The Hand of the Devil

by Dean Vincent Carter

  ‘“That any human being would demand? Of course. I am human after all.”

  ‘“You must ensure that you don’t inflict any long-term damage on the patients,” I said, adopting a serious tone. “What you’ll be doing contravenes lawful medical practice.

  ‘“Yes, yes,” Soames said. “But what doesn’t these days? Sometimes bending the rules is the only way to make progress. But don’t worry, I’ll ensure that no one finds out.”

  ‘“How, exactly?”

  ‘“Oh, I’m a man of resource. I’m always careful to keep prying eyes away from my business.”

  ‘“Soames—”

  ‘“Just relax, will you? Trust me. What we’re about to embark on is a quest of discovery and enlightenment. I’m doing this in the name of medicine, to benefit my fellow man.”

  ‘“Are you?”

  ‘“Oh, Mather, for heaven’s sake!” Soames paused for a while to think something over. “I’m not a monster.”

  ‘“I know but—”

  ‘“Believe me, I’d know if I was going too far.” He took a few mouthfuls of beer. I think I’d relaxed a little by now, but I still wasn’t wholly convinced of Soames’s assertions. His past behaviour suggested that he didn’t know what “too far” was, and didn’t care either.

  ‘“Come on, drink up,” he encouraged. “I’ll get the next round.”

  ‘We ended up quite drunk that night. I cheered up considerably as the evening went on, but I was beginning to doubt my ability to stop Soames’s diabolical project. I wish things had been different.

  ‘Just before closing time we left the bar and walked to the bus stop, where Soames caught his bus home. I lived in the student quarters by the hospital, a situation I had long preferred. Living amongst other people had always suited me. Just hearing voices through the walls of my room was comforting. Since then, as you can tell, my preference has altered drastically. Soames, on the other hand, thrived on isolation. The large house he rented must have cost him a pretty penny, but at a young age he had lost his parents and had been brought up by a wealthy aunt. I guessed that she must have provided her nephew with some sort of subsidy. He hardly mentioned her, but on the rare occasions she did crop up in conversation I had the impression that she was a strict, cold-hearted woman, and that Soames was glad to be free of her. He would rarely invite me or anyone else back to his house. I think it was an important refuge for him.

  ‘I was surprised when, the next day, Soames told me he was ready to conduct his experiment. There were dark crescents under his eyes. He’d been having trouble sleeping. Either that, or he’d been preparing for the experiment all night. Whichever was the case, I was consumed by a great unease. I lied and told him I had arranged to be somewhere else. My story crumbled, however, under an unprecedented interrogation. Soames managed to work his way around every excuse I gave him until I finally relented. His determination seemed so set that nothing could get in his way.

  ‘The night came fast. I was tempted to go to the bar and get a few drinks inside me for courage, but such an idea might have been disastrous. Unpleasant questions kept running through my mind. Who would he find to be the subject for the experiment? How would he ensure that they survived? What if the worst happened and the subject died? Would he be guilty of murder? One thing I was sure of: if Soames was to be kept under control, I would have to stay sober, so I decided against going to the bar. I arrived at his house at eleven o’clock in the evening, as arranged, and knocked on the door. Not a sound came from inside the house. My hands ran trembling through my hair.

  ‘“Maybe he started without me,” I said aloud. Stepping back, I looked up at the first-floor windows. There were no lights on in the house. I was puzzled. Knowing how precise and clinical Soames was, there had to be something seriously wrong for him to have missed the appointment. I waited for some minutes, wondering if my watch was wrong. Then Soames appeared at the gate behind me. He strode up the path, one hand holding something in a brown paper bag, the other fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

  ‘“Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to pop out for five minutes,” he said, grinning and pushing the key into the lock. “All is set though. I can’t wait to get started.” He opened the door and I followed him inside.

  ‘The interior of the house suggested that Soames wasn’t house-proud. The walls of the living room were covered in old beige wallpaper, whole sheets of which were peeling off in places. There was a small sofa and an armchair that had both seen better days and the fireplace had been sealed up and painted over. There was no television or radio, not even a lamp or ornament of any description. It was obviously a room he spent little time in. I lowered myself slowly into the cushioned grasp of the armchair, in case it fell apart. Soames insisted on making me a cup of coffee, which he went to the kitchen to prepare.

  ‘I looked at the peeling walls. There was an odd feeling in my stomach. My mouth was dry, my palms were sweating. I wanted to get on with the matter in hand. The longer I waited, the more my imagination ran riot. A short while later Soames brought in a large mug of coffee for me, then left, muttering to himself. The first sip scalded my tongue, making me curse aloud. When the liquid had cooled I took a second sip, but when it hit my stomach, I immediately felt ill. Just then Soames returned and diverted my attention from the growing nausea within me.

  ‘He appeared in the doorway wearing a surgical gown and carrying a second one for me. “Here you go,” he said, passing me the white garment. “Drink up and we’ll crack on.”

  ‘I didn’t feel like finishing the coffee, but under his gaze I felt compelled to do so. The liquid gurgled and sloshed around in my gut, unwilling to settle, as though it were an unwelcome guest. I placed the mug on the carpet and dressed myself in the gown. Soames then led me out into the corridor and up the stairs to the first floor. Across the landing he opened the door to a large bedroom and welcomed me inside.

  ‘The first thing I noticed on entering the room was the amount of light. It was incredibly bright in there. The curtains were closed, and in addition to the light on the ceiling Soames had arranged three electric lamps around the room. They must have been fitted with the most powerful bulbs available, as they rendered the room all but devoid of shadow. Once I’d grown semi-accustomed to the glare, I noticed the man lying unconscious on the table.

  ‘He was a tramp. There could be no doubt about that. His clothes were old, torn and badly stained. He was unshaven and the back of his neck was dark with dirt, his hair tangled and matted. I glanced at Soames, who merely smiled and clapped me on the back.

  ‘“Right!” He went over to a smaller table on which he had arranged a collection of surgical implements. “Shall we?”

  ‘“Is he asleep?”

  ‘“No, but he’s deeply inebriated. Trust me, he won’t flinch. I’ve just bought another bottle of Scotch in case he requires further sedation. I would use anaesthetic, but I couldn’t get any from the hospital. They guard that stuff so well you’d think it was gold bullion. Still, one must learn to improvise.” I looked at the brown paper bag on the floor, and the bottle of Scotch that had been in it. The cap had been screwed off ready for use. “Right, help me turn him onto his back.”

  ‘“Wait a minute,” I said, feeling more unwell. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  ‘“I’m positive. For God’s sake, man, have more faith.”

  ‘“I still think this is a really bad idea,” I said.

  ‘Soames looked at me as though I were mad. “My good friend, what on earth is the matter? There’s nothing to be frightened of.”

  ‘“I’m not frightened!” It was a lie. My whole body felt unnaturally cold.

  ‘“It’s OK” – he put a hand on my shoulder – “I promise you. It’ll be fine.”

  ‘“OK. So . . .” I tried to look calmer than I actually was. “You’re going to remove the liver, record the effects on his body, then reattach it?”

  ‘“Yes, that’s it.” I detected a little he
sitation in Soames’s response. Something wasn’t right. “Like I said the other day, it’s an unwarranted organ extraction. The liver is an essential organ, so removing it will produce obvious results. I’ll record those results and later analyse them. Grab his legs, would you?”

  ‘“And how exactly will science benefit from this?”

  ‘He sighed. “Well, if we can see how the body reacts to losing its essential organs, we may be able to find ways of compensating for such loss. For example, the absence of the liver will result in the rapid onset of blood poisoning. If we are able to accurately record this, then we can come up with alternative methods of blood purification, or even preventative measures—”

  ‘“But that’s basic medicine,” I interrupted. “Anyone with a rudimentary knowledge of anatomy could come to that conclusion. I’ve seen people with liver failure and jaundice. It’s not pleasant, but everyone understands what’s happening.”

  ‘“Yes . . . but those people are treated, they are made as comfortable as possible – they are not thoroughly studied. I intend to take that important step, to analyse the process from beginning to end, like no one has done before.” Soames looked down at the subject on the table. “I doubt this fellow’s liver would have served him much longer anyway.”

  ‘“Yes, but you are going to reattach it, aren’t you? Regardless of its condition?”

  ‘“Oh, come on,” Soames replied calmly. “He’s all but destroyed himself with alcohol. He could go at any time – look at him.”

  ‘“I really hope you’re not implying what I think—”

  ‘“Oh don’t be dense, man!” Soames’s explosive outburst surprised me. “Look, if it had been someone a little healthier then maybe I could have restored the organ after a brief period, but I can’t begin to think of the difficulty involved in securing a willing, healthy subject. Listen, I spoke to him at great length and explained everything. He’s consented fully to—”

  ‘“What? His death?”

  ‘“Well . . . yes. We can’t just throw away this golden opportunity—”

  ‘“No! No way, Soames. This is wrong, this is very, very wrong. You can’t just bloody kill the man!”

  ‘“Oh, what could he possibly have to live for? Let him make a contribution to medical science and give his pathetic life some meaning. I don’t understand why you’re trying to make this sound so macabre all of a sudden.”

  ‘“Because it is! It’s murder!”

  ‘“Is it? Is it murder if he’s consented? Is it murder if it leads to a valuable discovery? A discovery that could at some point save lives?”

  ‘“That’s speculation! You’re in no position to play with people’s lives, to play God!”

  ‘Soames fixed my gaze then, as though trying to convey something with his eyes that words couldn’t. He smiled. “Mather, my dear friend . . . we are gods.”

  ‘I felt my lips tremble, as though in readiness for a reply, but none was forthcoming. I had no answer to that. It was quite a while, in fact, before I was able to say anything.

  ‘“It was my understanding that you’d remove the organ, record the results, then put it back.”

  ‘Soames pursed his lips, looked down at the floor and, to my amazement, laughed. “Poor, poor Mather. God bless you. You really think it’s possible to take out the liver and put it back after what could be several minutes of separation? Your naivety is almost charming. Tell me, how exactly did you think I’d ensure life support during such a procedure? I was lucky to get these,” he said, gesturing at his instruments.

  ‘“You bastard! I’m not going to let you do this,” I spat. “I can’t allow it!”

  ‘“What do you mean you can’t allow it?” He was angry now. “Just who do you think you are?”

  ‘“I’m not going to let you murder this man. What did you expect to do if the university found out, or the police . . . ?”

  ‘“Let me deal with them. You came here to assist. This procedure is my responsibility. Now help me move him, would you?”

  ‘“No. I won’t.”

  ‘“I see.” Soames stood looking at me. He tapped his foot on the floor. “If you don’t help me now, I promise I’ll go through with this experiment anyway, and—”

  ‘“No you won’t—”

  ‘“Oh yes I will! You can’t watch me every hour of the day, Mather. I’ll do it. And if it goes wrong I’ll frame you. How will that look? Hmm? And who would the university believe? Me with my exemplary grades? Or you with your mediocre performance?”

  ‘“You’d be taking a big gamble.”

  ‘“Maybe. But I’m cleverer than you are. If I want to frame you, I will. You know that. If you want a positive conclusion to this matter, your only hope is to assist me.”

  ‘“I would be an accomplice to murder.”

  ‘“Stop saying that! It’s not murder!” Soames glared at me. “As I said before, he has consented.” He sniffed and looked at the patient. “Now I need a steady hand and complete silence to work. If you’re not going to help me, perhaps you should leave.” With a great effort he shifted the man onto his back by himself, then ripped open his shirt. I caught the unpleasant stench of stale sweat. Standing immobile and indecisive, I watched while Soames, hardly relishing the task, shaved the man’s torso and prepared the area with iodine. Finishing, he reached for a scalpel.

  ‘Finally breaking my shock-induced stupor, I walked up to Soames and grabbed his hand.

  ‘“Get off me,” he spat in disgust. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  ‘“Drop it, Soames. Drop it now, or I’ll go straight to the police.”

  ‘“Will you indeed? I’m sure they’d be interested in the part you’ve played in this matter.” I hesitated for a moment. It was long enough for him to shake his hand free and turn his attention back to the patient. “The police!” he sneered. “You’ll do no such thing.”

  ‘“I’m serious,” I threatened.

  ‘“So am I. You’re as much a part of this as I am. You wouldn’t dare involve the police.”

  ‘“I came here to stop you making a big mistake. I thought I could make you see sense. If I’d known you weren’t intending to reattach the organ, I’d have probably had you arrested by now. If this man dies you’ll be a murderer. You’re my friend, for Christ’s sake . . . do you think I want to see you go to prison?”

  ‘I thought I might break Soames. The hand holding the scalpel began to tremble slightly. He stood over the patient for quite some time, creating an awkward silence that made me wonder if he’d entered some sort of trance. Then, quietly but purposefully, he placed the scalpel back on the metal tray and wiped his damp brow with the front of a shirtsleeve.

  ‘“Very well,” he said, disappointed. “Leave me alone for a while, would you? I’ll sober him up and sort him out.”

  ‘It’s bizarre, but I almost felt sorry for Soames. His face, as I left the room, was a portrait of defeat. I wanted to say something, but couldn’t. He had the bearing of a man who’d been thwarted on the brink of something magnificent. I departed without a word. There was nothing to say.

  ‘Downstairs I made myself a cup of tea. Taking the drink into the living room, I reclined on the sofa. I took one careful sip and then put the mug down. The tea tasted good and it calmed me somewhat after the heated exchange. I pictured Soames in the room above, perhaps muttering under his breath and cursing my name while he revived the patient. My eyelids drooped and my breathing grew loud and regular. Feeling drained, I allowed myself to sleep.

  ‘I awoke a little while later, in the grip of a sudden panic. There was a wealth of noise from the room above. Amid desperate shouts from Soames, I could hear the muffled screams of a creature in great pain and distress. It didn’t take me long to guess what must be occurring up there. I jumped off the sofa, left the room and took the stairs two at a time. Before reaching the room I heard Soames cry, “Oh . . . oh Jesus!”

  ‘The theatre was a mess. Medical instruments were strewn across the fl
oorboards and the whisky bottle had been smashed, leaving a large section of the floor dark and sodden. Soames flinched at the sound of my arrival and turned to face me. Blood and horror were splashed across his face. Approaching him, I saw the mangled form of the vagrant sprawled across the floor, limbs twisted in unnatural shapes, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘Words cannot adequately convey the awfulness of what confronted me. Perhaps it will suffice to say that I could never have imagined that a human being, or any animal, could be so wholly consumed by pain.

  ‘“Oh dear,” Soames said, quite insufficiently.

  ‘I tried to avoid watching the tramp’s horrible convulsions, but it proved impossible.

  ‘“Can’t we do something?” I pleaded.

  ‘“Like what? His liver’s gone,” Soames replied. And then, in a tone at once cold and devoid of emotion: “He’s dying.”

  ‘I felt a sudden anger. My so-called friend had lied to me. He’d never intended to abort the operation. There was not a trace of compassion in his heart. In his eyes I saw a fire that burned for more than mere knowledge. There was something lustful and hateful there.

  ‘I had failed to stop Soames, and because of this I felt partly responsible for his act of brutality. It was a testament to his deviousness and tenacity that he’d managed to complete his atrocious task.

  ‘Inevitably, the homeless man died. His death, I am sad to say, was neither quick nor painless. I begged Soames to end the suffering, but he insisted on leaving the man be, to fully record the results of the abominable experiment.

  ‘I felt unable to move until the man had finally expired. Soames pleaded with me to remain. He insisted he needed my assistance in cataloguing the findings. I think what he really wanted was my help in disposing of the body, but I would have nothing more to do with the matter. He could clean up his own mess.

  ‘That evening the nightmares began. Even during the days following, I could see the poor wretch’s face painted in a permanent mask of horror and hear his agonized screams. He has never left my thoughts since. Soames kept his distance from me after that night, much as I had expected. I only saw him at classes, where he would sit all alone at the back of the room, trying when possible to tackle all practical assignments by himself.