The Night of the Mosquito (11 page)

Chapter 24

Copse Hall. 11:01 a.m.

In the absence of mechanical ventilation, Kotlas and Edwards sweated; the effort of carrying Brody downstairs and securing him in his basement cell had taken its toll. Fleur and Rubenstein remained unconscious. Edwards preserved her dignity by covering her with Rubenstein’s jacket. ‘It’s so fucking warm, he don’t need it,’ he’d said.

Kotlas checked on them every time he and Edwards came back upstairs.

The guard worked like an automaton, devoid of any outward show of feelings.

‘You okay?’ Kotlas said.

His delicate veneer of control broken by the two simple words, Edwards exploded with rage. ‘I’m fucking blinding, what do you think? I’ve just carted the bodies of six colleagues, most of them friends, and three outside contractors into a single cell and piled them in. Christ, Kotlas, you saw what those animals did to them.’ He wiped a tear from his eye, fast, ashamed of his emotions. ‘They looked like they’d been tortured by a third-world dictator and his cronies.’

‘Come on, Edwards.’ Kotlas laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘We’ll mourn the dead once we’ve attended to the living. Let’s find something to put Fleur on so we can get her to the hospital wing.’

‘I thought I was good at masking my feelings, but you – how do you do it?’

Kotlas contemplated the question. ‘I learned from a master of disguise.’ He stared into a horizon only he could see. ‘I feel all that you do, believe me.’

Edwards took a deep breath, steeliness returning to his voice. ‘There could be a gurney downstairs. I’ll go and have a look. What about him?’ Edwards said, jerking a thumb at Rubenstein.

‘I don’t need an x-ray to tell you his jaw’s broken. The swelling between cheek and jowl is a giveaway, but I don’t think he’s so badly injured that he can’t walk.’ Kotlas shook Rubenstein’s shoulder with gentle insistence. The doctor’s eyelids fluttered. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘He’s coming round. By the time you get back I’ll have him up on his feet ready to go.’

Edwards returned with a wheelchair. ‘This’ll do, won’t it?’

Kotlas had Fleur’s wrist in his hand, checking her pulse. ‘It will have to. Bring it closer to the table.’

‘How’s she doing, doc?’

‘Very weak. The sooner we get her treatment, the better.’

Together, the two men lifted the unconscious woman and secured her in place. Kotlas covered her again with Rubenstein’s jacket. Fleur groaned and stirred, nestling into it. ‘You’re safe now. It’s going to be all right; go back to sleep,’ he said softly. Fat tears squeezed out from beneath her eyelids and rolled down her cheek.

Kotlas turned to Edwards. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘let’s go.’

‘I’ve got a question for you,’ Edwards said as he pushed Fleur down the corridor. ‘What were those self-defence techniques you were using? Kung fu?’

Kotlas, lagging behind, shifted his shoulder underneath Rubenstein’s armpit to lend the older man more support as they shuffled along. ‘I need you get with it and walk a bit quicker,’ he said to the injured man. Then to Edwards, ‘Aikido.’

‘You must have been doing it a long time.’

‘I used to watch Steven Seagal movies a lot when I was a teenager. The moves fascinated me. I used to freeze-frame the film, and then hit the pause and play buttons, watch the sequences over and over so I could see exactly how he did what he did—’

‘Seagal was only acting, though. How could you be sure what you were learning would really work?’

‘You could
see
it would work.’ Kotlas laughed. ‘Besides, I practiced the techniques on friends at school so I knew. By the time I was fifteen years old, I thought, why not join a proper school for aikido? So I did.’

‘I wondered why you were so calm, but why didn’t you say you could do all that stuff?’

‘It isn’t something I like to talk about.’

‘I think I’d have told you.’

‘It’s irrelevant now,’ Kotlas said.

Edwards unlocked the door to the on-site hospital facility.

‘It isn’t manned at the moment,’ Rubenstein said. His hand floated up to land gently on his swollen chin. ‘All we can do is make her as comfortable as possible until we can summon outside help.’

‘She’s going to need a gynaecologist to look at her,’ Kotlas said, ‘judging from what she’s got seeping out of her. And as soon as possible. She may need internal sutures.’

‘Edwards, see if you can sort her out a gown,’ Rubenstein said. ‘Ah, look, she’s coming to.’

The two doctors helped Fleur onto the nearest bed. ‘At least it’s made up and ready.’ Kotlas peeled them back and together they manoeuvred her between the sheets, keeping the jacket over her to preserve her dignity. Once she was underneath the covers, Rubenstein retrieved it, placing it over the back of the chair next to her bed.

‘That was some blow you took,’ Kotlas said. ‘That jaw is most likely broken. You could probably do with some painkillers. Any here we can give you?’

‘The drugs cabinet is in the office, but I don’t think there’s anything stronger than paracetamol in there.’ Rubenstein grimaced, the flash of pain bringing with it a crystal-clear vision of the carnage he’d witnessed. ‘How many died?’ His words, issued between unmoving lips, sounded metallic.

‘Six staff, three contractors —’

‘What about the patients, Kotlas?’

‘All of them apart from Brody.’

‘God, what a mess. There’s going to be some explaining to do.’

‘You’re right, Rubenstein, but tell me, what else could we have done?’

‘‘I saw what you did, you and Edwards. Those patients were carefully selected, irreplaceable. You never said you were a martial artist.’

‘It’s listed in my file under hobbies and interests,’ Kotlas said. ‘The people those patients killed were irreplaceable too.’

Rubenstein nodded. He moved his hand, the palm straddling the hollow between his cheek and jaw. The warmth offered him scant comfort. ‘My opinion on your hobby? Seems at odds with your profession.’

‘You think so?’ Kotlas’ eyes grew cold. ‘I thought it complemented it.’

‘Lucky for us it did,’ Edwards said, returning from the stores. ‘Or we’d be dead like everyone else down there.
And as for Brody, I should have finished him while I had the chance. Might as well hang for a sheep as for a lamb.’

‘Say that in the enquiry and they’ll throw the book at you,’ Rubenstein spat.

‘Throw it at me?’ Edwards snapped. ‘I saw you with that pocketful of syringes sticking out of your jacket. You only came out of hiding when you knew it was safe. If you’d helped us earlier, a few more of your precious inmates might have survived.’

‘The whole thing stemmed from an act of God,’ Kotlas said. ‘Where did you get all those syringes from, anyway?

‘After you’d gone, I went through Bales’ pocket and found the keys he’d stolen. The controlled drugs cabinet in the dispensary was smashed open.’ Rubenstein hung his head. ‘You know the rest.’

Kotlas held his hand out to the guard. ‘Pass me the gown; I’ll leave it on the bed next to her. Meanwhile, can you rustle us up some food and drink from the kitchens? I’ll come with you. Someone had best stay with her. You okay with that, Rubenstein?’

‘Actually, no,’ he said. ‘Can you stay? I need to get some paperwork done; besides, I’ve got something stronger for the pain upstairs.’ He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. A syringe clattered to the floor. He picked it up and put it back in his top pocket. ‘Shit,’ he said, grimacing. ‘There’s three missing. I must have dropped them back there. I’d best go and find them.’

‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ Edwards said. He and Rubenstein left the hospital area together.

Kotlas sat by the bed, absently watching the even rise and fall of Fleur’s chest. The movement lulled him, made him sleepy. He closed his eyes and drifted to a windswept beach where he walked among the dunes holding his mother’s hand. It was his last clear memory of her.

A woman’s voice floated in from the distance.

‘I saw you fighting, helping the guard. I-I, don’t know you, but would you please hold my hand?’

Kotlas shook himself awake. Fleur’s head had turned towards him, her face contorted in agony, her eyes shot with pain. ‘Did you speak to me?’ he said.

‘I asked you to hold my hand.’ Her eyes met his, and she slid her hand across the sheet towards him. Kotlas took it, surprised at its softness, how cold it felt. He laid his other hand over it to provide warmth.

‘What’s your name?’ she said.

After all she’d been through, she managed a smile, yet Kotlas detected an infinite sadness. She seemed remarkably calm. ‘It’s George. Help is on its way,’ he lied.

‘I’m beyond anything anyone can do,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve been gang-raped. Brutalised. My insides are on fire. There isn’t an inch of me that doesn’t hurt. And I’ve lost my child.’ She closed her eyes and wept softly.

‘You were pregnant?’ Kotlas squeezed her hand. ‘Oh, Fleur. I’m so sorry.’ He bit his lip in anguish for her. ‘I know you can’t see it now, but we’re going to get you through this.’ Her hand relaxed in his. Lost its grip. He moved close to her face.
She’d stopped breathing. ‘Fleur? Fleur!’ he cried. Yanking back the sheets to begin CPR, he saw three empty syringes tucked between her legs
.

Oh, God, Fleur. No!

Chapter 25

Priestley police station. 11:25 a.m.

Trent walked through the open door into Emerson’s office. ‘Sir, someone else involved with that prison bus crash has just turned up.’

Jordan got up from the corner of the inspector’s desk. ‘Where is he?

‘In Reception—’

‘Bring him in, Trent,’ Emerson barked. ‘This’ll be interesting, Jordan. Oh, and Williams, get Lara to bring us some tea.’

Williams gave a tight smile as he replied, ‘Sir, all that joking about Croft, calling her Lara, is getting her down. And even if there was a way to make tea—’

‘I know there isn’t, Williams,’ Emerson said, red-faced. ‘It was a joke. Some people around here need to get a sense of humour, Jesus.’

Williams bit his tongue. If all went to plan, he wouldn’t be working with Emerson for much longer.

The group of men in the inspector’s office listened intently as Styles paced the room, describing what he’d discovered at the scene of the accident.

‘Are you absolutely sure he got away?’ Jordan said, shaking his head.

Styles echoed his head movements. ‘You never went down and checked, did you?’

‘Christ, mate. You saw how far the drop was? We looked over the edge. The van was smashed to fuck and then it exploded—’

‘Just say no,’ Styles said. ‘I’m not judging.’ He looked to Emerson. ‘I don’t know how we do this without effective radio communications, but we have to warn people about Wolfe.’

Emerson held the other man’s gaze. ‘Don’t you think it’s bad enough without adding this news to the mix? People are barely coping with the effects of the power outage.’

Styles stood still for the first time since he’d entered the room. ‘This man lives to kill. Unchecked, who knows how many will die.’

‘We haven’t got the manpower to organise a search,’ Emerson said. ‘He could be anywhere. Can you imagine what will happen if I announce there’s a cannibal killer on the loose?’

‘In the absence of TV or radio, you’ve no choice—’

‘I know that. Jesus.’ Emerson scrubbed his head with both hands. ‘Any idea where he’d go? Relatives, friends?’

‘There isn’t anyone he’d go to,’ Styles said. ‘He’s a lone wolf.’ A half-grin acknowledged the irony of his observation. ‘But let’s see. There’s ten in my detail. You’ve got four including you, Jordan. If we can get some strong men together, split into individual parties headed up by two guards in each group – You said not all vehicles are affected? If we can grab some transport, we can cover a fair bit of ground.’

‘You had ten men to handle him,’ Emerson said. ‘That means you’re looking for what, fifty-six people to join you for maximum effect, and they’re not trained. Regardless of the situation we find ourselves in now, realistically, who do you think is going to leave their families to go and look for him?’

‘He’s got a point,’ Jordan said.

‘I agree, but at least people will see we’re doing something.’ Styles began walking the room again. ‘If we can’t make my proposal work, then at least tell residents to be on guard, lock their doors, that sort of thing.’

‘Transportation is a big issue,’ Williams said.

Emerson laughed drily, and said, ‘Traffic Officer Williams reporting for duty.’

Williams tensed, but ignored the remark. ‘So far, we’ve got a motorbike at our disposal and at least one car. The truth is, we haven’t tried to, um, borrow any others yet.’

‘I’d make that a priority,’ Jordan said.

Emerson glared at him. ‘I really wish you wouldn’t try to steal my thunder at every opportunity, Jordan. I was about to say the same thing.’

Styles cut in. ‘I don’t care who suggests what to whom. I’m only interested in recapturing Wolfe. So, if I can put forward an idea? Let’s get out there and appeal for volunteers to give up their vehicles for police duty.’

‘That won’t work,’ Emerson said. ‘Can you see anyone doing that?’

‘The professor just did,’ Williams said.

Emerson picked up a pencil. ‘To get a posse together as Styles proposes, we’d need at least enough to carry seventy people. It won’t work,’ he said with a hint of one-upmanship.

Style stopped in front of the inspector’s desk, and placing both hands on it, leant forwards. Close up, his bulk was intimidating. ‘Then we’ll just have to fucking commandeer them, won’t we?’