by Brian Smith
A wise doctor does not mutter incantations
over a sore that needs the knife.
Sophocles, Ajax
It was Tuesday morning and Master Jeremiah was in an exuberant mood. The problems of the previous weeks had receded, the new museum was a success and brought in a steady stream of new converts, and Mondays had never been more profitable before. He decided it was time to direct his attention to another project that had long been in the making – a hospital. Not just any hospital, it was a Dryvellist Hospital. A hospital run by the ideas and ideals of Dryvellism. A hospital that integrated holy beliefs and practices into the care of its patients. In short, a hospital where the belief in God and prayer were paramount.
He left his mansion some two hours after the brethren had finished their breakfast, got into his new black limousine and drove to the temple. He came into the hall where he found Sycko sitting beside the weeping Diana enjoying a fag and a drink.
“Good morrow, Sycko,” he said cheerfully.
Sycko glanced at his watch. “Good morrow, Jeremiah. I’m afraid breakfast is already finished, but you’re still in time for lunch.”
Jeremiah chuckled. “Come with me, Sycko. We have an interesting day ahead of us.”
“Where are we going?” Sycko said without making any attempt to move.
“Come, come, now. I’ll explain on the way. I’m sure you’ll find it most enjoyable and also quite enlightening. In fact, I can promise you it’ll be every bit as interesting as your first visit to the museum,” he added knowing how keen Sycko was on the Museum of Creationism.
Sycko quickly got up and eagerly followed Jeremiah to his car. “A trip in the car,” Sycko said. “This does look like a fun day.”
That’s the spirit,” Jeremiah grinned. “Now, our first stop will be in town. You remember old Mr. Drummond? A stout chap with a receding hairline and bright blue eyes, always well-dressed? He used to spend quite some time in front of Diana.”
“Yes, I think so. He hasn’t come for a while, has he?”
“That’s right, he’s sick. In fact he’s very sick, he’s got cancer and doesn’t get out of his house much.”
“Oh dear, so we’re visiting him?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say visit, Sycko. We have a much more important thing to accomplish. Mr. Drummond is in urgent need of medical attention and the doctors treating him are quite unable to help him. In fact they’ve told him that he’s got terminal cancer, in other words they’re admitting that they can’t help him at all. Now fancy that, would you want to go to a doctor who told you that he couldn’t help you?”
Sycko shook his head emphatically. “Seems rather pointless, I mean why bother if…”
“Exactly, my dear boy. You’ve hit the nail on the head. Why bother with a doctor who can’t help you?”
“And we can help him?”
“Most certainly yes, we’re Dryvellers after all. Are we not blessed by the providence of the Lord? We have got our own Dryvellist Hospital. Our patients receive special care that ordinary hospitals can’t provide. So today we’re going to pick up Mr. Drummond and show him the hospital. After the awful experiences he’s had at other hospitals we can’t blame him if he wants to see the place first before committing himself. At the moment he’s staying at home and all the poor fellow has are mountains of painkillers from the public hospital. And that’s what they call ‘health care’. But we know better. We’ll show him what care really means and make sure that he gets what he deserves.”
The car pulled up in front of a large villa and Jeremiah parked it in the drive. The villa was surrounded by a large garden with trees and flowerbeds that gave it the serene and peaceful air of a country estate even though it was in the middle of town. They entered the building and Jeremiah admired the opulent interior while waiting for Mr. Drummond. A large brass chandelier hung high up in the entrance hall, the walls were covered in dark oak panels and on the floor a thick Persian carpet completed the picture of refined opulence.
“Mr. Drummond will see you now,” the butler said and took them into the gentleman’s bedroom. When they entered they saw a private nurse administer a large dose of opiates to her patient.
“Master Jeremiah!” Mr. Drummond called out. “Thank God you’re here. I’ve been waiting for this moment so much. The only thing that keeps me alive here is my nurse and the stuff she gives me against the pain. It’s no life, I tell you, it’s dreadful. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
Jeremiah smiled. “Well, all that’s over now. This is the beginning of a new life for you. Have trust in the Lord and you will be provided for.”
“And you’re quite sure they’ll be able to help me?” Mr. Drummond said, still not feeling quite convinced but desperately wanting to believe what he was told.
“Of course, my dear fellow. I’m taking you there personally,” Jeremiah said. “After all these years we’ve known each other how can there be any doubt? I would never even think of recommending it to you if I wasn’t absolutely sure that it was the right thing. The level of care you’ll be getting there will far outpass anything you can imagine. You won’t be treated as someone who has a death sentence any more. You’ll be a patient who will get all the help and care he deserves and you’ll have the Lord on your side. What better physician could you wish for?”
Drummond looked at Jeremiah with the desperate hope of a drowning man in his eyes. “Yes, Jeremiah. You don’t mind if I call you Jeremiah, do you? I always knew I could count on you when the time came.” He turned to the nurse. “Get me the wheelchair. I’m leaving.”
The nurse looked disapprovingly at Jeremiah and Sycko but obeyed and pushed Mr. Drummond out of the house to Jeremiah’s car.
An hour later they arrived at the Dryvellist Hospital which was situated in the country. The environment was much more pleasant there than in town and, of course, the cost of running a hospital was much lower than in town. The building was white and shone brightly in the sunshine. There were classic Greek columns on either side of the entrance that betrayed the building’s origins in the 1930s.
Sycko and Jeremiah helped Mr. Drummond out of the car and into the wheelchair. Sycko pushed the wheelchair while Jeremiah walked next to it and chatted with their patient. They entered the large entrance hall that had been witness to many a man’s last journey. The red and white marble floor was worn in places and the walls were decorated with pictures and other mementos of Dryvellism.
They went to the reception where they were met by the director of the hospital, Dr. Lee, an astute business woman who had turned the hospital into a veritable goldmine. A few years earlier she had been a simple piano teacher, but that changed after she bought a medical degree and a doctorate online. She was soon hired by Master Jeremiah to run the hospital and even though her administrative style was capricious verging on the unpredictable or even chaotic she applied the principles of profit maximisation to the hospital with impressive results.
Jeremiah beamed at her. “Director Lee, what a pleasure to see you again. May I introduce my old friend Mr. Drummond to you.”
She smiled and shook hands. “A pleasure to have you here with us, Mr. Drummond. Master Jeremiah has already informed me of your condition and the poor help you’ve received at the government hospital. I can assure you that things will be very different here.”
Drummond looked up from his wheelchair and saw a middle aged woman with black hair and brown eyes. There were few wrinkles in her face and her friendly smile exuded a genuine kindness that made Drummond instinctively trust her.
“Thank you,” he said. “But first I’d like to take a look around, if you don’t mind. Master Jeremiah told me I could have a look before I decide and…”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Drummond. That’s what I’m here for. I’d be delighted to take you on a tour. Please follow me, I’m sure you’ll find the wonderful things we’re doing here impressive. In fact, some of the things I have witnessed here myself verge on the miraculous. Maybe Master Jeremiah has
already told you about some of the things we do here?”
“Yes, indeed,” Jeremiah said. “Most certainly yes, we have talked a good deal about this marvellous hospital and also about the miracles that have been brought about with the help of the Lord in this very place. Yes, my dear Drummond, miracles do happen even in our day and age and I am proud to say that I have played no small part in them, if I may say so myself.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Director Lee said. “And if good Master Jeremiah is too bashful to tell you about the true extent of the Lord’s work that we accomplish here then I can only invite you to see with your own eyes.”
They went up a floor in the lift and down a corridor. Mr. Drummond looked around in eager anticipation of any medical miracles there might be to see. His own state of mind and the relentless chatter from Master Jeremiah and Director Lee had already made him a firm believer in the miraculous cures that were possible or even commonplace in a Dryvellist Hospital. And if others benefitted from such miracles then why shouldn’t he too? After years of prayers and worship at the temple, not to mention a fortune in donations surely he was as much entitled to a medical miracle as anyone else. And if he thought about it, didn’t he have more of a right to such a miracle than most other people? The more he considered the matter the surer he was that a miraculous cure of his own disease was a foregone conclusion. His only regret was all the time he had wasted at public hospitals.
They came round a corner and entered one of the wards where they were greeted by laughter. A nurse was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room apparently having a good time with the four patients in the room.
“Hello, sister,” Director Lee said. “This is Mr. Drummond. He’s thinking of joining us here and would like to see what things are like. Can you tell us about what you’re doing?”
“Hello, Mr. Drummond,” the pretty young nurse said with a winning smile. “It’s so nice to have you here, I’m sure you’ll love it. So what have we been doing? We started with a prayer for healing and good health from our merciful Lord. Then we sang a few psalms and talked about our lives, what has happened and what we’re planning to do after we leave here. But maybe our patients could share with us. Justin, would you like to tell Mr. Drummond about yourself?”
A young man about twenty years old was sitting upright in bed and looked at Mr. Drummond. “Yea, sure,” Justin said. “Actually I don’t know what I can tell you, Mr. Drummond. It’s like I had this really bad accident and couldn’t walk and now my leg’s just fine again. Look!” he said and swung his legs out of bed. He stood up and slowly walked to Mr. Drummond and shook his hand before going back to bed again. He had fallen off his bike and broken his leg, but no one told Drummond that.
“Marvellous,” Drummond said. “How I wish I could get up just like that again and walk around. Are you going to get out of here again? I mean are you cured?”
“Yea, sure,” Justin said a little bewildered. “Of course I’m getting out again. I’m quite well again. There’s nothing like the relaxation and banter with the nurse here to get you back on your feet. After a month here you’ll be just your old self again,” Justin said confidently with his own case in mind.
The nurse smiled. “That’s great, Justin. Thank you for sharing with us. And thank the Lord for making you well again.”
“And the lame shall walk again!” Jeremiah happily quoted from The Holy Dryvel. “Now what did I tell you, my dear Drummond. Miracles do still happen even in our day and age! Didn’t I say so?”
“You certainly did, Master Jeremiah. Yes, you did say that,” he said with the confidence of a man who feels he has just been cured himself.
Director Lee looked happy. “Would you like to hear from some of our other patients, Mr. Drummond? I’m sure we could spend a wonderful afternoon talking to many others. What do you say?”
“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” he said quickly. The exertions of the trip had left him quite exhausted already and even though all the excitement had buoyed him he still felt he needed a rest more than anything else. “Say, Master Jeremiah mentioned you have a nice garden here for the patients. Is that right?”
“Yes, would you like to see it? It’s open to all our patients who are well enough to be out and about.”
“Another day,” Drummond said. “Tomorrow would be nice. I’m feeling exhausted now. What I really need is a rest.”
“Then you’ll be staying right away?” Director Lee said with a smile.
He nodded.
“Splendid. Let’s go to the office and settle the formalities and I’ll have you taken to your room.” She sneezed and everyone heard the sound of a little thing falling on the wooden floor. “My tooth!” Director Lee said annoyed. “It’s come out.”
She covered her mouth with one hand to hide the gap in her front teeth. To be accurate it wasn’t really a tooth but a temporary crown that had been dislodged by her sneeze. Now everyone was on their knees crawling around and looking for the missing crown. Only old Mr. Drummond sat in his wheelchair looking bewildered. A minute later the tooth was found and Director Lee hurried out with it.
“I thought we were going to the office,” Drummond said but Justin was the only one who heard him. He explained about the tooth and then said with an impish grin “I’ve got some Tic Tacs here. Shall I drop one on the floor when Director Lee comes back?”
Drummond chuckled. “Don’t you dare, you young rascal!”
Justin sniggered and was about to say something when Director Lee came back still holding a hand in front of her mouth. “Let’s go,” she said.
Director Lee was ensconced in a huge leather armchair behind an enormous mahogany desk in her office with Jeremiah, Sycko and Drummond sitting opposite her. She explained the contract to Drummond and then proceeded to the small print.
“Oh, and here’s just one more little thing that’ll require your signature. It’s a clause stating that in the event of your demise during your stay with us your entire estate will fall to the Holy Temple. Just a formality, of course.” She smiled at Drummond.
“My demise?” he said looking bewildered for the second time.
“It’s an honesty clause, my dear Drummond,” Jeremiah hastened to add. “What it means is that you have here, in black and white, an absolute guarantee that you will leave this hospital again in good health. After all we could never accept that all your estate was imposed upon us. You have known me for so many long years not only as an honest Master of the Temple, but, I dare say, as a friend, and you know in your heart that I only want what is best for you.”
“Oh, I see. Well if you put it that way,” Drummond said slowly, though he wasn’t sure if he did understand the point Jeremiah was making. He picked up the pen and signed the document. “I’m sure it’s all the way it should be if you say it, Jeremiah. And you’re quite sure you’ll be able to help me here?” he said even though it was really too late for any last minute doubts.
“Of course we will,” Director Lee said from behind her hand. “Just leave everything to us. But I see you’re tired. I suggest you go to your room now and Jeremiah will get your things from the car.”
Jeremiah handed Sycko the keys. Sycko hesitated for a moment, not sure whether carrying the old man’s bags or pushing his wheelchair was the harder job to do, but then decided that it was the wrong moment to argue with Jeremiah and in any case it might not make much difference.
Half an hour later Mr. Drummond lay in his new bed. It was a large and comfortable bed with some chairs next to it and a bedside table for a few of his possessions. From the window he had a view of the tranquil countryside below and the pleasant green of the country with the blue of the sky made a very nice change from the dull grey of the city. He was sure he had made the right decision and was very grateful to Jeremiah for his help.
Jeremiah and Sycko said goodbye and soon after poor old Mr. Drummond fell asleep.
Later that day Drummond had dinner in his room and after dinner he
took the last of the painkillers he had from the public hospital. In the drawer of his bedside table was a copy of The Holy Dryvel. He read for a while and prayed fervently for help and health from the Lord. Then he put the book away, switched off the light and turned on his side with a smile, confident that the first night in a Dryvellist Hospital was the beginning of a new chapter in his life.
Some hours later the effect of the drugs was beginning to wear off. He rang for the nurse on duty.
“Yes, Mr. Drummond. What can I do for you?”
“I’m in pain,” he said. “My painkillers are finished. I need some more.”
She smiled patiently. “Oh, but this is a Dryvellist Hospital, Mr. Drummond. You don’t need painkillers here.”
She pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. “I’m here to pray with you. Fold your hands and speak with me.”
Not sure whether he had heard correctly he followed her instructions. They prayed for more than an hour during which time the pain steadily became worse until Drummond’s hands were shaking and his face was bathed in sweat. Finding no relief from the prayers he couldn’t take the pain any longer and cried out.
“Oh my God, please give me some painkillers. This isn’t working. Just help me, please.”
The nurse sighed. “You must pray harder, Mr. Drummond, and God will hear you. Show how strong your faith is!”
She resumed her prayers and Drummond made another effort. After a few minutes the excruciating pain won. His hands clutched the sheets and he yelled at the top of his voice. The nurse took some earplugs out of a pocket and put them in her ears. Then she went on praying and singing healing psalms as if nothing had happened.
Several hours later Drummond was at the end of his tether. Utterly exhausted from hours of incessant screaming and agony he finally lost consciousness. During the brief respite the nurse left his room. Her shift was finished and it was up to the day nurse to wipe his brow and pray for him.
The cancer was eating away at his inside and soon, all too soon, the intense pain reawakened his mind. He cried out. The day nurse came and smiled at him.
“Good morrow, Mr. Drummond. How are you today? I hope you had a pleasant night in the arms of the Lord who now cares for you. If there’s anything you need…?”
He looked at her aghast. “I need painkillers,” he shouted in horror.
“Devil’s things,” she said disapprovingly. “Let us pray to the Lord for His mercy.”
She folded her hands but before she could start the prayer Drummond yelled at her. “Get me an ambulance! I need to get out of here.” He tried to sit up but the nurse pushed him back down into his bed.
“Now, now, Mr. Drummond. That won’t do. Show the strength of your faith and pray to the Lord. Only He can help you. No pain, no gain. You know the old saying, don’t you?”
Unable to say anything Drummond resumed his yelling. The nurse simply put plugs into her ears.
After almost a week of agony, screaming and trying to get out of the hospital Mr. Drummond’s body was worn to a ravelling and gave up the ghost. Not once did Master Jeremiah come to see how his ‘old friend’ was doing. He didn’t need to. He only had to wait for the inevitable result. And thus, after just a week of waiting the Holy Temple inherited all of Mr. Drummond’s estate leaving nothing to his family and heirs.
Another Patient
Men regard it as their right
to return evil for evil
and if they cannot,
feel they have lost their liberty.
Aristotle, Nicomachean ethics
Marmaduke Montmorency Drummond, who preferred to be called Cato, was the only child of the late Mr. Drummond who had so painfully passed away from hell, where to no one could say, the only thing that was sure was that it had to be a better place. Mr. Drummond the younger, let’s just call him Cato, was away on a trip when his father was so deceitfully lured into the Dryvellist Hospital. Brought back by an urgent summons on the radio from his country’s diplomatic service Cato rushed home expecting his father to be there. But instead of finding the nurse and housekeeper to greet him he found the house locked up. This was an unheard of occurrence and as he had never once needed a key before in his life he found himself locked out of the house. Desperate for news he called the public hospital, the nursing service and several others until he discovered his father had died in the Dryvellist Hospital. By that time evening was fast approaching. He called a taxi and drove out to the hospital where he was only admitted after a lengthy argument at the door. A rather peevish attendant took Cato to Director Lee’s office.
“Good evening,” she said with a blank expression on her face.
“Well, good evening,” he replied feeling somewhat exasperated. “My name’s Drummond. I’m here about my father. I was told that…”
“Yes, yes, your late father came here for treatment but unfortunately we weren’t able to save his life. You may rest assured that we did all we could and that he met his end in dignity. A pity you weren’t here. He was entirely peaceful towards the end,” she lied smoothly. “His remains have been cremated, as was his wish. The urn will be at the office downstairs. If there’s anything else I can do for you…?”
“Well, I don’t know,” he said crestfallen. “I suppose all that’s left for me is to go home. Are my father’s things here? I mean what you call personal effects. I’m afraid I haven’t got a key to the house and I thought my father might have taken one along here.”
“You mean the keys to your father’s house?” She said sternly.
“Yes, our family estate.”
“I see, you don’t know yet. I’m afraid that’s quite out of the question, Mr. Drummond. You see, your late father left his entire estate to the Holy Temple in return for our medical help and treatment.”
“He what?” Cato said incredulously.
“It’s all in good order, Mr. Drummond, rest assured. Our lawyers are processing the papers as we speak. I’m not sure what will be done with the property though I imagine it will be auctioned so if wish to bid for it I’m sure…”
“Bid for my own house!” he shouted in outrage.
“I suggest you contact our lawyers or even Master Jeremiah of the holy temple directly and discuss any problems with them. The matter is out of my hands, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a very busy day.”
Shaking with rage and hurt Cato took a taxi back into town where a friend took him in.
The next day Cato went to the temple to confront Jeremiah. As Jeremiah seldom ventured forth from his luxurious home before noon these days Cato only found Sycko to talk to. Cato entered the hall where Sycko was reclining beside the weeping Diana with a packet of fags and a bottle of something strong as he did every morning. Cato walked up to him and said “I’m looking for Master Jeremiah.”
“Behold the weeping Diana,” Sycko said. “It’s a true miracle. Many people come here to worship and…”
“I’ll give you a very different sort of miracle if you don’t take me to Jeremiah right now,” he said threateningly.
“That’s not possible, I’m afraid.”
“And why not?”
“Because he’s not here.”
“Really. Well, you tell your Master Jeremiah that my name’s Drummond and that I won’t let him have my house.”
He stormed out of the temple and decided to get a locksmith and simply force himself into his family house. It didn’t take long to find a locksmith and they drove to the house together. But when they got there Cato saw a smartly dressed young man and two police officers at the front door.
“What are you doing here?” Cato said aggressively. “Get off my land!”
“Now then, Mr. Drummond, let’s not have any trouble. I’m a lawyer representing the interests of the Holy Temple. I understand that this is a difficult time for you, but you must understand that this is not your property. It belongs to the Holy Temple.”
“We’ll see about that!” Cato shouted and tried to push the smarmy
lawyer aside. The two officers intervened.
“Mr. Drummond, we’ve already had a complaint that you used threatening language to the director of the Dryvellist Hospital and if you persist in your stance here we shall have to arrest you.”
“This is my family’s house! How dare you…”
“I’m sorry, but we’ve got our orders. I suggest you take legal counsel, Mr. Drummond.”
Cato looked from one to the other and understood that he wasn’t getting anywhere. He swallowed his pride and decided that he needed help if he wanted any chance of success. He had clearly underestimated Director Lee and Jeremiah. Bitter but not beaten he turned round and walked off with the locksmith.
A lawyer friend helped Cato challenge the Temple’s claim to his family estate, but after a both costly and bitter legal battle the court found in favour of the Temple. One thing Cato did gain from the court case was a certain amount of publicity and as luck would have it one of the nurses sitting with the old Mr. Drummond during his interminable hours of agony had for some time been having doubts about what was going on in the Dryvellist hospital. She decided to contact Cato and talk with him and so she went to the small flat in town that he rented. Her heart pounding she rang the doorbell. The door opened after a few moments. She recognized Cato immediately from the photo in the newspaper. Coming face to face with him she suddenly felt very shy and didn’t know what to say so she just stood there looking at him somewhat sheepishly. She felt her face reddening.
“Well then, what can I do for you?” Cato said. “Your visit does have a purpose, I presume?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I just don’t quite know what to say, I mean I don’t know where to start.”
“How about the beginning?”
“Yes, of course, it’s just, well I’m afraid you’ll be angry with me and…”
“Look, just tell me what it is, all right? I won’t bite you I promise. So please, the beginning.”
She took a deep breath. “You see, I’m a nurse at the hospital where your father died and I was with him as well.”
“I see,” he said carefully. “I think you’d better come in then.”
He led the way to the living room where they sat down. She told him the truth about the horrible way his father had died.
Bitter tears ran down his face. “You know what that Director Lee told me? She said he died in dignity and peace. That lying bitch! If I ever get to lay my hands on her then let god have mercy on her for I will not!” He clenched his fists and banged the reading table in fury. “God damn it,” he cursed. “And a curse on that sodding Jeremiah too.” He jumped up agitated. “So they defraud my father, they murder him with pain, they cheat me and lie to me and to the police and there they’re sitting smug and gloating how they made a fortune out of a poor old man. There may be no justice in this world, but by God, I will have my vengeance!” he shouted.
All the while the nurse was looking at him terrified. “Don’t hurt me please,” she whispered.
“Hmm, what? Hurt you? Of course not. I’m not angry with you. In fact I’m very grateful that you came to me. It took courage to do so. But what to do, oh what to do?”
He let himself fall into an armchair and thought about everything. “That temple,” he said after a minute. “With what they’re doing there must be other people who had trouble with them. I think I recall a case a while ago where someone had a public fight with them. I don’t really follow the news much. Do you remember the case?”
She nodded. “It was a man called Judas. Actually he had two quarrels with Master Jeremiah, the first one over the weeping Diana in the temple and the second one over the murder of Brother James.”
“That silly weeping statue I’ve already seen, but murder? I didn’t know that. Can you help me find this Judas? I want to speak to him.”
With some effort they managed to find Judas in the online telephone directory. Cato called and arranged a meeting the same day.
He looked at the nurse. “Do you want to come along?” he said. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“Do you want me to come?” she asked timidly.
“Yes, actually I would like that,” he said. “But there we’re talking and I don’t even know your name yet.”
“I’m Joan,” she said.
He looked at her for the first time. She was a pretty young woman, in her early twenties he guessed, with blonde hair, pale blue eyes and an altogether pleasing countenance. She stood about a foot shorter than himself and she was slim though not skinny. He didn’t like the anorexic look that many women aspired to after being fed a steady diet of overly thin models in various magazines.
“Glad to meet you, Joan. Sorry I was yelling my head off before but…”
“I understand,” she said. “I think I understand.”
A few hours later they were sitting together with Judas on a grimy old sofa in his little living room. They talked about their various experiences with the Holy Temple but didn’t really know what to do.
“I mean like, what we really need,” Judas said, “what we really need is to get the right evidence about the dirty things they’re doing. It has to be solid, then we can make it public.”
“Haven’t you tried that before?” Cato asked.
“Yea, but maybe it wasn’t good enough.”
“And how would you get this information? That temple is just like a Teflon frying pan, nothing sticks.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Joan said. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but…”
“We’re all ears, Joan,” Cato said. “Let’s have it.”
“Well, we need someone to go to the hospital as a patient, I mean someone who pretends to be sick, but who’ll record things there.”
Judas grinned. “That’s brilliant, Joan. But who’ll go? We can’t because they know us already. And how would we make the recording?”
“I think I can answer that,” Cato said. “I’ve got a good friend who owes me some serious favours. I’m sure he’d be willing to pose as a filthy rich and terribly sick patient. And as to recordings, we’ll get someone to go and visit him and install hidden cameras. In fact the more the better. They won’t be expecting that. What do you think, Joan?”
She sighed and then nodded thoughtfully. “I think it would work. No one really examines patients to see what’s wrong with them. We just bathe them or change bandages and simple things like that. If your friend just pretends to be in pain no one would notice. As for hidden cameras, I don’t know. We never look for that sort of thing. I suppose it just depends on how well they’re hidden.”
“That’s settled then,” Cato said.
Cato’s friend Mark proved to be more than willing to help so within a few days they set the trap for the Dryvellist Hospital. They faked medical certificates showing that Mark was terminally ill. They also managed to borrow another friend’s villa for one day to pass off as Mark’s own. When everything was set Joan phoned Jeremiah with Cato and Judas watching.
“Well?” Cato said when she hung up.
Joan grinned. “He fell for it. In fact he agreed to pick Mark up this afternoon.”
“No wonder with the address you gave him,” Judas said. “It’s in a filthy rich area.”
At the Dryvellist Hospital things worked out much easier than they had feared. With Joan’s help they managed to install hidden cameras in a number of rooms and a recording device was kept amongst Mark’s things. As Joan had introduced Mark to the hospital he was able to request her as one of his nurses and she was appointed for night duty to his room. This enabled him to get rest at night so he had enough energy to keep up a credible performance in daytime.
On the evening of the fifth day Joan came to his room as usual to start her night shift.
“Good evening,” Joan said as she entered. “How is the patient today?”
A happy day nurse looked at her. “Better, I dare say. Much better in fact. Our prayers today have worked so well, it’s almost a miracle. His pain has quite gon
e.”
“Is that right?” Joan said looking at Mark. “I am very glad to hear it. The Lord’s smile is upon you.”
“Yes, nurse,” Mark smiled. “I’m so glad you brought me here. Every word you said is true. Miracles do happen.”
The day nurse left glad to go home and Joan sat on Mark’s bed. She grinned at him. “So the power of prayer has made all your pain evaporate? How very fortunate. But don’t overdo it or they’ll become suspicious. I’ve never heard of a miracle in this place before.”
“Yes, nurse,” Mark said dutifully. “I’ll be in much more pain again tomorrow. But seriously, how much longer do you guys want me to keep this up? I’ve got a really sore throat from all the crying and moaning already.”
“Cato asks if we’ve got enough film material yet.”
“I should think so. From all the yelling and screaming I’ve heard more than enough. So what’s the plan?”
Joan nodded. “I think so, too. The woman in the room next to yours died yesterday so we’ve got that recorded as well. Anyway, I talked things over with the others and the plan is to get you out on Monday.”
“Another two days of this?”
“Monday is the holy day here. Staff will be busy praying in the hospital temple so it’ll be much easier for you to sneak out unobserved. I will take all the recording equipment with me on Monday morning when I finish my shift.”
“So what do I do?”
“Pretend to sleep after breakfast, then no one will bother staying with you. Prayers will start in the temple at 8am. Wait till after eight, then go into the garden and walk to the far end near the tall oak tree. You know the one I mean?”
Mark nodded.
“All right, go past the tree. There’s a narrow opening in the hedge. All you need to do is to climb through it. Cato will be waiting for you on the other side in a car.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mark grinned. “This hospital will be getting a pukka miracle after all! Terminally ill man cured in one week! That should make them proud and happy.”
Joan laughed. “Yes, and they’ll be absolutely delighted when they hear about it on TV. Should be enough to give Director Lee a heart attack.”
On Monday morning Joan left after Mark had his breakfast. He then feigned sleep and the day nurse was more than happy to leave his room and go about her business which mostly involved skiving from her duties. He waited till ten past eight to be on the safe side and then quickly got dressed. He opened the door to his room and peered out. The corridor was deserted and apart from moans in a few rooms nothing could be heard. He dashed down the corridor and down the fire escape. On the ground floor he looked through the narrow glass of the door. Everything was empty. He pushed the door open and hurried round the corner where he bumped into Director Lee.
“What on earth are you doing here?” she said. “You shouldn’t leave your room without a nurse.”
Blood shot into his face. “Oh, eh, the nurse helped me so much with prayer, but now I really need some fresh air. I want to continue my prayers in the garden. I’ll be just outside the door on the bench.”
Director Lee looked through the glass door. A bench was clearly visible nearby. “Oh, well if you want to. But if you’re not feeling well you must come right back inside. A nurse will take you back to your room. And don’t wander around outside on your own.” She walked off without another word.
Mark gazed after her for a moment. “So you don’t want me to die outside, do you? Worried about my money if I don’t die in here.” He went into the garden and looked around slowly to make sure no one was watching him. Then he set out across the grounds towards the oak tree as Joan had instructed him. At the tree he looked around. At first he couldn’t see it but when he examined the hedge more closely he made out a narrow hole. “Just enough to squeeze through,” he muttered. He pushed himself through the gap and was relieved to find Cato waiting for him in the car. He got in and said “Just get going, man. I can’t wait to be away from that dreadful place.”
Cato just grinned and put his foot down on the accelerator.
