Blood Brother

by Malcolm Rose

  Oscar made a tutting noise with his tongue. “Where do you think your Mobile Aid to Law and Crime gets all its data about damage to human bodies? Someone’s got to do it. And we’ve been doing it for ages, hidden away down here in the basement, out of the public gaze. The institute’s very first experiment, eighty years ago, got a load of dead bodies and dropped them head-first from different heights onto a concrete floor to see how big an impact fractures skulls. Most people would rather not know about it. They might like to think it doesn’t happen, but it does. And we’re all a lot better off for the knowledge. The thing that came out of that first research was a properly designed helmet to protect the head from impacts.”

  On the opposite wall, there was a giant telescreen split into a three-by-three grid showing nine ongoing medical operations. Viewing the complex display, one of Oscar’s colleagues tapped at a keypad to bring one particular operation to full screen. Seeing a scalpel delving into a brain, Luke was grateful that his vision was still not perfect.

  He swallowed and turned back to Oscar. “I guess there’s no shortage of bodies when you’re attached to the hospital.”

  “Supply’s not normally a problem. Partners often give permission.” He shrugged and smiled. “The dead haven’t got any use for their bodies, have they? And neither have the living. Apart from us, that is. Having them cremated is a waste of a valuable resource. Better to use them for scientific study.”

  This time, Luke didn’t jolt so much when the gun fired for a second time in the adjoining laboratory. “So, you don’t have to go into the rest of the hospital, touting for business?”

  Oscar laughed. “It’s a nice image. ‘We’ll have her over there when she dies because we need lungs like hers. Good muscles on the next one so we’ll have him as well.’ No. That’d be... disrespectful, wouldn’t it? We put a call out through the hospital computer for the sort of thing we want. Then, a ward supervisor will tell us when they’ve got something interesting if the partner’s likely to agree. All very discreet and simple.”

  Despite Oscar’s reply, Luke wondered if he or one of his colleagues roamed the wards looking out for people with particular appeal, like patients suffering from fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva. It would be a short step between earmarking them for use after death and hastening their availability. Luke asked, “Did you know about Charlie Illingworth?”

  “Who?”

  “A patient who’s just died with stone-man syndrome.”

  “Ah, yes. We avoid names. That makes things too personal. To us, he’ll be reduced to initials. Yes, I knew we’d got a stone man coming in. Very rare. We’re very excited.”

  Luke nodded. “I guess Charlie isn’t so excited.”

  “Charlie – CI – won’t know much about it,” Oscar replied.

  “Correction,” Malc added. “The subject will not know anything about it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sheathed in glass, the three futuristic towers of York School glinted in the sunshine. In a common room on the second floor of the accommodation block, Luke waited by the window and watched the large wheel rotating leisurely down by the river. He turned towards Mr Peacock and said, “The school’s a surprise. It specializes in history but it’s really modern.”

  “Life’s full of contradictions,” he replied frostily.

  The instructor’s gruff response made Luke grateful that he’d come to interview someone else. He was hoping to learn about the Heather Man from a familiar and friendly face.

  When Nyree Max dashed in, she was wearing a big grin. “Sorry, I was out playing...” She gazed at Luke and said, “Are you all right now?”

  Luke smiled at her. Unwilling to disappoint her with the truth about his aches and pains, he answered, “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Out of breath, Nyree flopped into a seat. “When they told me you wanted to see me, I ran. Anyway, I’m here now.”

  “You must be fit and well again.”

  She nodded. “The only thing is, the school doesn’t spoil me any more.”

  “There’s a black cloud to every silver lining,” said Luke.

  Nyree giggled. It wasn’t a great joke but she looked ready to jump at any chance to laugh.

  “Have you still got your pyramid?”

  Nyree shook her head. “Had to take it back.”

  Luke didn’t quiz her about it. He wasn’t really interested in her lucky charm. He mentioned it only to put the ten-year-old at ease and to keep her chatting. “I want to ask you about your stay in hospital,” he said.

  Luke didn’t need Nyree’s tutor to be present, but Mr Peacock had insisted. The instructor watched the proceedings in sinister silence.

  “Oh? Why?” Nyree said.

  “It’s a nuisance, but someone’s worried about procedures and stuff. Very boring. I’ve been given the job of looking into it, I’m afraid. I just wondered if you’d come across someone called the Heather Man.”

  Nyree nodded enthusiastically. “He’s nice. Kind. He goes around giving people heather for good luck. I didn’t see him this time, but he gave me a bunch last time I had to go in for a couple of days.”

  “What’s his name? Do you know?”

  She shook her head. “Didn’t say.”

  Luke looked at Mr Peacock. “Have you seen him? Do you know who he is?”

  “No.”

  Luke turned back to Nyree. “Can you describe him? His age, hair, height, anything.”

  Nyree gazed at the ceiling for a few seconds, as if seeking inspiration. “He was old. I don’t know, but over forty, I suppose. He was a lot shorter than you. About the same as Mr Peacock. He didn’t have a beard, but he was all sort of rough.” She ran her hand over her cheeks and chin to show Luke where the Heather Man had stubble. “His hair was dark but quite a lot was going grey.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  Nyree took a deep breath. “I can’t remember. Sorry. He isn’t in trouble, is he?”

  “I don’t know till I catch up with him. Hopefully not. What about his voice?”

  “He spoke quiet...”

  At once, Mr Peacock corrected her. “Quietly.”

  “Yes,” Nyree said. “Quietly, like he was feeling weak.”

  “Did he tell you anything about himself?”

  “No,” Nyree answered. “He was far more interested in me. Asked me if I was in pain and that sort of thing. Oh, he did say...”

  “What?”

  “Nothing really. He told me where he got the heather from. A healer who lives in a cabin down by the Ouse. The Heather Man said this old guy had things that’d fix people when normal medicine didn’t work. You know. So, I went.” She glanced across at Mr Peacock. “That’s where I got the jade pyramid from. Jade gives you good health.”

  Luke changed his mind. He was much more interested in the pyramid now, but he still didn’t believe in its healing powers. “When you were in hospital, what treatment did you get – apart from the pyramid?”

  “New tablets, and they did this funny thing with my head. They strapped two damp sponges to it and passed some electricity...”

  Mr Peacock interrupted. “It’s called transcranial direct current stimulation.”

  “Yes,” Nyree agreed, her offhand tone revealing that she didn’t care what the procedure was called. “It doesn’t hurt. Just a tingle. It’s a tiny current, but it’s supposed to make migraines better. They say it makes you brainier and helps you get your memory back, if you’ve lost it.”

  It sounded like a cure that Luke’s father might try. And it might have been successful. While Nyree put her recovery down to the jade pyramid, Luke believed much more in a new drug or an alternative treatment that actually did something. “I might have to go and see this old healer.”

  Looking worried, Nyree asked, “Are you still sick?”

  Luke thought of his headaches and his still fuzzy vision but he denied it. “No. It’s just that he might be able to point me in the direction of the Heather Man.”

  “We
ll, you can’t miss the shack. That’s what the Heather Man said. It’s got heather all round it.”

  ****

  The riverside quarter of York was easily within walking distance but Luke didn’t reach it. Reporting on the DNA discovered in Charlie Illingworth’s room, his mobile stopped him in his tracks. “Subject to confirmation by a full analysis,” Malc said, “I have found a fragment containing Dr Peter Sachs’ genetic material.”

  Stunned, Luke stared at his mobile. “But the doctor said the alternative medicine people didn’t have anything to do with Charlie Illingworth.”

  “Correct. Therefore, this finding is suspicious.”

  Luke put his head in his hands for a moment. When he looked up again, he said, “All right. Back to the hospital. Let’s get it over with.”

  The chief consultant of the Department of Alternative Medicine was taking a lunch break – and a drink – in his office when Luke entered. Peter put the glass down and beamed at his son. “Not a murmur for eleven years, and now you can’t keep away from me!” He laughed.

  “Sorry,” said Luke, “but something’s cropped up. I’ve got to ask if you’re treating a patient called Charlie Illingworth.”

  Peter frowned and thought about it for a second. “No. I don’t think so. Which ward is he in?”

  Luke was pleased to note that his father had not used the past tense. He didn’t seem to know that Charlie was dead. “Orthopaedics. He’s not a patient you’d forget in a hurry.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “He’s got – I mean, he had – stone-man syndrome.”

  “That’s the one where muscles convert to bone.”

  “Yes,” Luke replied.

  Peter shook his head. “No, we’ve never taken that on. It’s very rare. And unimaginably nasty.”

  “So, you’d remember if you’d visited him?”

  Peter nodded. “Certainly would. It’d be like seeing a disaster you can’t do anything about. You’d never forget standing beside a volcano when it erupted. Stone-man syndrome’s like that. A slow eruption inside the body.”

  Luke steeled himself, looked towards Malc and said, “Do we have DNA evidence that Dr Peter Sachs was in the rooms where Julian Bent and Charlie Illingworth were patients?”

  Malc answered, “Confirmed.”

  Peter appeared to be shocked for an instant. Then he put up both hands, as if in defence. “I can assure you, Luke, I haven’t been in either.”

  Luke was struggling to explain the result unless... He gazed at his father and asked, “Do you happen to have an identical twin?”

  “Clever question. But no. You’ve got an aunt. She’s a few years older than me. That’s all.”

  “So, how do you explain...?”

  Dismissing the DNA evidence, Peter shrugged. “I don’t. I can’t. But, right now, something else is worrying me more.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you feeling all right? You look washed out.”

  “I’m fine.” Actually, Luke was fretting that he would have to arrest his own father if he came across any more incriminating data.

  Peter’s face was contorted with concern. “When you’re sixteen, you think you’re indestructible. Let me tell you, you’re not. I work in a hospital. I’ve seen it too many times, Luke. Get yourself checked out.”

  “Okay, but one more thing. Do you do transcranial direct current stimulation?”

  “Yes. It’s simple – barely more than a battery and a couple of wires – but it really helps some people.”

  “Do you remember Nyree Max?”

  Peter let out a sigh. “Young girls tend to stay in my mind. Ever since Kerryanne... you understand.”

  “Was she getting the real thing or a placebo?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to ask Tara.”

  Luke shrugged. “Never mind.”

  The joy of seeing Luke again drained from Peter’s face. Suddenly, he looked tired and drawn. “She hasn’t died as well, has she?”

  “No,” Luke answered. “You can put her down as a success.”

  Relieved, Peter closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. When he opened them, he said, “Thank goodness for that.”

  To Luke, he seemed too considerate to be capable of taking life away.

  ****

  His long legs dangling over the quayside, Luke’s shoes were just a few centimetres above the surging river. Winter sunshine glinted on the surface of the water, burned Luke’s eyes, and coloured his vision. To his left, the decorative stone bridge carried electric cabs across the Ouse. A gauge was attached to the middle arch of the bridge, showing the height of the water above normal levels. Actually, it was more than an indication of imminent flooding. It was part of an automated flood avoidance system. When the gauge reached a critical level – as it did last November when the rains finally came in great bursts – a signal went upstream and opened gates to divert the excess into flood plains.

  Luke was occupied more with Peter Sachs. “No,” he insisted, “he can’t be a murderer. Not my own father. Not a doctor.”

  Always completely objective, Malc replied, “Illogical and incorrect. You are being influenced by your own body chemistry. When a human being forms a bond with another person, the body makes hormones called oxytocin and vasopressin. These act on the amygdala in the brain, switching off the mechanism that initiates feelings of distrust and fear. In the absence of these feelings, negative judgements and suspicion do not arise, making it possible to form a trusting and unconditional relationship. Therefore, the individual concerned always appears trustworthy and perfect. This is the biochemical basis for the proverb, ‘Love is blind’. It explains your attitude to Jade Vernon and it is also the reason you refuse to accept that your father is the chief suspect.”

  Luke eyed his mobile. “That’s it, is it? It’s all down to hormones floating around my brain?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “If my father murdered the stone man somehow, why did he do it?”

  “Insufficient data. The fact that a suspect’s motive is unknown at this time does not eliminate him from the investigation.”

  Luke knew better than to argue with Malc. He had as much chance of changing the mobile’s verdict than he had of stopping the river flowing by jumping in and ordering the water to turn back. He got to his feet again and said, “Come on. I want to find the healer’s cabin.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Going along the picturesque riverside walkway, Luke said, “I don’t really know why I’m chasing the Heather Man so much. Because he went into two rooms where patients died, I suppose. But no one’s got a bad word for him. All he seems to do is cheer people up.”

  “He could be a witness and he remains a suspect,” Malc replied factually.

  Luke came to a halt beside a rock garden of heathers that encircled an untidy wooden trailer in this pretty part of York. “Here we are,” he said. The cabin’s paintwork had once been gaudy but now it was faded and peeling. Even so, displays of cute trinkets brightened the drab windows.

  “The flowerbeds contain Erica carnea,” Malc informed him.

  “Okay, thanks.” Luke opened the door cautiously but, for security, Malc entered first. The fragrance of herbs and spices drifted over them both. Scented candles lit the shed, revealing an old man sitting on the other side of a counter-cum-workbench. When the door closed behind Luke, it seemed to cut him off from the rest of York.

  The artist, rumoured to be a healer, raised his face towards his visitors. He cast a cursory glance at Malc but he gazed intently at Luke. His expression suggested a mixture of curiosity and compassion.

  Luke nodded at him. Before he asked any questions, though, Luke decided to look around. On the right-hand shelving, he hesitated by a handwritten label that read, “Items in hard jade bring the owner good health.” Thinking of Nyree, Luke smiled wryly. Almost at once, a lush green pyramid caught his eye. As far as he could remember, it was exactly the same as the one he’d seen in Nyree’s hands w
hen she’d been discharged from hospital. Solid and slick in dark green. Maybe it was the same one. He reached out and clasped it in both hands.

  Crawford Gallagher watched the forensic investigator closely. Hobbling slowly, he made his way down the aisle towards Luke.

  When Luke stopped gazing at the shiny pyramid and looked at the healer, he felt uncomfortable because the old man was staring uncannily at the exact spot on his head that was throbbing relentlessly.

  On edge, Luke said, “Er... just being nosy.”

  The man’s intense expression changed. He glanced down at the pyramid and then winked at Luke. “That’s very special. I can see why it’s chosen you.”

  Luke frowned. “You mean, why I chose it.”

  “I meant what I said.” Strangely, the healer lifted his hand towards the sore area above Luke’s left ear but, when Malc moved in protectively, he withdrew it. “The pyramid will make a difference. This is what you do. You take it home, yes? You touch one of the green sides against here.” His wrinkled hand went to his own head, touching the same point that was plaguing Luke. “Then you put it by your bed and sleep with a lamp on so its shadow falls on you all night.”

  “And what does that do?” asked Luke.

  “That heals.”

  There was something about the old man’s sincerity and confidence that Luke did not want to dent. He decided not to deny the pyramid’s power. “I don’t need... I mean, that’s not why I came. It’s... er... interesting but not...” He began to replace the ornament on the display.

  Crawford touched his arm to stop him. “No. Believe me. You keep it. It’s yours. No one must disturb you during pyramid time. Afterwards, you return it to me. Understand? It does not work again, you see. Like a toy with batteries, it runs down after a cure. It’s yours to use and then you bring it back for me to recharge the batteries.”

  Luke decided it was time to get official. Holding the pyramid in one hand, he showed his identity card with the other. “Luke Harding, forensic investigator.”

  The man shook his head and waved away the plastic identity card with his knobbly hand. “I don’t need a name. Just use the pyramid well. But only once and never again. Twice is very dangerous.”