Lost Bullet

by Malcolm Rose

  “I have,” Luke said, water spraying from his lip. As Malc had not detected any other bullet damage, the killer had fired only once. Luke was annoyed that he was not going to recover the single bullet. He could have matched the markings on it with a particular firearm and, if he could then link the weapon to a user, he had the murderer. A spent bullet at the scene of a shooting was always a major piece of evidence so Luke was frustrated that he would fail to find it. Annoyed, he muttered, “The rain’s dissolved any decent evidence or carried it away.”

  “I have observed that humans have considerable capacity to grumble about rain.”

  Trying to cheer himself up, Luke retorted, “At least I won’t go rusty.”

  “Neither will I. I am made from a new alloy that...”

  Luke interrupted. “Joke, Malc. Anyway, because you’re just a machine, you won’t mind if I send you into the sewers to hunt for the spent bullet, downstream from here.”

  “No. I am not affected by germs, rats and dirt.”

  Luke smiled. “Just teasing. The drain’s absolutely gushing. I can hear it from here. It’s probably drowned all the rats. The bullet and anything else wouldn’t stand a chance. They’ll have been swept away to who-knows-where by now.”

  “I confirm that retrieval is unlikely.”

  “If you take her body temperature, you’re going to tell me you can’t estimate the time of death from it because of these conditions.”

  “Correct.”

  “When did she finish work?”

  “Five o’clock this afternoon. Two hours and twelve minutes ago.”

  “So she probably died as soon as she left, just after five.” Unwilling to accept that the crime scene was not going to yield anything helpful, Luke said, “There’s got to be something here. Her clothes and bag aren’t disturbed so it’s not a traditional assault or robbery.” He shook the worst of the water from his hands, bent down and opened Anna Suleman’s shoulder bag. Taking a peek inside, he exclaimed, “There’s enough in here to start a war. Chloroform spray – straight from the hospital’s pharmacy no doubt. A stinger and weighty club. She didn’t mess around, did she? London muggers wouldn’t stand a chance. Her identity card’s still here so it’s definitely not a robbery.” A doctor’s identity card would be highly prized to a thief. Luke reasoned that any bandit would have taken it as a passport to privileges and goods.

  Standing up again, Luke blew a raindrop from the end of his nose. “Well, okay, there’s not much to go on. Let’s go inside. For starters, log on to the hospital computer, Malc.” Seeing the pager that was attached to Dr Suleman’s waistband, Luke said, “I bet you can do it through radio contact with her pager. Get a record of the last... say... fifty patients she saw. If she couldn’t help one of them... Well, you never know. Maybe it’s unlikely, but that one might bear her a grudge.”

  Chapter Three

  In the hospital lobby, Malc waited while Luke shed his waterproof coat like an insect breaking free of its pupal case. “Are you allowing removal of the body?” the mobile asked.

  “Yes. Get the hospital’s pathology department on the job. Let them get wet for a change. I want all her clothes and possessions sent to my room.” He peered round and then said, “Have you got that list of patients?”

  “Confirmed,” replied Malc. “But it is not complete. It seems that patients with trivial complaints are not entered into the electronic database. There may be some paper records on them, instead.”

  “Give me a summary of the ones you’ve got.”

  Malc recited names and medical conditions rapidly. He always delivered facts at a rate that was carefully adjusted to match Luke’s ability to absorb them. Towards the end, though, Luke lifted a hand and said, “Hold on.”

  “I assume that means you want me to stop.”

  “You said Dr Suleman’s last patient had a gunshot wound to his left hand.”

  “Correct. Owen Goode.”

  “That’s quite a coincidence. Two people shot, same hospital, same day. I want to talk to him right now. Where does he live?” asked Luke.

  “No address listed.”

  “Great!”

  “That must be one of your ironic greats.”

  “You’re getting the hang of this lark, aren’t you?”

  “Explain lark.”

  “This lark is... working with me.”

  “I am programmed to help as much as possible,” Malc replied dryly.

  “Do you have anything else on Owen Goode?”

  “No.”

  “That’s what you call helpful, is it?” Before Malc could reply, Luke said, “Did the hospital keep the bullet?”

  “No. It was not in the wound.”

  “Where exactly was Goode when he got shot?”

  “Not recorded,” Malc replied.

  “So, if he told Dr Suleman, that information’s died with her.”

  “Correct.”

  “Great,” Luke repeated. “Ah well. First thing tomorrow, when I’ve got daylight, I’ll do the barge. For now, I’m going to ask around about Anna Suleman.”

  ****

  Head in hands, Dr Coppard was sitting mournfully in the common room. He looked up at Luke, apparently startled by the forensic investigator’s appearance, and shook his head. “It’s awful. Really awful. I didn’t know I’d feel like this. I’m shocked. I’ve had a long time with Anna. I feel... devastated. I feel like I’ve lost part of myself.”

  Luke was touched. After pairing, a couple would have two children, fulfil their parental duties by delivering them to a school at the age of five years, and then provide each other with companionship to old age. Couples often talked about loving each other but real love was not part of the deal. The arrangement was more about convenience. But, unless Luke was being taken in by an act, Dr Coppard appeared to be heartbroken. “I’m sorry,” Luke said inadequately.

  Dr Coppard’s head drooped again, showing the bald patches among his thin silvery hair. He would be fifty-seven years old because Pairing Committees always made couples of the same age. Through his sorrow, he whispered, “What do you want, Investigator Harding?”

  “I need to know if Anna was in any sort of trouble here at work or at home.”

  “No. What do you mean?”

  Luke shrugged. “Anything. Like, was she easy-going or were there arguments, professional disagreements or jealousies, that sort of thing?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Dr Coppard answered.

  To Luke, that meant that there had been some conflict. “Tell me about it. I know it’s a difficult time for you but if you want me to catch whoever’s responsible...”

  “Are you fully qualified?” Dr Coppard asked. “You look very young.”

  Luke waved towards Malc, inviting the computer to respond.

  “Forensic Investigator Harding graduated from Birmingham School with an unprecedented set of marks. At sixteen years of age, he is lacking in experience but exceptionally qualified. At this time, his success rate is one hundred per cent.”

  Dr Coppard nodded. “I just thought...”

  Luke interrupted. “It’s all right. Back to Anna. I take it there were some disagreements.”

  “It was a girl who came in. She was petrified, below the age of pairing, but she had baby twins. On top of that, there were... complications.”

  “Complications?”

  “The twins – boys – were conjoined. They faced each other, their heads only a few centimetres apart. Of course, they couldn’t walk so their legs were wasting away. They shared a liver between them but luckily there were two sets of veins and arteries.”

  “I can see there’d be a medical problem, but where’s the clash?”

  “The hospital’s supposed to tell The Authorities about unlicensed children. The manager – Alex Foxton – refused. As always. He says everyone deserves help whether they’re on the right side of the law or not. He told Anna to get on with the operation.”

  “What did she do?”

 
“She did what she was told. The liver’s an organ that regenerates. She dissected it and gave half to each baby, hoping they’d both regenerate the rest.”

  “And did they?”

  “As far as I know, mother and twins are doing fine. At least they were when they left Thomas’s Hospital. They haven’t been back.”

  “What about Anna’s relationship with Alex Foxton?” Luke enquired.

  “Frosty. They’ve never got on. Foxton’s unorthodox and a right menace.”

  Luke didn’t speak. He presumed that there was more to come.

  “Let’s face it,” Dr Coppard added, “Foxton hates Anna for some reason. I don’t know why.” He buried his head in his hands again and his shoulders shook.

  Luke decided that this was not the right time to press him. He stood up. “Did she say anything about treating a patient called Owen Goode? He had a bullet wound as well.”

  Dr Coppard shook his head. “She’s... she was a surgeon but the hospital’s not overflowing with doctors. She helped out with accidents and emergencies.”

  “Okay.” Luke often asked key questions in an offhand manner as if the subject was no great concern. He wasn’t sure if the operation on the twins was important or not, but he disguised his interest anyway. “I don’t suppose it matters but what was the mother’s name? The one with the separated boys.”

  “She didn’t have an identity card but it was... er... Toback. Sarah Toback.”

  Chapter Four

  Forty-five Visionaries sat on four long wooden pews in front of Ethan Loach and a knotted rattlesnake. The room was decorated with religious symbols and dominated by a mammoth painting of God. It was the usual shaven image. He was a kindly figure, open palms displayed, yet commanding and a little frightening at the same time. Anyone gazing on that brown face could imagine His loving expression turning to anger and retribution at any moment.

  On God’s behalf, Ethan was releasing a torrent of words as harsh as the earlier rainstorm. The assembled Visionaries had heard it all before of course, but, like children with a favourite bedtime story, they never tired of hearing it again. “What do Rationalists say? Once there was nothing. Nothing at all. Then there was a Big Bang and a whole universe appeared. They claim a universe – yes, a whole universe, my friends – grew out of nothing at all! Yet Rationalists tell us now you can’t get something from nothing. Everything that moves or lives or breathes has to be fuelled by something.” Prowling back and forth, Ethan stepped over the curled snake and said, “So what fuelled the start of the universe? The people who claim to be rational say it was... absolutely nothing. Before the Big Bang there was utter nothingness, they say. Well, let me tell them. That’s not rational. You don’t get something from nothing. Something had to fuel the Big Bang.” He stared at his audience and nodded smugly. “We know what it was.”

  In the congregation, Rachel Toback, Samuel, and at least two other Visionaries murmured, “God.”

  “Yes, God! God was that something before the Big Bang. Yet all those unbelieving Rationalists out there can’t see what’s obvious, can’t see what’s really rational. First things first. God was first. He was the energy. God is still our energy. He made the universe, our World, and He made us in His own image.”

  Outside, the small park enclosed by walkways had expanded so much that it was taking over the entire plaza. Brick, concrete and tarmac were no match for living wood, roots and shoots. Several buildings were showing alarming cracks and gaps in their brickwork. An extension to the property next door had lost its grip on the original building and fallen away, showing the innards like a grim wound.

  Inside the London Chapter of The World Church of Eternal Vision, the snake’s grey rattle poked out from the folds of its body as a warning. It was identifying itself as one of God’s poisonous creatures, not to be messed with.

  Ethan flung out an arm in the direction of the large painting. “God is brown! Whites are not made in His image. They are nothing but genetic mistakes. Just as we are perfection, they are imperfection, an abomination. We denounce the white curse. And if their houses go up in flames, so be it. That is God’s will.”

  “Amen!”

  Ethan was a commanding figure, tall and muscular. Like the rest of the men in the room, he was clean-shaven. More than that, he was virtually hairless. “How can we improve on perfection, my friends? We can’t. Mere humans do not have the right to interfere with perfection. No one has the right to interfere with us. Yet doctors do it all the time. They presume to interfere with the good work of God.” He beat out a rhythm with his right fist on his left palm as he spat, “That is an absolute lack of respect.”

  Nodding vehemently, Rachel Toback muttered, “Respect!”

  “That’s right.” Ethan hesitated and then laughed as an amusing thought came into his mind. “If God had meant us to fiddle with our insides, He’d have made our skin see-through, not brown. But He didn’t, did He?” Ethan waited for the laughter and murmurings to die down. “But we have to remember something. We may be perfection, but we are only human. That means we’re sometimes weak. We sin. And when we sin, we are given illnesses.” Glancing at Samuel and Rachel, he said, “We know this, don’t we? But we also know when we get sick, we ask for forgiveness and place ourselves in His hands, not the clumsy hands of doctors with their evil knives and machines.

  “Sometimes, God will cure us and sometimes not.” Ethan’s eyes lingered for a while on Reece, with his damaged foot. “Sometimes we learn our lesson best when He decides that we should live with our sickness – our punishment – until our bodies die. It’s a sin not to trust God’s judgement. If it is His will that any of us should bear a lifelong disfigurement, so be it. It’s a sin to risk the soul by giving ourselves to doctors. I tell you, my friends, we have every justification for smashing their hospitals and surgeries. They have brought it on themselves by their disrespect to God. They work against Him while we live in harmony with Him.”

  Ethan bent down and slowly manoeuvred his face close, very close, to the poisonous rattlesnake. In a quieter but even more dramatic voice, he said, “Do you think doctors, whites or the unfaithful could ever enjoy this degree of harmony with one of God’s fiercest, most deadly creatures? Of course not. It won’t strike me down, this snake, famed for its aggression. No. The Angels protect the righteous. It won’t attack me because we are both at one with God and nature.”

  The snake was light brown with dark diamond shapes running down the length of its long body. Its tongue flickering in and out of its mouth, it raised its head and examined the human being that was breathing the same air. The reptile seemed more curious about Ethan than annoyed. It was used to seeing Visionaries close up. It was used to acting as the Church’s test of faith. Its warning rattle remained silent.

  The Leader of the London Visionaries stood erect again. “Ah, if only I could get a doctor in here to try that.” He shook his head and smiled broadly. “God would use His snake to strike back at wickedness. No doubt He would decide there should be one less doctor in the world.”

  “Amen.”

  “There are others who dare to intervene where only God and nature should go. Come The Time, there are those who presume to know who should marry who.” His laugh was angry. “They call themselves Pairing Committees. Pairing Committees! God and love guide our feelings towards each other and our choice of mate. It’s nothing to do with an absurd committee.”

  “That’s right.”

  Wagging his finger, Ethan continued with a scowl on his face. “Those who arrange marriages are the scum of God’s World. We must use every available opportunity to remind them – and remind everyone living in sin – that they are an affront to God.” Ethan paused before concluding his familiar sermon in a frenzy. “My friends, we may be small in number compared with Rationalists, we may be an illegal organization, but God never said anything about the majority inheriting the earth. Only the righteous will do that, and sometimes the righteous find themselves in a minority, against the l
aw and The Authorities. So be it. The law and The Authorities are nothing in comparison with the might of God’s law.” He finished with both arms aloft, his head thrown back and his eyes closed.

  “Amen!”

  Chapter Five

  Luke did not doubt Alex Foxton’s passion for Thomas’s Hospital and its patients. The manager made it clear that his first duty was to the sick. He was adamant that the hospital would treat anyone without question, and he had instructed his staff to follow his policy. He certainly didn’t care if, in the process, the hospital sometimes trampled over the law.

  “You’ll remember Sarah Toback,” said Luke. “A patient with unlicensed conjoined twins. I’d like to hear about that.”

  Frowning, Alex hesitated for an instant. “Just what are you investigating: me and my hospital or Anna Suleman’s murder?”

  Luke shrugged. “I can’t tell the difference at this stage so I’m looking into anything and everything.”

  Alex looked startled. “You don’t think I killed her, do you?”

  “I can’t say you didn’t.”

  “That’s ridiculous! My whole life’s been dedicated to curing people, not killing them.”

  Luke had already noted that. “So, if Malc scanned your hands, arms and chest for gunshot residues, he wouldn’t find any.”

  Alex held out his arms. “Feel free.”

  Malc moved in, swept the beam over the manager and, after a few seconds, announced, “No residues detected.”

  Luke nodded and then continued. “Tell me about the Toback business. You clashed with Dr Suleman over it.”

  Alex sighed and then shrugged. “Okay. It’s true we didn’t see eye to eye on it. I’m the sort who cuts through obstacles and gets things done, gets patients back on their feet. Anna was always quoting rules and telling me we didn’t have the resources. ‘We can’t do that because... whatever.’ That’s no way to run a hospital. It’s no good reporting unlicensed births – like she wanted to do – when the babies are desperately in need of our help. You don’t need an identity card to get into my hospital, Investigator Harding. You just need to be sick. We’re healers, not the eyes and ears of The Authorities. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is. I’m proud that my hospital gave the Toback boys a decent life.”