The Health of Strangers

by Lesley Kelly

  ‘So, she was dealing drugs.’ Mona exchanged a look with her boss. ‘Where was the money coming from?’

  ‘First off, the German lassie. She was so into it she just about handed over her credit card. Mandy used it to start putting on raves. Made a lot of money out of those, selling drugs and that.’

  Mona noticed that Jacobson had started discreetly taking notes. ‘And where does Vic fit into all this?’

  ‘He wasn’t happy about drugs being dealt in the bar.’

  ‘Really?’ said Mona and Paterson in unison.

  Donny grinned. ‘I mean, he wasn’t happy about Mandy selling shit and not cutting him in.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Paterson’s tone was dry.

  ‘So, they came to some kind of arrangement, then she started on about Vic owing her money. She was round here yesterday shouting the odds. I overheard Vic talking to one of the bouncers about her, about giving her . . .’ He punched the air.

  The black eye. Not Kevin’s doing at all.

  ‘Then Kieran was round here looking for Vic, moaning about the German lassie and her boyfriend backing out on them, saying they didn’t want to do it anymore.’

  ‘So, what did he do?’

  ‘I think he had a word with them.’

  And then they both quit town.

  ‘So, Heidi and Kevin didn’t tell anyone what was going on?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’ He thought for a minute, his lower lip hanging out. ‘Though they did tell the vicar guy.’

  ‘Why didn’t he go to the Police?’

  ‘Because Mandy’s smart.’ Donny looked at them. ‘Pastor guy turns up on her doorstep, threatening to get the Police involved, and she shows him a little video she’s got, that means he’s going to keep his mouth shut.’

  ‘A video of him?’

  ‘I dunno.’ He shrugged. ‘But I know Mandy films everything on her phone. Everything.’

  The memory of Amanda’s hallway came back to Mona, brightly lit as a film set.

  The sound of hammering echoed through the bar.

  ‘Sounds like the rest of the team’s here,’ the CID man got to his feet. ‘Got a key, pal?’

  ‘I’ll just get it.’ Donny stood up and headed toward the bar.

  Detective Jacobson waved his notebook at Mona. ‘Care to fill in a few blanks for me?’

  She sighed, and nodded.

  15

  ‘Immune?’

  In a second K was beside him, his long legs propelling him across the room. Bernard took a half-step back, and stared up at the face that was now far too close to him. He nodded, trying hard not to bump heads with his aggressor.

  ‘He’s got the Virus?’

  ‘Yes.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘Look.’ He cautiously pointed at the sofa. Without losing eye contact, K reached out and closed his fingers round Bernard’s neck. He tightened his grip, and Bernard felt panic rising up in him, rushing from his toes up toward his brain. Every muscle was urging him to move, but the part of his mind that was remaining rational told him this was a very bad idea.

  K’s hold on his neck tightened slightly; breathing was beginning to get difficult, and against the silence of the room he could hear the frantic sound of the air going in and out of his nostrils. Without warning, his captor released him. He leaned forward, hands on his thighs, and took several deep breaths.

  A gurgling sound came from the direction of the sofa. K’s eyes flicked repeatedly between the sofa and the door. Bernard decided to jolt him out of his indecision.

  ‘You need to get out of here. Statistically, four out of ten people in close contact with a Virus victim . . .’ The words were barely out of his mouth, when he felt the full weight of K’s fist connect with his face. He staggered back. ‘Ow!’

  Blood was spurting from his nose. As he put his hand up to try to stem the flow, K grabbed him by both shoulders, and threw him against the wall. He fell, awkwardly thrashing around for something to right himself with, his head cracking against the grate of the fireplace. ‘Please,’ he held a hand up in front of his face. Ignoring this, K aimed a couple of kicks at his ribs.

  ‘Where’s Heidi?’ Another kick.

  Pain surged through Bernard’s body. He closed his eyes, and let out a sob. Would K leave him alone if he told him the truth? He might just turn tail and head back to Amanda, leaving him and Kevin alone, where, please God, the Police would find them soon enough. But if he left he might get away; the Police wouldn’t know to stop him, and all this would have been for nothing.

  Without moving, he spoke. ‘She went out on her bike to get food and stuff. She’s been gone a couple of hours.’ He opened his eyes. K was staring down at him, the expression on his face radiating confusion.

  ‘So, she’ll be back pretty soon, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Bernard sat up slightly, waiting to see if he was kicked again. K didn’t move, and he got, painfully, to his feet. ‘We should get away from Kevin.’

  ‘All right.’ K grabbed his arm, causing all kinds of pain to shoot through his body, and propelled him back into the corridor. K looked round for a minute then kicked open the door to the kitchen and shoved him in. Bernard stumbled into a seat.

  ‘And you keep your mouth shut. I don’t want you shouting out and letting her know I’m here.’ K wandered in after him. ‘I’m starving.’ He began opening cupboard doors, searching for food. Bernard’s heart somersaulted at the possibility that the shelves would be stocked with a range of fresh goods that had been recently purchased. His luck held, as each cupboard turned out to be empty.

  ‘I told you, Heidi’s gone to get food. Anyway, won’t she see your bike?’

  ‘Nope.’ K sauntered over to the kitchen table, holding a packet of fairly unappetising biscuits he’d located. ‘I hid it well out of sight.’ He sat opposite Bernard and pointed at his head. ‘You’re bleeding.’

  Bernard touched his head, bringing his fingers away bright red. He pulled several sheets from a roll of paper towels, which he folded up and held against his head. K watched, a strange, lopsided grin on his face. Bernard wondered how much longer the Police would take. They’d have the satellite directions to get them here, even in spite of the poor quality directions he’d been able to give. But staffing levels were short everywhere these days. Calls that should have been answered in minutes had been known to take hours.

  K was going to start getting angry when Heidi didn’t show. He needed to keep him distracted. What would Mona do in his situation? He suspected she’d make good use of the time by digging for information.

  ‘So, you’re a friend of Amanda?’

  K stared at Bernard for a second or two. ‘She’s my bird’s sister.’

  ‘Oh, OK.’ He reached for a clean piece of kitchen roll and racked his brains for what to ask next. He wasn’t that good on small talk at the best of times. The thought of dinner parties with his wife’s friends used to give him sleepless nights, all the polite chitter-chatter, and Carrie raising her eyebrows if he strayed onto topics that actually interested him, like politics, or the history of linguistics, or Virus statistics across the world. These were not the ideal circumstances to be undertaking his first professional interrogation.

  ‘Have you been together long?’ Bernard waited for K to shout at him, or worse, for asking questions, but he seemed willing to talk.

  ‘A year maybe?’ He considered the question. ‘I met her at a club in the Grassmarket, and we moved in together a couple of weeks later.’

  ‘A whirlwind romance.’

  ‘What?’ K’s mouth was hanging slightly open, and Bernard wondered again if the supposed drug-dealing mastermind wasn’t the brightest star in the Heavens. He decided to risk another question.

  ‘Did you meet Amanda at the same time?’

  ‘Yeah. Ange said her sister was moving to Edinburgh, and would it be OK if she dossed with us until she found a place.’

  ‘Oh, that must have been nice.’ Even to his own ears, this sounded ridiculous. A look of annoy
ance came onto K’s face, and Bernard braced himself. However, the irritation didn’t seem to be with the question.

  ‘She started hanging around the bar where I worked . . .’

  Morley’s.

  ‘Yeah, she was always coming in, and making eyes at Vic.’ He paused. ‘Tosser.’

  ‘Right.’

  There was a silence, and the kitchen clock could be heard tick-tocking.

  ‘Where’s the German bint got to?’

  Bernard could feel the slow drip of blood beginning to pool in the collar of his polo shirt. ‘I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.’

  K reached across the table and grabbed his jumper, slowly pulling him closer. ‘You lying to me?’

  Bernard dropped the kitchen roll, and gave a small yelp of pain as his ribs made contact with the side of the table. ‘No, she’ll be here, I swear . . .’

  K’s grip loosened slightly. ‘What’s that noise?’

  Bernard listened. A whirring sound appeared to be getting louder. It sounded like the rotating of blades. It sounded, improbably, like the noise a rapidly approaching helicopter would make. Getting to his feet, K reached inside his denim jacket and produced a knife. He flicked it open and pointed it in Bernard’s direction.

  ‘Not a word.’

  Bernard nodded. He was finding it difficult to breathe at the moment, never mind speak. K opened the door a crack and peered out. The whirring sound was deafening, indicating that the helicopter was overhead. Every shelf in the kitchen was vibrating. A large volume of Mrs Beeton fell off its perch onto the table, shattering Bernard’s nerves even further. From the way that K had jumped, it looked like it didn’t do him any good either.

  There was a thump from outside. Bernard guessed the aircraft had landed. It had to be Doctor Toller’s doing; the HET couldn’t have mobilised those resources in a month of Sundays. He strained to hear what was going on; even though the chopper had landed it was still making a fair bit of noise. Suddenly the whirring sound stopped, to be replaced by a brief silence. Was that the sound of the front door opening? K’s back was giving nothing away. Suddenly K stepped away from the door, flattening himself against the wall, knife poised.

  They both listened to the sounds of whispered conversations in the hall. It was hard to estimate how many people there were out there. He heard a door open very slowly. Whoever was outside must be searching room by room. Bernard had a vision of the searcher having a knife sunk into him, and began to slowly pull the cookbook toward him, until he was holding it in both hands. ‘He’s in here!’ Bernard shouted.

  K lunged at him. With his last bit of strength he flung Mrs Beeton in K’s direction, distracting him enough to allow the large man in military uniform who had appeared in the doorway to hook an arm around his neck. K let out a squawk of pain, a very satisfying sound to Bernard’s ears. The soldier held his prisoner tightly.

  ‘Who are you pair?’

  Bernard stood up, a bolt of pain shooting up his ribs.

  ‘I’m Bernard,’ he croaked.

  The soldier looked at him doubtfully.

  ‘From the Health Enforcement Team.’

  ‘Ah.’ The military man smiled. ‘We’ve been looking for you, sunshine.’

  ‘And this man is wanted for . . .’ Bernard stopped, wondering how best to explain the situation. Fortunately, the soldier didn’t appear to need an update.

  ‘Deal with this one, will you?’

  A colleague relieved him of K, who left throwing a string of curses over his shoulder.

  The soldier stepped back into the hall. ‘Anyone else on the premises?’

  ‘Don’t go in the living room!’ He raised a hand to stop the soldier, and winced as the whole of his left side screamed out in pain. ‘There’s a man in there suffering from the Virus.’

  ‘I’m one of those lucky immune bastards.’ The soldier winked at him, kicked open the living room door and walked in. Bernard followed as quickly as his aching bones would let him, eager to check for himself that Kevin was still breathing.

  The soldier exhaled heavily and tutted. ‘He’s not looking too clever.’

  Kevin’s skin had darkened, with a mottled shade of purple replacing its earlier pallor. Bernard swallowed. The state the boy was in, even if the ambulance arrived now it would take nothing short of a miracle to save him. He stumbled over to an armchair and lowered himself into it. What a waste. What a ridiculous waste of two young lives. A tapping sound at the patio window disturbed his thoughts; another soldier stood there.

  ‘Is that him?’ He shouted through the glass, gesturing at Bernard.

  ‘Yeah, and he’s fine, but we’ve got a Virus case. Get Wooky, will you?’

  Wooky, when he appeared, seemed to be some kind of medic. He certainly knew what he was doing when it came to dealing with the Virus. Bernard watched him take Kevin’s temperature, and give him an injection. He tried to stand, and further jolts of pain went through him.

  ‘You all right, mate?’ said the soldier. ‘Want a hand up?’

  ‘No!’ said Bernard, with visions of being hauled to his feet. ‘I mean, no thanks, I’ll get up by myself.’

  ‘What happened to you anyway?’ The soldier was joined by his mate, last seen framed by the French doors. They both looked at him curiously. ‘Did laughing boy out there give you a kicking?’

  Bernard put his hands on his knees and decided to pause there for a moment before progressing to his feet. ‘Yes. In a nutshell.’

  The faint sound of sirens could be heard.

  ‘Police.’ The soldier laughed. ‘Better late than never.’

  Bernard grabbed hold of a bookcase to help him complete the task of getting vertical. As he did so he noticed a trail of blood down his left sleeve. When he touched the back of his head he felt an open flap of skin. His head began to swim and he had a horrible feeling he was about to faint.

  Wooky appeared at his side and took his arm. ‘All right, pal, let’s have a look at you now.’

  ‘He’s had a doing,’ said one of Bernard’s new military friends.

  ‘So I heard. Does this hurt?’ He pressed on Bernard’s ribs. Bernard screamed and his new pals fell about laughing.

  ‘Right, outside you two.’

  Having got rid of the soldiers, Wooky helped Bernard to the sofa, and gave him a couple of painkillers, with a warning that they might make him feel sleepy. ‘We need to get you to a hospital, mate. Strict instructions to get you back to Edinburgh if at all possible.’

  Bernard leaned back and closed his eyes. As he drifted off into unconsciousness he heard the soldiers speaking.

  ‘Time to get the place cleaned up, boys.’

  16

  ‘So, he’s basically OK?’

  ‘Yup. The dozy prick’s had a kicking, but he’s going to be all right,’ Maitland said. ‘The guy on the phone seemed to think Bernard had been a bit of a hero, which personally I find very difficult to imagine.’

  ‘A hero?’ Mona felt a strange sensation, one that was not entirely unlike jealousy. ‘What the hell was he doing going in there, anyway? He told us he’d left.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ asked Carole. ‘Are they taking him to hospital in Stirling?’

  ‘Naw, here’s the weird thing. The guy said the military are flying him back to the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, and someone will let us know when he’s arrived.’

  ‘The military?’ said Mona. ‘Why are they involved?’

  He shrugged.

  She let out a cry of exasperation. ‘Why did it have to be you that took the call, Maitland? Anyone else would have asked a few questions.’

  Marguerite stuck her head round the office door. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’ She pointed at Mona.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  Mona recognised the tone. Marguerite obviously had an interesting story to tell, and was planning to take her time about it.

  ‘ . . .I say you, but actually they asked for Bernard, and when I said he wasn�
�t here at the moment their exact words were they’d like to speak to someone in the HET team who isn’t Maitland.’

  ‘What?’ Maitland appeared at her shoulder. ‘Why not me?’

  Despite her mood, Mona smiled. ‘Who is it?’

  Marguerite bustled into the room, obviously enjoying the intrigue. ‘He wouldn’t give me his name.’ She leaned toward Mona, lowering her voice slightly, ‘but he’s wearing – oh, you know?’ She pointed at her neck with both hands.

  ‘A tie?’

  ‘No, the black and white thing –a dog collar, that’s it. And the minister’s got a blonde girl with him.’

  ‘I’ll handle this one.’ Maitland headed to the door.

  ‘Guess again.’ Mona got to her feet. ‘Tell him I’m coming. Carole, give me a shout if we hear anything else about Bernard.’

  Maitland blocked her way.

  She glared up at him. ‘You can’t go and see someone who has specifically asked not to see you. Let me past.’

  ‘I’ve got to come with you.’

  ‘Why?’

  Maitland opened his mouth, then realised that Marguerite was still in the room. He made a little wave motion in the direction of the exit. ‘Maybe you could keep our guests company, Marguerite?’

  She looked reluctant to leave without having the mystery of the clergyman in Reception sorted out to her satisfaction.

  ‘Seriously, Marguerite, I’ll be down in a minute. See if they want coffee or anything.’

  Grudgingly, she left the room. Mona closed the door behind her, and turned her attention to Maitland. ‘Well?’

  ‘I think it’s probably Pastor Mackenzie from the Church of the Lord Arisen downstairs.’ He was avoiding her eye. ‘And I think that’s my girlfriend that’s with him.’

  ‘Girlfriend?’

  ‘OK, possibly ex-girlfriend.’

  ‘Then it’s even more inappropriate for you to come with me.’

  ‘I’ll just say hi,’ he said, ‘and then if she tells me to get lost, I promise I will.’

  ‘No way.’ She slid out of the door. ‘The HET’s in enough trouble without a harassment charge.’

  ‘Trouble you and Bernard brought our way,’ Maitland shouted after her, but didn’t attempt to follow.