Blackout (9 page)

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Josh tried to get a grip on the memory, but it had already slipped from his grasp. Lost, he thought. Down into the pit where the rest of my memories are.

He stepped forward. Kate was pointing to a ditch that measured thirty feet across and ten feet deep. 'Here,' she said. 'I found you right here.'

Josh knelt down on the ground. He closed his eyes, hoping that the darkness would stir something inside his mind. Empty. He looked down, running his fingers into the dust. A few yards to the right, there was a patch of rusty brown. Even after five days' exposure to the baking sun, it was clear what had made that stain. Blood. Human blood.

My blood, thought Josh.

'Remember anything?' asked Kate.

Josh shook his head. 'Blank,' he replied.

He stood up, looking out across the horizon. Two hundred, maybe three hundred yards distant, he could see a cordoned-off strip of the road, with a taped barrier. A car was drawing up to it, moving at no more than ten miles an hour. As it stopped, a man in uniform and wearing sunglasses climbed out.

'Police,' said Josh. 'I'm going to see what they know.'

Kate grabbed his arm, tugging back at the sleeve of his shirt. Her strength surprised Josh, and he could feel himself losing his grip on the crutch. 'No,' she snapped. 'The police are looking for you.'

Josh brushed her hand away. 'I just need to find out what happened here.' a

'It's too risky,' said Kate.

'I'll be the judge of what risks I run.'

Marshall glanced at both of them, as if he was assessing the respective strengths of two boxers in the ring. 'I'll come with you,' he said. 'Kate, you follow us in the car.'

Josh started to hobble down the road. He was becoming more practised with his crutch, swinging forward with long,

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confident strides. Every third step he was putting some weight on the wounded leg, tolerating the pain that rippled through him every time it touched the ground. He knew that if you were fit, your muscles would rebuild themselves more quickly.

A couple more days and I might be able to walk normally again. So long as I keep the nerves and muscles exercised.

Marshall was walking at Josh's side, his arms folded across his chest. 'You let me do the talking, boy,' he whispered. 'They hear your accent, they're going to be suspicious right away.'

The policeman was standing by himself. About three hundred pounds, with a belly that was bursting out of his khaki Sheriff's Department shirt, the man was leaning against the hood of his Ford Taurus Estate. There was a big polystyrene cup of coffee on the bonnet of the machine, and next to it a box of six doughnuts. Three of them were already eaten. Obviously a man who liked his breakfast.

'What happened here?' said Marshall, nodding gently towards the policeman.

Josh glanced up at the cop and smiled.

'Kid got shot, back on Monday,' said the policeman. 'Didn't you see it on TV?'

Marshall laughed. 'Been out of the county a few days. Who was he?'

The policeman reached behind him for a doughnut, keeping his gaze fixed on Marshall all the time. 'Kid named Ben Lippard,' he replied, starting to chew on his food.'You know him?'

Marshall shook his head slowly from side to side. 'No. Was he mixed up in something? Drugs?'

The policeman looked across to Josh, his stare locking onto his crutch and the thick white bandage wrapped around his neck. He finished his doughnut, then wiped some saliva away from his chin with the back of his hand.

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'What do I look like? A fucking newspaper? You want to find out what happened, you go buy one.'

Marshall backed away a step, raising his hand. 'Hey, steady, pal,' he said. 'I just wanted to find out. That's all.'

The policeman took a step forward from the car. 'Who's your friend?' he asked angrily, jabbing his thumb towards Josh. 'How'd he get so badly hurt?'

'Mountain climbing,' said Marshall quickly. 'We were up at the Grand Canyon for a few days. Had a bit of a fall.'

'I lost something near here,' Josh interrupted. 'A wallet. Some ID. You find anything like that?'

As soon as he spoke, Josh noticed Marshall shooting him

a deadly glance: Doesn't matter, Josh decided. I'll take some

risks with the police if I have to. Maybe I shot this boy,

and maybe I didn't. If I don't start asking questions, I'll never

find out.

'Are you the man?' asked the policeman.

'What man?' said Josh.

The policeman took another step forward. Now Josh could smell the jam and sugar of the doughnut on his breath. 'What man?' repeated Josh, a ragged edge of anger creeping into his tone.

'There was a third man, guy who got injured on the murder scene,' said the policeman. 'He left some traces of blood in the sand. We got his DNA, so we know who he is.' He looked more closely at Josh. 'I'm wondering if it might be you.' He paused. 'That accent. Is that Australian, or British, or what?' A

Josh was about to speak again but Marshall stepped swiftly in front of him. 'He's a veteran. First Iraq war. He . . .' Marshall paused. 'He has some problems.'

The policeman looked past Marshall, still staring at Josh. 'I'm taking you down to the sheriff's office. We need to check out who you are.'

Josh started backing away.

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'No need to run,' said the policeman, his tone rising. 'I'm not saying we'll keep you. Just check you out, ask you a few questions, then send you on your way'

Marshall's fist landed hard in the policeman's stomach. Josh was surprised by the power of the blow that the older man struck, followed through with all the force of his shoulder. The kind of blow that a professional boxer would deliver, thought Josh. That man knows how to fight.

The policeman doubled up in pain. He was too fat for his job, and his belly was full of sugar and air. The punch winded him, knocking him sideways and loosening his balance. His right hand slipped down to the leather holster flapping at his belt and his fingers grasped the weapon. He started to pull it free but Marshall had already swung his leg up towards the man's crotch. His boot landed hard in the man's groin, and a scream rose from the cop's lips as the pain shot up through his body.

His hand was still on his gun, a Sig-Sauer P226, a neat, compact black metal handgun that was used by the US Navy Seals and FBI as well as by hundreds of local sheriffs' departments. Josh stepped forward, swung his crutch in the air, then smashed it hard into the policeman's hand. It struck his knuckles with the force of a metal cane and the gun fell to the ground.

Marshall bent down swiftly, grabbed the gun and jabbed it up against the policeman's head. The man was sweating with fear: a thin film of liquid was streaming down his red, blotched face. He looked wildly towards Marshall, then at Josh. 'Don't hurt me,' he whimpered. 'I got a wife, kids. Please don't hurt me.'

Josh picked up his crutch from the ground, using it to steady himself, then leaned towards the man.

'Whose blood was found at this crime scene?' he said, his tone harsh and determined. 'What's his name?'

'I don't know.'

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Marshall rammed the gun harder against the side of the cop's head. 'Tell us,' he said slowly. 'Tell us now, or your brains are cactus fertilizer.'

The man's nose was starting to bleed. 'I don't know, I tell you -- I don't know. The name is classified. I'm just guarding the crime scene.'

'Maybe you want me to make it simpler for you to understand,' growled Marshall. 'Tell us before I count to three, or you're a fucking dead man.'

'No, no,' pleaded the policeman.

'One,' said Marshall.

The cop was starting to shake with fear. 'No, please!

'Two,' said Marshall, his tone even harsher.

'I don't know anything.'

Marshall cocked the P226. 'Three,' he said. He pronounced the word with an air of finality.

'I don't know,' said the policeman again.

Marshall's finger was taking first pressure on the trigger. He glanced towards Josh.

'Christ, no,' said Josh. 'He doesn't know anything.'

'Then we finish him,' said Marshall.

'That's murder,' said Josh angrily. 'Bloody leave him. He doesn't know anything.'

'No, we finish him now,' snarled Marshall.

His face was red, and his stare was locked onto Josh who could see the violence building up inside the older man. The gun was squeezed tight in Marshall's hand, as if he was on the brink of shooting. A

Josh leaned down, gripped Marshall's hand tight, and pulled the gun away. 'Leave it,' he snapped. 'We kill a cop, we're in real trouble.'

Kate had put a hamburger down on the table, followed by a bottle of beer. Josh took the food, picked out the fried onions from it and started eating.

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'Why are you helping me?' he said, looking up at the woman.

After getting back to the house, Kate had given Josh another injection that had put him back to sleep for eight hours. She insisted that he needed the sleep, and Josh hadn't felt like resisting. He knew from what they had learned out in the scrubland that morning that a boy had been killed at the same time as he had been shot, and the police were searching the area for a man with an English accent.

And now he also knew that Marshall could be violent. Maybe Kate as well.

Maybe I killed the boy? Maybe they did?

'Why shouldn't I help you?' said Kate, her tone cool. 'I'm a helpful person.'

She was wearing black jeans that clung tight to her curves, and a white T-shirt with a black diamond printed on its back. When Josh had woken up later that afternoon she had dressed the wounds on his neck and his leg, clearing away the old bandages and replacing them with new ones. Without her and Marshall he'd probably be dead by now. Or languishing in an Arizona jail.

Josh took another bite of the hamburger, then looked back up at Kate. 'You could have just pulled me out of the ditch, patched me up, then sent me on my way -- that would've been helpful. Nobody goes to this amount of trouble unless they have an angle.'

'I'm a doctor, remember?' said Kate, a flash of anger in her eyes. 'I'm meant to look after sick people.' She sat down opposite him, reaching across the tiny Formica table and taking a bite of the hamburger for herself. Anger makes her hungry, Josh noted. She devours her food the same way she devours arguments: with a ravenous appetite.

'No,' he replied, shaking his head. 'A doctor would just take me to a hospital, patching me up on the way if they

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4i,

had to.' He paused, letting the silence hang between them. 'A regular doctor, that is.' His gaze flicked towards her. For a moment, Josh wondered if he'd gone too far. I hardly know this woman, he reminded himself. I have no idea where the boundaries are.

Then her face sagged, her spirit deflating like a tyre that has just been punctured. She sniffed, and wiped away a small tear that had started to form in the corner of her left eye.

'It's painful for me to talk about,' said Kate.

'What's painful?'

'The reason.'

'What reason?'

'The reason I'm here,' she said. 'The reason I'm helping you.'

Josh pushed away the hamburger, leaning forward on the table. He reached forward, brushing the edge of her palm with the tips of his fingers. Briefly, she looked as if she were about to pull her hand away, but then she let it stay in place. 'Look" at me, Kate,' he said. 'I'm all shot to pieces. I don't even know who I am. I'm no threat to anyone. You can talk to me.' He paused. 'Hell, I probably won't even remember anything you say to me.'

Kate laughed, throwing back her red hair as she did so, although Josh noticed that there was not much happiness in her expression. She looked down at the floor. 'I was married,' she said. 'To a man called Danny'

'Who was he?'

'A soldier, like you.'

Josh nodded, but remained silent.

'A Navy Seal.We grew up together, down in New Mexico. Small town. High school sweethearts, the whole thing. He joined the Navy straight after graduation, while I went off to medical school. But we always stayed together, no matter how far apart we were. Nobody else ever mattered.'

'Where is he now?'

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'He's dead.' Again, Josh reached out for her hand to comfort her, but this time she took it away. 'He was killed in Afghanistan. Just over two years ago. He was stationed at a place called Khost, along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border. He was part of a special-forces unit. Men sent out alone into the small villages, working under cover, looking for al-Qaeda leaders.' 'One of them killed him?' 'I don't know who killed him. He was shot in a struggle, that's all I know. Three times through the chest. Nobody knows who did it. He was left for dead beside some road somewhere. He was there for thirty-six hours in a ditch, without anything to eat or drink or any kind of treatment. A woman from one of the local villages took him in, and started nursing him. She gave him food and water, and tried to put some bandages on his wounds.' She paused, wiping away another tear. 'But it was already too late for Danny. A hospital might have been able to help him, but this woman had no antibiotics, not even any proper disinfectants. He died after three days and the US Army picked his body up a week later when word finally got back to them about where he was.' 'But she helped him, didn't she?' said Josh. 'That's what this is all about.' Kate looked up at him, her gaze locking with his. 'She saw a soldier in a ditch, and she did what she could to help him, even though he might be the enemy' 'As I might be.' Kate looked away again. 'I don't think so,' she replied. 'But that's what I'm doing out here. Taking some time to myself to get over losing Danny. He was the only man who ever meant anything to me, and now he's gone.' She stood up, walking towards the sink to pour herself a glass of water. 'And that's why I had to help you. Who

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knows? Maybe there's a wife out there somewhere, worrying about where you are and what's happened to you. I'll do what I can because I know how she'll feel if you die.'

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SIX

Saturday, June 6th. Morning.

Josh put the crutch to one side and started walking. He pressed his wounded foot against the dusty ground, testing the nerves to see how much pain he could bear. The leg stung, as though it was being bitten, and the pain rippled up through it into his groin. Josh gritted his teeth and hobbled towards the kitchen.