by Kate Bulpitt
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, it’s me. Look, I know you think we shouldn’t be seeing each other or speaking to each other or what have you, but I needed to talk to you.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m sure the last thing you’d want to be talking about is the Purpleness, but as you know, I’ve been trying to work out how it’s happening. Bunsen Burner Bob—’
‘Who?’
‘You’d have met him at the pub, briefly. A friend of Womble’s, who had a theory about a tanning product that got pulled before it was supposed to come out.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘I know, bear with me. I was trying to look into it, but in a secretive way because Frankie and Annie said to be careful—’
‘Annie Morris? Frankie the policeman?’
‘Yes, yes, but then I got approached by a bloke in the alley – that was just after we found out Womble had been asked to do the Turning—’
‘He was what?’
‘Don’t worry, he didn’t do it. Anyway, when the bloke threatened me—’
‘He threatened you? Did he hurt you?’
‘No, I’m fine, but then I knew something was up, and Bob had hit on something with his theory. And then Magnus—’
‘Magnus the campaigner, from the telly?’
‘Yup, he—’
‘You’ve been seeing that Magnus?’
‘Just the once. Well, twice, sort of. Why? Would you be—’
‘Jealous? Yes, I would actually.’
‘Well, it’s not like that. He’s married, for a start. Anyway, he asked Carla De Lora—’
‘The model?’
‘Wait, did you say you’d be jealous?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh… Where was I?’
‘Carla De Lora, the model.’
‘That’s the one, she was the spokesperson for the tanning product, and it turns out it’s injected!’
‘Injected? How? I don’t remember being injected.’
‘Mm… that bit I’m still working on, the dratted missing piece of the puzzle. But I think Rory—’
‘Did I meet him at the pub too?’
‘Yep. He works with Helena at the vet’s. And he just appeared in some ISON footage from a night a man was Turned.’
‘Okay…’
‘And he said he didn’t see anything, but I’ve a feeling he might know something about the night Drew was Turned.’
‘I don’t know who that is.’
‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to. Anyway, then I twigged that in many of the accounts by people who were Turned, they mentioned that there was someone with a dog.’
‘Lots of people have got dogs.’
‘Exactly! And you don’t pay any attention to them – they can be anywhere, unnoticed, they’re just walking a dog. It’s genius! If I’m right. Who knows, maybe I’m just loopy.’
‘So police officers are borrowing dogs and injecting people?’
‘Yes. No. Well, all sorts of people might be doing it, it seems. Anyway, that’s not the point of me telling you—’
‘It’s not?’
‘Well, actually it is. Because Rory is involved, I think. He has access to dogs, and people with dogs, which I’m sure is important. And he was at The Fox when this friend of Simon’s was Turned. And I think he’s the one who suggested Womble to be trained. He got all pally with Womble after the debate, and it was after that when the phone calls started. But I can’t tell Helena or Womble, because they’re friends with him, and what if I’m wrong?’
‘Quite.’
‘And if I tell Bob – well, he’s lovely, but overexcitable.’
‘Ah.’
‘I could tell Annie, or Magnus, but I’d like to be sure first.’
‘Of course.’
‘And I will tell Adio and Saffron.’
‘Good.’
‘But I, um, thought I’d tell you.’
‘I see.’
‘So here I am.’
‘Hello.’
‘Hi. So, I think Rory is involved in all this, I just need to find out for certain.’
‘Right. How?’
‘I’m not quite sure. I’m going to try and find him, and ask him. I’ll ring you when I know more.’
‘Eve?’
‘Yes?’
‘Be careful.’
‘Aren’t I always? Caution is my middle name.’
Eve hung up the phone, and muttered to herself: but time for a change, and all that.
Chapter Twenty
Eve arrived to find the side entrance to the surgery unlocked.
‘Hello?’ she called, as she went inside.
There was no answer. Now what to do? She hadn’t thought about this. She supposed her vague un-thought-through plan would be to subtly try and see what information she could get out of Rory, but with no one around… Eve walked down the main corridor, past posters for cat neutering and doggie vitamins, peering into each room she passed. Still there seemed to be no one about, and a second shout to announce she was there got no response either. Odd, she thought. When she reached Rory’s office, his door was open. Eve glanced up and down the corridor, then went inside.
The room was sparse; a desk, an examining table, a few neatly laid out pieces of equipment, and a tidily stacked pyramid of dog food tins (all labels facing centre forward, a triangle of happy Chappies panting their approval). Thinking she heard a noise in the reception area, Eve jumped, knocking a pack of cigarettes on to the floor. She ducked behind the desk to retrieve them, listening for any sounds elsewhere in the surgery. If there was anyone about – and there had to be, if the door was unlocked – it would be tricky explaining why she was in Rory’s office, though as she considered this, she realised it would be trickier still being found crouched behind his desk.
She reached towards the cigarette packet, and was surprised to find that it was plastic, and heavier, more solid, than it should be. What brand is this, Eve wondered, not recognising the name and guessing it must be something exotic bought at duty free. But then she noticed that one of the cigarettes had rolled out. She picked it up, found that too seemed a smidge weightier than it should be. It was also plastic, with what appeared to be a button, the sort you’d find on a retractable biro, at the filter end. What on earth was this – some new-fangled, habit-quashing faux fag? Eve was puzzled. She was about to peer more closely at the other end when the door opened. Eve sat up, banging her head on the edge of the desk.
‘Who’s there?’ snapped a male voice on the other side of the table. Rory.
Eve winced as she stood, raised a hand to check the back of her head. Ouch.
‘Just me,’ she said, giving an awkward wave. ‘Hello.’
Rory faltered, rightly surprised.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I – oh,’ Eve cleared her throat. ‘Helena left a thing here, I came to get it.’
‘She left it in my office?’
There was a brief pause as Eve opened her mouth to respond, hoping a plausible excuse would conjure itself as she began to speak. ‘No, I—’
She was silenced by the sudden expression of shock on Rory’s face, and followed his gaze to her left hand, still holding the strange cigarette.
‘What the—’
‘Getting some assistance with trying to keep off them, eh? It’s a very odd-looking thing. How does it work?’ She asked, squinting again at the button.
‘No!’ Rory lunged towards her.
While she could usually be trusted to do as she was told, Eve was made even more curious by Rory’s reaction, and, ignoring signals from the sensible side of her brain, couldn’t help herself. She clicked the button. Rory seemed almost as surprised as Eve when the small, clear sliver shot out of the end and straight at him. He blinked down at his chest, staring in shock at the neat blue stripes between which the dart had landed. When he lifted his head, his face was a reddened mixture of rage and terro
r.
Eve looked down at the ‘cigarette’ in her hand, and then back to Rory.
He raised his hands in front of him, as though inspecting them for something.
And then Eve knew. She had just Turned him Purple.
The desk still separated them, but Rory was rounding it, arms outstretched, to grab the device. She remembered the inspector’s conversation overheard on the night of the debate: this was the thing that could jeopardise the entire scheme. The thought flashed through her mind as to how improbable this was – a Saturday afternoon, being chased around a table by a seething, about to be violet, vet, when back in New York she’d have been in the thick of hungover diner stodge and mimosas with Adio and Saffron – but she dashed out of Rory’s office and, on auto-pilot, towards reception, immediately realising her error and wondering if the front door would be open, or if she was about to back herself into a corner. But she didn’t get that far: before reaching the reception desk she was shoved from behind and fell to the floor. Eve scrabbled to stand, but Rory was beside her, trying to grab her arm, which she held tightly under her chest.
Eve groaned as he shoved against her left shoulder, pinning her to the floor. She had the device clenched in her right hand, not sure which was more likely to happen first: Rory getting hold of it and using it against her, or accidentally stabbing herself as she clung to it. Such a shame it’s not a multi-tasking instrument, she thought, with a tranquillising dart so she could have had Rory helpfully unconscious by this point.
Eve wriggled as furiously as she could, trying to jerkingly manoeuvre herself in a way that would knock Rory off balance. Now I wish I’d spent more time in the gym than the deli, she thought, scrambling for a plan. She twisted her head to get a glimpse of his position; he was leaning over, gripping her bruised arm as she pressed her body against the ground, determined to keep her hand hidden. He had a foot on either side of her, was dipping into a squat that would leave her completely defenceless. Using the only part of her body she could move, and with as much energy as she could muster, Eve gave a full-force donkey kick towards Rory’s groin. He moaned, tipping onto his side, now rather less likely to sit on her. Eve tried to stand, but he grabbed her leg, tightly. (Thinking about this later, she would marvel at such a cheesy horror film move.)
‘This is crazy,’ Eve croaked.
‘You were warned…’
‘Then let’s just go to the police,’ Eve spluttered.
‘That’s no fun,’ Rory snorted. ‘If I’m Turned, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be.’
He was rising from his crouched position, still gripping onto her leg, moving forward, as though about to pin her down again. While holding the device, Eve only had one hand free to try to grip Rory, or anything else, which was proving fairly ineffective. She swatted at him, at one point putting her hand across his face, trying to block his view and push him away, but his unlikely reaction of licking her palm made her squeak with surprise and pull it away. She glanced around. The hopeful eyes of a guide dog collection tin peeked at her over the reception desk. Please give generously. Eve hoped people had. She reached up and grasped the dog, relieved to find it fairly full, and with as much might as she could manage (and the infant school orchestra sound of cascading coins), whacked it against the back of Rory’s head. He grunted and fell at her side.
*
Eve clambered to her feet. Assuming she hadn’t killed him – oh God, I hope not, she thought, and surely, being such a virtuous object, there was only so much damage a charitable weapon could cause? – he could come round at any second. Eve scanned the room for something to keep Rory in place. On the coat stand was a fabric dog lead. Clutching that, she gingerly approached the tumbled vet, now face down on the floor, squeamishly tying his hands together as tightly as she could. But now his feet… She reached across the reception desk to the telephone.
‘Hello?’
‘You’re home! Where are the dog leads? At the surgery?’
‘The what?’
‘The dog leads. I’m at the surgery. Rory is unconscious and I need to tie him up.’
‘I didn’t even know you liked him…’ Helena teased.
With increasing panic, Eve said, ‘I’m serious. He attacked me. I know how they’re Turning people, I think I’ve accidentally Turned him, and he turned on me, and now he’s only half tied up and what if he—’
‘Woah,’ said Helena. ‘We’ll leave now, we’ll be with you in a few minutes. And there should be some leads in the bottom drawer of the desk.’
Eve had just replaced the receiver and was about to turn to check on Rory when her legs went from beneath her, Rory having hooked a foot behind hers so she tripped backwards, falling against the edge of the desk with a large crack. Winded, she shrieked, slightly feebly, with pain.
Rory was on his knees, and then up, drawers crashing as he tried to find something with which to cut the tightly bound dog lead.
Slumped on the floor and feeling dizzy, Eve tried to focus. How could she incapacitate Rory? And – glancing down at her empty hand, and panicking – where was the injecting cigarette, which she appeared to have lost in this latest scuffle? There was one good thing, at least, she thought – it would be hard to shoot it at her with his hands behind his back.
‘I’m going to get you,’ Rory shouted, frantically running about (Eve hoped maybe he was concussed from the guide dog tin), ‘and I’m going to Turn you!’
‘Not if I get you first,’ said an unexpected voice from the hallway. And with a large block of wood, Duncan gave Rory another hearty thwack to the head.
‘Duncan!’ said Eve. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
‘Well, I wasn’t quite sure what you were talking about, but I definitely didn’t like the sound of it,’ he said. ‘You alright?’
‘I’ll survive.’
Duncan unwound some of the lead from Rory’s arms so he could use it to tie his ankles.
‘Blimey, where’d you learn to do that?’ Eve asked, taking in the partially folded Rory.
‘Amazing the rope tricks you learn when you’re living up a tree,’ said Duncan.
There was the screech of a car pulling up outside and then Helena and Womble pelted into the room.
‘Eve! Are you – oh, Duncan. And what is—’
‘I think Rory has some explaining to do,’ said Eve.
*
Eve and Womble stood around the operating table. Rory was tied to it, and what with his being a little over six feet tall, and rather longer than any of their largest animal patients, his legs dangled over the end. He was conscious, and furious.
With Duncan following behind her, Helena entered the room, studying something in the palm of her surgically gloved hand.
‘I think I’ve found it,’ she said.
Eve peered at the small piece of plastic. It was about an inch long, and slim, with a sharp point at one end. If found on the street, if you even noticed it, you’d consider it as innocuous as any of the other bits and pieces of litter.
Addressing Rory, Eve said, ‘Tell us what you know, why don’t you?’
Rory gave a snort of a laugh. ‘You can’t seriously think I’m going to tell you anything. If you don’t release me I’m going to start…’
There was a pause, and they all leaned forward. Rory wriggled in his constraints before finishing this sentence.
‘Screaming.’
‘Like a wuss?’ said Womble. ‘That would be a bit ungainly. And anyway, do that and we’ll gag you.’
‘And then how will he tell us anything?’ said Helena, with a roll of her eyes.
‘So,’ said Eve, ‘here’s what we know: people are being Turned by the use of these darts. Which I suppose are laced with whatever variation of InTan that does the Turning. Undercover police, and whoever else—’
‘That could have been you,’ said Helena to Womble.
‘And it was you who suggested him, wasn’t it?’ said Eve to Rory.
‘No!’ said Helena. She gave Rory her
most quake-inducing Hard Stare. ‘Is that true?’
Rory swallowed, but said nothing.
‘I can’t believe you were such a sneaky snake in the grass,’ said Helena. ‘That’s disgusting.’
‘I thought we were friends,’ said Womble.
To Womble, Eve said, ‘Did Bob mention the InTan theory that night at the pub? After I’d been into your school to see him?’
Womble nodded. ‘Yes, after he’d had a few beers he did hint at it. Why?’
‘That’s how Rory knew about the connection. And did you mention I was looking into Crayne Industries?’
‘No. Though I might have said you went to Cardiff… I’m sorry, I didn’t realise…’
To Rory, Eve said, ‘So you were also responsible for my visit from the chap in the alley. Am I right?’
‘As if I’d tell you,’ said Rory.
‘Suit yourself,’ said Eve. ‘But I’d say I’m on the money. Anyway, back to the recap. The agents doing the Turning include specially selected members of the public, who are trained up, and sent off onto the streets,’ she cocked her head to one side, ‘most likely with dogs, wherever possible, as what could be more inconspicuous than someone out walking a dog?’ Eve thought of Rory with the borrowed pug, and the former officer with the whippet that she and Frankie had passed.
‘You sound mad,’ said Rory. ‘No one would believe it.’
‘We’ll see, won’t we?’ said Eve. ‘Then at the sign of trouble, the agents, whoever they are, take out one of these cigarettes – again, something which seems completely insignificant. I wonder how much they relate to all the increased tobacco advertising?’ She looked questioningly at Rory, but he turned away. ‘So having spotted someone to Turn, they just need to point and shoot.’ She examined the dart. ‘I have to say, it looks a bit weedy though. Wouldn’t you have to be fairly close? Would it be able to get through more than a shirt? What about in winter, when folk are wearing coats? And how do people not feel it?’
‘It’s quite long. And pretty sharp,’ said Helena. ‘Did it leave a mark?’
Eve shrugged. Helena unbuttoned Rory’s shirt.
‘Steady on,’ said Womble.