***
Inside the garage were several trucks in various states of repair and a brick office on one side. Doc, Cakes and Canella stood on the oil stained concrete floor outside the office, watching as Cheeseman approached.
“I appreciate this,” Doc said.
“You got twenty minutes,” Canella said. Doc nodded, accepting her terms.
“He looks worried,” Cakes said. “Is he any good?”
“Why do you think I hired him?’ Doc said.
“Coz he’s cheap,” Canella said.
“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Doc said.
“Like hell. You conduct business on my property, I’m going to be here.”
“Technically it’s still half my property. In fact…”
“Dad!” Cakes said.
“Alright, alright. Back to biz,” Doc said. As Cheeseman approached, Doc offered a handshake. “Hey, Cheese! Thanks for coming.”
They shook hands and Doc made the introductions.
“Shall we?” Cakes asked. They nodded and Cakes lead them into the office where he opened another door revealing a stairwell that descended into darkness. Cakes stepped in and began making his way down.
“Is this really necessary?” Cheeseman said.
Doc gave him a gentle shove and Cheeseman followed Cakes. Doc was right behind him and Canella closed the door so they were in total darkness. A light came on below and Cakes stood outside the door, ushering Cheeseman in to the cozy, wood-furnished den complete with a bar.
“My office is perfectly secure, you know,” Cheeseman said.
“But this place is like Hitler’s bunker,” Doc said.
“That’s comforting,” Cheeseman said.
“Absolutely bug proof. Ah, it’s good to be back,” he said as he walked behind the bar.
“Bar’s closed,” Canella said. Doc chuckled and grabbed a bottle of scotch. “I said the bar is closed.”
“Fine. Okay Cheese, let’s get on with it. What have you got for me?”
Cheeseman pulled out his fountain pen and pulled it in half, revealing a USB thumb drive. Cakes took it and plugged it into a computer. Canella went to the bar and poured herself a scotch as Cakes opened the contents of the USB. A photograph of the names signed in to the guest book at the hospital, including police officers, nurses, doctors, orderlies, and Lauren and Peter Walker.
“Lauren is the mother of the boy who needs the medicine,” Cheeseman said.
“And Walker confirmed that?” Canella asked.
“Yes.”
“You think this Mitch will talk?” Cakes said.
“Before trial, no. Not while his nephew needs the medicine and he has hope of getting it. But whether he could endure a lengthy a prison sentence and keep his mouth shut is another story,” said Cheeseman.
“We got to expect that he’ll talk sooner or later,” Cakes said.
“I’m not so sure,” said Doc, “the guy had the top of his head taken off with a local anesthetic and hardly made a peep. He’s a pretty tough nut.”
“Tough means nothing. He was motivated,” Cakes said.
“His sister and nephew ought to be enough insurance to keep him motivated. What do you think, Carm?” Doc said.
“None of my business,” Canella said.
“Come on, ma,” Cakes said.
“You know my policy,” she said, between mouthfuls of booze.
“Eliminate all liabilities,” Doc said.
“Before you go any further, am I still required here?” said Cheeseman.
“Why are you so anxious to leave?” Cakes said.
“I can’t bear witness to any criminal conspiracies or…”
“Take it easy, Cheese. Just tell Walker we’ll take the sixty grand in exchange for the meds. That’s all. Once he hands over the cash we’ll take care of him,” Doc said. “Show Cheese out.”
Cakes said “But we give him the meds, right?” as he lead Cheese out the door.
“That’s liquid gold, you don’t just give it away,” Doc said.
“We’re not, we’re selling it to Walker. We’ve got enough of the stuff for twenty patients,” Cakes said. “And we’ll never be able to move it.”
“We’ll move it, alright. Besides, if we give the kid his medicine, Walker won’t have any reason to keep his mouth shut. So we take his money, make him redundant, and then we get the medicine to the kid as a kind of redundancy package,” Doc said. “That work for you?” said Doc.
“Redundancy package? I like it. I’ll make it a severance, believe me,” said Cakes.
Cheeseman covered his ears.
“Good work, Cheeseman,” Doc said, chortling as the lawyer hurried for the door.
Chapter 13
Lauren sat at Mitch’s bedside as the doctor examined his wound with a seam ripper, prying tiny ingrown hairs out.
“It’s the ingrown hairs that are probably causing the itching. Not the stitches.”
“There must be plenty there because my whole head is itching.”
“That’s good news, it means you still have feeling in your scalp. I’m afraid I don’t have the time to tend to the ingrown hairs. Perhaps you could?” he said to Lauren.
“Okay,” she said. He handed her the tool and she leaned in to Mitch’s scalp.
“There’s one, see?”
“Yes, I see them,” Lauren said, and started pricking at a swollen, purple lump.
“Easy, easy!” Mitch said.
“Almost got it.”
“When you’ve finished, have one of the nurses dress the wound again,” said the doctor.
“I noticed my head is kind of lumpy. Any chance it will look normal again?”
“I’m afraid it will never look like it used to. The tissue that was removed will never grow back, but that shouldn’t be noticeable once your hair grows back. Apart from that, everything seems to be fine. I think you’ll be out of here in a few days.”
“Thanks,” Mitch said. The doctor left. Mitch was in no hurry to heal. He knew that getting out of hospital meant going to prison. He winced as Lauren pulled the hair out from under the skin.
“Got it!” she said.
“One down, nine hundred ninety nine to go,” Mitch said.
The door opened and Cheeseman came in. “Hi Mitch, got a minute?”
“Is that a joke?” Mitch asked.
“Can I have a private word, if I…”
“I get it, I’ll continue this later,” Lauren said to Mitch. She kissed his cheek and left the room.
“Good news.”
“This must be my lucky day,” Mitch said.
“I’ve spoken with the...other party. They’re willing to accept your offer!”
“Of course they are, the pricks. No one else will buy it. How much?”
“Sixty thousand.”
“Aw, you son of a bitch!”
“I beg your pardon? You told me you were willing to pay sixty thousand.”
“No! I said sixty grand is all I’ve got.”
“Let’s not split hairs,” Cheeseman said.
“Is that a joke? I didn’t tell you to offer all I’ve got. I wanted you to negotiate!”
“And that’s exactly what I did! They wanted a hundred grand, I got them down to sixty. Not an easy task, I assure you. These are malevolent, violent criminals and, all things considered, I think a little gratitude would be the appropriate.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mitch said. “How do we do it?”
“Well, you can’t do it in here.”
“Obviously.”
“I can do it for you. If you’re comfortable with that.”
Mitch looked at Cheeseman, wondering if he could be trusted.
Chapter 14
Lauren sat in the hospital cafeteria drinking coffee, Peter in his wheelchair beside her.
“Why doesn’t he meet Uncle Mitch in his room?” Peter asked.
“Because you’re not allowed to bring money into the room.”
“So w
hat if Uncle Mitch wants to buy some food? How is he going to do that?”
“He doesn’t have to, the nurses bring it to him for free.”
“For free?”
“Yes, just like when you’re in hospital. You don’t see me paying the nurses, do you?”
“No. But you always bring your purse into the room. And your purse has got money in it, hasn’t it?”
“Here he comes. Quiet now.” She watched as Cheeseman weaved through the diners and made his way towards them.
“Hello,” he said grinning and sat down.
“Hi,” Peter said.
“This is my brother’s life savings,” Lauren said. “Please be careful.”
“I will, don’t worry.”
“When can we expect the, erm...”
“Tomorrow. I’ll be back first thing and you can get the little guy started on his treatment.”
“My treatment?”
Lauren gave Cheeseman a filthy look.
“I mean, you can continue with...”
“He means Uncle Mitch’s treatment,” Lauren said, “he’s a little guy, too.”
Cheeseman smiled sheepishly and Lauren took a manila envelope from her handbag. She held onto it for moment, her instincts telling her not to let it go. But it was Mitch’s money, and that was what he wanted. She handed it over.
“See you tomorrow,” Cheeseman said, taking it and hastening away.
Chapter 15
Peter sat parked outside his uncle’s hospital room in his wheelchair, next to Officer Jenkins, who was busy on his smart phone. Inside, Mitch lay back while his sister continued her verbal assault.
“You should have consulted me before you decided to involve me and my son, Mitchell! Are they the mafia? Is that who we’re dealing with?”
“I don’t know, I only met the doctor. I don’t know who he works with.”
“He’s no doctor, I did some research. Did you know he was de-registered for dealing drugs?!”
“Yes, I did.”
“Oh, really? So, you get involved with a de-registered doctor and agree to traffic heroin for him? You need to have your head examined!”
“Yeah, well, clearly. That’s why I’m in hospital.”
“That’s not funny!”
“You’re not involved in this, okay. Nothing is going to happen to you or Peter, I promise you.”
“And what about you? You’re going to go to prison for God knows how many years,” she said, her voice shaking now as she choked up. “Peter won’t have an uncle around, he’ll have to visit you in prison!”
“Yeah, but Peter will be alive,” Mitch said sitting up. He opened his arms and she hugged him. “That’s all that matters.”
She was doing her best not to cry but he felt her warm tears trickling down his neck. He held her tight, then noticed Peter in the doorway with the Officer Jenkins.
“Mom, I want to talk to uncle Mitch now.”
“Sure, darling, come on in. Thank you, officer.”
Lauren composed herself as the officer wheeled Peter to the side of the bed.
“Are you crying?” Peter asked.
“No, sweety, it’s my allergies,” she said, and walked into the bathroom, sliding the door closed and locking it.
“Uncle Mitch, are you going to get me the treatment?”
“Who told you that?”
“That lawyer.”
“Cheeseman? Did he say that?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m sure going to try, buddy. I’m sure going to try.”
Chapter 16
She stood in the elevator next to a doctor and two other nurses. A brunette in her forties, she had a friendly face that would have been comforting to most patients, despite the large mole on the underside of her chin. She kept her eyes down as the nurses flirted with the doctor. She looked over in their direction, glancing at the nurses’ pants and shoes, relieved to see they were identical to her own. Braving an upward glance, she felt reassured to see their entire uniform was the same as hers. The doors opened and she walked along the corridor, past the large windows with clear views of the city nightscape. No-one looked twice at her.
Mitch was sleeping and the lights were dim. He was woken by the door opening and looked up to see the nurse enter. He closed his eyes and began to drift back to sleep.
The nurse began working quietly, replacing the fluids on the IV stand. It had been several years since she had handled an IV drip but having done it thousands of times, it was almost second nature. She took the vial from her pocket and added it to the saline solution. The vial contained cyanide.
Mitch was almost in a deep sleep when the nurse knocked the bedside trolley, rattling its contents. He shuffled, annoyed at her clumsiness. Then he remembered that a nurse had tended to his IV just before the lights went out. That couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago. He looked up at the nurse, making her final adjustments. She avoided eye contact with him.
“Why are you changing that again?”
“Doc’s orders.”
He nodded, looking at her. Her face was familiar but he couldn’t place it. He lowered his eyes and she left the room. He turned on his side, trying to get comfortable. Then it hit him: she was the nurse from Doc’s office! Doc’s orders! Jesus!
The implications dawned on him immediately and he ripped the IV drip from his arm.
“Officer! Hey, Jenkins! Get in here!”
The door opened and Jenkins came in.
“That nurse that was just here, she tried to kill me!”
“What? What are you talking about!”
“I know her, she works for the Doc. Doc Roberts! She tried to poison me! Grab her!”
“Okay, hold still!”
“Go!”
Jenkins ran out of the room and looked both ways down the corridor. He noticed a nurse turning a corner and ran after her. He still had a clear mental picture of the nurse’s face, and the mole on her chin, which would make her easy to ID. He rounded the corner in time to see her stepping into a lift.
She pressed the button for the first floor and as the doors began to close she saw Jenkins sprinting towards her. Their eyes met for a blink before the doors closed. The nurse put a hand on her chest, her heart thumping.
Jenkins hit the stairs, dropping four at a time and swinging around the corner balusters. He made it out onto the first floor, where there must have been twenty nurses scattered all over the foyer. But he knew his nurse would be gunning for the exit, which is exactly what he did.
An orderly stood drinking a coffee by a vending machine, watching as the cop ran towards the exit. The orderly was solid, like a professional cage fighter, with a gap between his front teeth. When the cop made it outside, the orderly paced towards the elevators.
Outside, Jenkins saw a nurse climbing into a taxi. He sprinted towards it.
The driver was pulling into traffic when he noticed the frantic policeman in his rear view mirror racing towards him and waving. He stepped on the breaks.
Pistol drawn, Jenkins ran to the passenger side, his gun drawn on the passenger, who turned out to be a senior, grey haired nurse. He holstered his weapon.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, catching his breath as a bus rolled by.
Inside the bus, the nurse sat crouched below the window, pretending to tie a shoelace. Outside, Jenkins scanned the bus windows.
Chapter 17
Mitch, still handcuffed to the bed, had dragged it across the room and was looking through the window on the door when he noticed the unusually muscular orderly advancing down the corridor. The man had a hand on something in his pocket. It looked like a handgun.
“Shit!” Mitch said, leaning back against the door. He checked the door handle – it was unlockable.
He tried to slip out of the cuffs, but soon gave up. The guy was pacing in Mitch’s direction and he took hold of his bed and pushed it towards the toilet. It was big and didn’t look like fitting, but he lifted it and turned it and fina
lly got it inside. He looked back and, just as he had feared, the big guy entered his room. Mitch slammed the toilet door shut and locked it.
There was a knock on the toilet door.
“Are you okay in there?” the orderly said.
“Yes, thanks. I’m fine, just a little busy at the moment.”
“I need to get in there, there’s a problem with the plumbing on this floor. Would you mind opening the door?”
“I’m kind of busy.”
“I’m sorry, this won’t take long.”
“I’m right in the middle of it, dude. Can you come back in five?”
“This is an emergency, I’m going to have to ask you to come out. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I’m a professional.”
Yeah, a professional killer, Mitch thought. “Okay, just give me a minute,” Mitch said. He looked around the room, noticed a nurse call button and hit it three times, then looked out the bathroom window to the street, six floors below. No escaping that way. He searched around the room for something he could use as a weapon and grabbed a mop, holding it like a spear.
The door jolted as the man on the other side tried to force it open. Mitch jammed the mop between the wall and the back edge of the sliding door, reinforcing it. Then there was the sound Mitch had previously only heard in the movies: a pistol with a silencer being discharged. Two shots slammed into the door, splinters of wood shooting across the room. Mitch crouched against the side wall out of harm’s way as more shots were fired, bullets bouncing off the wall, shattering the porcelain basin. Then there was a loud blast, followed quickly by another, then a heavy thump. Mitch didn’t move.
“You okay in there?”
Mitch was frozen. Was it a cop, or a trap?
“This is Jenkins, there’s been a shooting in the Walker room. The suspect is down.”
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