by Shaun Hutson
‘Then explain the dust,’ Jess snapped. ‘Explain how so much damage could have been done by a man. Explain how Dunham’s injuries were inflicted.’
‘I can’t at the moment,’ Johnson admitted.
‘At least get a warrant and search Voronov’s apartment,’ Hadley protested. ‘Find the Golem.’
‘And you think that if Voronov is using this thing to murder his enemies that he’s just going to leave it standing around for anyone to find?’ Johnson said.
‘He showed it to us,’ Jess reminded the policeman.
‘Because it’s nothing more than a lump of fucking stone,’ the detective snapped. ‘He showed you because he’s got nothing to hide.’
‘You’re scared of him,’ Jess said, flatly. ‘Otherwise you’d investigate. Is he paying you off too? Or is he threatening you like he did the others?’
Johnson rounded angrily on her.
‘I’ve had enough of this bullshit,’ he hissed. ‘I should charge both of you with wasting police time.’
‘We’re trying to help you, how is that wasting your time?’ Jess demanded.
‘Trying to help me or accusing me of being paid off by Voronov, you’ll make up your mind eventually,’ Johnson said.
‘You wouldn’t be the first,’ Jess went on.
‘Fuck you,’ Johnson snapped. ‘Walking statues or police corruption, choose one for Christ’s sake.’
‘Just search his apartment,’ Jess insisted.
‘And what am I supposed to find?’ Johnson demanded. ‘I told you, I don’t need you to tell me what to do. I’ve got no evidence to suggest that Andrei Voronov is responsible for these attacks. I’d never get a warrant to search his place.’
‘What if someone broke in and did it for you?’ Jess asked.
‘You wouldn’t get past the foyer without being seen, let alone into his penthouse,’ Johnson said finally, his voice low.
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Jess insisted.
Johnson looked at each of them in turn then he reached for his cigarettes and lit one, blowing smoke into the increasingly chilly night air.
‘I can’t protect you once you’re inside,’ he said, quietly.
Jess smiled.
‘If we’re right about Voronov then you can’t protect us no matter where we are,’ she said. ‘Let us get to him before he gets to us.’
Johnson took a long drag on his cigarette.
‘You find anything, anything at all,’ he said. ‘You call me or you call nine, nine, nine straight away. No heroics. Got it? Get me a sample of clay from that thing, something forensics can match to the crime scenes and I’ll get a warrant.’
Jess nodded, her smiled widening.
‘Now get out of here,’ the detective insisted. ‘I’ve got work to do.’
EIGHTY
Jess tried the number once more but all she heard at the other end was the monotonous single tone that indicated there was no connection.
Hadley looked across at her but she merely shook her head and snapped her phone shut.
‘Where the hell is he?’ she said.
‘You heard what Johnson said,’ Hadley reminded her. ‘There were signs of a struggle inside there, he said there was blood. I hate to say it Jess but my bet is that blood belonged to Spike not to whoever broke in.’
‘Do you think he’s dead or just run off like Johnson said?’
Hadley shrugged.
‘I wouldn’t blame him if he ran,’ he said.
‘If he got the chance. I wish I knew where he was.’
‘No way of finding out unless he contacts you,’ he said.
‘Why would Voronov send the Golem after Spike?’ Jess mused.
‘You said he’d picked up something on his transmitters, something he was going to tell you.’
‘About us. He heard our names mentioned.’
‘Then they’ll come for us next.’
‘That’s why we have to stop Voronov first, we have to find the Golem and destroy it. There has to be a way, Alex. You said something about a scroll.’
‘The scroll that’s used to bring it to life. It’ll be hidden on the body of the Golem or Voronov will have it.’ He shrugged. ‘But to destroy the scroll we have to get close to the Golem itself. We have to get inside the Crystal Tower again and that’s not going to be easy.’
‘We did it before.’
‘This is different, Jess. They’ve seen us. They know what we look like. They’ll be ready for us this time. I don’t see how we can get inside. Besides, we don’t even know for sure that the Golem is inside the Crystal Tower right now.’
‘But we saw it. Voronov showed us and you know as well as I do why he showed us. Because he thinks he’s invincible, untouchable. He showed us because he thinks we can’t get to him or the Golem.’
‘It might not be inside the tower,’ Hadley said again.
‘But we have to find out.’
‘We can’t just go walking in there, his security men will grab us before we get ten feet.’ He exhaled wearily. ‘We’ve got to find a way of emptying the building so we can look around without being bothered.’
‘What about a fire?’ Jess said.
Hadley looked puzzled.
‘We start one, force the occupants of the Crystal Tower out,’ Jess went on.
‘And add arson to breaking and entering?’ he said, dryly.
‘What else can we do?’ Jess protested. ‘I’m not talking about setting the whole fucking building ablaze.’
‘That’s something.’
‘If there was a fire in the underground car park then the tower would have to be evacuated. No one’s going to get hurt.’
‘Except us.’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘There’s still building going on in the lower levels,’ Jess reminded him. ‘An accident could easily happen. Chemicals or petrol spilled and accidentally ignited.’
Hadley nodded slowly.
‘It could work, Alex,’ Jess went on.
‘It might,’ he conceded. ‘It just might. Unless the fire gets out of control, but that’s something we’ll have to deal with.’
‘And getting into the lower levels, the underground areas is going to be a hell of sight easier than trying to get into Voronov’s penthouse again,’ Jess went on.
‘And what about the Golem?’
‘If the building’s evacuated then we can make our way up to the penthouse where it is.’
‘And hope to Christ it’s still there.’
Jess nodded.
‘And then what?’ Hadley insisted.
‘We make sure we’ve got enough evidence then we go back to the police,’ Jess said. ‘We show Johnson what we’ve seen. We give him enough that he has no choice but to go in and check it out himself.’
Hadley looked at her silently for a moment then nodded.
‘You know we’re probably going to end up getting ourselves killed don’t you?’ he murmured. ‘We could both end up like Brian Dunham, Adrian Murray and Spike.’
‘You reckon you’ve got nothing to live for anyway,’ she told him, a slight smile on her lips. ‘What do you care?’
In spite of himself Hadley smiled too.
‘No,’ he conceded. ‘I’ve got fuck all to live for but you have.’
‘I live for my work,’ she told him.
‘That’s a fucking cliché,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘You always used to tell me that you have to take risks if you want the best stories.’
‘That was then.’
‘It’ll make one hell of a story, Alex,’ Jess told him.
Again he nodded but his face was expressionless and the emotion he felt he couldn’t quite identify. There was fear there but it was also mixed with something approaching excitement. He felt his heart beating a little faster. He couldn’t help but hope that it was still beating when they finished their task.
EIGHTY-ONE
The ringing phone woke Alex Hadley.
He sat up,
his head spinning, momentarily disorientated and not quite sure where he even was. It took him a second to remember that he’d fallen asleep in his armchair when he’d returned to the flat. He must have been more tired than he’d realised because there was still a half empty cup of tea on the table beside him.
The phone was still ringing.
Hadley grunted something under his breath, rubbed his eyes and reached for the mobile, stilling the electronic tone.
There was no caller i.d. so he frowned as he pressed the mobile to his ear.
‘Hello,’ he said, glancing at his watch and noting that the time was just after six in the morning. Through a crack in the curtains he could see that the first feeble light of dawn was beginning to lighten the sky.
‘Mr Alex Hadley?’ the voice at the other end of the line asked.
‘Yes,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Who is this?’
The caller was from the hospital they told him.
Hadley shuddered.
‘Dad,’ he said, quietly.
The caller told him that they were indeed ringing about his father. His condition, they told Hadley, had deteriorated.
‘In what way?’ Hadley wanted to know, swallowing hard and sitting upright in the chair now. He reached for the half empty cup of tea and swallowed some ignoring the fact that it was stone cold. His throat was dry, as if his mouth had been filled with sand.
His father, he was told, had been taken off the drips that had been feeding him.
‘When did this happen?’ Hadley wanted to know.
He was told that the drips had been removed just before midnight.
‘Why? Why did they take the drips out?’ he wanted to know.
His father had been pulling them out himself he was informed and it had been decided that it was pointless to replace them.
‘But he can’t help himself,’ Hadley snapped. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s doing.’
Apparently hospital policy was only willing to tolerate so much of that kind of behaviour. It had been deemed prudent to leave the feeding tubes out.
‘Deemed prudent by who?’ Hadley rasped, irritated by the tone of the caller. ‘Who the hell am I talking to anyway? There must be someone more senior around who I can speak to.’
Not at that time of the morning there wasn’t he was told flatly. He had been warned, he was reminded, that if his father continued to remove his feeding tubes that he would be refused treatment.
‘So you’ve rung me at this time of the fucking morning to tell me that you’re going to let my father die, is that right?’ Hadley snapped.
He was informed that there was no need for language like that.
‘I think there’s every need for it,’ Hadley snarled. ‘What the hell is wrong with you people? He’s a sick old man, he needs your help and you’re just leaving him to die.’
When a patient refused treatment it was hospital policy to leave them to their own devices, he was told.
‘He’s not refusing treatment,’ Hadley said, angrily. ‘He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. He’s got Alzheimer’s for Christ sake. He can’t even remember his own name most days. Has he actually refused to take the tablets you’re trying to give him? Has he turned down any medicine?’
The removal of feeding tubes constituted refusal of treatment apparently.
Hadley let out a short almost painful sigh.
‘So what now?’ he wanted to know, not sure whether he should vent his anger at the faceless caller or try and control his temper and listen to the well-rehearsed bullshit that he was hearing from the voice at the other end of the line. He chose to try and control his temper. ‘What happens next?’
He was told that one more attempt would be made to re-attach his father’s feeding tubes (this apparently would be done later that same morning) and if he still insisted on pulling them out then he would be left.
‘To die?’ Hadley said, quietly. ‘That’s what you’re telling me isn’t it? You’re going to let my dad die? One of your … colleagues told me the same thing recently.’
There was a shortage of beds he was told. Treatment could not be administered indefinitely when the patient was being so uncooperative.
Hadley shook his head.
‘What kind of state is he in now?’ he wanted to know.
His father, he was told, had been sedated some time ago.
‘A sedative is medicine isn’t it?’ Hadley said hopelessly. ‘If he was sedated he accepted medication so he’s not refusing it is he?’
The sedative had been given in an intra-muscular form he was told. It was a different form of administering treatment.
‘So he’s asleep now?’ Hadley said. ‘How long for?’
Probably for another seven or eight hours he was told, it had been a strong dose that had been administered.
‘So why not just put the feeding tubes back in while he’s unconscious?’ Hadley wanted to know. ‘If he’s sedated he can’t pull them out.’
They had to wait until he was awake before such a procedure could be undertaken and they also had to see if he would resist the procedure.
‘Well if he’s pulled them out before he’s going to pull them out again,’ snapped Hadley. ‘Just put the fucking things back in and get some nourishment into him.’
That could not be done he was told and he was reminded again about his language.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Hadley snapped. ‘My father is dying and all you can do is warn me about my swearing. Jesus Christ, what kind of a fucking hospital are you running there? Where did you train your nurses? Dachau?’
The voice at the other end of the line said that they did not have to listen to that sort of abuse.
Hadley thought about telling them that as long as they insisted on acting like a cunt they deserved to. He decided against it at the last moment. For a second he wondered if he should apologise for his profanity but then decided not to. He was told that he would be contacted again when there were any developments.
‘Great,’ he said, wearily. ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’
Hadley terminated the call and slammed the mobile back down onto the coffee table.
He looked at the phone, his eyes narrowed. It was a moment or two before the tears began to flow.
‘Dad,’ he said, softly. ‘I’m sorry.’
EIGHTY-TWO
Jessica Anderson stood beneath the shower with her eyes closed as the warm water washed over her.
Above the noise of the splashing conduit she could hear the sound of the music that was coming from her iPod. It filled the bathroom as surely as the steam that was rising from the hot water like mist on an early November morning. More than once she had stepped from the shower to increase the volume until the music was loud enough. She wanted to be enveloped by it, by the warmth of the water. The music stopped her from thinking too much.
It stopped her considering the enormity of what she had to do and it helped to keep the fear at bay because no matter what she told herself, the overwhelming emotion she felt was not one of excitement or anticipation it was pure, naked fear. She was afraid. She had no doubt that her life was in danger and now, in the solitude of her flat she felt that fear more acutely than she had ever done in her life.
She also felt something else that she hadn’t experienced often in her life. She felt lonely. It was a combination of emotions that Jess did not enjoy. She felt empty, as if all the heat and strength had been sucked from her by some unseen force.
You don’t have to do this, she told herself. No one is putting a gun to your head and forcing you to risk your life. No one gave you the job of exposing Andrei Voronov. And what will it achieve?
Jess stood motionless beneath the shower spray considering her own question.
What exactly was she hoping to find she asked herself? Something normally confined to myths and legend? A figment of her imagination? She stood there with the water splashing her.
A Golem.
Even when sh
e considered the possibility of the creature existing she could barely believe her own wayward thoughts. And yet …
Hadley was even more suspicious, cynical and difficult to convince than she herself and yet he seemed convinced of the creature’s existence.
And if it was there in Voronov’s apartment, what then? What if it wasn’t just the stuff of myth and legend and nightmares? What if it was the single minded killing machine that Hadley had told her of?
The questions tumbled through her mind and each seemed to grow more complex the more she thought about it. Jess reached for the shower control and switched the jets of water off. For long seconds she stood motionless, the sound of water gurgling away down the plughole the only sound in the room apart from the music that was still coming from her iPod. She reached across and turned that off too, standing there in the silence.
What are you waiting for?
Jess rubbed her face again then stepped from the shower, grabbed a towel and dried herself. As she reached for the fresh clothes she’d brought into the bathroom with her she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. Through the steam left by the shower her image appeared indistinct and distorted. Jess reached out and wiped the steam away, the sound of her fingers on the glass creating a sound that reminded her of distant sob.
Very poetic.
She wiped the rest of the steam away with the towel then finished dressing.
Barefoot in just jeans and a baggy sweater she padded through into the sitting room where she glanced down at her mobile phone, hesitating before she picked it up, wondering why her hand was shaking.
She swallowed hard and found the number she wanted, hitting Call and waiting for it to be answered.
When it finally was, Jess heard the hesitancy in the voice at the other end.
‘Mum,’ Jess said. ‘It’s me.’
‘Oh hello, dear, are you alright?’ her mother asked. ‘There’s nothing wrong is there?’
‘No, Mum I just …’
What did you want? What exactly did you ring for?
‘I just thought I’d ring,’ Jess went on, clearing her throat again. ‘I’ve got something to do and …’ Again the words seemed to fail her.