The Dream Catcher Diaries

by Alexander Patrick

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘You go home.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You go home. You’re suspended.’

  ‘Why?’ exploded Skinner.

  ‘A young man – a discard no less – dies on your watch, and you ask why?’

  ‘It was suicide. You know what these discards are like. They’re all unstable.’

  ‘You’re suspended and you may be sure that if I have anything to do with it you’ll never work in the police again.’

  Skinner stared aghast. ‘I’m on your side, sir.’

  ‘And just whose side is that, Skinner?’

  ‘Law and order, sir.’

  ‘Do you know my history, DCI?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Well, if you did, you wouldn’t say we were on the same side. Todd Brown’s death will be investigated. Your suspects will be released and you, my friend, are suspended.’

  ‘What about the General of the Brotherhood?’

  ‘He’s in hospital. I’m told he’ll make a full recovery. When he does, he’ll face charges of manslaughter; self-defence, I think, will be the plea. But you’ll play no part in this. Your part will be investigated and you are suspended; now get out of my office!’

  Skinner, still standing, was genuinely confused. ‘I don’t understand. We’re on the same side.’

  Gray was already working on his computer consul, moving images around. ‘Goodbye, Skinner,’ he said.

  Skinner left.

  ***********************

  Adam was the third person to come into our lives that year. The year that I gained my closest friend and Robert a beautiful wife was the year Davey gained a brother. Not a pretend brother like me, but a real brother.

  That summer was glorious; our seaside town hosted the National Water Sports Championship, a three-part contest involving canoeing, swimming and surfing. The surfing was the most important and popular event. Steve was pretty excited about it and followed it with huge enthusiasm. I went along to keep him company.

  The favourite – and eventual winner – was a young man of my age, named Adam Booth. He was an attractive young man with long dark hair, a small goatee beard, a shy smile and soft grey eyes. All the girls followed him around and hung over him for all the pictures. He was the star and, in the end, he won easily. It was a popular win. Steve was entranced and – I thought – lusted after the young hero, not that he showed it. At that time, Steve rarely showed any emotion.

  Things were actually going quite well for Steve. He had, once again, found himself in trouble, but Ian had pulled him out of prison and promised numerous social workers and probation officers that they would watch him. Ian was more than true to his word. He had noticed that Steve had a talent for Latin names and a natural skill with plants and so he offered him an apprenticeship as a landscape gardener.

  However, it also meant that Ian wanted him to attend the local agriculture college, which, in turn, meant that Steve had to go back to school. That summer saw a long wrangle between our lot and the rest of the world to allow a category B sex offender into the local school. Not a popular cause, as you can imagine. We won the argument, albeit with plenty of clauses; it didn’t matter, we won and Steve – who was almost illiterate – was enrolled for the final year at school.

  The evening of that day when Adam won his championship and Steve found out he had been accepted into the local school saw them both in the same pub in town celebrating.

  Steve’s was a quiet affair. I was away in Cambridge with Davey, and Steve was on his own. Adam was surrounded by friends and admirers. They were in the same space but not the same company.

  Just as Steve was about to leave, he heard Adam give some excuse about going back to camp. They left at the same time. It was then that Steve noticed that Adam was walking in the wrong direction. Curious, Steve followed. He followed him to a nightclub called Marilyn’s, a seedy and rather unpleasant place, but, more importantly, it was a gay nightclub and one from which Steve was banned.

  Adam went into Marilyn’s and Steve followed.

  Steve approached him and soon they were talking. Most people there knew exactly what Steve was and approached him with money. Adam just thought he was a popular person. He had absolutely no idea. Steve was simply happy to be with someone he had been worshipping from afar for the last month during the surfing championship.

  Marilyn’s, though seedy, was expensive. Steve invited him back to his squalid attic flat to talk surfing and drink coffee. He called it an apartment and Adam agreed. They walked out of the nightclub, stood in the doorway for a while smoking a cigarette and then stepped out into the night.

  Four men leapt out of the darkness onto them. Immediately they struck Steve and threw him back, breaking his arm and knocking him unconscious. When he regained consciousness they were stamping and beating what looked to be a pile of rags. Steve screamed and plunged into the men. He pulled at them screaming all the time. Figures emerged from nearby, shouting and waving their arms about. They chased the four men away, leaving Steve alone, crouched on the ground, and in his arms huddled a still form. It was Adam and Steve was convinced he must be dead.

  Chapter 22

  Prison hospital

  The General opened his eyes, but the bright light forced him to close them again. The pain throughout his body made him wish he were still unconscious. Noise – something or someone – had woken him. He opened his eyes again, more cautiously this time, and saw a man sitting next to his bed: a neat man, small and neat, small hands and feet, a sharp suit and gold, lots of gold around his wrists, fingers and ears. He had his legs crossed and was working on his freelancer, the rapid movement of his small fingers clicking as he fed data into his machine. It was this clicking that had woken him. The man was frowning as he worked. He had sallow skin, thin lips and a prominent nose. His eyes were dark and as sharp as knives.

  He seemed to become aware of being watched and glanced up. Quickly he put his freelancer away and leaned forward. ‘You look like shit,’ he said pleasantly.

  ‘Nice to see you too, Samuel,’ whispered the General.

  ‘Don’t try to talk, you’re all stitched up,’ said Samuel, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. He placed it in his mouth, lit it and passed it across, putting it in the General’s mouth. The General inhaled deeply whilst Samuel watched, a look of revulsion on his face. ‘A disgusting habit!’ he remarked, placing the cigarette back in the General’s mouth. ‘The things one does for a client.’

  ‘God bless you!’ said the General.

  ‘Whose God? Yours or mine?’

  The General tried to smile but failed. ‘Yours of course, mine doesn’t exist.’

  He waited whilst the General smoked his illicit cigarette and then sat back regarding him seriously. ‘I am going to talk,’ he said. ‘First, because I’m good at it and it’s what I am paid to do, and second, because you can’t; agreed?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Samuel nodded. ‘You know about Sweeney?’

  ‘I heard him die.’

  ‘I saw his body.’ He shuddered. ‘What was left of it.’

  The General closed his eyes and wished once more he was unconscious and the memories could go away. Sweeney’s death was just one more sadness; he was beginning to think he couldn’t take any more, but something inside him told him that Samuel was going to give him more.

  ‘Skinner has been suspended. I see a large pension and early retirement looming.’

  ‘If he lives to see it,’ muttered the General. Samuel ignored the comment; as a lawyer that was the sort of comment best not heard. ‘What about the others?’

  ‘Skinner and his thugs were stopped before they could start on anyone else. They’ve all been released on bail.’ He paused and added distastefully, ‘And the bodyguard’s been round.’

  ‘Send him away, preferably to hell.’

  ‘He’s left already, to protect the family.’

  ‘I’ll crucify him one day so help me ...’ He win
ced and glanced at his wrist. Despite hardly being able to move, they had still handcuffed him to the bed by a wrist and an ankle. ‘I want the pigs’ names,’ he said. ‘Give a list to Cadros; he’ll know what to do.’

  ‘I can’t ...’

  ‘Just do it. I want the names of every one of those pigs who murdered Sweeney. He didn’t deserve what they did to him; no one did.’ Samuel was about to protest, but was prevented from talking. ‘You owe the Brotherhood your allegiance,’ continued the General.

  ‘You’re just a client,’ replied Samuel.

  ‘You need us. No one else’ll protect you.’

  ‘The Jews need no one. We have our own ways to protect ourselves and we have people well placed. Save your protection for the children of Islam.’ The General said nothing. He knew that Samuel would do as he asked. He always did. ‘We need to talk,’ Samuel said quietly.

  ‘No, we don’t.’ The General didn’t need any more heartache. He knew it had to come, but he didn’t want to hear it. It was strange how much he prided himself on his personal courage yet in some ways he was in the end just a coward.

  Samuel placed his hand on the General’s. ‘He’s dead,’ he said simply. That was enough. It said it all and the General’s world came crashing in.

  ***********************

  Adam survived the attack and was soon taken home to Yorkshire by his parents. But Steve never forgot him. He tried to contact him, but the media had dragged up Steve’s past and made the worst of it. They claimed that Steve had approached Adam, offering sex for money, and that was where they were going when they were leaving Marilyn’s. They dragged out old photographs of Steve in provocative poses and scanty leather. Obviously Adam had seen it and was bitter. He believed everything that had been written and he was angry – very angry – with Steve, blaming him for the attack. He was not the only one; the media also claimed that they had proof that Steve knew the men who had attacked them; they were, it was said, old clients.

  Steve brooded about it. He wouldn’t let it go. He couldn’t forget that night. He began to believe the lies being written about him. He felt responsible and he felt guilty. It was not helped by the fact that, even though the immediate result of the attack for him was a broken arm and a threat of being returned to prison, he had in the end benefited from the whole incident: Ian and Daniel had stepped forward and offered to adopt him; he found himself being looked after and loved by two of the best people he could ever have met.

  He couldn’t forget Adam. I tried to tell him that the guilty people were the four men who had attacked them, but he was not so sure. At the back of his mind was always the thought that he had survived and Adam had probably had his life ruined. He had been ‘outed’ against his will. The night they had met he had told Steve his plans. They involved working with vulnerable children and adults in outdoor pursuits – something that, under recent legislation, a gay man would not be allowed to do. He needed to be sure he was right with him. That was when he came up with the idea of inviting Adam down to stay with us.

  Steve had identified three of the men who had attacked them. The fourth, a man with long white hair, had remained elusive. Adam needed to come back for the trial. So we invited him down for the half term in November. Surprisingly, he accepted and, even more surprisingly, the rather strange man in charge of the nursing home where he had been placed also allowed him to come. Put it down to my father’s charm; they were both Scottish and bonded immediately. Well, admittedly, my father lied a lot. He pretended to be an evangelical madman, but it worked.

  That half term, a frail, vulnerable Adam came to stay. He was sickly. He was pale and thin and walked with crutches. He was damaged not only physically but also emotionally.

  His parents had been shocked and humiliated by the way their son had been ‘outed’ and had dumped him into the care of the sadistic Reverend Gillespie, who hated gays with a passion. Adam had been made to suffer. You could see it in his eyes and in his soul that they were hurting him. My father took one look at him and made his decision. Adam would not be going back. That first night dad took the badge the nursing home made Adam wear and he threw it away. The badge identified him by name and number. The name on the badge read ‘queenie’. It said it all.

  He stayed.

  Robert and Dianne were on honeymoon the first week of his stay with us; before they returned it had already been decided. Robert agreed to adopt Adam, and he became one of the family. He took our name immediately and soon was calling my father granddad and Dianne and Robert mum and dad.

  Adam belonged. He may have been born with a different name but he was at heart and in his soul a Patrick. Once he was part of our family it was as if he had always been there. He was the kindest, gentlest soul I have ever met. To know Adam was to love him. I think, in the end, he was the best of us.

  Such a pity then that he and Steve hated each other.

  Chapter 23

  Superintendent Gray sat at his desk, bogged down as usual with administration: moving figures around to make the right statistics, moving facts around to fit the right media hype. He sighed and wondered whether it was all really worthwhile.

  Someone knocked on the door and came in. ‘Sir,’ said a deferential voice.

  He glanced up. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Sir, that Jew lawyer is here. He claims he has an appointment. I’ve been trying to put him off but he’s most insistent.’

  Gray swore under his breath. ‘He does have an appointment,’ he said. ‘Send him in.’

  ‘If you say so, sir.’ The young officer, fresh faced and slightly pink, sounded dubious. He had a round head and small eyes and, although young, he was already displaying a second chin. He wandered out again and Gray closed down his computer with a swift word.

  ‘Mr Goldmann!’ he said with fake heartiness. ‘Take a seat.’ Samuel sat down carefully, inspecting the seat closely before he did so. He crossed his legs and pulled out his freelancer. Gray regarded him cautiously. They had met before, just after the revolution. He couldn’t remember what he had thought of him then, but he knew he disliked him now. He disliked the prissiness and the neatness of his clothes. Bet he’s a fag! he thought. He smiled again. ‘I am very pleased you could make it,’ he said.

  Samuel looked up and said nothing.

  Gray noted the narrow dark eyes and prominent nose. Typical Jew! he thought and, once again, he smiled.

  ‘Why have you called me in?’ asked Samuel abruptly.

  ‘I want a deal,’ said Gray.

  Samuel hesitated. ‘What sort of a deal?’

  ‘Tell the Brotherhood to leave it be and I will leave Matrix be. It really is that simple.’ Samuel opened his mouth to speak. Gray forestalled him. ‘I heard that you’ve managed to elicit the names of all those men involved in that unfortunate incident with young Todd.’

  ‘The murder you mean?’

  Gray shrugged his shoulders. ‘The death of someone in custody is always regrettable but Todd Brown was, at best, a young thug who liked his knives. There was a reason, I guess, why he was called Sweeney?’

  ‘He was still murdered by your thugs and, yes, he may have had problems in the past, but he had long since switched his allegiance.’

  Gray laughed. ‘Of course, he’d switched from street crime to terrorism, from allegiance to drugs and booze to that of the Brotherhood. I’m sorry, but my officers may have difficulty in seeing where, if any, improvement had taken place.’

  ‘Are you defending what happened?’

  ‘No, I am simply putting it in its right perspective.’ Gray paused. ‘I’m offering a way out for all of us.’

  Samuel narrowed his already-narrow eyes even further. ‘What are you offering?’

  ‘My men have been looking through that old warehouse where the bodies of Whitely and the Ross brothers were found. We know that Matrix was there. We know that the General is lying and we know why he’s lying. His duty is to Matrix and he will stay faithful to that.’

  ‘Matrix is dead,’
interrupted Samuel.

  ‘The allegiance doesn’t change.’ Gray smiled and rested his hands on the table. ‘There is a son I understand – a child of Matrix. I think you’ll deal with me, - don’t you?’

  Samuel held his breath for a moment, closed his eyes and then looked carefully at Gray.

  ‘What exactly are you offering, sir?’ he asked politely.

  ***********************

  Steve suffered at the hands of Adam. The two men could barely be in the same room without a bitter exchange taking place – and I always seemed to be sitting in the middle of it. It was not helped when Adam acquired a boyfriend. His name was Simeon St Clair. He had French parents; he was clever, good looking, rich and amusing. He was a doctor training to be a surgeon and he adored Adam. He was tall, thin, well-dressed and languid. He had long floppy blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. He knew exactly how to hurt Steve and he took every opportunity to do so. It was ironic, then, that the only reason that Simeon came into our lives at all was because, reluctantly, Steve had also acquired a boyfriend.

  His name was Tarrant. He was an upper-middle-strata gay man who fell for the beautiful and bad Steve. There is no doubt he found Steve’s past alluring. He was new to Devon; his parents had only recently moved from the Home Counties, hoping to take their son away from ‘influences.’ The main ‘influence’, however, was Simeon and he simply followed Tarrant down. If they had once been lovers it had long since passed, they were now just close friends.

  Steve drifted into the relationship with Tarrant and drifted out. He was just not interested. I think he had had enough and wanted to be left alone; he still had healing to do and he didn’t need complications. Perhaps that was why being friends with me and Davey was so unthreatening. We were straight, blind and accepted him completely.

  The relationship with Tarrant reached a natural conclusion. At the end of that year Steve’s probation came up for review and he failed it. His school life had not been successful; he was said to have ‘attitude’. He attracted trouble wherever he went. He was a target. Everybody knew who and what he was. The trial of the three men who had attacked him and Adam had not helped. It had, in the end, been more a trial of Steve’s personal history and life. He had broken too many rules. He failed his probation and he was returned to prison. Simeon crowed and said he was not surprised. I was devastated.