The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  Apparently, medical emergencies had priority over all other traffic and it was only necessary for an immigration official to confirm my identity and my passport was stamped. We crossed the dam wall and arrived at the Zambian border within a few minutes. Once again, the fact that I was in an ambulance seemed to do the trick and we were cleared to leave within thirty minutes. The drive from the border to The Mercer Clinic in Lusaka took exactly two hours. I spent the time in and out of consciousness in the pleasant cool of the air conditioning. When we arrived, the medics kept the stretcher back in the upright position as they removed it from the ambulance. The gardens were lush, green and tropical and there was a fish pond and a huge ornamental rockery near the wall.

  The Mercer Clinic had obviously been purpose built with no expense spared. The building had three floors and a modern grey façade with tinted windows. I saw that there were split unit air conditioners outside every room. My stretcher was wheeled through a set of dark automatic glass doors into a stylish reception area where the medics immediately checked me in to the facility. Within minutes I was wheeled into a room on the ground floor that was cool, bright and spotlessly clean. Coming from an impoverished government hospital in Zimbabwe, the difference between the two was staggering. The bed was fitted with a remote control for adjusting it and surrounding it were all manner of modern ECG machines and similar. Opposite the bed near the door to the en-suite bathroom there was a large flat screen television on the wall and beneath it stood a table with fresh cut roses in a vase. To the right of the bed, near the tinted window were two comfortable easy chairs and a table with more flowers. The medics were joined by two more nurses, again dressed in immaculate white uniforms. Although they tried to assist me, I managed the move from the stretcher to the bed myself, albeit a little unsteadily.

  “Please could you bring my bags in from the ambulance immediately” I asked one of the medics.

  “Certainly, Mr Green,” he replied politely.

  I lay back on the comfortable memory foam of the mattress. The sheets were cool and crisp to the touch and I quickly found the remote control to tilt the back of the bed up into a sitting position. My bags arrived and I first checked for both the hard drive and the packet of morphine and syringes. Both were there. Good. One of the medics offered to unpack my bags and put the contents in a cupboard in the corner of the room.

  “Are there keys for those cupboards?” I asked.

  “Yes sir, you may keep the keys to secure your property although it is not necessary here,” he said.

  “Don't worry about unpacking them but please lock them up and give me the key,” I replied.

  The man did as I asked and handed me the small set of keys which I pocketed.

  “Doctor Preuss will be in shortly to take a look at you Mr Green. Meantime we are going to clean your wounds,” said one of the nurses.

  “That's fine,” I replied.

  I turned on the television as they worked. They did so with gentle professionalism and before long they were finished. The two nurses left the room and I lay alone feeling satisfied I had finally got into a modern and sophisticated facility. The aching and itching had returned but I decided to tolerate it until the doctor had visited. Soon enough the door opened and in walked a tall heavily built white woman in her sixties. She wore a grey suit and around her thick neck hung a stethoscope. Her grey hair was cropped short and on her bulbous nose she wore a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.

  “Now then. My name is Doctor Preuss,” she said quickly in a German accent as she glanced at my file. “Mr Jason Green. Bullet wound to shoulder, severe puncture wound to left foot and multiple lacerations to lower left leg. Good grief! You have been in the wars!”

  “You could say that,” I replied quietly.

  Chapter Eleven: Lusaka

  DR PREUSS MADE HER inspection of my wounds and expressed satisfaction with the healing process. She gave the instruction for a shot of morphine to be administered and for the dressings to be changed. As I was able to move around alone, I was given a set of crutches so I could get myself to and from the bathroom. I was also given a small fridge that contained all manner of fresh fruit juices and bottled water. After everything was completed, I spent the afternoon happily dozing and watching television. At 6.30pm. as I was watching the sun setting through the tinted window one of the nurses brought in my dinner. The difference between the two hospitals was incredible. For a starter there was pickled fish pate and crispy toast followed by a main course of perfectly cooked roast beef with potatoes, three vegetables and gravy. For dessert there was a choice of crème caramel or chocolate ice cream followed by tea or coffee. My appetite had returned and after I had finished the meal it was cleared away and a bowl of fresh fruit was placed on the side table near the bed. This place is like a hotel. I thought. Beats the NHS any day. It was 8.30pm. when a nurse walked in to administer some more morphine. I noted with mild alarm that the prescribed dosage had been reduced to eight millilitres. I questioned this as she swabbed my arm before the shot.

  “Doctor's orders Mr Green,” said the nurse with a smile.

  Despite the reduced dose it had the desired effect and I slumped back on the bed happily and fumbled with the remote control for the television as the lights were turned down.

  It was 11.30pm. when I awoke in darkness. The automatic sleep timer on the television must have turned it off. I felt the surface of the table to my right for my head torch and strapped it to my head. All was quiet around me and I looked towards the cupboards where my bags were stored. With my right hand I felt in my pocket for the keys. They were there. The crawling irritation in my leg and the deep aching in my shoulder had returned and I looked around the room as I weighed up my options. After ten minutes of indecision the scales were tipped once again. Fuck it., I'll give myself one shot. Slowly and quietly I made my way over to the cupboards using the crutches. I retrieved the bottle I had used the night before and a fresh syringe and made my way back to the bed. I attached the needle to the syringe in the light of the head torch and held the tiny bottle upside down to draw the precious liquid. Once I had withdrawn exactly ten millilitres, I placed the bottle on the bedside table and tapped my left arm. The needle was a centimetre from my arm when the doors burst open and the lights were turned on. Dr Preuss was accompanied by two nurses who rushed towards me and quickly grabbed both the bottle and the syringe.

  “What are you doing Mr Green?” she shouted. her face red with rage.

  She took the bottle of morphine from the nurse and shook it in my face.

  “Where did you get this?” she demanded in her German accent.

  Busted Green. I sat back resignedly and took a deep breath.

  “I got it in Kariba,” I said quietly.

  Dr Preuss was bristling.

  “Nurse, I want you to search his belongings thoroughly while I am here and give me anything that is not allowed here. Do it now!”

  I pulled the set of keys from my pocket and handed them to the nurse who immediately went to the cupboard.

  “We have cameras in every room Mr Green and our patients are monitored twenty-four hours a day. What you were attempting to do is strictly against our rules at The Mercer Clinic! What on earth were you thinking?”

  “I am in pain,” I said in a calm voice which belied my own growing fury.

  “This is absolutely no excuse Mr Green!” she yelled as she walked around to the bottom of the bed and pulled up my file. “Your next dose of pain medication is due at 1.00am!”

  I looked at my watch as the nurse handed her the brown paper bag of morphine and syringes that she had retrieved from the cupboard. She looked once at the contents and shook her head in disgust.

  “You will wait until then. Good night Mr Green!” she said as they all walked towards the door.

  “Leave the light on please. I need to use the bathroom,” I said.

  They left the room and I lay on the bed staring bitterly at my bandages. I swung my legs slowly from the bed
and grabbed the crutches as I sat up. The increased pressure of the blood in my leg doubled my discomfort to the point where it felt like there were thousands of biting ants crawling over it. I did my best to put it out of my mind as I made my way slowly and carefully to the bathroom.

  I flicked the light switch and made my way to the basin. I placed the crutches against the wall and turned the cold tap to full flow. Using my left hand as support on the sink I bent over and splashed my face repeatedly with the cool water. Leaving the tap running I slowly lifted my head until I faced the mirror on the cabinet in front of me. I hated the person that stared back at me. My hair was matted and untidy. The unshaven cheeks were sunken and there were greasy purple marks beneath my eyes. Look what he has done to you Green. Turned you into a fucking junkie! What he did to Hannes. What he is doing right now. Without thinking I clenched my right fist and drew it slowly behind me as I stared at the mirror.

  “Fucker!!!” I screamed as I slammed my fist into the mirror repeatedly.

  The glass shattered immediately and fell onto the basin and floor in shards. Still I punched savagely, again and again at the woodwork of the cabinet until it too disintegrated into a bloody dusty mess of particle board and screws. Suddenly I was gripped firmly by both arms and pulled away from the mess. My hand was badly injured and dripped blood continuously as I was led back through the door towards the bed. There was panicked shouting all around and I lay with my teeth gritted and my eyes closed as the nurses attended to my hand. I heard the furious voice of Dr Preuss instructing the nurses to administer sedatives and morphine and when I felt the needle in my arm it couldn't have come sooner.

  6.30am. and I woke slowly from the sedatives. For the first time in many days I felt human again. The irritation and pain had now subsided and I felt a certain clarity of mind. I looked down at my bandaged fist and shook my head at the astonishing events of the past ten days. With my left hand I felt the long stubble on my chin which firmed my resolve. Clean yourself up Green. Right now. Using the crutches, I crossed the room and retrieved my ablution bag from the cupboard. During the night the mess I had made in the bathroom had been cleaned up. I spent the next fifteen minutes washing and shaving in the bathroom and on the way back to the bed I collected my laptop to catch up with some work. Before I settled, I poured a glass of fruit juice then positioned the table to enable me to work. I found the free WIFI immediately and set about dealing with the many emails that had built up. There were a number from my case supervisor asking what had happened to me. I replied simply saying I had been involved in an accident and could be away for a while yet. The freelance nature of my work with the insurance company allowed me such freedom. After I was finished, I turned on the television news as I browsed the internet.

  Dr Preuss walked in with a nurse at 7.45am. on the dot.

  “Oh!” she said with a surprised look on her face. “You look a lot better Mr Green”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I feel better.”

  She examined my wounds and once again expressed satisfaction with the healing.

  “You are due some pain medication after breakfast at 8.30 Mr Green,” she said sternly. “I hope that is agreeable?”

  “That will be fine, thank you,” I said staring at my computer screen.

  The breakfast consisted of muesli and fruit followed by bacon, eggs, sausages and toast. I wolfed down the lot and this was duly noted in my file by the nurse. The morphine shot, although welcome when it came, reminded me of the dreadful cycle I had been caught in. The dosage had been reduced to seven millilitres, but it was enough to send me into a dreamlike state for the next three hours.

  I came to at 12.00 noon and reached for the glass of fruit juice near the bed. Once again, I felt rejuvenated and stronger. I pressed the buzzer near the bed to summon a nurse. She arrived promptly and I asked if she would get the hard drive from my bag in the cupboard. I spent the rest of the day thoroughly engrossed in the many files of Hannes' reports. It made for fascinating but disturbing reading. I concentrated on the second section that dealt mainly with the transport of the ivory from Mayuni's base in Zambia to the port of Beira in Mozambique. The amount of intelligence he had gathered was staggering and it listed transport companies, corrupt border officials, illegal crossing points and clearing agents etc. The lists were unending and I realised that during the weeks it would take for me to recover fully I would be kept very busy indeed.

  It was 4.00pm. when I asked Dr Preuss if I would be allowed to venture out into the gardens on my crutches. She refused this outright but promised that if my injuries continued to heal as they were, I would be permitted to venture out the next day in a wheelchair. By that stage my head was spinning with all the information I had read from the hard drive. I decided to put it away and watch television as I waited for dinner. The time passed quickly and I was comfortable in my surroundings. Soon after an excellent dinner of roast chicken the nurse arrived with my early evening shot of morphine. By that stage I was indifferent to it but it did help to alleviate the pain of the change of dressing.

  Later that night I felt better still and busied myself re-packing my bags and putting my dirty laundry away for washing. I found myself becoming faster on the crutches and at one stage I put my head around the door to take a look outside. Instantly a nurse appeared and scolded me with a waving finger.

  I obediently retreated to my bed and chose a film to watch on the television. The nurse arrived on cue at 1.00am. with my morphine shot. The seven millilitres did the trick and I fell soundly asleep until 6.30am. in the morning. The sun had risen so I could see billowing grey thunder clouds in the distance through the tinted windows. As I had done the previous day, I took myself to the bathroom to wash and shave. When I was finished, I looked at myself in the recently replaced mirror cabinet above the basin. The dark marks under my eyes had disappeared and the colour was returning to my face. Good. Dr Preuss was true to her word and that day I ventured out into the garden twice for two hours at a time. Although I was wheeled out on a chair, I was able to get up and walk around the fish ponds using the crutches. That afternoon I stood near the pond and watched as the ominous black clouds piled up in the distance and the deep rumbles of thunder and lightning grew nearer the city. The afternoon was dark and humid and the rain had started to fall when the nurse finally called me to go back to my room.

  My health and strength were improving steadily and that night I spent another three hours studying the files on the hard drive. By the time I had finished, I was exhausted and the nurse arrived once again at 1.00am. to give me my shot. I followed the routines of the clinic and obeyed the rules for the next four nights. Over that period my dosage of morphine was reduced to three millilitres administered twice daily. It was on the fifth night that I refused the shot and opted to sleep without any sedative whatsoever. In that period of time I had gained unlimited access to the gardens under my own steam on the crutches and I spent many hours working on my laptop at a chair and table under a Giant Mahogany tree. Its thick green foliage provided good cover from the fierce African sun. On a few occasions I was visited by a family of Vervet Monkeys that had come in over the perimeter wall. I tossed them peanuts and fruit and watched as they raced back into the branches above to eat as they stared down at me with their startled expressions.

  In my mind I had formulated a plan but in order to carry it out I needed to be fully fit once again. My shoulder had healed to the point where they no longer changed the dressing and I was finally able to take a shower albeit with a plastic bag strapped to my leg. The itching on my leg had gone and on the many occasions I examined it, it was clear it was healing well. No longer were the many ugly stitches swollen, red and oozing. Instead they were flat and even in colour. Of more worry was the puncture wound from the spike in the pit fall trap. On the few occasions I had tried to put weight on the foot it resulted in a deep, sharp and intense pain that lingered for some time. I was assured by Dr Preuss that in time this would disappear. It was two day
s later when I finally convinced the doctor that I should be released. It was reluctantly agreed on condition that I visited the clinic every two days to have my leg and foot assessed. I wasted no time booking accommodation at a bush camp situated ten kilometres south of the city on the Kafue Road.

  Ulrika Camp was set in a private game park and was popular with overland trucks and campers. The grounds were populated with Giraffe, Zebra and Impala and there were a number of thatched A frame chalets set amongst the trees. I booked one of them for two weeks. I set about packing my bags as the receptionist called a taxi. The last thing I did was to do an online search for a hunting and fishing shop. As luck would have it there was one situated on the outskirts of the city in a mall on the Kafue Road. Desperate to get out of the clinic I wasted no time when the taxi arrived and walked out quickly on the crutches with the staff carrying my bags behind me. The taxi was small and cramped but by that stage I didn't care a bit and I smiled to myself as we drove out the gate of The Mercer Clinic in the mid-day heat.

  Chapter Twelve: Ulrika Camp