After hours of tossing and turning, I finally fell asleep at two in the morning and woke up again at half past six. I didn’t manage to doze after that and so I dragged myself out of bed, threw a splash of water on my face and staggered downstairs to consume a double dose of caffeine before feeling slightly human again. After breakfast, I pieced together an outfit from my closet that could pass for that of a lawyer. I tried hard not to think of what I was about to embark on, for fear of getting cold feet and backing out.
I slid my arms into my smartest coat, hung my key card stating I was a lawyer around my neck, strode out to my car and entered the address of the DFI into the navigation system. While driving, I kept checking my rear view mirror to make sure I wasn’t being followed. Traffic was light at this time of the day so I arrived at the destination in just under an hour. The building turned out to be located in a suburb of The Hague and was situated on a spacious site. I slowly brought the car to a halt in the visitor parking area.
My feet felt as heavy as lead. I was fully aware I was in a make-or-break situation as I walked towards the entrance of the imposing, rectangular building that had four floors and was surrounded by greenery. After I entered the lobby through the revolving door, I saw the reception on my right. I walked towards it with a straight back, hoping I looked convincing.
A lady in a green and white uniform addressed me. “Good morning, how may I help you?”
“Good morning,” I said, flashing a friendly, self-assured smile. “I’m looking for Joe de Smet.”
“Which department?”
I pretended to rack my brain for a few moments. “Sorry, it just slipped my mind. He’s a senior scientist and involved in DNA analysis,” I said and fervently hoped this would do.
She typed a few words into her computer, her long nails clicking on the keyboard. “Found him,” she said, then picked up the phone. “Do you have an appointment with him?” she inquired, keeping the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder while her fingers darted over the keyboard.
I apologised and flashed my homemade ID card at her. “I’m Jennifer van Doorn from the Mason & McGant law firm in Amsterdam. My colleagues have regular meetings with Joe,” I bluffed. “I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to free up some time for me,” I added with an air of self-confidence, but inside I was shaking like a leaf.
The woman inspected my company card for a moment, her eyes squinting, and then entered the details into her system without further questions. “Mr de Smet. I have someone from the Mason & McGant law firm who would like to see you, Jennifer van Doorn,” she said into the phone.
She hung up and looked at me. “He’ll be with you soon. Have a seat, please,” she requested and pointed towards the waiting area.
I walked towards the table and lowered myself into one of the comfortable armchairs. There was a stack of magazines in front of me. I took one entitled ‘Science’, leafed thoughtlessly through the published medical studies and then laid it back again. I stifled the urge to bite my nails and sat upright, a forced calm but friendly smile on my lips as I practised my lines.
A man who looked about forty years old approached me with the easy gait of an athlete, his brown hair showing streaks of grey at the temples. A feeling of dread overwhelmed me, urging me to scuttle off, but I knew I had to bite the bullet and face this head on.
The man, wearing a green, checked shirt and corduroy trousers, held out his hand to me. I jumped up and returned his handshake in a business-like manner, his skin warm and dry brushing against mine. “Jennifer van Doorn, lawyer at Mason & McGant,” I stated, trying to curb the vibration in my voice.
“Joe de Smet, senior scientist. I’m curious to learn to what I owe this visit,” he said graciously, then gave a short nod. “But let’s head upstairs, where we can sit quietly.”
I followed him up the steel spiral staircase, all the while telling myself I have a duty to do this to find Oliver’s killer, however uncomfortable I felt. To my relief, the man didn’t make an effort to engage in small talk.
Upon reaching the second floor, he announced, “We’re turning left here.”
We walked down a long, white-walled corridor, my heels clicking on the pristine epoxy floor, all the way to the far end of the building, passing by a string of laboratories that were well visible through the large windows. Joe noticed my gaze. “This is the lab where we perform DNA analyses.”
I nodded. “Interesting,” I said, feeling my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth.
We arrived at a conference room, where Joe halted and stooped to take a peek through the window. “This one’s available,” he concluded, opening the door to a windowless room, where posters illustrating what I presumed were scientific advances made by the DFI, decorated the otherwise blank walls. “Have a seat,” he said with a gesture.
I sank down onto one of the wooden chairs, the waistband of the sheer, glossy tights I wasn’t used to wearing underneath my skirt was cutting into my belly.
“Can I get you anything to drink?
“Water please,” I replied, hoping it would fix my dry mouth.
While Joe left the room to fetch us drinks I kept rehearsing the lines I’d carefully plotted out in my mind until I suddenly had an idea. I fished my phone out of my handbag and scrolled through the various functions, realising I wouldn’t have a sufficient amount of space left on my phone. I quickly opened data storage and, with a stab in my heart, removed a number of long films I’d taken of Tim. It’s for the greater good, I told myself. Knowing Joe could return at any moment, I pressed the red button and the counter started running. I placed my phone on the table and strategically covered it with a stack of papers, hoping with all my heart that the conversation would be audible.
I wiped the drops of sweat that beaded along my forehead, and right at that moment Joe reappeared, holding two plastic cups of water in his hands. He closed the door behind him and took a seat on my right side with a notepad and pen ready to use. “So, Jennifer. What can I do for you?”
I gave a nervous cough, straightened my back and forced myself to look confident. “Thank you for allowing me some time,” I began. “I’m sure you must be busy,” I offered in an attempt to flatter him, although I really had no notion of what people in his position were doing all day long.
“No problem at all. We always make time for our colleagues at Mason & McGant, history has proven it’s worth it,” he said with a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite read.
“I see our reputation precedes me,” I responded, smiling warmly.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll need to pop into the lab later on. One of the new lab technicians in my team is working on a complex analysis, for which she’ll need my help.”
“Of course. No problem.”
“You’re welcome to join me in the lab it might be interesting to get an impression of how things work here.”
“I’d love to,” I replied, taking a swig of my water, and decided to get to the point. “So Joe,” I began, laying my arms on either side of the paper stack covering the phone on the table. “I recently took over a defence case from one of my colleagues, who has been ill for quite some time. It’s been a rather complex lawsuit, involving a suspect who has received legal assistance from our office on several occasions prior to this. We have a …” I made a pompous gesture. “How shall I describe it – a fairly close relationship with this man. We want to do everything in our power to avert a new prison sentence for him.”
Joe folded his arms with an expression on his face that I found difficult to interpret. “Isn’t that your job as a lawyer?” he queried.
I smiled tactfully. “Of course. We have all taken the oath admitted to the bar,” I countered, pretending to be slightly affronted by his discourtesy. “But let me say that with some clients we have a somewhat stronger connection.” I couldn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, be considered a great actress, but so far Joe seemed to be going along with my performance.
There was a knock on the door – a young woman of about twenty-five in a white coat poked her head in. “Joe, I have reached step eleven of the analysis. Do you have time to come help me with this?”
Joe frowned at her. “Kelly, whenever you leave the lab, always make sure to take off your lab coat, remember?” he said admonishingly. “Even if you’re only out for a few minutes.”
Indignity flooded her, turning her face as red as a beetroot. “Oh right, I forgot. I’m sorry.”
Joe smiled weakly at me, whereupon I shrugged, relieved that the attention had been diverted from me for a moment.
“Well, there’s no point crying over spilt milk. Just make sure to remember it in future. Will you come along with us?” Joe asked me as he pushed back his chair, his tall, sprightly figure leaping up.
“Yes, of course,” I tried to say with enthusiasm, but needless to say I was displeased by this interruption. While Joe was discussing something with the girl, I ever so cautiously slid my hand under the pile of papers and pressed the red button on my phone to save the much-needed memory.
I followed Joe and Kelly into the corridor and tried to take this moment to relax, while catching fragments of their conversation which was filled with jargon, making it hard to follow. After passing a few doors we arrived at the laboratory, which I’d already laid eyes on earlier. Joe held his card against the reader and a click of the door sounded. He held it open for me, allowing me to enter the room, where we were met with a long line of white coats hanging on a coat rack. Joe took what seemed to be his personal one off the hook and slipped into it, before his gaze went stealthily up and down my body, making me feel uncomfortable. “This will probably fit you,” he concluded, grabbing another protective coat and holding it up for me.
Feeling a tad awkward I slid my arms into the coat, a whiff of an unfamiliar rose-scented perfume flooding my nostrils, and buttoned up.
Joe’s voice rose over the hubbub in this vast, white-painted space filled with complex devices, pumping hoses and humming machines on the various work tops lined up in rows across the room. A dozen people or so all dressed in protective clothing and some wearing safety glasses were scurrying about, completely focused on their work. At the far end of the room, the large windows offered a view of a series of skyscrapers in the distance – presumably the city centre of The Hague.
I conscientiously stepped into the room in Joe’s wake – laboratories were never really my cup of tea – making sure my greasy, mucky paws didn’t touch anything. Kelly removed a pair of plastic, white gloves from a cardboard box and slid her hands into them, while continuously babbling to her boss.
Joe suddenly swivelled, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm while he addressed me. “Kelly is conducting a DNA investigation on a forensic trace found at a crime scene. A so-called STR analysis is performed during this study, involving the determination of how often a certain DNA structure is repeated, as this is unique per individual.”
“Interesting,” I mumbled, shifting from one leg to the other.
“The DNA fragments are multiplied by an enzyme in a test tube in order to visualise them,” he continued, but I had a hard time keeping up with him as I felt nervous and jittery. “The profile of the DNA material found can then be run through the database, in the hope of finding a match,” he finalised.
“Righty-ho,” I responded, hoping he would hurry up with helping the young lab technician. I couldn’t wait for us to carry on our conversation in private again and leave the DFI behind me as quickly as possible.
After some moments Joe had shown the girl what to do next, and we headed back to the exit of the lab. Relieved, I took off the highly-perfumed lab coat and hung it on the rack.
We walked back into the conference room where I surreptitiously slid my hand into the stack of papers, unlocked my phone and pressed the red button.
Joe didn’t seem to have noticed anything and tapped his ballpoint against his teeth. “Right, where were we?”
“I was telling you about the lawsuit I took over from my colleague,” I began, trying to control the nerves surging through my body. “Over the last few days I’ve studied all the collected evidence and unfortunately things aren’t looking particularly promising for my client.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Joe said, entangling his fingers in front of his chest. “But I’m not sure what I can add at this point.”
I tilted my head. “I was quite impressed just now in the lab by you and your skilful team of technicians,” I ingratiated, flashing him my most enchanting smile.
But Joe wasn’t impressed and responded to my charm offensive by pulling his lips into a thin line.
“I wouldn’t be able to pull it off,” I said truthfully. “Running a complicated analysis like that – phew – I’m sure lots of things could go wrong. Are there ever any mistakes made?” I tentatively queried, lowering my eyes so that I was looking from underneath my brows.
He shrugged, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “On rare occasions, but there is usually ample DNA left to run the analysis again,” Joe replied without a trace of emotion in his voice.
I felt in the thick of this pivotal moment – if I gave up too much and Dan and I had been completely wrong about Joe’s role, it would surely raise suspicions and lead to collateral damage.
I smiled. “We all have our bad days, don’t we? I can imagine those new lab techs, eager to learn as they may be, can make a few technical glitches here and there,” I suggested, choosing my words carefully.
“Sure. Anything’s possible,” Joe replied with a hint of irritation in his voice. “Like I just said, it’s rare. And if it does happen, we’ll repeat the analysis even before releasing the results. So seems to me, it’s nothing you need to be concerned about.”
I nodded fiercely. “Sure, sure. I understand,” I soothed, feeling sweat dripping down my back.
I was racking my brain trying to figure out what I could say to get Joe to open up. That man had to be in the know, he just had to.
I suddenly had an idea. “By the way, before it slips my mind, how will I be able to leave the car park on my way out? The barriers were raised when I arrived – I’d like to avoid getting stuck here with my old banger,” I said, laughing and waving my hand airily. “A 2004 Fiat Panda,” I lied. “Still drives like nothing else though. Do you have a car of age as well, or do you prefer the kind of nought-to-hundred-in-five-seconds type of machine?” I queried.
He coughed, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “I drive a Tesla model Y. And I can arrange an exit ticket for you later,” he added promptly.
I had to suppress the urge to gloat. An old friend from college was a scientist at a pharmaceutical company – she always complained about the low wages she made. There was no way on earth a man in his position could afford an extravagant car like that without receiving the odd backhander.
“Right, a Tesla. Not bad,” I said casually before taking a mouthful of water. “Like I said, our firm entertains a warm relationship with this particular client. He claims to be innocent of the charge and we have every reason to presume this to be true. We’re doing everything in our power – and I mean pulling out all the stops …” I said, taking a pause for the message to sink in, “… to defend him. We obviously wouldn’t ever want for an innocent man to disappear behind bars,” I said in my most syrupy tones.
There was a change in expression on Joe’s face, albeit barely visible, but I knew I was on the right track.
I took a chance. “One of my partners at Mason & McGant advised me that it’s within the realm of possibility to request a re-analysis of a DNA sample. He assured me that you are the very best in your profession and are always willing to lend a helping hand.”
Joe visibly stiffened on the other end of the table, a scrutinising look in his eyes. There was no doubt I had his full attention now. “I do my best to be of service,” he responded tentatively, as he bit the inside of his cheek.
I nodded bashfully, but inside my heart was singing – I got a bite.
Dan and I suspected there was a close liaison between Joe and the firm but the exact shape or form of this was still to be discovered, so I silently looked across at him, hoping it would encourage him to continue speaking now that it had become self-evident what the purpose of my visit was.
The scientist leaped up from his chair, advanced a few steps to the internal windows, which offered a view of the corridor and cast a furtive glance to, I presumed, rule out potential eavesdroppers.
He turned around and leaned back against the door. “There are colleagues who sometimes cut corners while performing their work, and anchoring errors will ensue. If this is the case I’m willing to offer my full cooperation to have the DNA sample re-analysed in my lab, if the party in question would so desire.”
I gritted my teeth – Joe had moved too far away from my phone. If the most crucial information wasn’t audible on the tape, this whole plan would go up in smoke. I slowly and as unobtrusively as possible slid the stack of papers in his direction while I kept talking with a smile glued to my face. “We would naturally be very grateful.”
“How grateful exactly?” Joe asked circuitously.
I narrowed my eyes a bit. “I’d like to show our appreciation in the usual way,” and hoped wholeheartedly this wouldn’t put any strange ideas in his head.
Joe stared into the distance, tapping his fingers on his lips, before speaking again. “Did I mention my wife recently had an accident on the A13? Her treasured set of wheels was wrecked,” he said and turned his face. “She was lucky to make it out alive.”
“Oh dear. What a shame,” I responded to his suggestion. “We’ll take care of that. I’ll personally make sure that your wife receives a car that matches yours,” I said with satisfaction.
He cracked a smile, popped back into his chair and clicked down his ballpoint pen. “If you give me the file number, I’ll arrange for the re-analysis to be performed by one of my lab technicians before the end of the week.”
I felt an eyelid twitch as I forced myself not to gasp for air. “I’m afraid I don’t have it with me. I’ll email it to you later.”
He frowned and pursed his lips, fixing his eyes firmly on mine and for a moment I was afraid he was onto me. But then he spoke in a casual tone. “Sure.”
I was gathering the pile of papers, slowly removing my phone from underneath when Joe got up from his chair, advanced a few steps towards me before towering over me. “Jennifer, do you have your card for me?”
I bowed my head, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sudden redness on my cheeks and started rummaging excessively through my handbag. “Oh how silly of me. I left my cards at the office,” I uttered, trying to be the chaotic-yet-charming businesswoman, but I could hear my voice quivering.
I looked up, offering my best smile as my heart was pounding in my chest, while Joe’s eyes scrutinised my face. I knew I’d taken a huge risk – it would take no effort for him at all to give Mason & McGant a call and check my name. I slid back my chair, increasing the distance between us and stood up. “Thank you very much for your time,” I said, taking control of the situation again. I held out my hand. “I’ll be in touch with that file number.”
He dithered for the slightest moment before shaking my hand.
“I’ll see myself out,” I managed to produce, before scuttling down the corridor towards the exit. I forced myself to give the receptionist a friendly nod and a thank you for handing me an exit pass before pushing through the revolving doors.
Once outside, I came to a halt, breathed in the cool air and closed my eyes – an immense burden fell off my shoulders. I couldn’t believe what I’d just pulled off. A huge sense of euphoria surged through me and I had to restrain myself from shrieking.
I strode forward and stepped into my car, leaned my head back against the support, thoughts whirling through my mind. The hypothesis that Dan and I had formulated appeared to be true – Mason & McGant had been systematically bribing this Joe guy in exchange for tampering evidence to their advantage.
I took my phone from my handbag and listened to the final part of the sound recording, which I surmised to be pivotal. The voices sounded muffled, but the dialogue was clearly audible. No doubt, this would be sufficient for the police to reinstate the investigation.
In my call history I searched for Dan’s number only to remember that he’d turned off his phone and planned to purchase a burner. There was nothing else to do but wait for him to call me. The ball was now in his court.