Knife After Death: A chilling crime thriller

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

  The Sergeant stood up, stared at the old man sitting slumped in the armchair and walked out into the street to make a few hurried phone calls.

  When he returned a few minutes later, he was very serious.

  "I've sent the ambulance and a police unit over there. Mr Wallace, you've put me in a very difficult situation...If we find out that you are telling the truth, I will have to arrest you, even though you only have a few days...even though you are very ill!"

  "I know. I know. Sorry, I wanted to tell you the truth myself. Face to face. To come clean...but let's make this clear, I have no regrets! Now it's done, I'm no sorry about killing them bastards. Peter, when you write yer article, please tell others that nobody should sit back and let the enemy walk all o'er them. This is oor country, oor land. We have to fight for what is oors! What the hell is the point of letting the troops fight the drug makers in Afghanistan, if we all let the bastards sell the drugs on oor own streets and do nothing about it. We have to start fighting oor wars here! We've taken too much shit fir far too long! It has to end...and it's down to everyone to stand up for themselves and do what's right! Now! Nae tomorrow. Nae next week. Now!"

  Mr Wallace hit the small tea table with his fist as he spoke the last sentence, sending the empty tea cup flying, and spilling his glass of water on the floor.

  "Oops...sorry." Mr Wallace said. He started coughing again, then looked across at the clock on the wall and then back to Peter.

  "Susie, Peter...you should go now, in a few minutes. But before you go, please shake my hand."

  Mr Wallace stood up, and reached out his hand.

  Peter and Susie shook it.

  Mr Wallace turned to the Sergeant.

  "Cameron, yours too. Let me shake your hand too, and then I'll go and get the gun for you. And then you can arrest me, if you still want to."

  The Sergeant took his hand in his, and shook it.

  No one spoke. No one knew what to say.

  The old man reached down and picked up his soldier’s cap from the small table where he had left it.

  He walked to the mirror above the fireplace, put the cap on his head and adjusted his tie in the mirror. Then he touched the Victoria Cross on his chest, and closed his eyes for a second.

  Mr Wallace turned back towards them, smiled at them all, and walked slowly out of the room.

  He turned in the doorway, looked each of them in the eye, smiled once again at each of them, nodded, then stood slowly to attention, rising to his full height, and pushing his shoulders back.

  For an instant, the years were peeled back, and Mr Wallace was once more back in his unit, young, fearless and brave.

  Then Mr Wallace saluted them.

  Sergeant Angus picked up his police hat, put it on his head, and saluted him back.

  Mr Wallace lowered his hand from the salute, turned away from them and walked into the hall en route to his bedroom.

  He had just left the room, when panic flared in Peter's chest and he realised what this was really all about. He started to go after Mr Wallace but a firm hand reached out and stopped him, pulling him back.

  Peter turned, surprised. The Sergeant was holding onto his arm, shaking his head gently, his eyes sad but reconciled.

  "Leave him be..." he said quietly, slowly closing the door to the hall.

  .

  A few moments later the sound of a single gunshot ripped through the house.

  Susie screamed.

  The Sergeant looked at Peter and Susie.

  "Best if you both leave now. We've all said our goodbyes. I'll get witness statements from you both tomorrow. I'll take care of everything here. Peter, you have to hurry or you'll miss your appointment with your consultant."

  .

  Peter put his arm around Susie, who had dissolved into tears, and he ushered her out into the street. Already some of the neighbours were spilling out of their houses onto the road, wondering where the loud gunshot had come from.

  As they walked through the gate at the bottom of the garden, Susie bent down and picked up the white ceramic knife that she had earlier kicked under the hedge. She looked at it, wondering what to do with it, then turned and handed it back to Peter.

  He took it, and when he got back to the car, he opened the boot and put it back into his bag.

  They climbed in, drove off, and ten minutes later, arrived at the hospital.

  Chapter Ninety Six

  .

  .

  The Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh

  Dr Jamieson's Office

  May 8th

  10.35 p.m.

  .

  .

  "I'm so sorry I'm late!" Dr Jamieson exclaimed loudly as he walked up to Peter and Susie in the corridor outside his office. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

  He opened the door to his office, switched on the light and let them both in.

  "Please,... please take a seat..." he said, waving his hand at the chairs in front of his desk, then putting his hat and coat on the stand beside the door.

  "So...you must be Susie. I think I saw you visiting at the hospital once? Well, it's a pleasure to meet you now." The consultant shook hands with Susie. "You look like you have been crying? Are you okay? Peter I know this has been a terrible, terrible time for you..."

  "No, don't worry about that. We just had some very bad news, ...it was a bit of a shock and we are still both getting over it." Peter explained.

  "You have had a very bad time of it recently, haven't you...? Would you like for me to get us each a cup of tea, and then you can tell me all about everything...I've told my wife not to expect me back till late, so I want to make sure we have enough time to go through everything!"

  "Tea? No thanks...we've had enough for tonight. But please, please feel free to have one yourself..."

  .

  The consultant disappeared out of the room for a few minutes then returned with two glasses of water for his guests, and a cup of hot tea. He sat down, took a sip, then rested his hands on the table, looking intently at Peter.

  "Peter, please, over to you. Please tell me everything. And I mean everything. Don't be embarrassed or concerned about telling me something,...anything...it's the details that help us most..."

  For the next hour, Peter ran through all the details of everything. He started his story from the moment Arthur's Seat had lured him into climbing it, his choice to fly to Zermatt, what he discovered there,...and carried on until he had finished telling him about the bag that he had been given containing the knives. He lifted up his own bag, pulled out the ceramic knife and put it on the table. He told the consultant about the vision of 'No.7' and the incredible desire that was growing within him to actually kill someone else, probably just to satisfy the insane urges of Maciek, even though he was dead. At that point, Susie took over the conversation, explaining what had just happened that evening.

  Before she explained it in detail, she asked Peter to leave the room, and after protesting a little, he did. She then told the consultant in detail about what happened that evening from when Peter went berserk to when he had fainted and fallen unconscious. When she had finished, she added, "I don't want to scare Peter...He has no memory of what happened this evening...but when I looked in to his eyes, it was like looking at a complete stranger. I talked to Peter but he didn't seem to respond to me at all...then I called him Maciek and he listened to me! It was really scary. It was like as if Maciek had finally possessed him, had taken him over! I have never believed in ghosts or haunting or possession before but what happened this evening was very, very weird...I'm really worried that it could happen again, at any time...and what if he does kill someone then? Peter is putting a really brave face on this, but I know he's terrified. I would be if I was him. Either he is going completely insane, or this Maciek guy is slowly taking over. How long will it be before he has completely possessed him?"

  The consultant shook his head."Don't worry, Susie. That won't happen. I won't let it."

  Dr Jamieson stood
up, walked to the door, opened it and asked Peter to come back in.

  "So, Peter. I believe everything you have told me. For now, I think it is better if I keep hold of this knife for you. I'll put it in your file. I know you want to have it back so that you can write your article on the threat these knives pose, and I'll give it to your Editor or Susie then. But for now, I think it's best if..."

  Susie interrupted.

  "Absolutely. I agree. And so does Peter. Don't you!?"

  Peter nodded.

  "Thanks."

  "So," the consultant continued. "What are we going to do about all of this?"

  "Cut out my kidneys and burn them! Put some other kidneys inside me, I don't care which ones. Any ones....but rip these bastards out of me as soon as possible. If you don't, you might as well shoot me now, before I kill someone else, or Maciek takes over and becomes me."

  The consultant looked at Peter very intently.

  He twice opened his mouth to say something but decided against it, and went silent again. He stood up, walked over to the window and looked out into the blackness of the night beyond.

  Neither Peter or Susie said anything. They knew that the consultant was thinking deeply, possibly even determining whether or not Peter would live or die.

  Underneath the table, out of view from the consultant, Susie reached out and took Peter's hand in hers. She squeezed it gently. He squeezed it back.

  The consultant returned to the table, sat down, reached up and undid the tie that was around his neck, taking it off and putting it in one of the drawers in his desk.

  "Peter, we have a problem. Two problems in fact... The first is that I can't simply just give you another kidney operation without extreme cause to do so. The second is that I do in actual fact have such extreme cause to do so. What is happening to you is not fully understood by science. This is all at the forefront of our human understanding...In other words, Peter...I agree...we have no choice but to operate again. No choice..."

  The consultant suddenly looked rather vague...as if he was just remembering something.

  "Hang on a second..." he said, rising from his seat and walking out of the door, carrying Peter's file under his arm.

  He was gone for twenty minutes, then returned with a big smile on his face.

  He came in, closed the door and sat down at his desk again.

  "Peter...how are feeling now? Strong? Fit?"

  "Yes... Why?"

  "Because the ambulance and police brought a body into the hospital tonight, and also a young man who was alive when he arrived, but will probably die within the next few hours. He won't make it, and he is a match for you. I've just checked and he is 'O-' too. I've asked the police to talk to the relatives and try to get consent for organ transplantation. I know the female officer who will visit the family and ask for consent. She has a very caring way about her, and almost everyone she speaks to says yes and consents. So, if they say yes, and he dies tonight, could we operate on you tonight, or early in the morning?"

  Peter and Susie looked at each other.

  "Davie?" they both said, almost in unison.

  Peter turned to the consultant. "Was he suffering from gunshots? Brought in from the Craigmillar Estate?"

  The consultant looked at them very sternly.

  "How...how did you know...?"

  Peter explained.

  "Oh dear, this is most unusual. Most unusual," the consultant said to himself.

  Susie squeezed Peter's hand.

  "Peter, maybe this is another gift from Mr Wallace. A new life for you, like the one he gave to Big Wee... sorry, Robert."

  "Susie, it's not exactly the same. It was not Mr Wallace's life to give. And Davie is not even dead yet."

  "He will die." The consultant replied. "Very soon. I'm afraid, there is no doubt about that. Peter, like I said this is most unusual. You are not allowed to know the identity of the donor, especially not even before he has died. But these are really bizarre circumstances, and to be quite honest, for this one time, I am going to focus on trying to forget the rules so that we can come out with the best possible outcome for you. So... there are some real positives about this young man's organs, should the parents agree to donate them. Firstly, he is a young man. There are no signs on his body of intravenous drug use, and although he smells as if he has been smoking marijuana, in general I would say that his physical condition is excellent. Secondly, he is not old enough to have done anything like as bad as Maciek would seem to have done...therefore, you can rest assured that he will have far fewer memories to impart to you during the SP-X4 treatment. Thirdly, you are here now...he is just downstairs. If he dies, we could operate within hours."

  "There is of course some very bad news...," the consultant continued.

  "Which is?" Peter asked.

  "My wife will kill me. I will have to delay our holiday for a few days so that I can operate on you tomorrow, as soon as we can!"

  Peter thought about it for a moment, but really they all knew, there was not much to think about...

  "It's amazing," Peter said, thinking aloud. "This evening I forgave someone and helped give them another chance in life, and within hours I'm being given that same chance too. Another chance to live. Again..."

  "So, do you want to proceed?"

  "Yes. Absolutely. Please..."

  "Good. Then we will. We have to start the SP-X4 treatment as soon as possible. We need to give you some injections and borrow some more of your stem cells, although we will still have enough left in your cell bank from your current treatment for what we need tomorrow. I'd better go and start making the arrangements...Can you wait here until I arrange a hospital bed?"

  "Doctor?" Susie interrupted. "Are you going to use the SP-X4 treatment again?...Did Peter tell you that we also wanted to talk to you about the SP-X4 treatment itself? There is some vital information that we need to share with you about SP-X4? We want to share with you the results of the survey we did..."

  "...Which indicates that SP-X4 was the medication taken by almost every patient who has reported symptoms similar to Peter's? The so called 'cellular memory syndrome?' ", the consultant interrupted.

  "Yes."

  "Then I certainly want to see the survey results. But not now. It's not necessary. For several reasons, one of them being that I have today submitted my very own report to the British MHRA recommending that we cease to use SP-X4 until the effect it has on patients is better understood. However, the bottom line is that SP-X4 saves lives. Thousands of lives. And tomorrow it will save Peter's life again. Almost without doubt. The drug and the treatment is revolutionary. I can almost guarantee that the MHRA will authorise its continued use for the foreseeable future, while further more detailed research is carried out. The fact is that it's a life saver. It's a success. That's the bottom line. Something else is happening too. Something almost supernatural, but which is not at all understood. However, even though there are many patients reporting side-effects and symptoms of something that we don't understand, very few, and I must emphasise this...very few are unhappy. What is happening is incredible. Sometimes a little uncomfortable at first, but then to many, also somewhat comforting. I have studied this over the past few weeks in great detail, and I have come to the conclusion that people facing near death scenarios are taking some comfort from the fact that they are having almost supernatural experiences. In some way, it is giving these people evidence, or a belief, in there being something else to life, or something out there beyond death, which although they don't understand, helps them to see that there is something out there on the other side. Whatever that other side is..."

  He paused.

  "For now, I think the MHRA will simply recommend that consultants perhaps discuss these possible side effects with all patients of SP-X4, giving them the right to choose alternative medical treatment if they so wish to."

  "Of course, there is also the truth that this drug treatment is saving the NHS millions, if not billions, by saving so many lives and prov
iding such a complete and effective recovery."

  "Peter's case is an extreme case. Probably the one such case like it in the history of mankind. There may never ever be another case like his again..."

  "Nevertheless, just in case I am wrong, and the MHRA does go ahead and prevent further use of SP-X4, I fully recommend that we get on with Peter's operation while we are still allowed to do so. SP-X4 is a life-saver, and I want to use it to ensure that it gives Peter the second chance he deserves!"

  Susie was quiet.

  Peter nudged her gently.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Can we still go ahead and print our story?" she asked aloud to them both.

  "Can I see it before you print it? Can I perhaps provide a little editorial guidance so that it does not come out too alarming? I do not want future transplant patients to be scared by anything you write," the consultant requested.

  "Yes," she agreed. "It would also be really good to have an expert's statement of some sort from you..."

  "Actually," Peter interrupted. "How about we get this operation over and done with first. And then while I'm recovering we give this all some more thought. Perhaps there is a lot to what Dr Jamieson is saying. And what happens if we write the article, exposing the SP-X4 treatment, and then create so much fear and confusion that the drug company goes bust, and the drug is removed from the market because the company doesn't exist anymore. Then thousands would die. We'd get our story. We'd get promoted,...maybe...but people would die. Right now, death is not something that I would wish on anyone. I think I've seen, heard and experienced enough of it now for the rest of my lifetime!"