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by J. A. Henderson

  “I came back.” The detective pulled his seat up to R.D.’s desk and sat down. “Didn’t want to miss the bit in your story where the Banana Bunch turn up and save the day.”

  “I appreciate you giving up precious time, but there’s no need to take the piss.”

  “Just get on with it.”

  R.D. caught the strain in the detective’s voice.

  “Are you all right?”

  Ettrick considered confronting the psychologist right there and then.

  Of course, I’m not all right. I just found out you had an affair with my wife.

  But he knew the value of keeping information back. Let R.D. carry on with his absurd lie. He might just make another slip. Give away what really happened between himself and Justin Moore.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “A few problems at home, is all.”

  “How are Meike and Madison anyway? How’s Frankie?” R.D. looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I should have asked about them before now but I’ve been a bit preoccupied with my own situation.”

  “Well none of them are locked up for murder,” Ettrick replied acerbically. “I guess you can go back to concentrating on yourself.”

  “You sure everything’s OK?” R.D. noticed the stubble smudging his companion’s jaw. “Having a rough time?”

  “Don’t you be bothering about me,” Ettrick said curtly. “Finish what you started.”

  -55-

  Austin, Texas 2002

  The office intercom buzzed and R.D. eyed it uneasily. He had begun to dread the demanding clamour that was now his sole communication with Beck Murray. The spurned secretary had been curt to the point of rudeness since he and Maggie returned from East Texas. And the psychologist couldn’t even turn to his renewed flame for consolation, as Maggie was entombed in her lab. During the day she tended to her official duties and returned there at night to work on perfecting a new AID.

  “Leave me alone until I get this damned thing done,” she said when he called. “I just want it to be over.”

  For the last three days he hadn’t heard from her at all.

  He picked up the stack of bills from his desk and searched around for his letter opener. There was no sign of it.

  The intercom buzzed again. R.D. punched the button in irritation.

  “What?”

  “The Wood woman’s here to see you.” The crackling interference couldn’t hide curtness in the distorted voice. “I’ll send her in. Then I’m going to lunch.”

  At last!

  But the smile faded from his face as Maggie slunk into the office. Her hair was sticking to her head, her dress wrinkled as a grub. She carried a cling bag, plain brown this time, pulling one shoulder down. Tanned puffs of flesh under each eye enhanced her exhausted demeanour.

  “Jesus Maggie, you look tired.” R.D. tried to be tactful. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She grunted briefly, setting the lumpy bag on a chair and digging inside. Pulling out a battered MP3 player, she placed it on R.D.’s desk and slid it towards him. He swept it into his drawer without looking.

  “Thanks. Did I leave it at your flat?”

  “That’s not your iPod, dummy.” Maggie’s lips tightened. “That’s the new Anti-Inductance Device – the Mini-AID. I built it into an MP3 player like the one you’ve got. It’s powerful enough that it doesn’t need the earphones but I kept them for disguise. It even plays music.”

  “Jesus!” Opening the drawer, R.D. hauled the device back out and shook it loose from a halo of paper clips and rubber bands. Nothing about the unassuming object betrayed its real function. It looked like any one of the thousands of portable music devices barraging the ears of the nation.

  “Justin could walk across the Whitehouse lawn wearing these and not arouse suspicions!” He held it up in admiration. “How does it work?”

  “Just like you’d expect. Play and stop buttons switch it off and on. The volume adjusts the frequency.”

  “I thought you were going to set it permanently at a low frequency?” R.D. looked puzzled. “Just to be on the safe side.”

  “I don’t want to piss him off. I’m still scared of him.”

  “Aw, Maggie. There’s no need to be.”

  “Don’t worry; it only goes up to seven on the GCS.”

  “GCS? Sounds like a school qualification.”

  “The Graduated Circuitry Scale. Graham Teasdale and Bryan Jennett developed it at the University of Glasgow. I thought you might know their names, since you come from there.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” R.D. replied smugly. “Even though I grew up in Edinburgh. And I think you’ll find that…”

  “Justin Moore is following me,” Maggie broke in.

  “What?” R.D. put the Mini-AID down. “Have you seen him?”

  “No. But he’s watching. I can tell. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “I don’t imagine he’d go to all that effort. After all, we’re doing what he asked.”

  “It may sound paranoid.” Maggie said quietly. “But what if he doesn’t trust us to keep his little secret?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “Because this discovery could make us rich and famous and you’re a bit of a glory hound. Don’t tell me you’re not tempted to go public.”

  “Not enough to betray my friend. No.”

  “I believe you but Justin may not. And he doesn’t know me from Adam.”

  R.D. hadn’t thought of that.

  “Plus I keep wondering why he would expose Clancy to so much risk?” Maggie wouldn’t let it go. “If Justin loves her as much as you say, why doesn’t he make her leave until all this is over?”

  She looked questioningly into R.D.’s eyes.

  “Is it possible she’s not as willing a participant in this affair as he made out?”

  R.D.’s heart sank. He realised how little consideration he had given to something that should have been his greatest concern. The fate of Clancy Moore.

  He vaguely remembered the boathouse, the fence, the candy striped bars and the locked gate. He had assumed they were built to keep trespassers out.

  But what if they were designed to keep Justin’s wife a prisoner? After all, she was the only other person who knew what he had become.

  “No, no. It was Clancy who enlisted me.” He clutched at the only straw he had left. “She came to my office of her own free will.”

  “You said Justin was waiting outside. That he mentioned being able to make a whole family walk under a truck.”

  Maggie raised an eyebrow.

  “What if that was a threat rather than a statement? To force Clancy to come seek your help? Do what I say or I’ll kill people.”

  “Justin would never act like that!” R.D. insisted. But his objections had begun to ring hollow, even to himself.

  “Will you wake up and smell the coffee!” The girl slammed her hand on the desk next to him. A stack of Bics skittered away, disappearing over the pine precipice and clunking into the waste bin. “That man is not your friend anymore!”

  R.D. was stunned into silence. He regarded his own framed certificates, not one as impressive as Justin’s most minor achievement. He’d been wilfully ignoring the obvious in his desperation to regain a best friend.

  Justin was far too smart to make a mistake about the frequency of the AID. Too wary of R.D.’s flaws to trust him.

  Too afraid of losing Clancy to let her go.

  He finally faced up to the truth. Maggie’s explanation of recent events was a far more plausible narrative than his.

  “Once Justin has the Mini-AID, he’s going to see us as a liability,” the woman insisted. “Loose ends to get rid of.”

  Bending, she opened the bag and rummaged through its innards again.

  “Yeah… well… I may be scared out of my wits but I’ll always stay one step ahead of that fucker.” She pulled a CD-ROM from the bag and placed it on the overcrowded desk. “Last night I typed out a record of everything I know about Justin Moore and burned it on thi
s disk.”

  Her eyes blazed, but they shone with fear rather than anger. The emotion was infectious and R.D. felt his heart flutter.

  “That’s not going to go down well with him.”

  “Tough. I’m going to take the disk straight to my bank and have it put in a safety deposit box. Just in case something happens to me.”

  “Maggie!” he protested weakly. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

  But he was no longer sure.

  “It’s not much of a defence against someone with Justin’s ability,” the woman continued, almost rambling. “There’s no place he can’t get into. Not when he can become invisible at will. But it’s the best I can do.”

  Genuinely alarmed, R.D. searched for a compromise.

  “Look. I got a better idea.” He tapped his fingers together. “Let’s email our friends and tell them you and I are heading out to the Moore’s place. We don’t need to go into details, that would just make us look like we’ve been smoking wacky baccy. But, if something does happen to us, it’s the first place the cops will look. And if Justin really is on the level, we haven’t given any details that will put him in danger. I’m just visiting an old mate with my girlfriend.”

  “Why are you still defending him?”

  “I’m not. But if he’s as unstable and dangerous as you think, why force his hand?” R.D. slid the mini-AID back onto the drawer. “We’ll simply let him know that we’re not naïve lambs to be slaughtered. And we’ll hide this wee piece of hardware until he proves to us he’s above board. It gives us leverage to negotiate without making Justin more convinced we’re going to expose him.”

  “I can see the sense in that.” Maggie’s eyes brightened. “Can we do it from here?”

  “Normally we could.” R.D frowned. “But Beck said the internet was down again this morning and only she knows how to sort it.”

  “That’s bloody perfect.”

  “No. Go send them from your flat. I’ll cancel all my appointments and be there in half an hour.”

  He held out his hand.

  “And give me the disk. Then, if you’re right, I’ll be his target and not you.”

  “You’d do that?” Maggie asked incredulously.

  “What can I say? I’m terribly noble.”

  “You’re absolutely not. Which makes your offer even more courageous.”

  “Don’t make me blush.” R.D. took the disk. “Besides, I don’t really believe Justin is shadowing us or I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  “Yes, you would.” The woman smiled at him gratefully, suddenly looking years younger. “I tell you, if we pull this off, you’ll get the best sex you ever had.”

  “You spotted my ulterior motive then?”

  “Always.” Galvanized by the R.D.’s support, Maggie picked up her empty bag, swung it jauntily over one shoulder and headed out of the office. She blew him a kiss as the door swung shut.

  R.D. opened his address book and scanned his list of contacts. He knew the perfect person to tell that he was going to Justin’s house.

  He picked up the telephone and dialled.

  “Hi. I’m trying to get in touch with Ettrick Sinclair. Oh hello, detective Scharges. This is R.D. Slaither. Remember me? Now… there’s no need to be like that… OK… Tell you what. I’ll call back later and see if I can catch him.”

  He replaced the receiver indignantly and ran his finger down the rest of the names. It struck him that they were all patients.

  “Every one a complete nutter,” he mused sadly. “I need to get out more.”

  The office door opened and he heard Beck enter. R.D. hunched over his keyboard and pretended to write in order to avoid a confrontation.

  “Thought you went to lunch,” he muttered as a mug of tea slid into view across the desk. “And how about fixing that internet connection?”

  “You wanna get the intercom sorted too, Scotty. I could hear every word you just said.”

  The voice above him had a deep Southern twang and the hairs on R.D.’s neck stood slowly to attention.

  The hand pushing his tea was large and blue veined. A plain gold band adorned one finger.

  R.D. looked up. Under thick black hair, Justin Moore’s owlish lenses glared glumly back.

  “I want the Mini-AID and I want the disk as well,” the researcher said calmly. “Please don’t cause a fuss.”

  The strangest thought sprang into R.D.’s mind. Not, why had he thought his fucking secretary would go to lunch when it was only mid-morning? Not, why hadn’t he recognized Justin was impersonating Beck’s voice, despite the wonky intercom. Not, how could Justin do this?

  No. He remembered how his old friend was always was rotten at making tea. A strange thing to think but better than dwelling on what he was actually going to…

  Now!

  R.D. grabbed a Bic and plunged it into the outstretched hand.

  Justin recoiled with a cry of pain.

  R.D. launched himself from the chair. His knee crunched sickeningly against the sharp edge of the wood as he whirled and ran for the office bathroom. He darted inside and locked the door, heart hammering in his chest.

  “Come out, R.D.” Justin said. “Come on out now, huh?”

  “Shan’t.” The psychologist’s own voice sounded tiny and childish compared to the commanding tone on the other side of the cubicle.

  “Come… OUT!”

  R.D. reached for the lock. Every fibre of his being fought against the action but he couldn’t help himself. For the first time he appreciated just how powerful his former friend had become. What a formidable force Inductance really was.

  As the last vestiges of his free will evaporated, R.D. let both legs go limp. Sinking down, he turned and slammed his head against the toilet bowl with all the strength he could muster.

  Everything went black.

  -56-

  R.D. woke not knowing how much time had passed, slumped over the bowl as if he had fallen asleep in a drunken stupor. His head was pounding.

  “Just like old times,” he groaned.

  He struggled to his feet and let himself cautiously out of the bathroom.

  There was no sign of Justin. The mug lay on its side and tea had stained the pages of his appointment book. He placed his hand unsteadily on the paper. It was still soaking wet. He pulled open his desk drawer.

  The disk was gone and so was the Mini-AID.

  He grabbed the telephone and dialled. It was picked up after the second ring.

  “Maggie?” he hissed. “Maggie, listen to me… no don’t talk… I want you to get out of your apartment. I haven’t got time to explain…”

  “What’s the big rush?” his girlfriend’s disembodied voice was bemused. “I haven’t even started writing my emails.”

  “Beck’s missing and Justin Moore was listening to our conversation over the intercom,” the psychologist stammered, hating himself. “I locked myself in the toilet and got knocked out but he took the evidence and your device.”

  “Oh my God,” Maggie whispered down the line. R.D. could almost see those beautiful eyes opening in terror as she realized the true situation. “He’ll come here next! You know he will!”

  “Stay calm!” he hissed. “I need you to think straight.”

  “The doorman wouldn’t even have seen him and neither will I.” Maggie’s voice was pleading, verging on hysteria. “What if he’s already here? My door isn’t locked!”

  “Don’t freeze up on me girl! Get out of the fucking apartment. I’ll be there as fast as I can to pick you up. Leave now. Quick as possible.”

  There was silence at the other end.

  “Maggie?”

  “Yes. That’s right.” Maggie’s voice suddenly sounded flat and vacant, almost robotic. “Of course. I’ve got to get out. As quickly as possible.”

  “Maggie… MAGGIE!”

  There was a click at the other end.

  R.D. slammed the phone back onto its cradle. Hauling the soaking address book towards him he tore through
the pages. A frustrated sob rose in his throat and he swallowed it down, punching out a new number. No! No! Too fast!

  His fingers lumbered, panic stricken, across wrong buttons. He jerked them away. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to dial slowly and properly. He heard a ring at the other end then he receiver being lifted.

  “Is this Greenbriars Apartments? I need to talk to the security guard. This is an emergency for Christ sakes! I don’t give a fucking… well… where is he?”

  “Hey… he outside, man, we got an emergency here too!” The voice on the other end sounded more irritated than upset. “Woman just opened one of the slidin’ windows an stepped off the balcony. People saw it, y’know? Now she lyin dead out there.”

  “What floor did she jump from?” R.D. asked coldly.

  “What? I gots no idea. I juss clean the place.”

  “Don’t worry.” The psychologist gently replaced the receiver. “I already know.”

  He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He tried to light it but his hands were shaking so much the Zippo dropped to the carpet. Rather than pick it up he opened his mouth and let the cigarette follow. His throat was too constricted to allow oxygen past, never mind smoke, and he took gulps of air to try and clear his windpipe. Stumbling to the window he pressed quaking palms against the glass. Tried to imagine the feeling of falling that distance.

  His chin snapped up and a sob finally burst from his lungs.

  R.D. looked down over the street full of tiny bright t-shirts and pretty dresses.

  “Justin Moore,” he said quietly.

  “You’re a dead man.”

  -57-

  There wasn’t much doubt what Justin would do next. He had robbed R.D. of any evidence of their collaboration and now there was no Maggie to corroborate his story. There was no point in calling the police to report his lover’s murder. Justin would walk away from the crime scene invisible or unremembered.

  R.D. had no idea where Beck Murray was, but he was quite willing to accept that she was also dead. She had seen Clancy in his office and heard snippets of his conversations with Maggie. With his new found hindsight he couldn’t see Justin Moore leaving a loophole like that. In fact, the only things left to incriminate him were his wife and that damned house of theirs in East Texas.