The Acid King | Tune In | 2

Richard Kemp's revolution is working, and all from a leaky Welsh cottage. But when a fatality leaves a name on a police notepad, there's a detective who is determined to find out the truth. Do you have a suggestion for a scandal you would like us to cover? Or perhaps you have a question you would like to ask our hosts? Email us at [email protected] See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Speaker names marked ? are inferred from speaking time and the show’s known hosts — they are not voice-verified.

• 0:00Alice Levine?

  Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of British Scandal ad-free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app.

• 0:07Matt Forde?

  Just a warning, this episode features drugs and lots of strong language.

• 0:12Alice Levine?

  And regrettably hilarious content that will probably make you want to see us live in Sheffield on Sunday the 5th of July. Crosswires.live for tickets. More info in the show notes if you're affected by this issue.

• 0:25Matt Forde?

  Right, Alice, I've almost packed our suitcase for that trip to Wales.

• 0:30Alice Levine?

  I can't believe we've worked together this long and we've never taken a weekend away together. This is so exciting. So definitely nothing you need from me?

• 0:37Matt Forde?

  No, I've got all the essentials. Camping stove?

• 0:39Alice Levine?

  Great.

• 0:40Matt Forde?

  Sleeping bags?

• 0:41Alice Levine?

  Oh, yeah, two, good, yeah.

• 0:42Matt Forde?

  Camping food, you know, the sachets, the rehydrated stuff.

• 0:45Alice Levine?

  Oh, yeah, the kind of powder and it's like, is it mac and cheese? Is it casserole? Don't know.

• 0:49Matt Forde?

  Who knows? It's the fun of camping. And 10,000 hits of LSD.

• 0:54Alice Levine?

  I, sorry, I mean, I don't want to be a square, but it feels kind of crazy that you're taking that.

• 0:59Matt Forde?

  Good point. We can eat at the pub.

• 1:02Matt Forde?

  July 1975, Plac Hlucin, Wales.

• 1:06Alice Levine?

  Gorgeous.

• 1:07Matt Forde?

  I thought I said Wales perfectly.

• 1:11Matt Forde?

  Richard Kemp wipes a gloved hand across his brow. Sweat trickles into his eyes as he leans over the apparatus spread across the worktop.

• 1:21Matt Forde?

  Across the room, Christine hurriedly packs away reflux condensers into cardboard boxes. Come on, Richard, I'm not getting you fucking arrested. Glancing up at the clock, it's nearly midnight. They should be gone. He reaches for a pipette, tries to stop his hand from shaking. I just need to check the purity.

• 1:43Matt Forde?

  He squeezes a droplet into a test tube, shakes the liquid, trying to speed up the reaction.

• 1:50Matt Forde?

  He spins as he hears the door latch. It can't be, but it's actually just Christine slapping a container closed. Christ, Chris! But turning back around, his sleeve catches the bench.

• 2:04Matt Forde?

  The tube shatters. A sharp pain bites his palm. Slowly, he looks down to see a small splinter of glass sticking into his flesh and clear liquid seeping directly into his bloodstream.

• 2:18Matt Forde?

  His breath catches. It's pure acid. Richard? Oh my god, Richard! Christine's voice stretches strangely in his ears. The room bends out of shape. He panics. But before he can react, he feels an electric bolt shoot through his body. He grips the edge of the workbench as the air around him constricts. Shuts his eyes in desperation as his vision blurs. Splinters. Shatters in fragments before a...

• 2:48Matt Forde?

  A shriek fills the air. His eyes widen, as red and green acrid smoke bleed into the room.

• 2:57Matt Forde?

  He's somewhere else. Cold light. Stone walls. And there is Christine, sitting on the edge of a narrow bunk. But the bunk keeps shifting closer than miles away. Her outline shimmers. She's wearing clothes he doesn't recognize. Gray. Chris. His voice comes back to him, flattened, swallowed by the walls. She doesn't move. Doesn't look up. Just sits, hands folded. You did this, did this, did this, did this. Her voice echoes around the tiny room. I gave up everything for you, for you, for you. He tries to go to her, but his legs won't find the floor.

• 3:43Matt Forde?

  Christine? Richard! He jumps back alarmed, to see Christine's terrified face inches from him. Her cool palms burning on his face. Richard, we need to go. Now!

• 3:58Matt Forde?

  His vision snaps back as he's returned to the lap.

• 4:03Matt Forde?

  He stares around at the empty room in confusion. Now, Richard!

• 4:09Matt Forde?

  He lets Christine pull his body towards the door, as he thinks he hears police sirens in the distance.

• 4:16Matt Forde?

  He forces himself to concentrate. To focus.

• 4:21Matt Forde?

  He can still see the woman's face, still smell her flesh. But he wills his legs to move, because he knows that if he doesn't, he might never wake up from this nightmare. Richard!

• 4:35Matt Forde?

  He has to leave. Now.

• 4:50Speaker 02

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• 5:09Speaker 03

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• 5:20Speaker 03

  Hi, I'm Kenya Barris.

• 5:21Speaker 04

  And I'm Malcolm Gladwell. We're back for season two of our Audible original podcast, The Unusual Suspects.

• 5:26Speaker 03

  We're bringing you fresh, new conversations from guests like Anderson Paak, David Zedares, Ryan Howard, Rich Roll, Amy Sheldon, and many more.

• 5:33Speaker 04

  Sign up for a free trial to Audible to listen to season two in the Audible app or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts.

• 5:44Matt Forde?

  I'm Matt Ford.

• 5:45Alice Levine?

  And I'm Alice Levine.

• 5:47Matt Forde?

  And this is British Scandal, an Audible original.

• 6:00Matt Forde?

  So Alice, what are your thoughts so far on Richard Kemp?

• 6:03Alice Levine?

  Okay, so Cambridge prodigy, he quit his PhD to make drugs in a shed. I mean, he is genuinely brilliant. He's made the most pure LSD that has ever existed.

• 6:13Matt Forde?

  He's a high shiva.

• 6:14Alice Levine?

  And he's also a kind of romantic and idealist. He believes he's going to chemically reprogram humanity into a state of universal peace and harmony via some little purple dots.

• 6:26Matt Forde?

  Yes, universal peace and harmony through drugs. So I guess you could say a visionary.

• 6:31Alice Levine?

  Yeah, a visionary who perhaps doesn't live like you would imagine a visionary would. He's just moved to a cottage in Wales with no running water and is bartering acid for goat's milk, which actually, if you've ever had goat's milk, the tang of that is basically a trip.

• 6:47Matt Forde?

  Yeah, acid actually tastes better on your cornflakes. The obvious next step is to take the whole thing global.

• 6:53Alice Levine?

  What could go wrong?

• 6:54Matt Forde?

  Let's find out. This is episode two. Tune in. One year earlier, April 1975, Reading. Detective Inspector Dick Lee slinks low in the front seat of an unmarked Ford Cortina.

• 7:11Alice Levine?

  It sounds like an adverb, Dickly.

• 7:12Matt Forde?

  Oh, yes, he was, um, very dickly, very dickly child.

• 7:17Alice Levine?

  Horrible kid, Dickly, almost.

• 7:20Matt Forde?

  His eyes are fixed on the living room of number forty-two. This is Dick Lee's first raid as head of Thames Valley's drug squad. For years, Dick's been forced to fight the flood of drugs coming into this country from behind a desk, watching helplessly as his predecessors failed to stop violent criminals taking over his city. But now he's in command, he's determined to take the fight to the streets and start clearing up this mess properly. One of his officers, D.C. Pritchard, is inside this den, undercover, striking a deal. But it shouldn't be taking this long. Dick straightens in his seat as he sees the front door crack open. He lifts his radio, thumb twitching on the button.

• 8:06Matt Forde?

  Pritchard steps out, empty-handed, alone. His nerves crackle as he watches his colleague look left, then right, then take out a cigarette and light it. All units, all units, move in now!

• 8:22Matt Forde?

  Peter Harries, you're under arrest.

• 8:26Matt Forde?

  Get him out of here. Are we all a sucker, is it just me, for a kind of tough guy who's on the right side?

• 8:33Alice Levine?

  Oh, a lovely big man.

• 8:35Matt Forde?

  Lawrence Delalio, do you know what I mean?

• 8:38Alice Levine?

  Okay. I don't know what you mean, what do you mean?

• 8:41Matt Forde?

  Just like a man that's like all back and the shoulders and desperate down chin and just like, oh, man, if I was a woman.

• 8:49Alice Levine?

  Would you like a hug?

• 8:51Matt Forde?

  Mm.

• 8:51Alice Levine?

  Would you like just a nuzzle in the neck?

• 8:53Matt Forde?

  Or just to be carried over the threshold?

• 8:56Alice Levine?

  Of what?

• 8:56Matt Forde?

  Or from like a burning, some, just like rescued by Delalio. Just to feel like, you know, a body that's just so hard, do you know what I mean? Just like...

• 9:03Alice Levine?

  Can I just touch your haunch? Your cold, solid haunch?

• 9:07Matt Forde?

  Could you just sign the small of my best, please?

• 9:11Alice Levine?

  Delalio Trump stamp.

• 9:15Matt Forde?

  Dick tips Harry's as black duffel bag on its end. Smiles as two dozen bricks of hash tumble out.

• 9:23Matt Forde?

  But you can hear something else in there, something rattling.

• 9:27Matt Forde?

  He stuffs his hand in, pulls out a palm-sized bag of tiny, purple dots. Pritchard, what are these? Amphetamines? Pritchard glances over, lifts one of the tiny, purple microdots to his eye. I think it's acid, sir. Dick's nose wrinkles. Acid? Like LSD? Been seeing more and more of it recently. Harry's claims the margins are better than hash and coke because he doesn't have to smuggle it in. It's all made here. His head snaps round. In the UK? Dick's just read an article in Life magazine about LSD as a cause of psychosis and brain damage. Its association with cults, how Charles Manson used acid tests with his followers to break down their egos.

• 10:13Matt Forde?

  Dick stares at the bag in his palm as another officer pipes up. These purple microdots have been popping up all over the shop. Even had to meet clerks I'm right at the top of Scotland. It's a goddamn epidemic! Dick stares at him in concern. If acid really is being made in Britain at this scale, taking one dealer off the streets won't help. He needs to know where these purple microdots are coming from, cut this stuff off at the source. LSD cannot be allowed to take hold in Britain, not while he has breath in his body. And right now, Harry's is his best chance of finding it.

• 10:56Matt Forde?

  Two days later, Keridigion, Wales. Dick squints through the windscreen, trying to keep his eyes on Harry's as Triumph TR7 as it snakes along another winding country road. Beside him, Pritchard huffs and opens the window immediately regretting it as another organic smell wafts in from the surrounding fields.

• 11:19Matt Forde?

  There was a particular smell in the British countryside. We all know what it is. It's animal shit.

• 11:26Alice Levine?

  Excrement.

• 11:27Matt Forde?

  The first waft. I always think, I hope that's not me.

• 11:31Alice Levine?

  What?

• 11:32Matt Forde?

  I just hope I haven't trumped.

• 11:33Alice Levine?

  And it smells like a whole field of cows. What are you eating? Actually, I know what you're eating. That makes a lot of sense.

• 11:38Matt Forde?

  Hay and grass.

• 11:39Alice Levine?

  And sausage rolls.

• 11:43Matt Forde?

  Six months working that lead? And you turn a bastard loose to take us on a fucking nature trail? Dick Grimaces. They've been tailing Harry's for four hours now, hoping he'd lead them to his supplier. But all they've seen for the last 20 miles is sheep, streams and stones. Either Harry's has no idea where he's going, or he's already clocked them. A sign crawls into view. English, with a hand-painted Welsh translation below. Welcome to... Pritchard tries to step in. Landadue Briefing.

• 12:18Matt Forde?

  Crawling through the village, Dick takes in the sparse sights. The post office, the phone box, the chapel, the other chapel. Dick slows as Harry's pulls up at the village pub. The new inn. Its whitewashed walls half-hidden under a thick blanket of ivy and primroses. Dick squints as the door swings open and a woman in a paisley dress and bare feet comes running out, throws her arms around Harry's. Pritchard rolls his eyes. Fucking hell, he's gone 200 miles for a bit of free love. Dick watches the pair disappear inside. He flicks his eyes to his wing mirror, determined not to be defeated. Keep watch.

• 13:00Matt Forde?

  Ducking low, Dick slips out along the road.

• 13:05Alice Levine?

  Am I grown up? I'm not commenting.

• 13:07Matt Forde?

  Towards the village police station. Inside, it's little more than a counter and a desk. Dick approaches the officer on duty, brandishing his ID. Detective Inspector Richard Lee, Thames Valley Drug Squad. The officer's eyebrows raise. Here? He sees the officer smirk at his colleague. What do you reckon, Owen? Who's he after? The other officer leans back in his chair. Well, we had a pig running riot last week after eating a bucket of fermented apples. She's probably the biggest hell raiser we've seen here.

• 13:40Alice Levine?

  Okay, so we've got a joker on our hands.

• 13:42Matt Forde?

  Good old cop banter. Dick feels his last hope leave his body. Unless you count Cliff Richard. Dick's face folds in confusion. No, not Cliff Richard, he means Keith Richards, the Rolling Stone. Him and Mick Jagger were here the other month. Mick Jagger was here. His face folds further. And that guitarist, like, you know, um, the black fella who plays with his teeth. Dick boggles. Jimi Hendrix, that's the one. Dick stares at him. Yeah, they've had some good people play down at the hippie commune, haven't they, Sarge? Dick's ears prick up. John and Yoko are on the move. Dick ignores the call, pulls out his notebook.

• 14:27Matt Forde?

  Sorry, did you say hippie commune? Sir, suspect's entering his vehicle. Yeah, nice bench, never caused us no trouble. Out blind car, didn't we? He scribbles down the name, I still know him. Appreciate this, lads, and here, let's keep this to ourselves for the moment, all right?

• 14:46Alice Levine?

  You can still spread the Cliff Richard rumour, but keep the other stuff under wraps.

• 14:50Matt Forde?

  Keep playing your little game, but just don't spread the actual news. The officers nod. Sir, if you're buying postcards, the suspect's getting away. Dick snaps his notebook shut, heads for the door. Don't worry, I think we've just found out where he's going.

• 15:12Matt Forde?

  The following evening, Penclane Cottage, Blind Caron. Richard gazes out through the kitchen window, along the valley towards the gentle glow of the commune's campfire flickering a kilometre away in the distance.

• 15:27Alice Levine?

  I have to say, I'm more up for the idea of the commune now I realise they're on the major touring route, they're getting all the big players.

• 15:34Matt Forde?

  Yeah, you don't really get that these days. They don't say, oh, come to a just stop oil protest and One Direction are going to perform.

• 15:44Matt Forde?

  Christine is in the foreground, returning from her trip to the commune, arms laden with fruit and grains. He really should help Christine, especially as it's starting to rain. But his hands are covered in acid, and he still has another 10,000 microdots to make before he does tonight's drop-off. He resumes kneading his vibrant purple paste. Richard and Chris have finally found their rhythm out there. They're growing carrots, onions, potatoes. Chickens lay eggs, goats provide milk. They have plenty to trade in the commune. For all his fears the revolution would fizzle out if he left the big city, it hasn't. In fact, since Solomon took charge of distribution, Demandfree's LSD has skyrocketed.

• 16:28Matt Forde?

  They've expanded into Europe, North America, Australia, with plans for more. Every six months, Richard makes a batch of pure crystal acid, enough for 10 million trips. From that batch, he makes up a few hundred thousand microdots each week, drops them off somewhere remote for one of Solomon's guys to collect. And trip by trip, the revolution grows, all at the steady price of £1 a pill. Solomon has told him he's now responsible for 90% of the UK's LSD supply, and almost half the world's.

• 17:02Alice Levine?

  That is absolutely nuts, and he's just doing that in a bog-standard Ikea kitchen?

• 17:09Matt Forde?

  Richard glances at the clock, rinses his gloves in the cast iron sink, turns the radio tuner to check any traffic reports.

• 17:19Speaker 05

  Suspect heading east towards Caledonian Dewey, over.

• 17:23Matt Forde?

  Richard's head snaps to his radio, eyes wide, certain he must have imagined it. He retunes the dial.

• 17:34Speaker 05

  Red stop in play down here at the commune. You require backup or...

• 17:40Alice Levine?

  Guys, guys, guys, guys, guys. Can we do something about the frequency? Can we do something about the language we're using? Can we establish a code? This feels like a bit say what you see.

• 17:50Matt Forde?

  And also, if we're going to be on the radio, spin a few tunes.

• 17:52Alice Levine?

  Exactly. Text in, eight double one, double nine.

• 17:55Matt Forde?

  This is Inspector Dick Lee. And this is Dire Strits, which is sweet.

• 17:59Alice Levine?

  But right now, it's time for the news with Natalie Jamison.

• 18:03Matt Forde?

  He freezes as he pinches the tuner still. Tries to control his heartbeat. His body bristling with panic.

• 18:10Speaker 05

  All in, sir. I'm ready.

• 18:16Matt Forde?

  Richard rips off his gloves, picks up the radio, stares at the dial.

• 18:20Speaker 05

  It's half past the hour.

• 18:22Matt Forde?

  105.5 FM.

• 18:24Speaker 05

  Time for the traffic with Gwen.

• 18:25Matt Forde?

  He wiggles the tuner back and forth.

• 18:30Matt Forde?

  Richard checks his hands for nicks and cuts, making sure he hasn't accidentally absorbed any acid. But he heard them, clear as day. The police at the commune. Diving into action, he sweeps his equipment into a black bin bag, just as Christine pushes through the door. Christ, Richard, we need those carrots. Go inside, listen to the radio, yell if you hear anything weird. He races towards the courgette patch. What? Just do it.

• 19:04Alice Levine?

  I've requested a song. I don't want to miss it. They don't tell you when it'll be on.

• 19:09Matt Forde?

  They may say my name, I just want a dedication.

• 19:14Matt Forde?

  He storms outside, picks up a spade. Rain spits against his face as he digs as fast as he can. His back and shoulders straining, until he stood at the mouth of a hole three feet deep.

• 19:27Matt Forde?

  Scanning the landscape one last time, he tosses in the bin bag. Pelting back into the kitchen, he shoves the heavy oak table to one side. What the hell is going on? You're scaring me. Move! He grabs his flask of acid, four months' supply still inside. Then lifts a loose floorboard, shoving the canister as far back as he can reach. He looks towards the stacked trays in the corner of the room. He's got to get a hundred thousand microdots into his Land Rover and buried at the drop-off point before the cops close in. And time is running out.

• 20:13Matt Forde?

  The following afternoon, the new inn, Clan Dewey Breffy.

• 20:18Matt Forde?

  Dick creeps into the saloon bar, his leather jacket pinching his wrists. It's been years since he wore this. Clearly, he's put on a bit of timber since he was last undercover. After two days of staking out the commune, the most criminal activity he's witnessed is a naked yoga session. His skin crawls at the memory of it.

• 20:40Matt Forde?

  Yeah, it's never the people you want to see doing it, is it?

• 20:42Alice Levine?

  No, it's like life drawing.

• 20:43Matt Forde?

  A load of old boys.

• 20:45Alice Levine?

  Although, I'd say life drawing girls, often babes. Life drawing men, often unusual.

• 20:54Matt Forde?

  Funny you say that, because I've been asked to be a model.

• 20:58Alice Levine?

  And?

• 20:59Matt Forde?

  They said I was the sort of nobbly chap they were after.

• 21:01Alice Levine?

  Nobbly, dickly.

• 21:03Matt Forde?

  They just said you're very dickly, squidgy and nobbly. A real challenge, they said, some of my dimensions.

• 21:09Alice Levine?

  Yeah.

• 21:11Matt Forde?

  Dick's come to the pub to do some digging instead. He needs to justify his decision to let Harry's walk. He's convinced his man isn't at this commune by coincidence. He takes a seat at the bar, orders a pint of Mild, goes to take a sip when he hears a sharp intake of breath. Wouldn't sit there long if I were you, boyo. Through a cloud of smoke in the corner, Dick turns to see a gaggle of old geezers staring daggers. That is Big Gerard's stool. Dick stands, fixes a grin. Oh, right, yeah, sorry. Not from round here, are you? No, I'm here on business. Dick edges towards them. Second-hand sports cars, that's my line.

• 21:56Matt Forde?

  Saw a nifty-looking Triumph TR7 round here the other day. You wouldn't happen to know the owner, would you? The regular holds Dick's gaze. Takes a large gulp of his pint. Then brings the glass down hard. Nope.

• 22:11Alice Levine?

  Well, it's been great talking to ya.

• 22:15Matt Forde?

  A blade of daylight cuts through the smoky bar. Dick looks over to see a shadow in the doorway. All right, Owen. The usual. The figure steps into view. Dick's heart sinks as he sees it's the local bobby he chatted to about Mick Jagger. Dick lowers his gaze. If the regulars discover he's an undercover cop snooping around asking questions, his investigation will be dead in the water. Ah, no thanks, medicate. I'm on duty. Calling for this gentleman here as it happens. Dick's stomach drops as he sees the officer pointing at him. Dick feels every eye in the pub turn towards him as Owen approaches. Sorry to bother you, sir, only there's been an accident. I think you ought to come and see.

• 23:00Matt Forde?

  Thirty minutes later, Dick is stood at the side of the road, looking at a mangled Vauxhall Viva and a dented Land Rover. Seems they both lost control in the rain. Local vicar and his wife in the Viva. I'm sorry to say she died at the scene. Pregnant, too.

• 23:20Matt Forde?

  Dick feels something tighten in his chest. Jesus. But it was the Land Rover I wanted you to see. Look here. The officer points to six scraps of paper laid out on the passenger seat. The vehicle was completely empty when I inspected it earlier. All except that. Dick stares at the torn note, stitching the pieces together in his head. It's two handwritten words. Hydrazine. Hydrate. Well, what the hell is that? Didn't know myself, so I figured I should look it up. Turns out, that is the chemical used to make LSD. The words knock the breath from Dick like a sledgehammer.

• 24:01Matt Forde?

  The commune, the secretive locals, and now a dead woman and her unborn child.

• 24:08Matt Forde?

  He yanks out his notebook, hands shaking. Who does this car belong to? Well, that's the funny thing. It's registered to a fella up at a cottage in Blind Caron. Penclainai. Dick's pen stalls. And the owner? His name is Richard Kemp. Dick looks back at the wrecked Vauxhall Viva. Watches the steam rising off its bonnet. Get Thames Valley on the radio. We're gonna pay Mr Kemp a visit.

• 24:40Alice Levine?

  Oh, God, so this is the crash we heard about at the beginning of the series, where he was kind of veering all over the road and then went head on into their car.

• 24:48Matt Forde?

  That's right, and now the woman has died at the scene with her unborn child.

• 24:54Alice Levine?

  God.

• 24:55Matt Forde?

  This guy is like a pacifist who's trying to make the world a better place. And now he's a killer.

• 25:02Speaker 05

  By seventeen seventy-nine, Benedict Arnold had sacrificed more for the revolution than almost any other man in America. One of George Washington's most effective commanders, he had nearly lost a leg in the Second Battle of Saratoga. But in return, Arnold believed he had been humiliated by Congress and cheated of his glory by lesser men, so he decided to make them pay. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of the podcast American Scandal. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in U.S. history. Presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. In our latest series, Benedict Arnold turns his back on his comrades in the Continental Army and secretly defects to the British. With the help of his wife, he plots to hand over the most important colonial fortress

• 25:46Speaker 05

  to the enemy and doom the revolution he once served. Follow American Scandal wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can binge all episodes of American Scandal early and ad-free right now. Join Audible in the Audible app or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts.

• 26:03Speaker 03

  Imagine you're reading Pride and Prejudice, except you're not reading it. Harris Dickinson and Marisa Abella are reading it to you on Audible. Her barbs sting you. His coldness sends a shiver up your spine. Your heart aches, your ears burn, you yearn for Elizabeth and Mr Darcy to profess their undying love for one another. You can't bear it any longer. Well, maybe a chapter longer. Performance is so good, you'll give love a second chance. Audible.

• 26:32Matt Forde?

  That speak to you.

• 26:40Matt Forde?

  Six months later, February 1976, Thames Valley Police Headquarters. Dick sits across from the chief superintendent, clamps his hand to his thigh, trying to keep his leg from bouncing as he waits for him to finish reading. Dick has spent every spare minute he has putting this together, interviewing officers across the country, mapping out the scale of Britain's microdot problem, getting it all down on paper, building one argument. Richard Kemp is at the head of an acid empire. This man was a promising young science prodigy, the toast of his field, until he mysteriously dropped out of his PhD, slipped completely off the grid

• 27:23Matt Forde?

  at the exact point these purple dots started springing up everywhere. Price turns another page, frowns. But Dick can't spend his day stalking out a cottage in the middle of Wales alone. He needs resources, and he needs to make sure his superiors understand it. Clandui is a tiny, tight-knit village. Everyone knows everyone's name. They'll need units across the countryside, a coordinated operation, 24/7 surveillance.

• 27:55Matt Forde?

  Detective Lee, you surely can't be serious? He lowers the report. Our streets are flooded with heroin, cocaine, cannabis. And you want me to pull officers off active duty? He taps the file. To help you stake out a cottage in Wales? Dick shuffles forward in his seat. That cottage is the heart of a massive domestic acid ring, turning over £20 million a year in Class A psychedelics, synthesised here in Britain. Price snorts.

• 28:29Matt Forde?

  I'd be amazed if that place even had running water. Dick sees his superior chuckle at the report as he reads aloud.

• 28:37Matt Forde?

  Richard Kemp might be responsible for 90% of the national LSD supply. Give over.

• 28:43Alice Levine?

  He feels a bit regionalist to me. Solid report, big claim, but he's like, they couldn't possibly. They don't have a Tesco metro.

• 28:53Matt Forde?

  He tosses the file to his desk. Sir, every force in the country is reporting the same thing. Purple microdots cropping up from John O'Graw's to Land's End, even in Europe and America.

• 29:05Matt Forde?

  He places one of the pin-sized microdots on the table. Microdots of identical appearance, impeccable purity, all with a matching chemical signature. Dick picks the abandoned file back up, opens it to a photograph of his suspect. A recent image of Kemp, ruffled hair, intense eyes, two chickens in his arms.

• 29:29Matt Forde?

  Dick wishes he had another photo. He's hardly Reggie fucking Cray, detective. I realise Kemp looks... I was surprised too. But if we don't choke this out now, Britain will become to acid what Colombia is to cocaine. And good bloody luck policing that.

• 29:49Alice Levine?

  That's a big old claim, but I guess if you're gonna do it, do it big. Like, be the people that are known for this.

• 29:56Matt Forde?

  Yeah, and there is a weird pride, isn't there? You know, and I remember when I saw Oasis last summer, they said, "Oh, it broke the record for the most pints of lager ever sold in the history of Wembley Stadium." I thought, "I was part of that."

• 30:07Alice Levine?

  I was fifteen pints part of that.

• 30:09Matt Forde?

  Yeah, yeah.

• 30:11Matt Forde?

  Price purses his lips. Hmm, ninety percent of the national supply, you say? Perhaps more so now, sir. Price picks up the phone. Get yourself a coffee from the cafeteria, I've got a call to make. Dick stands, goes to collect his file.

• 30:31Matt Forde?

  Price slams his hand down on it, speaking into the receiver. Yes, home office, please. Fifteen minutes later, Dick drains the last drop of watery coffee from his polystyrene cup. DCS Price strides up to his table. The home office isn't quite so convinced that hippies pose an existential threat to this country. But they'll give you two dozen men for eight weeks.

• 30:56Matt Forde?

  Dick nods in disbelief. And you'd better get us something in return, because it won't just be my head on the block. Understood?

• 31:10Matt Forde?

  Four months later, late June, blind car on valley. Dick lowers his binoculars, wipes his sopping brow with the back of his hand. He's been in saunas cooler than this bloody caravan. Sweat trickling down creases he never knew he had. And the stench, from his officers inside and the livestock out, is ungodly.

• 31:33Matt Forde?

  He has to stay focused, keep his eyes fixed on the valley below. After months of wrangling paperwork, Dick has finally got his task force up and running. Codename: Operation Julie.

• 31:47Alice Levine?

  LOL, why?

• 31:48Matt Forde?

  It's not very interesting at all, it's just named after someone working on it.

• 31:51Alice Levine?

  Operation Julie sounds like I'm the guilty one. I was saying like, put a plaque on the station for me. I was saying like, do a little ribbon cutting because I've done so many great years of service. I wasn't saying, name the drugs bust after me.

• 32:04Matt Forde?

  Twenty-eight officers from eleven forces. The first nationally assembled drug squad of its type in British policing. Getting that many undercover officers into a village of 500 was a challenge. Keeping them here is worse. Tight budgets has meant they're having to share baking hot, bug-infested caravans out in the wilderness. No showers, no flushing latrines, only a travel stove to cook with. In the middle of a freak heatwave. It's left squad morale hanging by a thread. And then, there's Kemp's cottage. Sat alone in a sparse, featureless valley, there's simply no good way to stake it out.

• 32:47Matt Forde?

  Everywhere Dick's tried to station officers, has left them dangerously exposed. And he's yet to find a single vantage point that offers a clear view inside the cottage.

• 33:00Alice Levine?

  That's so funny. The population just triples overnight and they're all like, "I'm a second-hand car dealer." It's like, how many second-hand car dealers are there? Also, there's a steaming hot caravan now in the eye-line of the cottage.

• 33:12Matt Forde?

  We're just a group of lads who love to go camping in different places.

• 33:15Alice Levine?

  We're just very old scouts.

• 33:16Matt Forde?

  Yeah, just 300 of us and we all grew up together.

• 33:22Alice Levine?

  And I'd like to answer no more questions on that. 300 pints, please.

• 33:28Matt Forde?

  If Dick can't get proof of what's going on in there, then he hasn't got a case. Which is why, down in the valley, DC Pritchard is currently crouched awkwardly next to the cottage's compost bin, attempting to plant a listening device.

• 33:43Matt Forde?

  Through his binoculars, Dick watches him feed a covert cable up their creeping wisteria. Come on, lad. His pulse thumps in his temples as he watches Pritchard feed the tiny microphone through the vines, along the cottage wall, until it's dangling over their kitchen window. He's bloody done it! Bentley, fire it up!

• 34:06Matt Forde?

  DC Bentley flicks the receiver on.

• 34:09Matt Forde?

  Dick leans towards it, trying to pick out what's coming through. Turn it up. Thought you said a wire would be clear. It should be. I don't know what's hap-

• 34:21Matt Forde?

  Dick is blasted backwards by an explosion of music. Jesus Christ! He clutches his ears, the sound rattling the thin caravan walls.

• 34:33Matt Forde?

  That was the Merthyr Maen Voice Choir with Land of My Fathers. You're listening to Radio Wales.

• 34:40Matt Forde?

  Confusion swarms him. Something's gone wrong. But with his ears still ringing, he can't figure out what. He darts outside, follows the wire running from the caravan down towards the cottage, almost tripping over looking down as he runs, until he reaches the crest of the valley and comes face to face with the problem.

• 35:03Matt Forde?

  Sheen.

• 35:05Matt Forde?

  Placidly chewing the cable.

• 35:11Alice Levine?

  Now, there's a, I'm sure, unfounded stereotype that in Wales there are more sheep than people. But at this point...

• 35:17Matt Forde?

  That's not the stereotype I thought you were gonna say.

• 35:20Alice Levine?

  But at this point, there are now so many people there, how many sheep would they need to counteract it? They now need four million sheep, and they have to introduce those on the Met Police budget.

• 35:34Matt Forde?

  Dick charges at the sheep, sending them scattering. He falls to his knees, his shins squishing a warm mound of fresh droppings. Fuck! Dozens of officers, thousands of pounds, and they can't stake out one bloody cottage. There's only one thing for it. If Dick can't find out what's happening in that cottage from the outside, he's going to have to find a way to get in.

• 36:05Matt Forde?

  Two days later, Penclane Eye Cottage. Richard sits motionless in the dark. His living room smells of chemicals and damp wool. He's perched on his armchair, peering through a crack in the curtains, at a man and a woman, 200 yards in the distance, wielding binoculars. His skin prickles. They're here for him. He's sure of it. He reaches for his radio, carefully turning the dial to 105.5, and waits.

• 36:37Matt Forde?

  His heart lurches at the sound of the phone. He knows who has to be calling. Only one person has this number. But what if it isn't Solomon? What if it's them?

• 36:50Matt Forde?

  He picks up, silently presses the receiver to his ear, waits. Rich, is that you? Relief wheezes out of him. Sorry, Sol. I can't talk right now. Again? I can't... Wait any longer. I need this batch. These new clients are not people you wanna fuck around. Richard wraps his hand around the mouthpiece. I can't. I'm being watched. Silence falls across the line. By who? Richard parts the curtain with one finger. Bird watchers.

• 37:26Matt Forde?

  The fuck are you talking about? Are you high? Richard digs his knuckles into his forehead. No, I, no, I'm not. I'm just, my head's all over the place, Saul. Ever since the crash, I've... His voice cracks. I'm a fucking mess. For once, Solomon softens. Whatever's going on in your head, it's just chemistry, all right? That's all. You know that more than anyone. Richard feels his grip loosen, the words strangely soothing. You're cut off from things out there, but if you could see the effect your work is having, we're up to seventy countries now, expanding east, poised to break Asia. Richard blinks.

• 38:11Matt Forde?

  Asia? Home to half the world's population. If his acid takes hold in Asia, they'd be unstoppable. I know you've had it rough, Rich, but that's the road to revolution. He shuts his eyes. I want to keep going, I do. It's just too risky right now. I don't know if the police are... Solomon cuts in. Rich, there's no evidence that the police are on to you. Richard hears Solomon stop. Okay, listen. A friend of mine has a place about an hour out from you, a big old manor house called Plas Clin. Give me a few hours, I can get everything you need set up there. Richard says nothing. But I need this batch, Rich.

• 38:53Matt Forde?

  The silence stretches between them. Richard holds his breath until it starts to hurt. It's just chemistry, that's all.

• 39:02Alice Levine?

  Okay, Solomon, I do believe has the revolution in his heart and mind, but it does feel like he's not taking on any of the risk.

• 39:12Matt Forde?

  Well, that's it. Richard is the one who's killed someone, and he's the one manufacturing all the acid, so the risks to Richard are way bigger than they are to Solomon, and Solomon seems quite blasé about the impact on him.

• 39:29Matt Forde?

  He picks up a pen. Richard is sick with nerves as he waits for Solomon to read out the address. He glances at Christine as she rinses carrots in the kitchen sink. Until his eyes rest on the poster he's hung in the hallway. The photo taken by Apollo 8 a few years earlier. An image of the fragile blue and white earth hanging in the black void of space.

• 39:54Matt Forde?

  Perhaps Solomon is right. If the revolution is getting bigger, he has to fight. So that's exactly what he'll keep doing.

• 40:12Matt Forde?

  The next morning, 7am, Clendoe Brefy. Dick feels the newspaper crumple in his fist, rage rippling through him as he reads. A teenager from Preston, dead. Asphyxiated by an intense panic attack induced by delirium from LSD. And not just any LSD, a small, purple microdot. The second woman's death linked back to Richard Kemp. He slams his fist down on his steering wheel. He should have got that bastard in a cell the second he learned his name. Instead, he's sitting in a field in Wales as the body count rises. But he still has no proof he's making acid in that cottage.

• 40:57Matt Forde?

  Beyond that torn up note, he's got no proof he's making acid at all. Sir, this is Unit 1, we, uh, we've got a situation here in the cottage. Dick straightens in his seat. What's happened? There's a pause. It's the suspect, sir. Thank God.

• 41:20Matt Forde?

  Ten minutes later, Dick stands at the ridge of the valley. Binoculars pressed hard against his eyes, glaring down at the abandoned cottage. Twenty-eight officers, the cream of our national crop. And not a single bastard warrior able to stay awake on a war night, as if we didn't have enough...

• 41:40Alice Levine?

  They were all asleep, are you joking?

• 41:42Matt Forde?

  But they're all in that caravan. They've all basically been in a sauna all day, they're dehydrated.

• 41:47Alice Levine?

  You cannot sleep in a caravan, you cannot sleep in a tent. I mean, it's awful. You wake up at 4am because it's steamy as hell. So how are they all out for the count? I just imagined on a stakeout like this, that there was a sleeping schedule. I didn't think it was like, who's gonna fall asleep first, who's gonna stay? I didn't think it was left to chance.

• 42:05Matt Forde?

  Yeah, there'd be shifts.

• 42:06Alice Levine?

  Surely.

• 42:07Matt Forde?

  Don't put a film on, because you'll nod off. Or put Titanic on, so that was it.

• 42:11Alice Levine?

  Madness.

• 42:12Matt Forde?

  I was asleep before the iceberg.

• 42:13Alice Levine?

  No, don't spoil it.

• 42:15Matt Forde?

  Dick cuts himself off. Ouch.

• 42:23Matt Forde?

  He peers forward. What is it, sir? Sticking out from the wisteria, Dick spots something unusual, and he thinks he knows what. Pritchard, come with me. At the foot of the cottage, Dick's heart soars to see he was right. The kitchen window, ever so slightly ajar.

• 42:43Matt Forde?

  His mind racers. He doesn't have a warrant to enter the property. If he's discovered breaking and entering, it could jeopardise the entire case. But he doesn't know when he'll get a chance like this again. Checking the coast is clear, Dick jimmys the latch. Sir, I don't think we should... But Dick sucks in his gut and clambers inside. Slipping on his gloves, he takes in the rustic kitchen. Lace curtains letting beams of sunshine. A worn farmhouse table cluttered with dried lavender and bowls of hand-picked berries sits at its centre. It doesn't feel like an acid lab. He flings open the fridge. Milk bottles clatter, but no chemical flasks. No acid anywhere.

• 43:27Matt Forde?

  He flips open cupboards, cabinets, drawers, stuffs his hands into jars of lentils, barley, looking for a pill, a pipette. Anything. Just one tiny thing to prove he's not insane. Prove he hasn't got all this terribly wrong. But there's nothing. His head pounds. An acid empire, being run from a cottage in the wilds of rural Mid Wales. Has he lost his damn mind? But he can't have. The evidence is here somewhere. It has to be. Storming through to the living room. His thigh catches a side table in the hall. A pen clatters to the floor.

• 44:08Matt Forde?

  As he replaces it, he spots something on the notepad it was resting on. A faint imprint. Someone pressing too hard while writing on the missing page above. Dick picks it up, squints and gasps as he realises what he's reading. He rips off the page, dashes out of the cottage, right past Pritchard. Sir, what's happened? He powers up the hill, his legs blazing with pain as he reaches his car. Diving in, he grabs up his radio and reads out the directions he can just about make out. All units, urgent backup required. Leave Clan Dewey Brefy by the B4343.

• 44:49Matt Forde?

  Head north towards Carno on the A470, then follow signs for Plasclin. Pritchard wheezing barrels into his passenger seat. What the fuck is going on? Dick doesn't look at him and starts the engine. He knows where Richard Kemp is. And it's time to catch him in the act.

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• 46:00Speaker 05

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• 46:18Speaker 03

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• 46:37Speaker 03

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• 46:55Matt Forde?

  An hour later, class clear. Dick's car skids to a halt at the manor gates. The six unmarked vehicles of the Operation Julie squad, all in position.

• 47:05Alice Levine?

  And Julie, looking pleased as punch. Or do you think it's a heartbroken police officer who's named it after an ex-girlfriend to try and impress her?

• 47:12Matt Forde?

  Name's a drugs bust after you, love. Come on.

• 47:15Alice Levine?

  Don't leave me.

• 47:16Matt Forde?

  The regional forces had never pulled resources before. Who's this new guy? Is he gonna do that?

• 47:22Alice Levine?

  I love you.

• 47:26Matt Forde?

  After nearly two months of subtle surveillance, it feels strange to be blockading a suspected acid lab like this. The moment has finally come to strike. Dick and Pritchard file out of their car, take up positions next to the other officers, crouch down around the edge of the grounds, ready to raid. All units, I need officers covering each ground floor window. Two round the back, everyone else, follow me. Keeping low to the ground, Dick scurries up the long drive, leading the squad.

• 47:59Matt Forde?

  Open up. He peers through the textured glass at formless shapes and colours. Stepping to one side, he signals to an officer, who sends a battering ram straight into the lock. The doorframe explodes into splinters. The squad storm in, taking position. Police, stay where you are. Nobody run. His voice echoes along the grand, open-plan staircase, ricochets above his head, around the spacious landing. Dick slows as he reaches the main room. Empty. All but for a faint smell of solvent.

• 48:37Matt Forde?

  He clasps his hands to his skull, squeezes. Where is he? Sir, I think we've found something. Dick follows Pritchard's whisper, to a small pantry room beyond the kitchen. Pritchard points to the floor. A trapdoor. Dick shoulders Slum. God, it's padlocked.

• 49:06Alice Levine?

  You've just smashed a door in, so surely you can do something about that?

• 49:09Matt Forde?

  No, I draw a line. Never smashing a trapdoor. First rule of the squad.

• 49:17Matt Forde?

  Pritchard shakes his head. No, it isn't. Look. Dick squints and sees Pritchard's right. Whoever fastened this padlock didn't shut the latch first. It's keeping nothing closed. They're in there. Putting his finger to his lips, Dick gestures for a half dozen officers to gather behind him. Taking up the handle, he throws the trapdoor open. Richard Kemp, put your hands on your head. I'm arresting you on suspicion of- Dick's words fall from his mouth as he takes in the scene before him. The cellar is empty. Two toppled water butts, a couple of planks lying on the ground, bare walls, bare floor. Nothing. Fuck!

• 50:02Matt Forde?

  He kicks the ground, sending grit skittering underfoot. He must have been here. Why would Kemp have written this address down if it wasn't where he was coming? He turns, about to order his officers out, when his eye catches something on the ground. Something small, caught in the half-light, in a tiny puddle. Dick crouches down to inspect it. A mole, lying on its back, its limbs twisted in an awful awkward shape, its teeth bare, dead. Everything okay, sir? Gently, Dick picks it up. He stares deep into its tiny beady eyes. Sir? Dick feels his mouth turn dry, as he spots another small animal, a frog, also dead

• 50:47Matt Forde?

  in the corner. He collects it, its limbs also twisted in an awful awkward shape. It doesn't look like natural causes. Dick raises both to his nose. He winces as he inhales not the smell of decay, but instead the pungent smell of chloroform, methanol, ammonia. Hand me an evidence bag, would you? He places both animals in separate bags. Dick smiles, as he orders his team to do a sweep of the lab. Because he's going to run a toxicology report on both, it might be that these two tiny creatures he's holding in his hands are the key to finally bringing down The Acid King.

• 51:39Matt Forde?

  From Audible Originals and Samistat Audio, this is the second episode in our series, The Acid King.

• 51:45Alice Levine?

  A quick note about our dialogue: in most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but all our dramatizations are based on historical research.

• 51:53Matt Forde?

  If you'd like to know more about this story, you can read The Microdot Gang: The Rise and Fall of the LSD Network That Turned On the World by James Wiley, Operation Julie: How the Undercover Police Team Smashed the World's Greatest Drugs Ring by Dick Lee, Operation Julie: The World's Greatest LSD Bust by Lynne Ebenezer, and Undercover: Operation Julie: The Inside Story by Stephen Bentley. British Scandal is hosted by me, Matt Ford.

• 52:19Alice Levine?

  And me, Alice Levine.

• 52:20Matt Forde?

  Written by Chris Lockery. Additional writing by Alice Levine and Matt Ford. Our story editor was James Manier. Sound design by Richard Ward. Our engineer was John Williams. For Samistat, our series producer was Chika Ayers. Our assistant producer was Louise Mason. Our senior producers were Joe Sykes and Dashar Lissitseena. Executive producers for Audible were Theodora Leludis and Astel Doyle.

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