Jason’s face was turned away, but I knew he’d heard me from his quiet sobbing.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Yes.”
The word rasped out from a throat raw from screaming, begging for mercy I’d had no intention of supplying. Three days without water was supposed to be the limit of human endurance. He’d gone two and a half days and been tortured. That was probably beyond the limit of most people’s endurance. He’d had his punishment. It was time to put Jason back where he’d committed his crimes.
I placed a straw next to his lips and watched as he greedily sucked down the water laced with Rohypnol. In his weakened state, it wouldn’t take long for the drug to work. The next part was the trickiest, but I’d done it so many times now, I didn’t expect any problems.
I went out into the hallway to fetch the wheelbarrow and manoeuvred it into place next to the table. I cut through the string bonds and heaved him off the table. He fell with a thud into the wheelbarrow. I looked down and saw I’d need to change clothes before getting in the car.
As I wheeled him along the corridor and out through the door leading from the hall to the garage, I wondered if I’d gone too far with this one. The others had broken easily. Jason had been more of a challenge. I’d even found myself enjoying aspects of his torture, relishing what it took to reduce him to the wreck he now was. Did that make me as bad as him? No, surely not. What he’d done had been for his own foul ends, whereas I was making Bradchester a safer place.
I stopped the barrow next to the car and opened the boot. Hauling him out of the barrow into a fireman’s lift, I tipped him into the car. His flesh slapped onto the protective plastic sheeting. I closed the boot and went to clean myself up. At this hour of the morning, it was unlikely I’d see anyone, but if I did, it wasn’t a good idea to be covered in blood and skin fragments. That would take too much explaining and even I wouldn’t be able to come up with a credible excuse.
When I reached the canal I drove past the industrial site and continued well beyond the houseboat moorings until I reached the lock where he’d attacked his last victim. I pulled off the road and parked as close to the tow path as I could. Hauling on the plastic sheet, I pulled him out and left him where he fell. I knew someone would find him in the morning and call an ambulance. My job was done. Nemesis in action.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Paolo was on the point of packing up and going home when his phone rang. He picked it up, hoping it would be Jessica, but was disappointed to hear a male voice instead.
“Have I been put through to D.I. Storey?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Dr Brownlow at Bradchester Central. I have a patient who was admitted today. He is in intensive care post-surgery. Would it be possible for you to come over and discuss his situation with me?”
“Why? Is it someone I know?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t think it was important.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I’m a bit confused. Why have you contacted me in particular?”
“I’ve seen you on various press conferences,” Dr Brownlow said. “You come across as someone who nags away at things until you find answers. I don’t want to go into details over the phone, but my patient has been the victim of a quite violent and sustained attack. Judging from the state of dehydration and other factors, I’d say he has been systematically tortured for at least two to three days.”
Paolo glanced at the files threatening to topple off the edge of his desk.
“I’ll send someone over to take a statement from him.”
Dr Brownlow remained silent.
“Are you still there?” Paolo asked.
“I am, yes. I’m afraid a statement isn’t possible at the moment as he is in a coma. Please, detective inspector, I really would like you to look into this. The man was found early this morning down by the canal by someone out walking with a dog. He’s in a bad way, but the main reason for calling you is that I don’t think this is a one-off. I had a similar case about two months ago, but the patient was in a better physical condition than today’s victim. However, the trauma today matches exactly with that sustained by my earlier patient. I tried to get that patient to report the attack, but he broke down in tears and begged me not to call the police. I had no option but to treat him and let him go home when he had recovered sufficiently.” Paolo heard the doctor sigh. “After surgery today, I looked into our records. It appears as though at least four other patients have been admitted with similar injuries. I didn’t treat them, which is why I’ve only now picked up that you might have a disturbed individual out there. If I’m right, and I think I am, so far there are six known victims. The main trauma is, um, sexual in nature.”
He fell silent, but Paolo waited.
After a few seconds, the doctor cleared his throat. “I am in a difficult position here,” he said, “with patient confidentiality and all that, but I really feel you should come over and see my patient. You see he is definitely the victim of a crime and the trauma is such that I fear it won’t be long before you will be dealing with a murder case, unless you can find out who is torturing these men and do something about it.”
Paolo promised to get to the hospital as soon as humanly possible. He put the phone down and headed for the main office.
“Dave, I want you to come with me. We’re off to Bradchester Central. I’ll fill you in on the whys and wherefores on the way. CC, what’s the news from financial crimes?”
“They haven’t got to the bottom of it yet, but are fairly sure that although there’s no money missing, the funds haven’t always been where they should be.”
“Did they say who they might be pointing the finger at?”
“No, sir, but surely it must be Montague Mason?”
Paolo frowned. “Not necessarily. Let’s look at things from a more devious angle for a moment. What if someone’s plan all along was to cook the books in such a way that it appeared as if Montague was the culprit? What better way of making sure he takes the blame than proclaiming publicly that he’s a crook? I’m not saying he isn’t. I just don’t want to jump to conclusions.”
“Well, who else could it be?”
“His secretary for one. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has pointed the finger in order to divert attention from their own wrong doing. Let’s see what financial crimes comes up with when they’ve finished looking into it. Right, Dave, come on. We need to get going.”
By the time they arrived at the hospital Paolo had passed on everything Dr Brownlow had said.
As directed by Paolo, Dave pulled in the area reserved for the hospital administrators.
“One day they are going to complain about us parking in their bays,” Dave said.
“They already have – several times. Apparently we should park in the pay and display and claim the cost back later. As we are here on official business, I have no intention of doing any such thing. This parking area is the one closest to the building. It’s even more convenient than the doctors’ parking area. Let one of the people responsible for messing up the finances of this hospital cough up a couple of quid for parking for a change. I have no doubt they will get it back much quicker than we would.”
Dave grinned at Paolo over the roof of the car as he fumbled with the keys. “Hospital admin not on your Christmas card list?”
“I don’t have one, but if I did, these parasites wouldn’t be on it. The doctors and nurses here work flat out, putting in far more hours than they should, and yet they get paid less than the administrators. How can that be right?”
Dave shrugged and dropped the keys into his pocket. “I didn’t realise you were so well informed.”
Paolo laughed. “No one could be involved with Jessica and not be kept up to date on what goes on here. Come on, Dr Brownlow is waiting for us on the fourth floor.”
They crossed the short pedestrian area and entered the hospital. While waiting for the lift, Paolo wond
ered yet again why he hadn’t heard from Jessica. It was four days now since they’d last spoken and that call hadn’t exactly been all he’d hoped. He had the distinct impression Jessica was holding something back. He’d call again this evening, but he had a horrible feeling that when he finally spoke to her, he was going to hear something he’d rather not know.
He followed Dave into the lift and pressed the button for the fourth floor. As the doors closed, he glanced over at his young partner. Dave was marrying Rebecca later this year. Paolo had hoped he and Jessica might tread a similar path in the future, but at the moment he wasn’t even sure there was a future to consider. He was relieved to have his dismal thoughts interrupted by the ping to signal they had reached their floor. As the lift doors opened, Paolo shrugged off his feelings of foreboding and strode out into the corridor and headed for the surgeon’s office.
They found Dr Brownlow in the corridor talking to a nurse and waited while he gave instructions on the care of who Paolo assumed was the patient he’d come to see. From the treatment outlined, it seemed the patient was still on the critical list.
As the nurse set off towards the ward, the doctor looked up.
“It was good of you to come, Detective Inspector Storey. You look younger in the flesh than you do on television and the pictures of you in the papers don’t do you any favours.”
Paolo smiled. “I try to avoid having my photo taken, but it seems I’m a favourite whenever there is a slow news day.”
Brownlow laughed. “News must be very slow in that case. You seem to be a regular on our front pages just at the moment.”
“Sadly, that’s true. But we haven’t come to discuss my current notoriety. This is Detective Sergeant Dave Johnson. What can you tell us about your patient?”
“I think you’d better come with me. It will be easier if you see him.”
The doctor led the way to intensive care and stopped outside a glass-walled room. Paolo looked through and was amazed to see quite a large man occupying the bed. He’d assumed the victim would be of a much slighter build.
“Do you think there were several assailants?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” the doctor answered. “Are you thinking of his size in relation to being overpowered?”
Paolo nodded.
“I, too, wondered that and took some blood samples. The results came back a short time ago. His blood still showed a high concentration of Rohypnol, which means he must have been given it during the night, or early this morning. As I’m sure you know, this drug is commonly used in date rape cases. I would imagine that’s how he was overpowered, but how he was moved from wherever he was tortured down to the canal, I have no idea. As you pointed out, he is a big man.”
Paolo looked again, but couldn’t see any obvious injuries.
“How was he tortured? He doesn’t look as if he’s been beaten.”
Dr Brownlow pointed back the way they’d come. “Shall we go to my office? I’ll be able to answer more fully when I have his file in front of me.”
Once in Dr Brownlow’s office, they settled down in the visitor’s chairs and waited until he’d unearthed the right file from the pile on his desk. Paolo smiled. He wondered if he’d be able to put his hands on a particular file from the multitude on his own desk, if asked to do so. Probably not, but then he wasn’t dealing with the health of patients. Most of his files were to do with reports and graphs on crime control.
Dr Brownlow opened the file. “We don’t know the victim’s name, I’m afraid. As he was naked, he obviously had no means of identification on him when he was found.”
“I’ll run a missing person’s report when we get back,” Dave said, making a note.
“The patient has been repeatedly tortured on his back. There are multiple burns of what looks like the twin prongs of a tazer, but the front of his body is completely clear of any injuries, other than a straight line of bruising above his groin. His genitals have been subjected to several tazer attacks. He has wounds on his wrists and ankles, which makes me believe he was tied down over a surface so that his groin was pressed into the edge. That would have made it possible for him to be abused without being able to put up any resistance.”
Paolo waited until Dave had finished taking down the details.
“You said earlier the main trauma was sexual? From what you’ve said, he seems to have undergone more than just sexual trauma.”
Dr Brownlow nodded. “Oh, yes, but he has also been repeatedly raped. Quite violently. It’s almost as if the intention was to cause the maximum amount of pain. The anal trauma is extensive and required considerable reconstructive surgery. In addition to his many injuries, he was suffering from extreme dehydration. I think he had probably been deprived of water during the time of his captivity. He certainly hadn’t eaten for some time. He was in a coma when he was brought in and hasn’t yet shown any signs of coming out of it.”
Paolo nodded. “What caused him to slip into a coma?”
“Acute renal failure. His kidneys couldn’t cope with the toxins in his blood caused by the dehydration.”
“What’s the prognosis? Will he recover?”
Dr Brownlow shrugged. “If I could answer that question, they would erect a statue to me in every hospital. It’s a piece of string question. It depends on the patient’s general health, the level of trauma suffered, the level of toxicity in the blood prior to slipping into the coma. I wish I could give you a definitive answer, but I’m afraid the only honest answer I can give is to wait and see.”
Paolo nodded. “I’ll send over a constable to wait outside the room. If he wakes, we will need to talk to him. It’s possible he might know who attacked him.”
“If he is anything like my earlier patient, who was positively glowing with health compared to this chap, he isn’t going to tell you anything even if he knows the name of his assailant. My earlier patient was terrified. Not of me, or even of the police as such. He was terrified of letting anything slip because he was certain the person who’d attacked him would know about it. He’d been taught to keep his mouth shut and had no intention of opening it.”
Paolo knew what the answer would be, but had to ask the question anyway. “Could you give us the name and address of your earlier patient?”
Dr Brownlow shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I wish I could, because I am sure he could point you in the right direction, but my hands are tied. That’s why I called you in while this patient is in a coma. As a physician, I can report a crime if my patient is unable to speak, but if I am sworn to silence by the patient, I cannot break that oath.”
“Pity, but if necessary I can get a court order for the information.”
The doctor smiled. “I know. I wouldn’t fight it too hard, but would need to put up a token resistance.”
“You’ll let us know if anyone else arrives with similar injuries?” Paolo asked.
“If I can, I’ll do that before speaking to the patient. That way there would be no conflict over confidentiality.”
Paolo and Dave stood and shook hands with the doctor.
“Thank you for calling us in.”
The doctor walked with them to the lift.
“One other thing,” he said. “I don’t know if it’s relevant, but there seems to be a rumour going round about that new club in Bradchester. It’s one of those places that everyone knows someone who knows someone who knows about it, but no one has actually been themselves. Are you aware of it?”
Paolo nodded. “Are you talking about Triple B?”
The doctor nodded.
“I’ve not heard any rumours,” Paolo said. “As far as I know it’s simply a businessman’s club. What makes you ask?”
“I don’t know anything for definite,” Dr Brownlow said, “but the whisper is that there are rooms upstairs where sadomasochism is taken to an extreme level. I wondered if there might be a connection.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, where did you hear this?”
Dr Brownlow sh
rugged. “I’d rather not give the person’s name, obviously, but I was approached by a friend when he’d had more to drink than was wise. He is a member of the club and sounded me out to see if I wanted to join. When I made it clear my tastes didn’t run in that direction, the subject was dropped, but he’d said enough to make me realise he wasn’t referring to basic whips and bondage, but to much more punishing activities.”
Paolo nodded. “Thank you for that. I’ll look into it.”
He waited until the lift had reached ground floor level before speaking. “It’s too late to do anything productive this evening. Drop me back at the station. Tomorrow, I’ll fill the team in on this development and find out what CC and Andrea have found out about the lipstick vandalism, if anything. Then it seems to me we need to pay another visit to the club. When we do, let’s see if we can find out what goes on upstairs. Maybe one of their members was a little too enthusiastic.”
CHAPTER NINE
Paolo’s mobile rang and he snatched it up as soon as he saw Jessica’s name on the screen. At last!
“Hi, Paolo,” she said and her voice had never sounded sweeter to his ears.
“Hi, Jess,” he began, but she cut across his words.
“I can’t stop on. There’s lots going on here. Paolo, I’m coming home next weekend. Can you make sure you’re off? We need to talk. It’s important.”
Paolo felt his heart beating faster and his stomach lurched.
“That sounds ominous,” he said, hoping she’d laugh and disagree with him, but she didn’t.
“It could be,” she said, so quietly he had to strain to hear her.
Looking For A Reason (#4 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 6