Six Dead Men (24 page)

But there was some small conciliation in the fact Madie had given as much in return.
Good for you Madie. Finally this scum got some of what he's been doling out for years.
Prison's not good enough for him. He's not really suffering right now. He's just in that comatose state. Still hard to conceive Madie’s touch caused him to collapse; the touch of her skin against his. Sylvie and Joe seem pretty sure about it. It’s one thing hearing the words, altogether another seeing her power in action. Sometimes I’m still not sure I quite believe it. I must have done though otherwise I wouldn’t have avoided finding her for so long. Some part of me feared it was all too real.

Deed walked back towards the door and spoke to the constable again. “Has there been even the slightest flicker of change?”

The young man shook his head. “No. Not much point me being here really. A paralysed man can't jump out of bed and escape can he?”

But this is Terence Ire and something tells me he could get away no matter what physical state he's in.

A battery of doctors was making their way along the corridor. Ward rounds had begun. Deed wanted an excuse to hear what the doctors said about Terry. “I'm heading off to the coffee machine. Can I get you anything?” Deed asked the constable.

“Thank you Sir. That would be great.”

When Deed returned with the constable's tea his ears burned at the words he heard uttered by the doctor in Ire’s room. "There are definite signs of improvement. He's got a very strong constitution. There'll always be a measure of paralysis though."

Deed did not hear the question posed by a junior doctor. He was seething inside. When he had discovered he had a brother he had been filled with a joy only to be understood by other only children who had always longed for siblings to fight with and defend in equal measure. Now all he felt was disgust.
How is it possible dad could have fathered such a monster? Half of him is from the same gene pool as me. Does this mean I have that sort of capacity within myself?
Deed felt horror overwhelm him.
Please dear God don't say that's the case.

*****

Joe leaned against the radiator warming his rump as he spoke. "Robert, it's clear Terry was exposed to a world of violence and depravity from an early age. He chose to see that as the only way to live life rather than walk away from it. You can't possibly believe you have the same capacities within yourself."
Dear God, if anything, you're completely the opposite. Looking to right all the wrongs. If you weren't you wouldn't have used that gut instinct of yours to such good effect.

Father Andrew joined Joe in his reassurances. "He's the bad penny, the black sheep in the family. We all have one tucked away you know my boy."

Deed looked over at Joe with exasperation. "You told him about Terry being my brother."

Joe shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't realise it was a secret. It hardly matters in any case." Joe held Deed’s eye. "Look Robert, I've seen your arrest record. You're the type of man that's all about righting wrongs. You and him... You're two halves of the same coin is all - same genes but different outcome."

Father Andrew was nodding his head in agreement. "Now laddie, you need to be worrying less about that man and more about your Madie. She needs you. You should be with her right now."

Joe watched as Deed’s face closed down with a shutter of indifference. He could almost hear the rattle and clang of its gears.
He's afraid to watch her die. Too much like when his mother was dying. And then his father met with a similar fate.
"You need to change history Robert. Staying with someone who's dying is painful but it will bring you closure. You need that. You've been avoiding it for years."

Deed scowled like a ten year old. "She doesn't even know I'm there."

"Oh yes she does. And you're lying to yourself by saying that. Try to deny you can feel the bond between the two of you. Go on, deny to me that you can feel her slipping away inch by inch. Try to deny it Robert."

Deed remained sullenly silent. Joe and Father Andrew watched him.

Joe softened his tone. "You can't because you know I'm feeling it too. I may not be in love with her but I'm getting readings off you. The more you fight it the more it will hurt."

*****

Ire did not regain consciousness gradually but instantaneously like a light switch being flicked. He was alert and knew where he was without any sense of confusion. His body refused to follow any of his commands so he scanned his surroundings and took the measure of them. An impotent rage began to boil within him.
That Bricot bitch did something to me. I don't know what but I know she did. She's got some disease. That's got to be it. She was just too fucking quiet when I arrested her. I should have guessed she was up to something. Fuck!
His inability to release his anger rose inside him. That he could not move much of his body either irked him further.
When I get out of this bed that little cunt of a girl is going to be damned sorry she messed with me.

Stubbornly ignoring the fact his body was effectively paralysed from the neck down, Terry tried writhing his body into motion but this action only caused his anger to bubble further and the heart monitor attached to his chest to react. When the nurse hastened to his bedside he glared at her with all the fury he could muster.

*****

The guard outside Ire’s room was having a bathroom break courtesy of Deed.

Ire’s eyes looked at Deed with an alertness which frustrated Deed.
He’s recovering so god damn fast.

Ire’s voice came out from his jagged lips in a slur. "I know who you are Mr Deed."

Even though the words were uneven the rancour in them was still evident. Deed nodded down at Ire’s alert face.

A cackle escaped Ire and a bubble of saliva popped on the crooked lines of his mouth. “You’re my bloody brother.”

“Surely you’re the bloody one Terence.” Deed watched as the stroked man’s left hand clenched in a feeble fist.
You want to fight me because I’m the legitimate son and you’re the bastard. All this belligerence — what for? You don’t even know me. Didn’t even know what Dart was really like. But then neither did I it appears.

“So, you always knew about me?”

Deed shook his head. “No. I only found out about you three days ago.”

“Yeah right.” Deed would have thought it impossible for Ire’s features to curl into any more of a snarl but they did none the less.

Although Deed would never consider himself to be psychic in the way Sylvie and Joe were, there was no mistaking he could see a storm in Ire. There was such a sense of destruction about the man. If Deed had not been of a strong mental disposition he was sure he would have been annihilated by the force of the rampaging cyclone in Terence Ire.

Instead, he was able to stand firm and clearly see how there was a broiling mass of ugliness spreading throughout Ire’s being. Standing so near him, Deed could almost taste the foulness of him; the sickening stench of faeces and rotten meat in an open sewer kind of reek.

He’s recovering way too fast. He’s going to walk out of here and Madie’s going to die. He’s going to secure some top shot brief and he’s going to wriggle his way out of all the evidence against him. I know his type. I’ve seen it all before. I’ve stood by helplessly and watched men like him rip people’s lives apart. Now he’s ripping my life apart. Surely I need to do something about that.
“You do know our father’s dead don’t you?”

Was there a look of disappointed fury in Ire’s unaffected eye?

*****

Arthur Deed. Ire had wanted to crush him. How can you crush a man when he’s dead? But here was that man’s son.
My fucking brother.
He could do his damnedest to crush him. To make him pay for all the years of abuse Ire had put up with in the family home.
Not long now, not long. I can feel my strength coming back. Whatever they’ve got pumping through my veins is working its magic. CIB won’t be able to make anything stick. I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. Crafty bastard though that journalist. Lied to me even when I had him peeing in his dumb homo pants. Wouldn’t have seen him as having that kind of guts. I just need to get to a telephone. Wonder what they did with my mobile?

And as for this fucker. He’s no brother of mine except in that we share some genetic material. Beyond that there’s nothing. Wonder if he looks like him. Maybe I look like him. Hell that would be something.

Ire dismissed thoughts of the evidence the internal affairs department might have on him. He had been careful to ensure he always had some sort of insurance in place for just something like this. That memory stick would disappear from the evidence locker and any copies made would mysteriously find their way to the bottom of a canal too.

Terence Ire knew how to cover his tracks. He’d been doing it since he was ten years old. He was an old hand at it now and while people might think they had him all sewn up they were completely wrong.
I need to get up and out of this bed and find out what that bitch did to me.
An instinctive part of Ire told him Madison Bricot was responsible for his hospitalisation. He had never been incapacitated by illness before.
I’ve got an iron constitution. No damn acid bitch is going to rust my will.

Chapter 27

Another late night walk along the tram lined streets of Manchester did nothing to quell the turmoil inside Deed. The physical pain of Madie's struggle would not leave him.
I couldn't even face looking at her. Maybe it reminds me too much of mum dying. I didn't think I remembered all that much about it. But earlier, just seeing Madie like that... I couldn't help remembering how mum looked in her coffin. I suppose I was fascinated back then, not really understanding on some psychological level that it meant she'd never come back to us. And then dad years later, hooked up to all those machines and drips that did him no damn good at all. Jesus, so many memories. I don't need them surfacing too.

I want to be there for her. Why can't I?
Deed felt his chest tighten.
I promised her I’d never leave her again. I’m breaking that promise by being here right now. I’ve never been a man to break promises. What if she dies and I’m not there?

In his mind's eye he saw how thin the thread between himself and Madie had become and he began to fear not being with her more than he had been afraid of being present when she died. Imagining Madie dying pulled painfully at the connection between them and he groaned out loud to the empty night air. His heart felt over large and painfully squashed against his ribs and he knew now why poets wrote about heart ache. What if she was to die there and then? Deed lengthened his stride as he hurried down frosty streets and returned to the hospital.

He stood by the window in Madie’s hospital room stilling the frantic beating of his heart. All the way to the hospital he had been monitoring the invisible cord he shared with Madie, willing it to stay intact till he was by her side, wanting to have the strength of conviction for her recovery shared by Sylvie, Joe and Father Andrew. He cursed himself for his faithlessness and knew his parents' deaths played no small part in his inability to believe Madie might make it out of the coma she was trapped in.

The only light on in the room was a little eyrie green light above the many bleeping monitors surrounding Madie's bed. It was like a halo shining in the dark. The bruising had subsided but her skin still seemed to be tinged with grey. He had been right to come. Just being near her lessened the ache he had been trying to ignore all day.
I’ll stand vigil by your bed. I’ll watch death come for you. I'll be here. You won't be alone.

He advanced towards the bed now.
I don’t want you to die Madie. I need you.
With the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand he touched her arm where it emerged from the striped cotton of her hospital gown. A tingle of electricity passed from him to her. It was the reverse of what had happened in the interview room four months ago. He thought of how disconcerted he had been then. Never would he have thought he could feel so much love for any one person again. Deed closed his eyes and let his fingers trail down her arm until they encountered her fingers. He found himself thinking about how he had held her hand in Sylvie's sitting room and silently vowed not to leave her ever again.

"I'm sorry." Deed opened his eyes and leaned forward as he lifted Madie's limp hand and pressed his lips to the only part of her hand that was not prodded by a needle. He realised he was crying. Her fingers felt so small and so cold. He wanted to rub them between his hands and brush the warmth of circulation back into them. Instead he breathed warm air onto her chill fingers and kissed each finger individually. He finally slumped into the bedside chair. Then he held her hand to his cheek and softly massaged her forearm with his left hand. Stroking Madie's skin soothed him. He leaned back into his chair but maintained his hold on her hand. His eyes fluttered shut and he let himself sleep.

The badger did something she'd never done before. She laid a deliberate scent track and when she got back to her empty set she backed into the hole like a warthog. She wished she had the fearsome tusks of that wily African pig but knew she would have to use her teeth and claws instead. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. She wished she did not feel so alone, but was determined when it came to the final battle to fight with her last ounce of strength.