Deliver Them From Evil

by Andrew Puckett

  ‘Better, thanks. I won’t ask you in now as I’ve got the bath running.’

  ‘That’s all right. I’m glad you’re feeling better. You will come and talk to me if things get bad again, won’t you?’

  She promised she would and I went back to my own suite. I brushed my teeth in case I ran into Dr Kent again, then decided to have a bath myself.

  I was lying on my bed reading an hour and a half later when Tom came back.

  ‘Everything all right?’ I asked, sitting up.

  ‘Fine.’ He put a finger to his lips, went over to the radio and found Classic FM.

  ‘You don’t seriously think we’re bugged, do you?’ I said in a low voice as he came back over.

  ‘I think it’s extremely unlikely,’ he said quietly as he pulled up a chair beside me. ‘But you never know who might be passing outside. Besides, I rather like Classic FM.’

  ‘Sorry about what I said at the car, Tom.’ I told him what I’d told Dr Kent about him visiting an old friend.

  ‘That should cover it all right,’ he said. ‘Marcus sends you his regards, by the way.’

  ‘Did you arrange about the sperm?’

  He nodded. ‘Professor Fulbourn’ll provide the sample for Vince at seven that morning—what’s so damn funny?’

  ‘Provide. You just said, provide. The thought of Professor Fulbourn having a—a nifty fifty. Sorry. It’s this place, it’s getting to me.’

  ‘It must be,’ Tom said, but then began laughing himself.

  ‘Vince’ll need an hour and a half or so to get here with it, and I’ll pick it up at about eight thirty.’

  ‘How? You can’t just…’

  ‘I’m a health freak, I go jogging every morning. I’ll start tomorrow. On Monday, I jog up to the junction with the main road. Marcus’ll be there and will give me the sperm.’

  ‘As long as you’re not seen.’

  ‘I’ll make sure I’m not.’

  ‘Did you arrange anything else?’

  He hesitated. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.’

  I looked at him. ‘From the sound of your voice, I’m not going to like it.’

  ‘I’m going to try and get into Kent’s office tonight, maybe the lab as well. The sooner we can find some hard evidence of what they’re up to and get out of here, the better, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Yes?’ I was still suspicious.

  ‘The thing is, I’ll need your help.’

  ‘I knew it!’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ he hissed.

  ‘All right. What help?’

  ‘The security here makes it impossible to cover up any kind of break in. I’ve been over it a hundred times, and the only way is to make it look as though there’s been a break in from outside, by some group like Natural Way, for instance.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘That’s all very well, but what about Cal?’

  ‘Exactly. He has to be immobilised.’

  ‘Immobilised? You mean overpower him and tie him up or something? I don’t mean to be rude, Tom, but we’ve both seen him and—’

  ‘I know. We’re going to have to use this.’ He dragged out his suitcase from under his bed and fumbled in the hidden compartment. ‘This’ was an object like a pistol with a syringe on the top.

  ‘A tranquilliser dart,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Definitely not. Nobody’ll believe an extremist group could get hold of one of those.’

  ‘Don’t you ever listen to the news? Extremist groups get hold of whatever they like these days.’

  ‘So what tranquillising drug are they supposed to have got hold of to go with that?’

  ‘This.’ He took a phial from the compartment and handed it to me.

  ‘Midazolam X,’ I read out. ‘Midazolam’s supposed to be injected intravenously. Where were you intending to inject it?’’

  ‘In his bum, I suppose.’

  ‘Intramuscularly, in other words. That would take too long to knock him out.’

  ‘We’ve already thought of that. This stuff is a fast acting variant—thus the X. It also gives rise to a localised amnesia.’

  ‘What d’you mean, localised amnesia?’

  ‘Well, he might remember the alarm buzzer going off in his office, hut he won’t remember the dart hitting him.’

  ‘Oh I see, so an alarm buzzer has to go off. So how are you going to bring that about?’

  ‘We go to the top landing and use the blind spot to lower ourselves into the hall.’

  ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

  ‘Then we go through the doorway under the stairs and along the passage to the commonroom. We remove the light bulbs, then I open a window. That’ll trigger the alarm in his office and he’ll come to investigate. You’ll be waiting in the corner so that whichever door he uses, you’ll be able to fire the dart into his—’

  ‘Me? You want me to fire it? Absolutely not!’

  ‘Keep your voice—’

  ‘Tom, this has gone far enough.’

  ‘It has to be you, Jo. Those windows are heavy and you wouldn’t be able to open any of them. And if I do it and he comes quickly. I wouldn’t have time to get into position.’

  ‘But…’ But the trouble was, I couldn’t see any other way. ‘But what if I miss?’ I said in a small voice.

  ‘You won’t,’ he said confidently. ‘You’ve seen him, nobody could miss a target that size. Besides, I’ll have my gun.’

  ‘You bastard! You’ve had this planned all along, haven’t you?’

  I closed my eyes. The radio was playing the opening bars of Beethoven’s Fifth.

  14

  Plop. The dart hit the pillow, an inch from the target. I was getting good.

  I pulled back the spring mechanism, retrieved the dart and fitted it back into the gun.

  Plop. An inch and a half this time. Still not bad. Tom was downstairs and I was in our room, a chair wedged under the door handle in case Nurse Jenni got nosy.

  We’d gone for another smoke in the garden after he’d told me what he wanted me to do. I did all I could to dissuade him, begged him to think of another way, but it was no use, perhaps because I knew deep down there wasn’t one. Tomorrow night was out because, if Denny was anything to go by, I’d be feeling pretty awful by then, and the night after that would be following egg collection, which was cutting things too fine.

  Plop. Bullseye! Maybe there was hope yet…

  *

  Dinner was at seven and we were the last to arrive. Geoff and Denny were sharing a table with another couple. Denny gave me a smile as we passed them. Geoff was too busy talking to notice us.

  Tom purposefully made for another couple, who were sitting at a table on their own.

  ‘Mind if we join you?’

  ‘Er—no. Of course not.’ They did, clearly, but Tom took no notice.

  They were called Graham and Wendy Dacie. He was older than her and they both worked in a bank. Tom tried to pump them, but Graham wasn’t having any. He smiled thin smiles, answered Tom’s questions civilly enough and didn’t give a thing away.

  She was due to have her Pregnyl injection tomorrow night. I couldn’t eat much, but then again, neither did she. I think it was some sort of casserole.

  They say the waiting’s the worst bit. Not necessarily true, but still pretty bad. After dinner, we walked in the grounds again, Tom going over the plan once more, presumably to put me at ease.

  ‘Aha! Caught in the act!’

  I let out a squeak as my cigarette described a smoky parabola. It was Geoff and Denny. Denny said, ‘Jo, shame on you! Didn’t Dr Kent tell you it could reduce your chances?’

  ‘It’s only my second today, for God’s sake!’ I lied as I retrieved it. ‘I’m sorry, it’s this place. It’s been getting to me.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said Geoff, even more inaccurately than usual. ‘Don’t worry, we won’t give you away.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tom. He drew on his ch
eroot. ‘Wouldn’t like to have to face Dr Kent if she got really nasty.’

  Geoff laughed. ‘You and me both.’ He paused and turned, his face ruddy in the sunset. ‘Beautiful evening, isn’t it?’

  ‘Isn’t it,’ we agreed.

  By mutual accord, we walked slowly down to the gate and watched as the clouds bruised over and the bats came out. Denny put her arm through Geoff’s; he smiled down at her and pulled her closer and I realised that for all their troubles, they loved each other. It made me feel a little envious, a little wistful, a little sad. It also calmed me.

  *

  Plop. We were back in our room.

  ‘That’s pretty good, Jo. I don’t know what you’re worried about.’

  ‘Bastard.’

  We watched TV and then pretended to read until midnight when another nurse (Sophi) came to give me the Pregnyl injection. It hurt.

  Tom wanted the alarm to go in the security room at just after one, to give us as near an hour as possible before the general alarm went, so we waited while the old building slowly settled into silence.

  We left at ten to one. We wore dark clothes over our night clothes and on our feet, appropriately, sneakers. Tom carried the equipment in a black haversack on his back. He left the door on the latch. The corridor was dimly lit.

  We stole past number four, Geoff and Denny’s room. A board creaked beneath my foot—I froze—Tom beckoned urgently from the landing door and the board squeaked again as I moved.

  The upper landing. I heaved in a few breaths. Tom quickly checked below with his pencil torch, then lowered the rope and made it fast to the banister. He eased himself over and noiselessly descended hand over hand. A guarded flash from his torch told me it was my turn.

  I swallowed, took another breath. Lifted a leg over. found a toe hold between the railings. Gripped the banister, swung the other leg—squeak of rubber sole on paint—grasped the rope and cast off.

  My toe bumped against panelling with a hollow knock, then Tom’s hands were guiding my feet to the floor. He gently propelled me through the doorway into the passage, then pulled the cord which released the rope, and a moment later, it was back in his bag.

  Along the passage to the commonroom. We kept to the sides where Tom said the boards were less likely to make a noise. The muted mutter of a television came from the security room.

  The commonroom. Tom eased the door open and we were inside. He looked at his watch and showed me—it was still a couple of minutes to one. Then he flicked the pencil beam round the room before lowering the black bag to the floor. He beckoned me over, put his arms round my thighs and lifted me so I could take out the light bulbs.

  Then he opened the black bag. First came the dart gun, which he handed to me. Then, two stocking masks. He pulled his own on. I filled the syringe and fitted it to the gun first—hands remarkably steady—then pulled on my own mask. It hardly affected my vision.

  Tom put his mouth close to my ear. ‘Ready?’

  I nodded. He guided me gently into the corner of the room, then went over to the window he’d selected.

  He checked his watch again, then slipped the catch and pulled upwards on the two small handles at the bottom. The window gave one muted squeal, then moved smoothly up. Tom ducked out of sight behind a chair. I felt cool air. My heartbeat was starving my lungs and I sucked some of the cold air into them.

  Silence. Another deep breath. My hands were shaking badly now. I couldn’t do it.

  There was the faintest creak, and I could make out the door from the dining room opening. A click from the light switch, a pause, then a powerful torch beam sprang out, sweeping round the room until it fastened on to the open window. The door opened further and Cal’s huge bulk moved inside the room as he flicked the torch beam round again.

  He was about six feet from me…it had to be now. I raised the gun with both hands to stop the shaking, aimed at his buttock and squeezed.

  Plop.

  He gave a grunt and the torch went out as he dropped to the floor. I heard him scrabbling for the dart, he gave another grunt as he pulled it out. Then he came up to a crouch and the torch beam came on again, searching, finding and blinding me.

  ‘I can see you, stand up.’

  Still blinded, aware only of his bulk lunging at me, I tried to dart round an armchair but he reached over it and snatched my wrist and pulled me to him. I fought down the urge to yell as he yanked off my stocking mask. Then the torch beam slid away as his knees buckled. Tom caught him and lowered him gently to the floor.

  I knelt beside him and felt for his pulse. I still couldn’t see anything.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Tom whispered.

  I nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He’s fine.’

  ‘We’ll wait a couple of minutes for your eyes to adjust and make sure no one’s heard anything.’

  Silence. Shapes materialised as my vision came back. Tom took off his sneakers and put on a pair of shoes from the bag.

  ‘Keep your ears open.’ He went over to the window and the next moment, he was outside, pulling it closed.

  I heard rather than saw him scratching at one of the panes with a glasscutter, then he covered the glass with masking tape and a second later, there was a pop and his gloved fist came through.

  The window was raised again and Tom climbed back inside, making sure his feet rubbed against the window frame. He changed back into his sneakers, and we quickly replaced the light bulbs.

  ‘We’ve got about fifty minutes,’ he breathed. ‘The lab door first, then Kent’s office, then Carla’s.’

  ‘What about the dartgun?’

  ‘Bring it.’

  We found it, packed it away in the bag and made our way round to the lab. Tom took out a spray can and used it to write on the wall next to the door: Leave conception to God and Nature.

  Then he took out a screwdriver, put it into the lock and twisted it, marking the metal round the keyhole. We went to Dr Kent’s office.

  One of his ‘keys’ soon had the door open. I carefully closed it behind us as he went over to the fire safe. A moment later, that was open too.

  On the top shelf were folders containing insurance policies, work permits and contract forms. On the bottom were three loose-leaf ledgers. He took them out. They were headed: Stimulated DNA 1989-91, Replaced DNA 1990-93 and Nuclear DNA 1992—.

  ‘Hold the torch a minute,’ he whispered, handing it to me.

  All three of the ledgers contained case notes of couples arranged in alphabetical order. He opened the last, Nuclear DNA 1992—turned some pages and pointed. The name Murrell leapt out at me. He turned to the end of the file. There, in Dr Kent’s neat handwriting, was a single word: terminated.

  He turned the pages back, pointed again and I froze. Jones.

  There wasn’t much in our file, only ultrasound results and hormone levels, and if I had my way, there wouldn’t be much more added to it.

  Tom looked at his watch and showed me. One twenty. He pointed to the desk.

  I carefully closed the curtains and he switched on the desk lamp, arranging the ledger beneath it. Then he took out a small camera. I turned the pages while he photographed them. There was something over twenty cases.

  ‘What about the others?’ I whispered when he’d finished. He looked at his watch again, compressed his lips.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But we’ll have to hurry.’

  When we’d finished we replaced the ledgers and closed the safe. In the corridor, he relocked the door and glanced at his watch yet again.

  ‘We’ll have to be quicker in Carla’s room,’ he whispered. I nodded and we started down the corridor.

  Behind us, in the hall, the alarm screamed out.

  15

  We looked at each other for less than a second…‘The lift,’ Tom said. We sprinted, swerving round the bend in the corridor and Tom stabbed at the call button. There was a clunk. He pulled the door open and hustled me inside. His thu
mb found the button.

  ‘Don’t go across the corridor till I say, right?’

  The lift rose. The alarm howled. The lift slowed, stopped. Tom eased open the doors, listening for a moment before going down on his knees and cautiously peering out.

  ‘Go!’

  I shot across into our suite and heard Tom close the lift door before following me.

  ‘Quick, out of those clothes and into bed.’

  He stripped off his own clothes, pushing them and the black bag under his bed before pulling a dressing gown over his pyjamas and sliding his feet into slippers.

  Voices sounded in the corridor. I realised the alarm had stopped. Tom went to the door, opened it and stepped out.

  ‘What’s going on?’ His voice sounded strange after hearing him whisper for so long.

  ‘It’s the burglar alarm.’ said Nurse Sophi.

  ‘It’s stopped.’ said Geoff’s voice. ‘D’you think we should.…? Dr Kent!’

  ‘Has anyone been down?’ said Dr Kent’s voice.

  ‘No. Have you called the police?’ asked Geoff.

  ‘Not yet, it might be a false alarm.’

  ‘D’you want us to come down with you, Dr Kent?’ Tom. ‘Please. Would you check the other patients, please nurse.’ I heard floorboards squeak and the landing door open, then there was a gentle knock on our door.

  ‘Mrs Jones…?’

  ‘Just coming…’ I switched on the bedside light. A black sleeve was protruding from beneath Tom’s bed. I pushed it under, then opened the door.

  ‘Are you all right, Mrs Jones?’

  ‘I’m fine. Where’s my husband?’

  ‘He’s gone downstairs with Dr Kent.’

  ‘Have you called the police?’

  ‘I expect Dr Kent’s doing that now. If you’ll excuse me, I must check the other patients.’

  ‘Of course.’ And check them in more than one way, I thought grimly. I closed the door and let out a breath. Tom’s going down with Dr Kent was masterly, but it had been a very close thing. I began shivering as reaction caught up with me—we could have been seen coming out of the lift so easily.

  What would they do now? Would they call the police? They’d have to. What would Dr Kent’s reaction be?