A Mind to Kill

by Brian Freemantle

  ‘Are you making a point with that question?’ asked Perry, frigid-voiced.

  ‘Just ensuring that everything is conducted in the proper manner,’ said Hall, easily.

  ‘Officially, it’s my function.’

  ‘Then let’s do everything officially, shall we?’

  ‘Are you going to the hospital?’

  ‘I am now.’

  ‘Do you want me to come?’

  ‘You’ll hardly have time, if you’re to do all this. I can manage.’

  ‘I’m sure you can,’ said Perry, attempting a small point of his own.

  Jeremy Hall didn’t hurry, knowing there was no need. The traffic was already almost completely blocked over Westminster Bridge and along both directions of the Embankment by the time he got there. He paid the taxi off and walked the last three hundred yards to the hospital. There were at least six uniformed officers controlling the exit and entrance, commanded by a superintendent inside the perimeter. The traffic jam caused by their checking every entering vehicle and person was compounded by two police vans, in which other officers were visible, and three motor-cycles. A constable immediately announced his arrival over a radio when Hall identified himself and the superintendent hurried from a plainclothes group with whom he had been talking.

  ‘You Jeremy Hall?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you sure this is necessary?’ He was a large man, imposing in his uniform. He was perspiring, despite the wind off the river.

  ‘I didn’t catch your name?’

  The man faltered. ‘Hopkins. I asked you if this is necessary.’

  Hall extended his hand. There was more uncertainty before the policeman took it. Hall said, ‘If I hadn’t thought it necessary, superintendent, I wouldn’t have asked for it to be done.’

  Hopkins gestured back towards the group. ‘There are lawyers from four newspapers there. One from television. And executives. They say it’s ridiculous.’

  Hall looked towards the group. He didn’t recognize any of them. Those he guessed to be lawyers were older than he was. ‘It’ll be discussed before a judge in chambers. I’m content for him to decide if it’s ridiculous or not, aren’t you?’

  The policeman coloured slightly. ‘Have you a time of arrival?’

  Hall looked at his watch. ‘Maybe in the next fifteen minutes. Apparently the traffic’s bad. It’s an old Bentley. Green.’

  ‘If you know the route we could intercept, with a police escort.’

  The attitude appeared to have changed abruptly, thought Hall. ‘I don’t. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea: I don’t want to frighten the child any more than she has been, already.’

  As he continued on towards the hospital he saw Lloyd and Mason hovering just inside the glassed entrance. He went to go by the group outside but five detached themselves, blocking his path.

  ‘You Hall?’ demanded a bulge-bellied man.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What on earth’s this all about?’

  ‘Press intrusion sums it up, I think.’

  ‘Not a crime,’ insisted another of the group.

  ‘Perverting the course of justice is. So’s contempt of court.’

  ‘Let’s be reasonable,’ smiled the first man. ‘This is absurd. Way over the top.’

  ‘I agree that pursuing a four-year-old child and a potential witness to whom a bribe has already been offered is way over the top,’ said Hall. ‘I’m confident a judge will agree with me this afternoon.’

  ‘Overenthusiasm,’ dismissed a third lawyer. ‘A mistake. But it doesn’t need to be handled like this. We’ll cool our people down and that will be the end of it. Judges get irritated if their time is wasted: chamber hearings are for emergencies, don’t you know.’

  Hall surveyed the men ranged in front of him, wondering if the physical barrier they formed was prearranged or accidental. ‘I do know, very well. And I’m quite prepared to confront a judge’s irritation. I hope you all are, too.’ As he shouldered his way through he heard a voice say, ‘Arrogant young bastard!’

  Another voice sneered, ‘Out to make a name for himself.’

  The two doctors were waiting for him, directly beyond the door. Mason said, ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  Hall told them, very briefly. Mason’s face cleared by the time Hall finished speaking. The psychiatrist said, ‘Very forceful!’

  ‘Very necessary,’ said Hall. He was aware of Lloyd’s attention shifting over his shoulder and turned to see the arrival of Geoffrey Johnson, with Emily and the nanny. More police had come out of the waiting vans and were lined along the entrance, listing the numbers and taking driver details of the cars indicating their intention to turn into the hospital behind the solicitor’s Bentley. All the lawyers and the other men with whom they’d earlier been standing were there too. There was a lot of arm waving, particularly from the sweating superintendent. A solid police line formed across the entrance immediately after Johnson passed through. Abruptly the indicators of the following cars were cancelled.

  A strained-faced Annabelle Parkes hesitated momentarily when she came through the doors, the relief palpable when she saw Hall, the only man she knew. Beside her Emily looked very frightened, not just clutching the girl’s hand but pressing close to her leg as she had in the mansion. Her hair wasn’t in plaits today but frothed around her head. She wore a red tartan dress with white bows. Her free hand clutched a much-held pink-eared white rabbit that wasn’t white any more and a card already slightly bent.

  It was Mason who went forward, ahead of Hall. The psychiatrist scooped down, ignoring Annabelle, and said to the child, ‘Was that fun?’

  Annabelle went to reply but stopped at the head shake from Hall.

  ‘Not really,’ said Emily, uncertainly.

  ‘Grown up games aren’t.’

  ‘Was it a game?’

  ‘A silly one.’

  ‘I thought they were going to hurt us. They were shouting and taking pictures.’

  ‘You remember Mr Hall?’ asked the psychiatrist, nodding behind him.

  Emily looked at the lawyer, a smile hovering. ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s told them to stop playing like that. They won’t any more.’

  ‘Won’t they?’ Annabelle asked.

  ‘No,’ said Hall.

  ‘Thank God for that.’

  Geoffrey Johnson entered from parking the car in time to hear the last part of the exchange. ‘I’ve just spoken to Humphrey. The hearing’s fixed for three. It’s Jarvis.’

  Sir Ivan Jarvis was the most cantakerously irascible judge on the Inner London circuit who deeply resented the mandatory retirement age and whose place upon that circuit, according to the rumour mill, was to be filled by Sir Richard Proudfoot. Jeremy Hall said, ‘It should make for an interesting hearing.’

  ‘You’ll want me?’ anticipated Johnson.

  Hall nodded, looking at the nanny. ‘You too, possibly. To swear the financial offer letters and what went on before.’

  ‘What about Emily?’

  At the mention of her name the alarmed child looked up and said, ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Nowhere,’ promised Annabelle. ‘Nowhere without you.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go away!’ Emily’s lip quivered and her voice broke.

  ‘No-one’s going to leave you,’ said Mason, quickly. ‘You’re not going to cry, are you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the trembling child, truculently.

  ‘What are you here for?’ asked the psychiatrist, gently.

  Emily looked up questioningly to Annabelle and then said, ‘To see Mummy.’

  ‘You don’t want to cry when you see Mummy, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let’s not then.’

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Emily, with abrupt child logic.

  ‘I’m a doctor, trying to make your mummy better.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘She’s not well.’

  Hall was glad it was the psych
iatrist and not him confronting the not-to-be-lied-to inquisition.

  ‘Is she going to die?’ demanded the child, with an equally bizarre lack of emotion.

  ‘No,’ said Mason. ‘It’s not an illness you can die from.’

  ‘Is she coming home today?’

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘When?’

  Mason straightened, no longer able to remain with his legs buckled at Emily’s height. ‘As soon as she’s better.’

  ‘I want her to come home again. And Daddy.’

  ‘She has to get better first.’

  ‘I’ve brought her a present,’ declared Emily, proudly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a secret.’

  ‘Shall we go and give it to her?’

  ‘With Annabelle?’

  ‘Of course with Annabelle.’

  ‘All right.’ As she began to walk, Emily handed the comfort toy and the card up to Annabelle, who took both.

  Hall wished the attention from a lot of people hadn’t been so obvious as they made their way to the elevators but Emily did not appear aware of it. He led with Lloyd. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Excited. She’s been ready a long time.’

  ‘Any difficulties?’

  Lloyd shook his head. ‘Nothing at all since she woke up.’

  ‘I wish Mummy could come home,’ said Emily, as they got into the lift.

  ‘She’s missed you, too,’ said Mason.

  Could Jane have gone: not be there any more? It seemed impossible to imagine but then what had happened was impossible to imagine. Totally, utterly and completely beyond imagination or understanding. But it wasn’t happening any more. Today Jane wasn’t there. Hadn’t been during the night, either, shouting and calling through the drugged fog to stop her sleeping. For the first time for days – nights – she’d slept without interruption and woken late but quite normally, without any chant in her head. Now she felt rested, fully recovered. Fully recovered and fully in control of herself, not sharing her mind or her reasoning with anyone else. Better: well again.

  Jennifer was standing, waiting, when Emily came uncertainly into the room, holding tightly to Annabelle. Jennifer was glad because her throat filled and her eyes blurred and she couldn’t think of the words that had been there, ready to say, just seconds before.

  ‘Hello, darling.’ It was a croak, like the funny voices they used when they played after school. She coughed and said, ‘Hello darling’ again, normally this time, and held out her arms.

  Emily didn’t move at first. Then her face opened into a smile and she cried out, ‘Mummy!’ and ran forward into Jennifer’s arms.

  Beside him Hall was conscious of Julian Mason tensing and looked at the man, who didn’t respond. Instead he remained fixed upon mother and child, head actually craned forward. Hall thought the transformation in Jennifer Lomax was remarkable. She’d obviously washed her hair and the perfection of the cut showed in the way it looped in a shining coil just short of her shoulders. The dress was too formal for the morning but he guessed she’d chosen it for its long sleeves, which only allowed a fraction of the bandages to show. She’d compensated with the make-up, just lip and eye line: probably, he thought, all she’d worn on the school runs. She wasn’t actually crying but her eyes were wet, which he understood, and unclouded, which he thought was encouraging. She appeared, in fact, absolutely normal.

  They clung together for a long time before Jennifer eased herself away but only far enough to be able to kiss the child. It wasn’t until she looked over Emily’s shoulder, towards Annabelle, that she became conscious how many people there were.

  She said, ‘Hello Annabelle. Thank you for bringing Emily,’ and then, to Hall as a focus, ‘I thought this was for me to see Emily!’

  At once Johnson said, ‘There’s no reason for me to be here,’ and retreated back out into the corridor. Peter Lloyd followed.

  ‘I think I should stay,’ said Hall, impromptu, his mind completely changed from the beginning of the day and Mason said he wanted to remain, too.

  Jennifer sighed and for a moment Hall thought she was going to argue. Instead she shrugged, turning back to Annabelle, pulling Emily on to her lap in the chair as she did so. The conversation with Annabelle was stilted and self-conscious, Emily’s presence a bar to any proper answer to Jennifer’s litany of questions, ambiguously phrased again because of Emily.

  Both were relieved when the child broke in, refusing to be ignored. Plucking at the bandage protruding from Jennifer’s left sleeve and then feeling the dressing on her hand Emily said in sudden alarm, ‘Did you have an accident?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jennifer.

  ‘Is that why you’re here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And then you’re coming home?’

  Jennifer hesitated. ‘When I’m quite better.’

  ‘When will Daddy come home?’

  Jennifer had to swallow, very hard. ‘I don’t know. He might have to be away for a long time.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because.’

  Mason remained tensed forward, oblivious to everything but the woman. Hall was just as intent, a doubt growing within him. Jennifer Lomax was entirely normal, a loving mother hugging a child from whom she’d been separated. So the hunched-forward man beside him had to be wrong. Jennifer Lomax had to be a clever enough woman – and they knew she was clever – to defeat hypnosis and fool an experienced psychiatrist she hadn’t faked a voice in her head. I’ve got a Paper that’s going to turn psychiatry on its head, worldwide, he remembered. Did Julian Mason want to believe it, to achieve some sort of academic notoriety?

  ‘I love you, Mummy,’ Emily was saying.

  ‘I love you too, my darling.’

  ‘I want you to come home.’

  ‘I will, as soon as I can.’ Jennifer had to cough, to clear her throat.

  ‘I brought you a present,’ announced Emily, proudly, slithering from Jennifer’s lap to scurry across the room. Unasked, Annabelle offered the card. Emily returned with it behind her back until she reached the chair. With a conjuror’s panache the child produced it and announced, ‘I know M, for Mummy!’

  Hall had a fleeting, sideways image of the letter and of a stick figure with crossed-eyes and spikey, sun-ray hair before Jennifer yelled, ‘NO!’

  Emily started back, crying out in immediate terror, as Jane roared, ‘ Brat! Filthy little brat. Kill little brats.’ Jennifer grabbed out, getting one hand around Emily’s throat but not managing to link it with the other because of the dressing and because Emily tripped and actually fell backwards to get away from her mother. Jennifer started to rise from the chair, bellowing, strangling hands outstretched towards the cowering child but Annabelle got to her first, scooping her up and turning at the same time. Jennifer clenched her clawed hands into fists and began pummelling the nanny, trying to force her to the floor.

  ‘ I want her! Give her back! ’

  Hall was aware of Mason moving and of Lloyd bursting through the door, followed by the policewomen, but was unable to move himself, paralysed by what was happening. Lloyd got between Jennifer and the staggering nanny, taking the blows. Blood burst almost at once from his nose but he managed to grab one of her arms. It off-balanced Jennifer, who stumbled, giving the police sergeant time to grab the other arm. The constable wrapped her own arms around Jennifer’s body, half lifting her from the floor. The bull-like bellowing continued and as soon as her feet came back on to the ground Jennifer began hauling the three clinging to her around the room, rocking to dislodge them. The side table overturned, spewing its contents, and the bed slewed across the room, scattering chairs.

  Hall moved at last, seizing Annabelle, still shielding the child, and bustled them out of the room into the waiting arms of a white-faced Geoffrey Johnson. Hall turned back into the room but remained in front of the door, barring it. He at once realized that Jennifer was about to throw off the police sergeant so he grabbed that arm as well, conscious that the wounds had open
ed and that both Jennifer’s arms were sticky with blood.

  ‘Hold her! Just keep her steady!’ demanded Mason, dancing around the struggling group to get in front of the woman.

  With four people holding her Jennifer came briefly to a breathless pause. At once the psychiatrist was before her, hands out to hold her head. Jennifer reared away, trying to bite him, but missed.

  ‘Eleven to one, one to eleven, eleven to one,’ Mason chanted. ‘Back and forth, back and forth, eleven to one, one to eleven.’

  Jennifer was bulging eyed, nostrils flared, breath rasping into her. There was one desperate heave, which almost dislodged them, but then the panting eased and the sightless eyes receded.

  ‘Can you hear me, Jennifer?’ asked Mason, monotone.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who was it who did that?’

  ‘Jane. I tried to stop her, I said “No”, but she came too quickly. She was waiting.’

  ‘ Always waiting. Always here.’

  They were all shocked, Mason less than the others. Annabelle wasn’t with them in the ward sister’s office, because the trembling, breath-caught Emily refused to let go her hand from beside the bed that had been made available and Lloyd was delayed, re-stitching the burst open wounds before sedating Jennifer.

  ‘I’ve had to tell the hospital management: we can’t risk the danger to other patients,’ announced Lloyd, when he finally entered. His white coat was blood splattered and he had cotton wool plugs in both nostrils. His nose was beginning to swell.

  ‘There won’t be any danger,’ declared Mason.

  ‘You can’t still maintain that she’s sane, after that,’ demanded Hall. He was totally confused about the psychiatrist’s professional opinion: at that moment he felt confused about everything.

  ‘I’m prepared to argue it. And I’m prepared to bet others will be, too.’

  ‘How much damage has been done to Emily?’

  Mason made an uncertain gesture. ‘Kids are resilient but that was pretty bad.’

  ‘Pretty bad!’ exclaimed Hall. ‘It was bloody terrifying! She tried to strangle her own daughter: would have done, if she hadn’t been stopped.’

  ‘I’ve already asked for a child psychiatrist,’ said Mason.