An Innocent Man
Page 16
message, whatever it meant, was critically important. But it had to find its own place in the maelstrom of light and colour that was rushing through my head, opening up towards a dark, dark void and that’s when there was a flash of light and a woman’s voice that screeched “Timer on!! Voltage Activateeeeeeeeedddddd!!!”
Did it work, you want to know? Did my use of a vaguely remembered procedure cobbled together with a home user high voltage kit and untested, experimental synthetic drugs enable me to rescue my memories of a few hours earlier? No, but it was one hell of a ride. And something definitely happened. The whole thing was like a flash flood of a dream, rushing through my consciousness at the speed of light, leaving me with just traces of something to cling on to. On the plus side, I did see Mark, if only for a fleeting moment. He looked worried – terrified, in fact, and I thought I may have been confusing memories, but I was left with the deep impression of him fending off an angry unicorn that seemed to be trying to spear him with its horn.
The next bit is a little hazy – again – I found myself lying on the floor of my lab – with a splitting headache and my hair matted with blood (my own, I think). The headset swung in the air, suspended by the wires that led to the generator. I pulled myself up slowly, careful to avoid objects that were still spinning in random directions, and sat myself down heavily at my lab desk. There were splashes of blood everywhere, but mostly on the corner of the desk, which I hoped was a sign of me hitting my head on the corner before falling, rather than anything more sinister. My eyes struggled to focus and left everything a little hazy as well as wobbly, and I found myself holding on to the desk for what seemed like ages until things began to settle down a little. My phone seemed to be saying the time was now 16:20, though I wasn’t sure whether to trust it or not. The phone also seemed to be flashing with lots of messages; I picked it up and held it in my shaky hand, trying to focus on the blurry shapes and force them into letters that my brain could understand. It wasn’t working, so I manoeuvred the phone into my back pocket (much harder than it seems), and pulled myself laboriously down off the stool, and made my way back to the kitchen, leaning on the walls for support. I seemed to have put my hand in something because I left red handprints over the walls as I went, until I eventually got myself back into the kitchen.
With trembling hands, I pulled open drawer after drawer until I found what I was looking for – a small, green container, which I managed to unzip and then extract a blister pack of extra strength codeine. I crushed a few pills on the counter, I think I lost track of how many, then with considerable difficulty got… All right, I’ll take the feedback, you know it was difficult, I was just trying to give you a feeling for what was going on. All right, I’ll cut that bit out, yes, I managed to take the codeine and yes, I mixed it with some downers that I kept hidden away and yes it got me coherent again. And yes, I’ll admit I needed a couple of bottles of ice cold lager to wash it down with and then I could start to concentrate again. And, yes, sensibly, the first thing I did was check my phone. There were, I think, over thirty notifications – four messages and sixteen missed calls from Louise (the last one barely five minutes previous, though I had no recollection of hearing the phone ring), the last message quite desperate.
(Still no sign. Call me please. Think I need to call the police), three messages from James, the last one quite resigned (Assume you’re not coming in now. X quite upset you haven’t come in or at least called him. Have tried to cover by saying you were violently sick, even left the office saying I was coming over to help you out. He looks quite agitated though. You should definitely come in tomorrow. J.). No kisses, I noticed, quite unusual.
There was a mail, surprisingly, from Anna Dunnsbury, it seemed to be quite lengthy so I decided not to read it for now. And finally, a few messages from Justin, the first in capital letters
S. DON’T TAKE THE G6!!
The second also in capitals
AND IF YOU DO…DON’T TAKE IT WITH COFFEE!!!!)
The third also in capitals
IF YOU’VE TAKEN IT, CALL ME!!!
I went to the kitchen to get myself another beer, and that’s when I saw a bloody t-shirt and trousers discarded on the floor, sending me fleetingly into shock before I realised that they were actually mine. With a deep sigh, I pulled myself out another beer and sat myself back down, stretching and arching my body. I actually felt OK now, good even, save for the blood in my hair and in my eyes, and the very slight green hue that still seemed to tint everything. As I drank, the phone rang. Unsurprisingly, I thought vaguely, it was Louise. I weighed it up for a second before deciding to answer.
Hey!
Oh, thank Christ for that! Where the hell have you been?
Yeah… sorry about that. I’ve just been at home, haven’t been feeling well (latching on to the first excuse I could think of)
Do you know where Mark is (no thought to ask how I am)
I’m feeling better now, thank you
What?
I said, I’m feeling better, thanks for asking
But I didn’t ask…oh, Christ, Sylvain, grow up. What happened last night? Where’s Mark?
Now here I have to admit that I had been slightly stupid, not thinking in advance about how truthful I was going to be with Louise, and, if as seemed preferable, not entirely truthful, then what exactly I was going to say. As I’ve told you before, I knew I was in danger of losing control as soon as I involved anyone else, especially as my plan to fill in my memory seemed to have been so unsuccessful. That reminded me, I had a mail from Anna… maybe that would help. I put the phone on loudspeaker and went back to my mails. Here we are… Anna Dunnsbury.
Dear Sylvain, yes of course I remember you, we had some sweet, lovely times together didn’t we…
Sylvain? Are you there?
Oh… yes, sorry. Feeling a little…
Yes, yes, I know, you said. Tell me where Mark is
(Sigh) Mark? I don’t know. Hasn’t he come home?
Jesus, Sylvain, haven’t you seen my messages? I’ve called you, what, twenty times today.
Oh… oh, sorry. Yeah (I coughed), shit. I wonder where he is?
(Her voice became shrill…) Don’t you know? What happened when you followed him last night?
(I coughed and spluttered for a bit) Ah… the thing is, Lou, I, erm, I didn’t follow him, I…
What? What do you mean? You even texted me to say you were… look, I’ve got it here… it says…
Yeah, yeah, I know (I interrupted quickly), but, look, the thing is, I started following him, and then, well… then, something went wrong with the suit. I mean, it kept switching itself off, and I thought he…
You thought he what?
I thought maybe he saw me, so I stopped and turned back.
Where? Where did he see you? What time did you turn back?
Oh, it wasn’t late, I mean, it was just after I started following him.
What time?
I don’t know, it was probably just after I texted you, what time was that…?
(a pause) About eleven thirty I think…. And what the hell were you on with that text? I mean, Sylvain, I know you miss Sylvia, but … Anyway, now’s not the time for this. Sorry. Sorry. But Sylvain, what were you thinking? I mean, those things you said…We need to talk
I’m sorry (what the hell did I put in that text?)
No…yes, ok, ok. Stop talking about this. It’s not important right now. You sure you didn’t see Mark? Didn’t follow him at all? Oh, Sylvain, I’m so worried. What am I going to do?
Look, maybe he just got lost. Maybe he…
Just got lost? What does that mean? It’s not like he went on a hiking weekend! For Christ’s sake, Sylvain, he left the house at eleven on a Wednesday night, and he hasn’t come back! He’s never done this before! God, Sylvain, what am I going to do? I think I’ll call the police…
(Nervously laughing) The police? Lou, you really think that’s a good idea?
What? Why?
Well…
I mean, if Mark is doing something… then….
What do you mean?
I mean… do you want that all to come out in the open?
For God’s sake, Sylvain. You think I care if he’s having an affair? What if he’s lying in a ditch somewhere? What if he’s bleeding to death and he dies because I didn’t do anything?
Louise… Louise… Lou… don’t you think you’re being a bit overdramatic?
Jesus, Sylvain! What is the matter with you? God, you’re no help at all. I’ve got to go… I’m calling the…
Let me come over! (blurted out quickly)
What?
I’ll come over! Let me help!
Oh Sylvain, I’m not sure…
Look (I rushed on) you’re worried, of course you are! You don’t want to be on your own for this. Let me come over, we can at least talk it over, I can keep you company
(silence)… And you won’t get the wrong idea?
No! No! Sorry, I think I’d probably had too much to drink when I sent that text, I didn’t mean anything…
(More silence... then a sigh) Okay, then, I guess. I’ll see you in a bit
Only! Don’t call the police until I get there! (but I think she had already hung up)
I threw on a coat, and stepped into the cool sunshine of the early evening, to take the short drive to her house. My phone buzzed again, this time a call from Justin. I hit the red button and the call cut off, seeing that he’d sent me another two messages. I mean, I know it sounds reckless, and I am not a reckless man, but I really didn’t see the point of calling