Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [56]
They got in the Mercedes, and as Luke drove away, Dillon said, "A hell of a business."
Quinn said, "We'll drop you off," then leaned back and closed his eyes.
And Dauncey followed.
11
Q UINN ARRIVED AT THE CORONER'S COURT AT TEN THE following morning. There were few people about, the odd police officer passing through. A young man was sitting on one of the benches, wearing a trench coat, a traveling bag on the floor beside him. He looked tired and unshaven.
Quinn shook a cigarette from a packet of Marlboros and lit it. The young man seemed to wince. Quinn held out the pack. "Can I offer you one?"
"I'm supposed to have stopped, but what the hell." He took a cigarette, fingers shaking, and accepted the light. "I'm knackered. I just flew in from Berlin and there was a delay at Templehof. You know what airports can be like when you're sitting around for four or five hours. I thought I'd miss the hearing."
And Quinn, having gone through Hannah Bernstein's file several times now, knew instinctively who he was.
"Is your name Grant?"
"That's right, Fergus Grant."
"Alan Grant's brother."
Grant looked bewildered. "Who are you?"
"Daniel Quinn. Helen Quinn's father."
Grant looked dismayed. "Oh, my God. Look, I know almost nothing about any of this, except that they're both dead. The police spoke to me by phone and just gave me the bare facts. That he was found drowned, that his girlfriend was dead. I never even knew he had a relationship."
"And I didn't know she did. What about your parents?"
"My old man cleared off when I was twelve and Mum died of cancer five years ago."
"I'm sorry."
Grant shrugged and stubbed out his cigarette. "They've told me hardly anything."
"Well, this inquest should cover it all." At that moment, Hannah Bernstein came in, followed by Ferguson and Dillon, and Quinn said to Grant, "Excuse me," and joined them.
"The man I've been talking to is young Grant's brother, Fergus. Just in from Berlin."
"Yes," Hannah said. "I heard this morning that this was to be a joint hearing."
Before she could elaborate, the doors opened and an usher appeared. "Court Three is now in session."
They filed in, followed by Grant and half a dozen members of the public, the kind of people who came for the entertainment value more than anything else. There were several functionaries, a Police Sergeant in uniform, and the Clerk of the Court. Hannah went and spoke to him, then returned to the others and joined them at the benches.
A moment later, George Langley came in and reported to the Clerk of the Court. Dillon said to Ferguson, "The pathologist."
Rupert Dauncey and Henry Percy came in right afterwards, with an usher who escorted them to the Clerk. As they turned away, Dauncey looked directly at Quinn and his friends, smiled slightly, and sat down on the other side of the aisle with Percy.
The Clerk of the Court got things moving. "The Court will rise for Her Majesty's Coroner."
The Coroner, a scholarly-looking man with white hair, came in and sat high above the Court on the bench, the officials below. A door opened to one side and an usher led in the jurors, who squeezed in along their benches. The Clerk of the Court administered the oath and the proceedings got started.
The Coroner had a dry and precise voice. He said, "Before we begin, I wish to make a statement. Circumstances being what they are, and with the permission of the Lord Chancellor's Office, this inquest will consider the facts surrounding the deaths of both Helen Quinn and Alan Grant, each appearing to have a bearing on the other." He nodded to the Clerk. "We'll start with the police evidence."
The uniformed Sergeant was called and quickly went through the basic facts, how Helen Quinn was delivered to the hospital, how Alan Grant was traced to Canal Street, and then the discovery of his body. The Sergeant was dismissed and the Clerk called Henry Percy, who went to the stand nervously and confirmed his identity.
The Coroner picked up a paper from the stack in front of him. "So, Professor, you knew