• • • •
Forrest bit back his impatience again, he was beginning to realize that Lewisham had been ahead of the police investigation, had pieced together the whole story. He had concealed every single relevant fact from the investigations. Forrest watched him curiously. Why? The answer fitted his original assessment of the psychiatrist: because he loved the power such knowledge afforded him. He had enjoyed watching the police investigation flounder as he might have watched white mice scuttle blindly around a maze. Now he was reaping in the full harvest. Forrest realized just how much Lewisham was enjoying himself. Karys’s life was unimportant compared to his enjoyment.
Lewisham continued. ‘And here we have an interesting turn of events. The man who was so savaged by Pinky Sutcliffe that day was a man aged forty-three — a divorced man with no near relatives. No one to concern themselves too much with his fate. Of course when he died a few days later the spotlight was turned back on Sutcliffe. Complications arising from surgery are one thing, a death quite another. Various diagnoses were tossed around to explain Sutcliffe’s condition that day: cerebral haemorrhage, various forms of epilepsy, that sort of thing. When they all turned out negative and the patient had died they started to search for some other explanation. But they never found one.’ Lewisham gave his loud, slightly unbalanced laugh. ‘A claim was made against the hospital. It spoilt the audit figures for the year. But one death resulting from a relatively minor operation is not dreadful enough to upset even the most rigid of auditors. Sutcliffe got away with it. But the young man had a son whose name I’ve learnt was Terry. And somehow,’ he stopped smiling, ‘even I do not know the full sequence of events, the dead man’s son met the theatre sister’s daughter and married her.’ He made a face. ‘Sister Brenda Watlow was a garrulous woman who loved to gossip about the dramatic events of an operating theatre. At some point, who knows when, this young man, quite cleverly, must have put two and two together.’
‘Where can we find him?’ Forrest asked.
Lewisham leant back. ‘I can’t spoonfeed you completely,’ he said wearily. ‘Some things you’ll have to find out for yourself. And no doubt,’ he finished, ‘at some point the “surgeon” intends to attempt to exact his revenge on me. Which could be interesting.’
• • • •
He was pushing the facemask towards her when she kicked out at him.
He hadn’t been expecting that but her arms were still pinioned by the straps. It gave her only a small advantage.
The mask came closer.
She must escape. Or breathe. And if she breathed the gas she would die. Terror turned to panic.
• • • •
Forrest was back in the car, radioing in for Brenda’s daughter’s address when, uninvited, Lewisham climbed in to the police car.
He leant forward from the back to speak to Forrest. ‘By the way, Forrest, Karys has been wrong all these years. She should have listened harder to the lectures. Haloperidol only gives the side-effects of akathisia in a young man. Sutcliffe was in his forties. Far too old. In actual fact I put nothing into his drink. When I realized he was ill, I simply pretended I had. It’s been fun getting Karys to believe she was responsible, but she wasn’t.’
Forrest was accelerating towards the Hagley Road. ‘You bastard.’ He did not have to be polite to Lewisham any longer. He owed him nothing.
Lewisham pursued the point with less of his preening confidence. ‘It was an unfortunate incident.’ He spread his hands. ‘But I couldn’t possibly have predicted the outcome of such an innocuous little joke. Just a joke.’
Tonya glared at him. ‘People have died because of your “little joke”. This entire incident...has been sparked off by your “little joke”. Karys has blamed herself all these years, you didn’t do a bloody thing about it. It’s all because of you.’
Lewisham fixed the journalist with a stare. ‘And what are you going to do about it? Expose me?’
‘I won’t need to,’ Tonya said sweetly. ‘When all this comes out people will ask why four people died. It’ll all come out. The whole story. I’d be surprised if your career survives it. Or you for that matter. They’re not too keen on doctors in prison.’
They glared at each other.
‘I think you’re forgetting something. I understand the way this maniac’s mind works. I’m the only one who can anticipate his actions. If anyone can help Karys, I’m the one. The only one.’
Chapter Twenty-three
They say that when you believe you are about to die your life flashes in front of you. Small cameo shots of significant events. The bits that have made you what you are today.
The day when her mother had left her at the hospital, with chocolate and confused explanations. The day when the surgeon had peered down at her, when the nurse had clamped the mask over her nose and mouth, forcing her to breathe. The pain on waking.
But this time she would not wake, or have her parents coccooning her.
Barney. His devious mockery. The demolition of her character which had led in turn to her own self-deprecation. Self-doubt.
The surgeon would kill her, as he had killed others. She shuddered as she recalled the three most recent post-mortems. She would soon be among them. Another wasted life. One that had never really begun. Not properly.
She had never been herself. Only some timid mirrored version of how others had seen her. Her parents, Barney. Her fury was suddenly so strong that her terror was overcome. It had vanished. Lying down with death grinning at her from above she burnt with hatred and a feeling of frustration for having caved in to all the oppression.
As he bent towards her she fixed her eyes on him in a dumb appeal. She was not dead yet. ‘Please,’ she whispered.
For a second, no longer, he hesitated.
She was getting through. Karys clawed her way back to calm. ‘I’ve been doing the post-mortems on your victims.’
I am still alive, she wanted to scream. I will stay alive.
The ‘surgeon’ could not resist seeking accolade.
‘What do you think of my work?’
‘I think it’s very...’
‘Professional?’ he asked eagerly.
‘You’ve got better.’ It was surely safer to agree with this mad man?
‘I was just short of practice.’
She said nothing. Fright was creeping back again, paralysing her legs, making her cold, tired.
‘How did you learn?’ she managed to ask.
‘Through books,’ he said. ‘Textbooks. She had plenty.’
‘Your mother-in-law?’
He nodded. ‘Because of your status you all got clean away with it, Doctor. With murder I mean. It will be the same for me.’
‘No,’ she said.
He got angry then. ‘You say that to save your own skin.’
‘No,’ she said again. ‘The police—’
‘Think it’s Forning.’
She looked up to meet his eyes. ‘But Forning’s in custody now. They can’t blame him any more.’
‘Then they’ll find someone else to blame.’
‘They’ll find you. Barney Lewisham will lead them to you in the end. He’s clever.’
‘I’m clever. And I shall find him too. Then my work will be complete.’ He fixed Karys with a stare. ‘What did you use to drug Sutcliffe?’
‘Haloperidol,’ she said without even having to think. The name of the drug had never left her.
Terry smiled. ‘That was the only thing I didn’t know.’
She sensed he was growing bored. ‘Breathe,’ he said. ‘I want to see how successful my anaesthetics are.’
There was no way out. He was forcing the mask too tightly against her face. Karys took a long, spluttering breath.
• • • •
Knocking Shani Carling up was like waking the dead. She’d mixed sleeping tablets prescribed by the doctor with the alcohol he had recommended she leave well alone and the combination had left her bleary eyed and groggy. She opene
d the door, leaning against the frame for support.
Forrest spoke first. ‘Where’s your husband?’
She was instantly on the defensive. ‘Whadda you wanna know for?’
Tonya was less polite. ‘Where the hell is he?’
‘Not here.’
It took a few more precious moments to convince Shani that they were serious, deadly serious. She yawned, rubbed her eyes and finally addressed Forrest.
‘He’s got a lockup,’ she said. ‘On an industrial estate. It’s where he runs his business from. He’s an electrician.’
‘Take us there,’ Forrest ordered.
‘What, now? I don’t know he’s there.’
Tonya gripped the woman by the throat. Instinctively she knew time was running out for her friend. She tried not to think. None of the victims had been alive half an hour after they had been taken. Not one. She might be dead already.
Forrest went through the motions of alerting the force, instructing them to surround the building while Tonya helped Shani dress, trying all the time to focus his mind away from Karys’s face as it had been when he had last seen her. Appealing to be understood. To be liked.
If she was alive he vowed he would get closer to her. Never mind what else happened. He would be, at the very least, her friend. Her true friend.
Time was running out.
Chapter Twenty-four
Forrest bundled Tonya, Lewisham, and the still protesting Shani into the car, and they sped off, directions coming both from Shani and an over-excited switchboard operator. ‘Right, right right. First left, left, left then right...’
Shani’s help was less precise. ‘I think it’s along here a bit.’
The police presence was obvious as they drew off the main road onto a small industrial estate full of soulless square lockups lit with orange streetlamps. Possibly busy in the day, but deserted through the night. Maybe by day Terry Carling did run his business from here, but at night he had another purpose for it. Shani directed them towards one of the lockups at the end of the back row where most of the police cars were concentrated. Stout roller doors guarded the entrance. To the side was a second small door. The windows were high rectangles which threw out pools of light: the ‘surgeon’ was inside. The road had been blocked off to all but the police. Forrest stopped briefly and was waved on by a uniformed officer. The place was crawling with them, their cars were everywhere, some marked, others discreet and anonymous. In front of the roller shutters men crouched, all in black, their bodies thickened by padded jackets, their faces concealed by balaclavas, with guns trained on the two exits.
The ‘surgeon’ was a multiple killer. He warranted such attention.
Forrest and the others got out of the car, noiselessly closing the doors. Outside it was quiet. Not a sound was coming from inside the lock up. It was eerily still. Nothing but distant, innocent, unaware sounds: traffic; dogs barking; unidentified screeches. No screams.
It could mean she was already dead. Or...Forrest found he couldn’t think of an alternative.
He located the Chief Superintendent talking to one of the men in black. ‘I believe he’s got Doctor Harper in there, sir.’
Waterman nodded. ‘We’ve run him to ground, at last.’ There was a trace of criticism in his voice.
Shani came into view. ‘This is his wife, sir.’
‘Mmm.’
‘That’s his van,’ she said, pointing. ‘The white one, parked round the front.’ Shani’s eyes were widening by the minute. The dope must be wearing off.
Waterman spoke to Forrest. ‘You know Doctor Harper fairly well don’t you?’
Forrest nodded miserably. ‘I was with her last night, sir. Dinner,’ he added.
Waterman made no comment. ‘Normally, in cases like this, we would play the waiting game,’ he said, ‘speak to the hostage-taker and let him know we’re here, try and reason with him.’ Another pause. ‘In this case the situation’s a bit different. The man’s a serial killer. We have a choice.’ A wry smile. ‘We either burst in, guns blazing, or we enter by stealth.’
Barney Lewisham cleared his throat. ‘I think that stealth is preferable,’ he said importantly, ‘and the obvious choice is, of course, me.’ The small group standing round the car were left in no doubt. Lewisham’s moment had finally arrived.
Only Waterman objected. ‘It should, if anything, be one of the armed officers,’ he said. ‘They’re trained to deal with such situations.’
Lewisham smiled. ‘I don’t think so. You see, Karys Harper just might be alive. If she is, there will be some reasoning to be done with her abductor. Out of all of us, I am the only one trained in such matters. I understand this man. His motives. His weaknesses. Only I have the reasoning ability to convince him he should spare her. I am the one he wants next. For me to approach him will give me the advantage.’ He shot a swift, meaningful glance at Forrest. ‘It will shock him. If, on the other hand, she is already dead our man will be armed with a scalpel which he will have absolutely no hesitation in using randomly. I am prepared to go in, unarmed and unattended and speak to him. This is my professional advice and I don’t think you’re prepared to go against it, are you, Chief Superintendent Waterman? May I remind you we don’t have much time if we have any at all.’
Waterman and the man in black withdrew for a couple of seconds, before Waterman turned back to Lewisham. ‘OK,’ he said reluctantly. ‘But at least wear protective gear. A knifeproof vest.’
Lewisham had his answer ready. ‘That will defeat the object,’ he said. ‘It will reduce me to one of you, attempting to overcome by force and physical means, powerless to deflect an attack except by a mechanical device. That will not impress our friend. I must reason with him. Persuade him, if I am to gain any advantage at all.’
It was Forrest who spoke up then, grudgingly respectful. ‘I don’t see we’ve any option,’ he pointed out. ‘And I agree with Doctor Lewisham, if Doctor Harper is still alive we can’t take the risk. And if he’s prepared to go in...’
Shani, further roused by events, said, ‘You’re best using the side door. That’s how he gets in. It’ll be open. I only came here the once. On my own. Thought he was having it away with someone.’ Her plump, doughy face crumpled. ‘I never guessed he was up to this.’
Forrest took the key from her. He wanted to say something to the psychiatrist, to ask him to make every effort to preserve Karys’s life. To use all his bargaining skills to keep her alive. Unhurt. Unmutilated. He screwed his eyes up in agony. But his resentment for the man prevented him saying anything. He handed the key to Lewisham without a word.
Lewisham walked briskly towards the door at the side of the lockup.
They all watched as he turned the handle, pushed the door open and vanished inside.
‘Keep him covered.’ Waterman gave the order softly to the waiting officers. ‘Give him three minutes. No longer. And then we’ll have to...’ He didn’t need to finish the sentence. They all knew they must use whatever force was necessary.
Moments ticked away slowly.
The watchers were motionless, straining for sound.
• • • •
It took a few moments for Lewisham’s eyes to adjust to the light.
It was bright in here. Clean too. White walls, neatly stocked shelves, white covering on the floor. Fluorescent tubes.
He blinked rapidly. It was a scene straight from Casualty, ER, any of the medical soaps. A patient, lying on the table, a green-gowned, masked figure bending over her, pressing a mask to her face. The patient was fully conscious. Not instantly recognizable as Karys. Her clothes were rumpled, two straps binding her.
The ‘surgeon’ looked up.
In slow motion Barney moved forwards.
Something flickered across the ‘surgeon’s’ eyes. He didn’t like being disturbed. He straightened, scalpel in hand.
Barney spoke quietly. ‘Do you know who I am?’ It was the voice he used to reassure disturbed patients. Sometimes it worked. This tim
e he wasn’t sure. ‘My name is Doctor Barney Lewisham.’
Something registered. ‘So you’ve come to me.’ There was surprise in his voice.
Lewisham nodded. ‘I’ve come,’ he said, ‘because I know about you. I know why you’re doing this.’ Not once did he look at Karys. It would have broken the bond that was forming between him and the ‘surgeon’. He didn’t want it to snap. He wanted to know the man.
Without even glancing at Karys, he knew how she would look. Pale, motionless, almost dead. But her eyes would be fixed open. Staring, pleading with him. Just the image was enough to intoxicate him.
‘Why is your patient still conscious?’
Terry Carling gave Karys a brief squint. ‘I don’t seem to have got my anaesthetics quite right.’
So he had been right. The ‘surgeon’ was progressing. No longer happy to butcher the dead. He wanted to work with the living. Barney congratulated himself.
‘What are you using?’
‘Gas. Nitrous Oxide. I thought it would work. It should work — shouldn’t it?’
Barney knew he was succeeding. The ‘surgeon’ had consulted him as a fellow professional. That meant he would, soon, accept advice. He answered casually, as though discussing a surgical technique with a colleague. Instinctively he knew this was the line to take. ‘Yes, it should work OK, although my experience in anaesthetics is limited. Maybe you haven’t got the mix quite right.’
It gave him the perfect opportunity to move closer. Perhaps it was a bit soon.
For a couple of seconds the two men stared at each other, hatred welled up inside Terry Carling’s eyes. It was long enough.
Karys took a deep breath in and kicked out hard. Terry fell backwards. The spell was broken.
‘You bloody idiot.’ Barney was furious.
A Fatal Cut Page 25
