Part 10 (2/2)
”Sorry, Boss,” Landing spluttered. ”It's just that we've got to go. Chalmers is on the warpath at the station looking for you.”
”I'll be right there,” Danny said, letting go of Jane's hand quickly.
”Don't any of them know?” Jane asked quizzically as soon as Landing disappeared back into the corridor.
Danny only shook his head.
”Would it really be so bad?”
”It's difficult.” He shrugged. ”There was a time when I started in the job that it would have been held against me. However, it kind of gets to a point where it's too late to bring it up in casual conversation. And besides, I don't remember anybody having a coming-out-as-a-straight party. My personal business is my business; whether I'm gay or straight, I would still be a private man.”
”Fair enough, but how does Nathan feel about that?”
Those words echoed in his ears as he left the hospital and he let Landing drive back to the station so that he could send a text. It wasn't the biggest gesture in the world, but at least it was a start.
CHAPTER TEN.
THE PAST RISES.
”Can I help you, Sir?”
Randall turned towards the voice, equally surprised at the man's presence and being addressed as 'Sir'. ”I was just visiting,” he answered.
”No you ain't. I reckon that I know every face in this place, both above and below ground, and yours don't fit.”
Randall viewed the old guy, who looked almost worse than he did. The man was practically wearing rags - torn and worn faded dungarees that hung badly on his frame, so much so that it was difficult to gauge the man's physique, but Randall a.s.sumed that it was skinny and frail. The man's accent was thick and seemed Eastern European of some denomination, but his English was excellent.
”My aunt died recently...,” Randall began, but trailed off at the man's smug mocking expression.
”You wanna try again?” The man grinned.
”How about if I put a little sugar on it?” Randall said, taking out his wallet.
”How about you p.i.s.s off?” the man replied, still smiling, but without much warmth.
”Hey man, I'm just trying to do a job here,” Randall pleaded.
”Ain't we all, and mine is to keep folks like you out. Don't think that I don't why you're here. Every now and then some b.l.o.o.d.y vulture comes sniffing around, poking their nose in where it doesn't belong.”
”You know why I'm here?”
”It's been more than 8 years now, but we still get the occasional visitor, those determined enough to track down such evil men.”
”So he's here then?”
”Now I didn't say that, now did I?” the man said with a twinkle in his eye.
”I work for a paper - a paper with deep pockets ... deep and generous pockets,” Randall said, trying a little white lie. While he no longer worked for The Globe, he was sure that he could sell the story to any one of a number of papers as well as the book rights for a fortune.
”What would I want with money? Can't you see that I have everything that I could possibly want here?” the man said, stretching his arms out wide. ”I get free room and board to keep the place, not to mention a retirement property,” he added, pointing to the nearest gravestone.
”Everyone wants something.”
”What I want you sure as h.e.l.l can't give me,” the man said, turning and walking away.
”I wouldn't be so sure on that,” Randall said, hurrying after him. ”You ever hear of Alfonso Ramsey?”
The man stopped in his tracks. ”Maybe.”
”Well, I'm working for Mr Ramsey and if you've heard of him then you know that he's a powerful enough man to make anything happen,” Randall said, deciding to swap the little white lies for very large black ones. ”I'm very close to Alfonso and I have his ear; you help me and I'll bet that we can help you.”
The man stopped walking and turned back to face him. His eyes bore down furiously as though trying to decide if Randall was telling the truth or not. ”My name is Alexandru and I have a sister, Kazia. She lives in Baja in Hungary. She is married to a very bad man and she should be here with me where I can take care of her.”
”You want Mr Ramsey to bring her over?”
The man shook his head. ”I want Mr Ramsey to get her a British pa.s.sport.”
Randall pretended to consider the offer. He only had to pretend, as he certainly did not work for Ramsey or have his ear. In fact, if Ramsey found him still working on this, the man would most likely take Randall's ears clean off. ”And what exactly would you be putting up?”
”I can give you what you seek. I can give you the truth about Arthur Durage and what really happened to him.”
Jane propped herself up on her pillows as she shook the sleep from her eyes. The ward's visiting hours were over and the corridors were now the exclusive domain of the overworked staff as they hurried and scurried with purpose and dedication.
She had been told that they were going to keep her in for a 24 hour observation period. Her head still ached monstrously from the blow that she'd taken in the crash but her mind at least was clearing fast.
Despite how their pursuit had ended - in crushed metal and broken gla.s.s - she still saw the event as a victory. The killer had been playing around with her mind like he had a remote control tuned exclusively to her frequency. He had been able to project himself into her at will despite her attempted barricade. He had shown her his warped desires and bloodl.u.s.t, taking her along on his murderous expedition. On the beach and at the rest stop, he had twisted her reality even when she'd been awake. But at Marion Ramsey's apartment building, she had seen him waiting and watching outside. She had felt his shock and anger at her intrusion as the tables had turned with mind-blowing speed and then he'd run from her. That small victory had given her hope that this battle wasn't going to be a one-way street; she'd found him once and she could do it again. She was stronger now, stronger than before when she'd worked with Karl Meyers and caught the original Crucifier. She owed it to Danny's father and she owed it to Danny to finish this thing.
The rattle of the tea trolley making its way down the corridor pulled her from her thoughts. Jane had found that there were many untrue stereotypes about the British, but one that was true was their adherence in the power of a cup of tea, so much so that it was practically prescribed on the NHS.
The tea trolley came around every few hours, rattling its way through the hallways, waking the dozing and breaking up the day's long dull hours. Heads stirred from bedbound positions and welcomed the distraction.
Jane found herself on an empty ward as she looked around. The other three beds in the small ward at the end of the hallway were empty and she wondered how long she had been sleeping. The wheels on the trolley squeaked louder and louder the closer that they got, accompanied by the bone-shaking rattle of china crockery. She couldn't help but question where the vast amounts of money disappeared to within the health system. Despite popular belief around the rest of the world, the UK service might be free at the point of contact but it was funded by large taxpayer contributions. While the staff on the front lines were superb, the facilities were often spa.r.s.e and insufficient; apparently, they couldn't afford a tea trolley that wasn't 100 years old.
She leaned out of bed as the trolley rounded the corner and saw an elderly man, presumably a volunteer, pus.h.i.+ng it. He was stooped over as he pushed the cart; his face was kind and open, wrinkled and creased.
He shuffled in, smiling as he spotted her and raising a hand in greeting. She was sure that she had never seen the man before, but he did seem oddly familiar; there was something about his demeanour that touched her somewhere deep inside.
She sat up fully as he approached the bed, still without speaking. The wheels emitted a high-pitched groan with each rotation and the man's slight tremble in his hands only shook the trolley further.
As he reached the foot of the bed, he opened his mouth to speak, only the hole in his face started to gape wider and wider until it was a screaming black pit of darkness. His eyes blacked and his hands became talons as he reached for her. The flesh started to melt from his face exposing pure white bone beneath as globules of skin landed on the linoleum floor with loud wet splats.
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