This room was very different to the first room she had been in with Robert. There were no windows in this breeze-block cell, only the mirror along the far wall which she knew was one-way glass. In a dark corner of the room, like a spider waiting for its prey, the little red light of the camera watching her blinked periodically. The room felt like a walk-in refrigerator. As she sat in the green plastic chair that reminded her of the ones they had had at school, she imagined she could see her breath frosting as she exhaled. She looked down at her limp hands in her lap. She had already begun to bruise from the brutal way in which Ire had cuffed her. To divert herself while she waited she named the hues of the bruising — raw sienna, indigo, ivory black — like an artist putting colours on a palette before a painting session. My art lessons weren't a waste; I can still remember the names of the colours. She idly wondered how long it would take for the colours to turn and the bruising to intensify. She always had bruised quickly and dramatically. She shrugged to try and eradicate some of the throbbing in her left shoulder.
In an unguarded moment a tidal wave of fear and panic began to well inside her. Madie felt that icy sliver from Ire's touch squirming away inside her. She knew it wasn't real but she feared it none-the-less. So she concentrated really hard to forget Ire’s manhandling and the deep ache of the bruises his brief touch had caused. If she could just once more feel Robert’s hands touching hers, his lips brushing against hers, the warmth of his breath against her hairline then she could quell this sense of being swamped. So Madie imagined herself back in Sylvie's sitting-room, encountering Robert's mirage which, with one step from hallway to sitting-room had evolved into a living breathing person. She replayed the memory of his touch and kisses in a never ending loop to keep from screaming out her fear of the inevitable.
And she waited.
*****
Ire watched Madie's placid features from the observation room and felt the bitterest bile rise up into his mouth. His eyes watered slightly and he coughed. Without speaking he walked past Brian and Garry and out of the observation room.
Garry waited until the door shut before he spoke. “Poor girl.” He looked towards the door in nervous haste. “Do you think she did all the things he says she did?”
“It's strange the way she always turns up on our surveillance footage twenty four hours before a crucial suspect or snitch goes missing. That can't be coincidence. She's got to be involved in some way, even if she's not doing the actual killing, she's got to know something.”
Garry turned his back on the door as he spoke to his superior officer. “Still, can you believe he had a van with eight people to pick her up. Battering ram the works. The guys were even wearing their bullet proof vests.”
“Terry's like that though isn't he. Overkill. He likes people to know he's in charge.” Brian leaned forward to watch the monitors. “Jesus! Look at that bruise that goes all the way up her collar bone to her jaw. What did he do, hit her?”
“I wasn't there Boss. I don't know what he did to her.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time he’s used excessive force. This tape could be used as evidence against him you know. I mean, that bruise is angry. Who was with him on the raid?” Brian used the zoom function on the recording equipment. “Do me a favour Gaz. Go find out who was with him at the arrest. I think I want a quiet chat with who ever it was.”
“Sure boss.” Garry left Brian alone in the observation room.
*****
Madie waited.
*****
At the end of the hall in the men’s room Ire coughed to clear his throat and tasted salt. What the hell’s the matter with me? He spat into the nearest basin and was surprised to see blood in his sputum. A sheen of sweat made his forehead glisten in the mirror. Great, haven't been ill in years and now I decide to come down with something. Probably a foreign bug. Bloody typical. He used his handkerchief to pat himself dry like a surgeon in the operating theatre. He looked at his reflection critically in the bank of mirrors over the basins and thought that he looked rather grey.
Could just be the lighting in here.
*****
She waited.
*****
There was a commotion at the booking desk. As soon as Deed found out Madie had been arrested earlier that day he consulted with Joe and they called in a few favours. A prominent solicitor was now making very loud noises at the booking desk and decidedly nervous policemen and women were whispering in corners in groups.
The desk sergeant was seething, thinking he was just out of earshot of the solicitor. “Where the bloody hell is Terry? Her solicitor is insisting that he sees her. Why isn’t he answering his phone? I didn’t even know she’d called for representation. Why doesn’t anyone follow bloody procedure any more? This is the last time I do him any more favours up at booking. Can someone check the phone logs? When did she ring her solicitor? Who authorised her call?”
“Sarge.”
“Garry, not now, I'm trying to deal with a whole load of crap here.”
“Sarge this is important. It's about the arrest Terry made earlier.”
“Jesus Garry, not another bloody problem with that arrest. I've got a solicitor, a former DCI and some other mean looking bald bastard out there all wanting to know about her. Terry's clearly bitten off more than he can chew this time. Well, don't just stand there gawping at me man. Tell me.”
“She's got these bruises Sarge. They're not pretty.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from the desk sergeant. “Shit!”
Deed caught the solicitor's eye. He had clearly overheard the exchange too. The solicitor slammed his briefcase down on the counter top and demanded immediate access to his client.
*****
Madie waited.
*****
Ire reached for the handle of the men’s room door. He stumbled and fell to one knee. Frowning, he looked down at his fast numbing right leg in confusion. He raised his hand, aiming to ball it into a fist to slam down on his leg in an attempt to get it to regain its function. The fingers refused to do as he asked. Instead they curled up into an unrecognisable talon. His eyes watched as veins and muscles appeared to ripple in his now useless hand. A shudder began to make itself felt in his hand. It moved up his arm and the whole right side of his body began to convulse. He felt lopsided. His brain tried to correct the tilt and Ire fell heavily to the cold tiled floor. Shit... Maybe those steroids I took a few years ago... They stay in the system don’t they? Can’t get rid of them... or something like that. Ire tried to call out, but bile had once more risen and as he fell backwards he began to choke on his own blood heavy vomit.
*****
Madie closed her eyes in an effort to retain the image and sense of Robert’s arms around her. She wanted to cleave to the cool feel of his cotton shirt, the ridges of his corduroys against the whorls of her fingertips, smell endlessly the scent of his maleness; continue to hear — in her inner ear — the steadying beat of his heart. But her inner vision kept shivering at the edges till finally it shattered. The splinters forced her senses back into the real world. Madie’s body was frozen and she realised she had been feeling this chill creeping over her for some time. She began to shiver uncontrollably. Waves of nausea began to rock through her system. Her nose wrinkled as she smelt the odour of her own faeces. Then a pain in her head, so sharp it caused her to suck air sharply.
“Robert...” The word was a whimper of expelled air.
*****
Brian watched Madie’s eyes spring open with alarm. Then they rolled back in her head and her body shook with tremors as she slumped heavily against the table. “Jesus, she’s having a seizure!” He looked round for Garry, momentarily forgetting he had sent him on an errand. He felt a degree of panic as he turned, finding it hard to locate the panic button on the console.
*****
A red light was flashing behind the desk sergeant. Chaos erupted all around the station as simultaneously Ire's limp body was discovered by Garry in the
men's toilets and Madie's convulsing one was being attended to by Brian.
Deed had stopped speaking mid sentence as he felt the horrific sense of something crucial go painfully taut as though on the verge of snapping. He heard a whine like tinnitus in his ears, growing in volume and struggling through it, the whisper of Madie’s voice calling his name. He gripped Joe’s arm hard.
“Yes, I felt it. Something’s happened to her. Is she still with you Robert?”
Deed did not answer Joe. In his mind he was fighting to stop the thread between himself and Madie from snapping. Don’t leave me! It was a scream so loud his mind reverberated with the force of it. He felt a tremor as the tension in the link between himself and Madie slackened. The join felt threadbare but it was there. He let his breath out in a slow measured expulsion.
*****
Joe clawed at his arm to try and free it of Robert’s talon-like grip. The veins on Deed’s neck were hard ridges and their colour was livid. And there was an expression of such helpless dread in his eyes that Joe feared the worst. He couldn’t read anything coming from Deed. All he could get was a sense of the disorder which was engulfing the station. Images of ambulances with their loud peals kept hitting at his auditory centres, the smell of faeces and antiseptic assaulted his olfactory nerves and shudders shook his inner body. And everywhere, absolutely everywhere, the cordite scent of fear.
Joe’s self protective psychic muscle-memory took over. All those calming exercises his guru had drilled into him surfaced. He breathed in, then out, even, steadying breaths and began to still the clamouring of his heart and the earth shattering screams in his mind. He let all the psychic phenomena dissipate. Robert needed him now as a friend, not a psychic.
Chapter 26
Sylvie was at Madie’s bedside. She stroked the limp hand held in hers. As Deed stood in the ward doorway it seemed to him Sylvie was willing Madie to recover with every part of her being. He viewed the smallness of Madie; the breathing tube, the intravenous leads and needles, the metal head-stead and beeping machines swamped her, leaving her stranded in the centre of the starched hospital linen. Her bruises sprang out against all the paleness; that of her skin, that of the bed sheets. Deed would not let his eyes rest on Madie's face. Rather he let them slide away from seeing her completely. It hurt him to see so clearly the signs of pain Madie's body was enduring. What the hell did he do to her? As though hearing his thoughts Sylvie spoke. "It's psychic bruising."
Deed started. He could never quite get used to the way Sylvie read him. "What do you mean?"
She beckoned him over. He came reluctantly.
Sylvie released Madie's hand before speaking. "When he touched her, she absorbed all the nastiness in him. He didn't even have to use much force. It's all about his intent you see."
"No, actually I don't see. All I see is her lying here..." He could not finish the sentence. His voice was trapped in his throat. Life was cheating him, preventing him from knowing the remarkable woman Madie so clearly was. Sylvie vacated her chair so Deed could take her place. She moved over to the window. But he made no further move towards the bed.
"She's stronger than she looks Robert. She'll come out of it."
Deed looked over at Sylvie. You're wrong. The late afternoon sun was behind her and it was a halo behind the fluff of her wig. Her faith is unshakeable. He did not have Sylvie's belief. Right now every part of him wanted the strength of belief Sylvie exhibited. For the first time in his life he regretted having no religious leaning.
Deed could feel the constant unravelling of the thread between himself and Madie. And the worst of it was he did not know how to stop it. His helplessness made him seethe within. If Terence Ire wasn't already in a hospital bed I would have put him there myself. Every part of him felt he was losing the one person he wanted to be with more than anything else. Emotion choked him. Robert Deed stumbled out of Madie’s hospital room.
*****
Deed wanted to know for himself. He wanted to see if the personality profile Martin Johnson had emailed to him married with his gut when he was face to face with his brother. That was usually what it took, a photograph or a face to face meeting. What he really wanted was a conscious Terry so he could look into his eyes and see into the depths of his brother's soul.
He flashed his warrant card at the constable stationed outside Terence Ire's hospital room. "Any change?"
"No sir."
"I'll just step in for a moment." Deed moved through the doorway, his eyes raking the prone figure in the bed. Although Terence was small in stature, unlike Madie, he seemed to overwhelm his bed. Deed had to stop walking towards the bed because his gut was reacting violently. He felt as though he'd been punched in the solar plexus by a heavy weight boxer and struck by a bolt of lightening simultaneously. He stood rooted to the linoleum floor, glad his boot heels were rubber. He felt a need to be protected in Terence Ire's presence.
Well, if there was any question you're no good Terence, that certainly pushed my doubts aside. My gut never lies. Deed had to clutch the bottom rail of the bed and close his eyes momentarily since his intestines were still clenching and unclenching viciously. He felt the need to moan out loud but managed to stop himself. Deed stepped closer to the bed and poured himself a glass of water from the jug sitting on the bedside cabinet. He took long slow draughts of the liquid until he felt the seismic activity in his stomach begin to ease.
Deed scrutinised his brother. The left side of Ire’s face was a smooth replica of a younger version of Arthur Deed. The right side was a rictus of ruched skin. To Deed it seemed to emphasis the harshness of the man’s spirit. So what was hidden within is now visible without. It was shocking to witness at first hand the evidence of his father’s sperm journey. The DNA results were superfluous. Deed had no doubt Ire was his blood sibling. Terence lacked the physical stature of his father, but the echoes of his father’s facial features were unmistakable. Deed was sure Ire’s lack of height irked Ire. He continued to appraise his brother and tried to feel a semblance of fraternal emotion, but none came. Isn't blood supposed to be thicker than water? I should have some compassion for him. I know his life couldn't have been easy. But that's no excuse for choosing the path he has. Deed was no longer upset with his father. There was bound to be a reason why his father did not acknowledge this man as his son. Soon enough Deed would find that reason. As much as he wanted to feel some affiliation towards Ire he was pulled forcefully towards his feelings for Madie and the certain knowledge this man had hurt her. Every time his brain told him this it fanned the knot of hot embers in his belly into flames which engulfed his chest cavity.
But there was some small conciliation in the fact Madie had given as much in return. Good for you Madie. Finally this scum got some of what he's been doling out for years. Prison's not good enough for him. He's not really suffering right now. He's just in that comatose state. Still hard to conceive Madie’s touch caused him to collapse; the touch of her skin against his. Sylvie and Joe seem pretty sure about it. It’s one thing hearing the words, altogether another seeing her power in action. Sometimes I’m still not sure I quite believe it. I must have done though otherwise I wouldn’t have avoided finding her for so long. Some part of me feared it was all too real.
Deed walked back towards the door and spoke to the constable again. “Has there been even the slightest flicker of change?”
The young man shook his head. “No. Not much point me being here really. A paralysed man can't jump out of bed and escape can he?”
But this is Terence Ire and something tells me he could get away no matter what physical state he's in.
A battery of doctors was making their way along the corridor. Ward rounds had begun. Deed wanted an excuse to hear what the doctors said about Terry. “I'm heading off to the coffee machine. Can I get you anything?” Deed asked the constable.
“Thank you Sir. That would be great.”
When Deed returned with the constable's tea his ears burned at the words he heard utter
ed by the doctor in Ire’s room. "There are definite signs of improvement. He's got a very strong constitution. There'll always be a measure of paralysis though."
Deed did not hear the question posed by a junior doctor. He was seething inside. When he had discovered he had a brother he had been filled with a joy only to be understood by other only children who had always longed for siblings to fight with and defend in equal measure. Now all he felt was disgust. How is it possible dad could have fathered such a monster? Half of him is from the same gene pool as me. Does this mean I have that sort of capacity within myself? Deed felt horror overwhelm him. Please dear God don't say that's the case.
*****
Joe leaned against the radiator warming his rump as he spoke. "Robert, it's clear Terry was exposed to a world of violence and depravity from an early age. He chose to see that as the only way to live life rather than walk away from it. You can't possibly believe you have the same capacities within yourself." Dear God, if anything, you're completely the opposite. Looking to right all the wrongs. If you weren't you wouldn't have used that gut instinct of yours to such good effect.
Father Andrew joined Joe in his reassurances. "He's the bad penny, the black sheep in the family. We all have one tucked away you know my boy."
Deed looked over at Joe with exasperation. "You told him about Terry being my brother."
Joe shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't realise it was a secret. It hardly matters in any case." Joe held Deed’s eye. "Look Robert, I've seen your arrest record. You're the type of man that's all about righting wrongs. You and him... You're two halves of the same coin is all - same genes but different outcome."
Father Andrew was nodding his head in agreement. "Now laddie, you need to be worrying less about that man and more about your Madie. She needs you. You should be with her right now."
Six Dead Men Page 17
