Past Lives (7 page)

'When will she come round?' asked Francini.

Macandrew took a deep breath. 'Without any more sedation, she should be fully alert in four hours,' he said.

'See that she is,' said Francini, getting to his feet and leaving the room without another word.'

Macandrew thumped his right fist into the open palm of his other hand. 'Christ, that guy is crossing the line!' he exclaimed.

Klinsman nodded. 'Mr Francini does lack a certain basic charm.'

'I really think that Jane might be in danger if we withdraw sedation completely,' said Macandrew.

'It’s Francini’s call. We can't risk him taking us to court,' replied Klinsman. 'He may not be the brightest guy in the world but he's rich and that's all you need to be to hire the legal brains who’ll crucify us in court whatever the rightness of our cause.'

Macandrew sighed and said, 'Maybe just 50mg Valium? Who'd know?'

Klinsman nodded. 'OK, but no more.'

'Do you think we can rely on Francini staying away for a few hours?' asked Macandrew.

Klinsman looked surprised at the question. 'I got the impression he wouldn't be back until his wife came round. He'll probably be on the phone most of the morning, making arrangements for some fat cat from LA or Frisco to come out here and teach us to suck eggs. Why?’

'I'd really like to have someone from psychiatry take a look at Jane Francini. What do you think?'

Klinsman folded his hands in front of him on the desk and thought for a moment before saying, 'Well, I don’t suppose that could be construed as administering any kind of therapy to the patient. As long as we put it through as an internal matter and don't add it to Francini's bill I guess it'll be OK. Anyone in mind?'

'I thought maybe, Karen Bliss?'

Klinsman nodded. Good choice. Dr Bliss does seem to have brains.'

'Macandrew smiled. Klinsman's lack of regard for psychiatrists was something of a legend in the Med Centre. He returned to his own office and left Macandrew to call Karen Bliss. She wasn't in her office and didn't respond to her bleep. Macandrew left a message for her to call him when she got in. She called an hour later.

'So you finally got round to asking someone how the thing you cut up all the time really works?' said the female voice.

Macandrew smiled and said, 'I thought maybe between us we could come up with something.'

'What can I do for you, Mac?' asked Karen.

Macandrew told her about the Francini case. ‘I keep thinking she’s not deranged in the usual sense. There’s more to it but I can’t say what.’

'From what you say, it sounds like a gross personality change post surgery,’ said Karen. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time. But I’m intrigued. What kind of tumour did you say she had?’

‘
Hartman’s. It’s a pineal gland tumour.’

‘
The third eye,’ said Karen.

‘
What d’you think?’

‘
Okay, I’ll take a look at her,' said Karen.

'Good,' said Macandrew. 'There's just one little problem.' Macandrew told her about Jane Francini's husband.

'I'm not so sure I like the sound of this any more.'

'He'll be gone for the best part of the morning,' said Macandrew. 'I was a bit conservative about when Janey would come round. I told him four hours but the truth is she should be starting to come round by eleven. I’d particularly like you to see her at that point. If you could come down about then you should have a clear hour with the patient and map the changes in her.'

'Okay, see you a little before eleven.'

'Bring some recording equipment with you. I don't think we'll get a second chance.'

Jerusalem

Eli Aswar was uneasy. He’s been given pills but hadn't swallowed them: he was suspicious of everything. He’d let Benny have most of the wine to overcome his early reluctance, so he didn't even have Dutch courage to help him combat his long-time fear of all things medical. He kept the pills under his tongue until Ignatius turned his back for a moment and then spat them into his palm and pocketed them. He suspected it was some kind of drug to put him to sleep and he was having none of it. They were questioning Benny and he wanted to know why they needed needles and just what they were going to do with them. It was one thing to be hypnotised, quite another to be injected with some truth drug. He’d heard about these things. Once you’d been given one, you couldn’t help but tell the truth and there had been one or two things in Eli’s past life that he would rather be kept under wraps.

His blood ran cold as he heard Benny cry out in distress. Confusion and fear threatened to become panic. His mouth went dry. He forced himself to think clearly and it didn’t take long to decide that he wasn’t going to hang around any longer. He had to get out but how? There were no windows: they were below ground level.

There were two doors leading out of the room. One led to the place where they were holding Benny and he had just discovered that the other was locked. Slowly he released the handle so as not to make any noise. He supposed he could charge straight out through the room where they had Benny but he suspected that the upstairs door would be locked. The alternative was to try and pick the lock of the door he was still holding. The mechanism looked simple enough and he was not entirely inexperienced in such matters: he had not always been a dish washer. This was the option he’d go for.

Stroud had left some instruments lying on the table by the bed. Eli selected what experience told him would be most suitable for the job and started to probe the lock. He heard more anguished cries coming from his friend next door and felt a pang of guilt in taking comfort from the fact that the sound would cover any noise that he might be making. Ignatius was shouting. He sounded angry but not at Benny because he could hear Stroud shouting back. He couldn't make out what the argument was about but he wasn’t going to hang around to find out. With a final twist of the improvised pick, the lock turned and he stepped out into a narrow stone passage.

His heart sank when he saw that it didn't seem to lead anywhere. In fact, it appeared to end about five metres to his left in a solid stone wall but he decided to check it out anyway. He edged his way along, stretching his arm out in front of him. It did end in a wall but there was a small recess to the left where a wooden ladder was propped up. It was rough to the touch and smelt old and dry.

As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could see that the ladder led up to a trap door in the roof. There was no place else to go so he climbed up and started to work on freeing the rusty bolt that secured it.

It took several attempts before the bolt finally yielded and slid back in a shower of metallic dust. He blinked to clear his eyes and spat out the rust that caused his mouth to pucker. He moved up another rung and applied his shoulder to the hatch cover, only to be rewarded with another shower of dirt but at least the cover moved. He raised it a little and looked out through the gap to see a broad, stone-walled passage. It was considerable wider than the one he was currently in and had lights along it at regular intervals. There were also lit candles in small alcoves, flickering in front of religious statues. The passage seemed deserted so he opened the hatch fully and hoisted himself up through the space to sit on the edge of the opening and pausing to consider whether or not it was wise to burn his bridges.

The passage was clearly part of the convent but it didn't smell like it. No incense. It didn't have the clinical smell of the cellar he’d just left either; it had a different smell. It smelt . . . like a prison. For Eli it had been a while but it wasn't a smell you forgot easily, if ever. He was still in two minds about continuing when he was distracted by a cry of anguish echoing up from the tunnel below. He didn’t feel good about it but he let the hatch cover fall back into place and committed himself to going on.

He listened for a moment before setting off along the new passage, taking comfort from the fact that he must now be up at ground level. With any luck he could be out of here soon. He would raise the alarm and get help for Benny. He turned the first corner then froze as he heard sounds coming from up ahead. His first thought was that it was the chanting the Christians were so fond of, but, as he neared the wooden door it seemed to be coming from, it was clearly too discordant for that. It was more like the moaning of people in torment.

The door suddenly opened and a nun stepped out into the passageway. She was wearing a plastic apron over her robes and carrying a tray with crockery on it. She got as much of a surprise as Eli and dropped the tray. Plates smashed on the stone floor as she opened her mouth to cry out but Eli hit her before she could make a sound. She fell over backwards and cracked her head on the floor - a sound which paralysed Eli with fear for a few moments. He’d never meant for this to happen. He’d acted on impulse and was now filled with remorse. Whatever way he looked at it now, he was in big trouble. The nun might even be dead! She was lying very still and he couldn't find a pulse in her neck when he tried but his hands were trembling so much he couldn’t be sure.

The nun had not had time to shut the door behind her: it was ajar. Eli looked through the crack and saw the figure of a man in the shadows. His eyes were rolling and saliva was running down his chin. He seemed completely unaware of Eli’s presence. Eli pushed the door open a little further. His nostrils wrinkled at the smell. There were more men in the room - he reckoned about twenty. Each of them had a pallet bed but conditions seemed to be appalling. The room was totally inadequate for so many sick people and these men were more than sick. They were clearly mentally ill.

Eli walked slowly up the line, amazed that no one was taking any real notice of him or of each other for that matter. Each seemed to be absorbed in his own little world. What kind of place was this? A lunatic asylum? That's what it appeared to be but why would the Catholics be running such a place for Israelis in the heart of old Jerusalem?

The much more awful explanation that occurred to Eli was that these men had come here to earn three hundred shekels and this was the result. It was the fate that was about to befall Benny and he himself, should he be caught.

'The bastards,' he murmured.

The unconscious nun had a bunch of keys attached to the broad black leather belt that secured her plastic apron over her habit. As he knelt down beside her, Eli put the back of his hand against her cheek and was relieved to find it still warm. Please God she was still alive. Her skin was white and soft like the petals of a flower but there was a network of veins across the top of each cheek. Her glasses had been knocked off by the blow and lay broken at her side.

Eli removed the keys from her belt – all of them. There was no telling how many doors he would have to unlock before he got out of this place. He weighed them in his palm for a moment then froze as the nun gave a low groan. He felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. If he hurried, he should still be able to lead the patients away from here before she became a problem. Besides, he had the keys. He would release the men and lock her inside; see how she liked it. He started trying keys in the door.

The men appeared not to notice the open door or perhaps didn’t care. For the most part, they remained sitting on their beds, cross-legged, muttering and moaning. Eli had to cajole them into action. He practically had to push some out into the corridor and this was all taking time. Ideally, he needed the men to form an orderly line so he could lead them to freedom but this was like herding cats. The noise they made was unsettling him. Even if they were out of their minds, surely some of them should sound happy - demented perhaps, but happy. Without exception, these men seemed to be in torment. One was weeping openly; another had placed both hands on the stone wall and was scraping his fingers down it so hard that blood was oozing from his fingertips.

'Come on!' urged Eli. 'Let's go!'

The nun had recovered consciousness and was sitting up, trying to make sense of what had happened. She blinked as she struggled to see without her glasses, searching the floor around her with the palms of her hands. When she found them, one lens was still intact. She held the broken frames to her face and saw Eli. Now she remembered, and could see what he was doing.

'No!' she cried, 'You mustn't. They are sick people!'

'They need a proper hospital,' responded Eli. 'Not a filthy prison.'

'You don't understand,' said the nun. 'We don't have the facilities: the sisters are doing their best but they have no experience of nursing such people. But it will only be temporary. The doctor says they'll recover soon and be able to go home. If you let them go now it will ruin the father’s research!'

'The police will ruin his research by putting him in jail where he belongs!' retorted Eli.

'Please try to understand,' pleaded the nun. 'The men will be none the worse for their experience. The good father has assured us of that.'

'He's got my friend down there . . . I heard him cry out . . . They’re hurting him.'

'No, the father says it's just like going through a bad dream for a little while. He’ll be fine.'

Eli looked at the men and asked, 'How long have they been going through their bad dream?'

'Two weeks . . . maybe three,' replied the nun uncertainly.

'How many have recovered?'