to tap stones with the knife and she retreated silently. He was lost in thought, trying to understand the meaning of the previous night’s events. So deep in thought that he didn’t hear the gate open.

‘What have you got there, Albert?’ said the Whitecoat.

Albert spun around alarmed. Never before had the Whitecoats come into the compound so early.

‘Give it to me Albert, there’s a good boy.’

Albert sat still, nervously clutching the knife. Another Whitecoat cocked a gun.

‘Don’t,’ said the first, raising an arm. ‘Stun him now and you’ll undo years of hard work. Come on Albert, give it to me.’

Images flashed. He had to make a decision quickly.

2.

Marianne Dawson undid the clip holding her blond locks to the back of her head, allowing them to wave freely in the cool spring air. She eased back into the car seat, pushing her legs out and tugging down the hem of her denim mini-skirt that had ridden uncomfortably high up her long slender thighs. She wrapped her cardigan closely around her shoulders, the wind sending a chill through her body.

‘Where the hell are you taking me?’ she cried.

Myron Neville’s eyes never left the road. He steered purposefully at a steady sixty along the narrow tarmac bends that cut through the desolate heath. He’d known the girl long enough; he’d seen the legs. Been there, done that, got the tee-shirt. He would see the skirt riding high up her legs later. Other things occupied his mind today; like the throb of a three hundred and fifteen horsepower Porsche Boxster thundering around him, prowling the lanes like a lioness.

‘Can’t we have the top up now?’ Marianne cried. ‘I’m freezing, and how about some music on?’

Myron cried out over the engine’s drone: ‘Music? Philistine! Listen to it, listen to that purr! That is music! Beautiful music!’

‘But why does it have to be so loud, and can’t you slow down a bit? And what’s so special about this car anyway, besides the racket?’

Myron swung hard into the approaching bend; slamming the gears down, stroking the accelerator just enough to maintain speed and control. Tyres squealed softly, the backend quivered into the curve. There was something sensual about the quiver, Myron thought, like watching a female Rumba dancer at the Mardi-Gras; controlled and rhythmical, he wanted to reach out and grab the movement. He imagined himself as a spirit flying behind, stroking, guiding the car boot and gently talking the machine safely around the bend.

Myron cried out as the engine screamed like a Spitfire in a dogfight coming out of the bend in a skid. It swayed left then right and left again, then upping the gears and flooring the accelerator onto the straight, the car righted itself. ‘Sticks to the road like shit to a blanket, that’s what’s so special about her!’

Marianne held on for dear life then screamed as the car stabilised: ‘You stupid, stupid bastard! Nobody will find us out here if we have an accident! Just slow down and tell me where we’re going or I’m going to jump out and walk!’

‘Moss Bay, that’s where!’

‘Bullshit, you’re going the wrong way for a start and that area is off limits!’

‘Wrong on both counts!’ cried Myron, slowing down and turning sharply into a barely noticeable gravel lane that cut down between peat mounds. Descending steeper it became dirt track that scraped the exhaust of the low built sports car. On a dip bend the muffler caught a large stone, knocking a clamping ring away from the exhaust. The engine burst into a tractor-like roar as the muffler fell away at one end. Myron braked hard into a skid cursing as the car spun to a halt in the soft ground. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ he cried and pounded the steering wheel with his fists.

‘Serves you right!’ cried Marianne. ‘You could have got us both killed back there! What the hell are you thinking Myron?’

Myron leant forward, hands on steering wheel and banged his forehead on the horn chanting ‘dumbass, dumbass, dumbass!’ each time it sounded a loud beep.

Marianne didn’t like the look of the fence. Tall with steel posts, thick mesh and razor wire on top that continued across rolling hills, they descended to the sea and beyond. Dormant beacons on top every fifty metres or so seemed as though they could burst into flashing light at any moment. Steel pillars poked up from the waves like the artistic sentries she had once seen placed on the sands at Liverpool. But these weren’t art; these were a declaration of threat and of hatred of everything that she believed in.

Beyond the sentries the sea of Moss Bay gleamed in hues of turquoise and salmon pink. Gentle waves sparkled in a low sun that lit up red stone cliffs like a forge across a ravine that lead down to the water’s edge.

Myron sat up and killed the growling engine. He leant back in the seat, sighed and sat eyeing the view in silence. A lone razorbill cawed out a solitary tune as it hovered in the breeze and skimmed in and out of heather and moss.

Marianne wondered at the mentality of anyone who could prevent access to such a beautiful place. The idea was totally abhorrent to her, that fences could be used to annex the creations of God and steel sentries crowned with knives as far as the beach and beyond, out to sea…to capture the sea? The notion that the sea itself could be declared as personal ownership was the height of man’s contempt to man. She felt awed and sickened at the same time.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Myron muttered.

‘It’s gorgeous…but we can’t go any further. The road goes straight through that fence.’

‘So?’

‘So you’re full of bullshit. First of all you scare the shit out of me with your stupid reckless driving. Now you show me the most fantastic place on earth, only we can’t visit. Why don’t you just buy me a cake and say I can’t have any to eat? God, I didn’t realise your old man’s place had gobbled up so much land, all this beautiful land. Why so much land and where are the buildings anyway? I thought we were miles away from the Centre.’

‘The buildings are just around the cliffs, a couple of miles or so. You can see them from the beach if you want to walk there.’

‘No thanks.  Besides, we could never get in here, not that I’d want to. The place, the fences – they’re giving me the creeps.’

‘We don’t have to get inside.’ Myron got out of the car and walked on. To the left a narrow, partly overgrown path branched and descended away from the dirt track, running parallel to the fence line. ‘Follow; this will lead us to the beach.’

Marianne jumped out of the car chasing after him. ‘How do you know that?’

‘We used to come here as kids. I remember the path from way back, we used to come and have picnics on the beach here. I wasn’t sure if the perimeter contained the old path or not. But now we know. We’re in luck!’

‘What about the car?’ Marianne cried.

‘I’ll sort it later, I know a good welder in town. Damn, this track hasn’t done her any favours.’

‘Should have got a proper one then, like a four-by-four.’ she raced up behind, catching Myron as he walked and looped her arm into his.

‘Four-by-fours are for farmers and little guys with no dick,’ Myron said with a loud snort.