by Stuart Hopps
He was just about to close the cabinet when Allen walked in on him and as the office door swung open, it nearly knocked Clive over. Fortunately, Allen’s mission to inform Clive of what had happened to Shirley temporarily distracted the doctor from noticing that one of the cabinet doors had been left ajar.
‘Clive, I’m sorry for the interruption, but I’m afraid it’s Shirley. She seems to have fainted.’
‘Oh my God! I was afraid this might happen.’ And he began to make for the door, then realised he was stark naked. He went back just for his raincoat and before Allen could stop him, headed for the waiting-room area, where Shirley was lying on the floor.
‘Tell me Clive,’ said Allen, quickly following behind him, ‘does this happen often?’
But rather than waste time answering, and now playing the role of an anxious friend, he rushed out of the examination room, putting his coat on as he headed for where he could see a nurse’s uniform bending over a person lying prostrate on the floor.
‘Shirley, darling.’ Kneeling down beside her, he took hold of her hand. ‘It’s me, Clive. What’s wrong? Tell me!’
Shirley murmured something indistinguishable, and slowly opened one of her eyes.
‘It’s OK, darling, I’m here.’ And he stroked the back of her hand, gently kissing it. ‘You see Allen, she’s diabetic and her blood sugar level must have dropped. She probably needs to eat something.’
Then as Shirley slowly appeared to come to, she tried to sit up, but Allen smartly intervened and firmly told her to lie still for a minute or two, and warned her that under no circumstances was she to attempt to stand up. Finally she slowly uttered: ‘Where … am … I?’
Clive made no attempt to answer that particular question, but Allen stepped in quickly, telling her that she had fainted, that he was a doctor, and left Clive to reassure her that she was in safe hands. Indeed, it appeared that both protagonists had given such credible performances that they had successfully convinced both Allen and Nurse Edith that Shirley had indeed had a diabetic attack.
Clive asked whether they should give her some chocolate, which he knew she always kept in her handbag for similar emergencies or whether they should try to get her to the Columbus General Hospital next door. Allen thought that hospital would not be necessary until he had conducted a complete and thorough examination. However, he agreed that chocolate seemed to be the right course of action for the time being. Clive was just about to get Shirley’s handbag when suddenly, and for no apparent reason, Allen quickly rose to his feet, and without excusing himself, headed straight back to his office. Clive simply thought he’d probably gone to get a stethoscope or medical bag or something, and felt it more plausible to stay with Shirley rather than follow Allen. So he remained by her side, assured her she was going to be fine and persuaded her to eat a small square of dark chocolate. At the same time, he was more than aware that he had not had sufficient time to close one of the cabinet doors and wondered whether Allen would notice whether there was anything missing.
In no time at all, Allen came charging out of his office into the reception area, and, completely out of character and appearing slightly out of control, started shouting abuse at Clive, which even caused Nurse Edith to back off from the English visitors.
‘What the fuck’s going on? Do you mind telling me what you were doing in my office, Clive?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was waiting for you to come back.’
‘Yes, you were waiting for me, all right. But what were you up to while you were waiting? What were you looking for in my cabinets? Look, some of my needles are missing, and I believe you’ve taken them. Do you mind telling me what exactly you two are doing here?’
Shirley, now seeming to come to, slowly asked: ‘Clive, why is the doctor shouting at us? Is it my fault?’
‘Shirley’s diabetic you see, and sometimes she does forget to take her medication,’ Clive shouted back at him. ‘That’s why she always keeps a bar of chocolate in her handbag.’
‘Never mind her. Or her fucking handbag! Where are my needles, Clive? I want them back.’
And with that, Clive uttered ‘sortie’ under his breath, which was the password for the exit strategy the two Brits had rehearsed earlier that day. This caused Shirley to go into action and suddenly grab onto Clive’s outstretched hand, leap to her feet, and at the same time push the poor and the somewhat confused Nurse Edith to the ground. Then our two intrepid detectives made for the exit sign, both shoeless, both scared shitless, and both running for their lives, with Clive grabbing hold of a chair as he tried to leave the building.
Allen was quick off the mark too and immediately chased after them, but they had a hair’s start. Clive took a chance however, and stood behind the main exit door with the chair raised in the air while Shirley, clutching her mink jacket, ran screaming towards Michael’s waiting car. Fortunately, Clive’s timing was impeccable and as soon as Allen’s head appeared round the door, Clive brought the chair down heavily on it with all his might, knocking him over, and then rushed towards the brown sedan as fast as his two naked feet would carry him, and joined Shirley on the back seat.
Michael’s eyes were popping out of his head by now, since, to his utter astonishment, he’d witnessed the couple’s deranged flight from the clinic towards his waiting car and could see Nurse Edith struggling to get the poor doctor back on his feet. Once inside the car, there was no time to explain what was going on and, fortunately for them, Michael simply followed the chorus of their monosyllabic instruction, which they shouted from the back seat.
‘Go!’ ‘Go!’ ‘Go!’
As Michael put the car into gear, Clive and Shirley turned around and watched Allen and his nurse stagger back inside the building. The tree-lined drive seemed a lot longer than when they arrived, and although Michael accelerated as much as his brown sedan allowed, they begged him to go faster. Then, as the car gathered speed, they heard the sound of sirens coming from the bungalow and just before clearing the hospital gates, Michael pulled into the kerb and came to a sudden halt.
‘Sorry. But do you two mind telling me what the hell is going on?’
‘Yes, of course. We will explain’, said Shirley. ‘But Michael, please drive on!’
‘No! Not until you tell me what the fuck is happening. I’ve just witnessed you two running like a pair of banshees from the clinic where, Clive, I saw you hit Allen over the head with a chair, leaving him lying on the ground while you both came tearing towards my car. I think you owe me some sort of explanation. Why did you attack Allen in that way? Do you mind telling me what this is all about?’
‘You’re quite right. I apologise, I do owe you an explanation. I’m sorry to say that I got into a bit of a disagreement with Allen over the test he wanted to give me. You see, I’m terrified of needles, I have a real phobia: and I just didn’t want to let him take a sample of my blood.’
‘Now don’t you play games with me. Allen’s a really dear friend of mine and a damned good doctor. I seriously don’t believe that’s why you slugged him and left him lying on the floor like that. And tell me, did you set the fire alarms off too?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, I did. You see,’ continued Shirley, ‘Allen got so aggressive with Clive that I had to find a way of distracting him.’
And so once again the ever-dependable Shirley had come to the rescue and backed up Clive’s story 100 per cent. She now claimed that the row coming from the doctor’s office had disturbed her so much that she decided to knock on Allen’s door and try to interrupt the examination. She told Michael that, for some reason or other, Allen then violently turned on her, which so surprised the two of them that they had no choice but to get out of the building as quickly as possible. Then when Allen chased after them, she came up with the bright idea of setting off one of the fire alarms, which she hoped would delay him as they ran for the exit, though this didn’t exactly explain why she was shoeless.
Michael sat listening some
what incredulously to Shirley but still claimed he didn’t understand why Clive had knocked Allen to the ground. Suddenly, they heard the most enormous explosion come from behind them and a shock wave hit their parked car. Michael now took total control of the situation and decided to swing the car round and head back along the drive towards the clinic, where they could see flames pouring out of the bungalow. As they got nearer, there were a series of minor explosions that seemed to blow the building completely apart. Now with all three of them in a total state of shock, Michael suddenly jammed on his brakes, keeping a good distance from the burning building. It was all totally surreal and the bungalow appeared to be ripped to pieces and collapse in a matter of minutes.
‘Am I seeing straight or what?’ shouted Michael. ‘Did your row also make you blow up the building?’
And before they had the chance to answer, a couple of fire engines arrived on the scene and three stocky firefighters tried to take control of what appeared to be a lost cause.
‘Michael, honestly, trust us,’ said Clive. ‘We’ve really got nothing to do with what’s happening. Why on earth would we want to blow up Allen’s clinic? Listen, the sooner we get out of here the better! Let’s get back to the safety of the Colony, where we can both tell you what we think might have happened.’
‘I think Clive’s right.’ And with that, Shirley uttered more of a command than a polite request: ‘Let’s just get out of here, right now! We may all be in grave danger.’
‘OK! OK!’
And with that, Michael, realising that there was no point in arguing, swung the car round again and headed for the hospital gates once more, passing a number of white-coated people running towards the burning building.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE AFTERMATH TUESDAY
All three sat in absolute silence as they drove over to Dennis’s house, and once on the freeway, they noticed a police car come racing towards them on the other side of the road, presumably on its way to the clinic. Michael kept his decision to drive back via Allen’s house to himself, but not being that familiar with Columbus, his two passengers simply assumed that they were on their way over to number 257. However, as Michael drew nearer to where Allen lived, he could see another police car parked outside the house, and for fear of his brown sedan being recognised, he pulled up, reversed and drove off again in the opposite direction.
Clive broke the silence. ‘Now you need to tell us what’s going on. Why have you done an about-turn and where are we, anyway?’
‘Sorry, guys, but I took the liberty of driving past Allen’s house on our way over to Den’s. I was just curious to know whether his car was parked outside and if he was at home. But when I saw the police outside and no sign of his car, I decided to turn back and hightail it out of here.’
Clive camouflaged his true feelings and stated that he was not in the least bit surprised that the police were at Allen’s house, and thought it only natural that they would want to question him and find out if he was all right. Deep down he couldn’t help but think that Michael had become far too closely attached to Allen, which was beginning to cause him some concern.
‘Clive’s right,’ agreed Shirley. ‘It’s only to be expected that they’d check to see if he was still in one piece. I mean, that’s only normal.’
Michael added that in his opinion, it was well known that Allen was bound to be on duty on a Tuesday morning and he was concerned for Allen’s safety, since he felt that there was obviously little chance of anyone possibly surviving such an explosion.
‘Unless, of course, Allen and that nurse of his escaped before the place was blown to pieces,’ suggested Shirley.
This produced no response from Michael, causing another silence to descend as they got back on the highway and made for what they hoped would be a safe haven. Unfortunately, their plan was to be thwarted yet again, since no sooner had they turned into Alexandria Colony Court South, and began to approach number 257, they spotted two black saloon cars parked outside Dennis’s house. Michael ordered Clive and Shirley to quickly duck down and cover themselves over with the car rug on the back seat and, as he calmly drove past, he counted three men in suits, lounging around outside the house, while its front door remained wide open.
‘They must be on to us too!’ Michael whispered under his breath as he drove on.
‘Who are?’ Shirley whispered back.
‘Judging by the cars, it looks like it’s the FBI and they’re bound to be armed,’ replied Michael. ‘That means we can’t go back to my place either.’
Then from under the rug Clive muttered: ‘We better go over to Steve’s house. It’s our only option.’
‘I think you’re right. I’ve only just left him and I’m sure he’s still bound to be at home.’
Fortunately, this time they were not to be disappointed and there were no signs of anyone loitering outside their next port of call. Steve quickly came to his front door and although somewhat surprised to see the three of them standing on his doorstep, he warmly welcomed them in, while Michael, displaying a great deal of agitation, led the way into the sitting room.
Before their host had a chance to utter a word, Clive exclaimed: ‘Steve, I know this is going to sound like a very odd request, but do you happen to have a spare set of pyjamas I can borrow? You see, I’m wearing absolutely nothing under my raincoat. I’ll explain later…’
‘No need. I dunno! You Brits!’ Steve was for once almost speechless as he climbed the stairs up to his bedroom, breaking into peals of laughter as he went. ‘You English really are such an eccentric lot, you know. What have you been up to?’ And before giving Clive the chance to reply, he continued: ‘Clive, you better come up with me and see if I’ve got anything that’s small enough for you to wear.’ Then he shouted down over his shoulder: ‘Michael, please offer Shirley a drink. We’ll be with you in a couple of minutes.’
Shirley was more than grateful for the Scotch that Michael placed into her shaking hand, then he poured himself one as they both stood silent, just staring at each other, and waited to be joined by the two upstairs. Eventually Clive appeared in an ample pair of red stripy pyjamas, some borrowed slippers, and his raincoat swung over his shoulders, with Steve in tow, giggling like some maid of honour at a bizarre wedding.
‘This is no laughing matter, Steve! You won’t believe this, but we’ve just come from Allen’s clinic, which we saw blown to pieces right before our very eyes.’
‘What! Michael, are you serious? What are you talking about? Clive, you didn’t say anything about that upstairs. What’s been going on? Y’all better sit down. Now I think I need a drink … Was anyone hurt?’
‘I fail to see how anyone could have escaped alive,’ said Michael. Then, turning to Clive, he raised his voice. ‘But, Clive, you were in the clinic. How many people were in there with you and Shirley?’ Then, without waiting for a reply, he calmed down and fixed on Clive. ‘Now, I think this has been going on long enough. You both owe us an explanation. Do you mind telling Steve and me what the fuck this is all about?’
‘OK OK I’ll tell you everything I know. But you have to understand, this was all my idea, and Shirley only got involved because I insisted.’
‘You mean you did blow the clinic up!’ shouted Michael.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Shirley intervened. ‘Of course he didn’t. But our visit there may have caused Allen to take what appears to be a drastic course of action.’
Now it was Steve’s turn to get flustered. ‘What in God’s name do you mean? None of this is making sense to me.’
‘No. You’re quite right, Steve. I need to start at the beginning.’
Clive then explained how he and Shirley had gone to the clinic that morning with a plan because, amazing as it might seem, they had begun to believe that Allen Levitt was involved in a major form of espionage. He confessed that the more he got to know Dr Levitt, the more he became convinced that the good doctor, as Clive now liked to call him, was responsible for causing the pr
emature deaths of some of his own patients.
Judging from his stunned reaction, Clive realised that Michael was finding it difficult to come to terms with what he was hearing. The situation got worse when Clive stated that he believed Allen wasn’t the kindly and supportive young gay doctor some people thought him to be, but was in fact working as an undercover agent, probably for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Despite Michael’s reaction of disbelief, Clive maintained that he was sure that beneath the doctor’s rather genial and benevolent facade, there lurked a cruel and deceitful murderer who he truly thought had been brainwashed, programmed and posted to Columbus with a mission. He reminded them that in The Manchurian Candidate, which he hoped the Americans had seen, a subject susceptible to being hypnotised could be brainwashed into committing an act that might violate that individual’s own moral code. And in their posthypnotic state they would have virtually no recollection whatsoever of what they had done.
Michael was unable to hold his silence any longer and burst out: ‘What! You’re nuts! Both of you! That was a movie. Things like that don’t happen in real life. I think you and Shirley are in cloud cuckoo land. You’ve both been working in “the show business” for far too many years.’
Clive kept his cool, agreed that it all might sound unbelievable, but explained that their real intention had been of finding some sort of proof positive to confirm his theory. He then admitted that they had completely underestimated Allen’s ability to strike back.
Together they related the clinic drama to Michael, and Shirley concluded: ‘Whether you believe him or not, Clive is now certain that Allen has been injecting the AIDS virus into the men who, in all innocence, have been coming to see him for a check-up and blood test.’
‘And,’ add Clive, ‘I’m sorry to have to say this, Michael, but I truly think that Dennis was his first and most important victim.’
Michael simply sat speechless and, after a while, Steve broke the uncomfortable silence. He told them that he did remember the movie Clive mentioned and that he could understand his line of reasoning and believed in the power of hypnotism. He also confessed that he’d actually been ‘put under’ once himself and knew for a fact that the CIA had launched Project Bluebird way back in 1950 when they started experimenting with hypnosis. He told them he was fascinated by hypnosis and that he’d read up about it, and explained that he’d learnt that, at the time, it could only be administered to a subject by an authorised member of the Central Intelligence Agency.