DEATHLOOP (35 page)

Earlier in the day, Veronica had bought Reuben a cheap chicken dinner from the corner shop and had left it defrosting in the oven. She took it out now and opened up the French windows. He was hiding in the rhubarb patch as usual, watching her from under the umbrella leaves with those canny little eyes. She set the food out and called him. There was a glorious flash of rust through the green as he shot towards her, his head hunched down. Veronica stepped back inside, but left the window open so she could observe him from close quarters. He set about the food methodically, glancing up at her from time to time to check the coast was clear. When the plate had been licked clean he stared straight at her, like he always did, thanking her Veronica liked to think, then he turned tail and sloped off.

As Veronica got up to close the window she saw a reflection in the glass and swung round, letting out a little yell. “
My God Zack! Don’t do that! You frightened the life out of me!
”

“Come to bed.”

They made love but for the first time it was routine, distracted, and meant nothing. Their bodies were intertwined but a barren landscape lay between them as they battled with thoughts of darkness, demons and disaster. Neither of them could sleep. In the early hours Zack got up and told Veronica he was going home but instead he drove to Baker Street and parked outside Sam’s flat, gazing up at his window, hoping he might be there, possibly unable to sleep himself, willing him to see the Mercedes and regretting everything that had happened between them, willing him to come down to the car to talk things through.

But there was no sign of Sam at the window, so after a few minutes Zack phoned him on his mobile first of all and then the landline. The answer machine clicked in but he didn’t leave a message, he just waited a few minutes then rang again. Sam picked up after a couple of rings and screamed at him, telling him that if he didn’t leave them alone he would get the police involved, then he hung up.

Not long after Zack got back home Clarissa called.

“Zack, are you all right?”

“No, Clarissa, anything but…”

“Me neither, Sam wants us to separate.”

Zack rummaged around for words of reassurance but the cupboard was bare. He’d used everything up over the last few weeks and there was nothing left, nothing useful anyway.

“It’s okay,” she said, picking up on all this straight away, “I’ll catch you later, we’ll talk.”

No matter what trouble Zack had found himself in over the last 20 years he always knew he could rely on Sam and Clarissa to get him through. The idea of them not being there anymore, of losing his sanctuary, was so painful he sank to the floor in despair.

He could now only think of his life as an old building being demolished by a wrecking ball, and as each floor collapsed into the one beneath it brought him one step closer to his ultimate destruction.

Things weren’t about to get much better, either.

The following morning, as soon as Zack stepped out of the lift and crossed reception he sensed it. It was as though he was a huge embarrassment suddenly with contact to be avoided at all costs. He tried to ignore it, he tried to put it down to his jumpy state of mind, or his ‘paranoia’ as Rose had put it, but when he saw her heading his way he knew then that he had imagined nothing. Rose followed him into his office and closed the door.

“What’s up?”

“Geoff wants to see you.”

So that’s it thought Zack, the day has dawned.

“It’ll be okay, Rose,” said Zack, finding a smile from somewhere, “I’m good at stuff like this.”

“Be careful,” she said quietly, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Zack knew as soon as he stepped inside the room and as soon as Geoff turned to face him that it was hopeless. Geoff had found out about Susan, and the drugs, and although he didn’t mention Russell there was the implication that he knew about that as well. Geoff waited for Zack to absorb the blows and to rally, but he didn’t, he was on the ropes at last and conceding defeat. Then a sense of calm swept over him as he realised that it didn’t matter anymore, that actually it was a relief. But what did matter to Zack was the knowledge that Sam had betrayed him, and that made him want to weep.

He offered his resignation immediately and said he wasn’t interested in any of the details but he tried to protect Rose, telling Geoff that he thought it desperately unfair for her to lose her job because of his recklessness. Geoff assured him that Rose was safe, which was a dim candle flame in the darkness.

Zack made his way back to his room with his head held high but as he set about clearing his desk, a familiar peal of laughter floated in, making the hairs on his arms stand up. When Zack flew out of his office and into the passageway all he saw, a few yards to his left, was the idiotic smiling face of someone he loved, heads together with a new boy, an excited junior, who no doubt was filling him in with the details of Zack’s downfall. Zack shot towards them, took hold of Sam by the throat and with his other hand punched him.

He was vaguely aware of panic and screams and pandemonium but he was immune to everything at that moment apart from an overwhelming desire to rip Sam Stein’s head off. Sam tried to retaliate struggling to get back on two feet, then like drunken sailors they staggered into Sam’s office and fell to the floor, Zack straddling him, raining down blows to his face and head.

The fear in Sam’s eyes should have stopped Zack long before he was dragged across the room by the combined efforts of Geoff, Rose, Sharon, and various others, but it didn’t, Zack was excited by it, wanting nothing else at that moment than to watch Sam die. But as he finally succumbed to the determined hands that threw him against a wall and pinned him there, the real humiliation was yet to come, being sat upon by Patrick of all people, hailed up urgently from the ground floor. And it was then that Zack decided his life was over, things could not get worse than this.

Like a dangerous dog, Zack was locked in Sam’s office until the police arrived and led him away. Only one person made a move towards him as he stood at the lifts handcuffed to some hapless rookie, and that was Rose, who stepped forward with his jacket that she had just brushed down, handing it to the arresting officer. So typically Rose, Zack thought, loyal to the end. He met her gaze as the lift doors closed between them and he could see that she was just about to cry.

On the other side of the street, Jason was thrown into a panic as Zack, handcuffed to some stringy policeman and surrounded by a bunch of others, was led to a police cruiser and bundled inside. As the car screeched off he thought maybe Zack had seen him briefly, but he didn’t turn his head. Confused, and bursting with curiosity, Jason barged his way into the building. Patrick, just returning to his desk, making a swift detour to deftly intercept him, his arms out wide like a keeper reducing the width of the goal.

“Now, boy, you have no business in this department of industry, so leave before panda cars are hailed back into the vicinity by Miss Betty.”

“Where’s he gone, where’ve they taken him?”

“Come on,
out
…” said Patrick moving forward now and flapping his arms like he was herding geese, forcing Jason back towards the doors.

“Was it because of me, Miss Betty?” called out Jason, anxiously.

“Yes it was! So make yourself scarce before they come back and take you away too!”

Patrick knew that Miss Betty lied pretty much all day long, and had honed her abilities to such an extent that no one ever doubted her. Being a strict Catholic though, Patrick could not condone her lies, and therefore felt he could not validate her comments to the mad boy in this instance. Luckily for Patrick, Betty’s threat, as untruthful as it was, seemed to do the trick because as soon as he heard it, Jason turned on his heels and fled, and fearing now his point of contact with Zack would be lost, Jason decided as he ran back to Holloway that there was nothing else for it but to find out where he lived.

Brian Smith was delighted to have Zack Fortune back at the station in more lumber and consigned to a cell. Grievous bodily harm or actual bodily harm was good news, because the powers that be had clamped down on that lately which meant that if all else failed, he would see the supercilious little prick sent down for two or three years at least.

Tracy sensed the reason for Brian’s good humour straight away as he crossed reception towards her, whistling, a jauntiness in his step.

“I’m here to see my client,” she said, upbeat, determined not to be intimidated by the man.

“Of course you are,” said Brian, cheerily, leading her away, “follow me.”

Tracy had seen Zack look the worse for wear once or twice, but she had never seen him like this. She sank into a chair beside him and busied herself pulling out notebook and pen from her briefcase. Brian had retreated, leaving a junior to keep guard, but Tracy waited until he was long gone before speaking.

“Sam Stein of all people… did he hit you first?” she asked, hopefully.

“I wanted to kill him, Tracy.”

Tracy frowned, throwing her eyes at the guard who stood behind them.

“No excuse,” he said, ignoring her, “no excuse.”

Tracy managed to get Zack bail although it was touch and go, particularly as Brian Smith was causing his usual aggravation, but in the end, because of massive overcrowding in just about every remand centre in the Home Counties, bail conditions were set and they were allowed to leave. Zack had been in the police station all day so when Tracy said she was taking him back to Dalston he didn’t object, he didn’t have the energy to object.

In the car Zack asked her to call up and get the latest on Sam, but there was no information, none they would give her anyway. Zack knew he should phone Clarissa, but what could he say? “Oh by the way Clarissa as you probably know by now, I knocked Sam unconscious this morning and he’s been admitted to hospital… so… anyway… what are you doing this weekend… anything interesting?” And he knew he should tell Veronica where he was and what was going on, but he genuinely thought it would be over if she found out what else he’d been up to. He felt safe with Tracy. She was his solicitor after all and although he knew she thought him a loose cannon, especially after today, he also got the impression that she rather liked looking after him and telling him what to do.

Tracy apologized for the mess as soon as they walked in. “I must get a cleaner from somewhere,” she said, moving piles of papers from the couch to allow Zack to sit down, “I’ve had a few but they always seem to give up on me for some strange reason.”

Zack didn’t take the bait which confirmed to Tracy what she already knew, that Zack was in a very bad way. She brought a bottle of champagne out from the fridge and held it up for his approval, disappointed to see that all he could manage was a listless shrug. But he drained his first glass in one gulp, holding it out to her for a refill.

“The attempted murder of Sam Stein notwithstanding,” she said, “there’s some good news at last.”

“Good news did you say? What’s that?”

“The amount of drugs you had in your system on the evening of the alleged rape would have made you incapable of having sex with anyone, and I have an expert witness at my disposal who will testify to that, so once the CPS get wind of it, I think we’ll be in the clear.“

Zack heard Tracy’s words, but could make no sense of them at all. “Run that past me again, Tracy, would you?”

“Where the hell did you get that stuff? It’s used by vets to tranquilise farmyard animals and you’d taken an enormous amount.”

“So why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“I’ve only just found out…”

“Today, yesterday, when…?”

“It was confirmed late yesterday afternoon,” she said, stiffly.

“Which is when you should have told me, because if I’d had that information this morning, not only would I probably have been able to save my job, but about now, Sam Stein would be wending his way back home to Baker Street in one piece.”

Tracy glared at him. “Don’t even think about blaming me for your bad behaviour.”

“I’m not blaming you for
my
behaviour I’m blaming you for
your
behaviour,” said Zack, bashing down his glass and heading for the door.

“And don’t try to make contact with Clarissa or with Sam or Susan Wilmot, because if you do, I’ll tell you now, Zack Fortune, you’ll be looking for another solicitor.”

In the taxi on the way home Zack called the hospital pretending that he was Sam’s ‘best friend’ Gerald Rosenbloom. They said that he was comfortable, but that they still had a couple of tests to do the following day. Clarissa had tried to call once or twice but scared of what she might say, and scared also by what Tracy had said, he rejected the calls. Back at the flat Zack showered and changed and tried to put things into perspective, but the horror of what had happened and a burgeoning sense of guilt was threatening to overwhelm him.

He realised now that Sam and the kid could have been talking about anything, he could have got the whole thing wrong and even if he hadn’t, did a joke at his expense really warrant him punching Sam half to death? Rose was right, this paranoia was beginning to consume him.

It was almost midnight when Zack arrived in Creed Mill Bridge, a picturesque market town, not far from Burford in the Cotswolds. Zack’s gleaming black Mercedes looked as sinister as a cruising shark in shallow waters gliding up and down its few ancient streets until it pulled into a driveway, leading up to a double fronted detached stone house framed by neat, dense hedges on four sides. A couple of windows were illuminated which encouraged Zack to get out of the car, make his way to the front door and to bring the old brass knocker down hard against the wood.

A few moments later a familiar voice called out.

“Yes? Who is that?”

“It’s me, it’s Zack…”

“
Zack?
” said the voice, sounding as though its owner was about to pass out in shock.

“Zack Fortune.”

Zack sensed the fire of emotions his name had ignited just before the door swung open and Justin Dunsmore was revealed.