DEATHLOOP (34 page)

When he turned his phone back on he noticed three missed calls from Tracy which unnerved him slightly, but plucking up his courage he called her back.

“
Are you trying to wreck all chances you may have had of getting off this charge?
” Tracy yelled down the phone.

“Tracy, listen, I’ll come over.”

“
Threatening a witness now, are you mad?
”

“I didn’t threaten her…”

“You should not have been within a mile of Susan Wilmot and you know that!”

“I’m on my way,” said Zack.

When Zack arrived at Tracy’s flat in Dalston he noticed she was back to her old ways, dishevelled, pale and pasty, her hair looked like a bird’s nest and her body was swamped by a huge red sweater that made her look like a pillar box. She let him in then barged back into the living room where she turned and waited for him like an executioner.

“I’m sorry,” he began.

“You will be in court when it all goes her way…”

“Okay, let me explain…”

“You don’t have to! You thought you could charm this woman into getting her to drop this charge and it didn’t work. That was arrogance pure and simple.”

Tracy was right and Zack’s wounded expression told her that he knew she was right.

“Plus - no witnesses - so now she can make up a catalogue of things for which we have absolutely no come back. You know all this, Zack, for God’s sake,
this is how you used to earn a living!
” barked Tracy, gulping down a slug of wine and throwing some in another glass for Zack. “What the hell did you say?”

“I said that if she dropped the allegation, then maybe we could be friends…” he said, realising how ludicrous this sounded now and knowing exactly what Tracy’s reaction would be when she heard it. He wasn’t disappointed.

“
You berk!”
she said, letting out a shriek of irate laughter at the same time. “Are you serious? The girl’s in love with you and you dump her… do you really think she’s going to jump at the chance of becoming your
squash partner?
You are very lucky not to be banged up on remand,” she said, launching herself at the couch in a puffed out rage.

“Did you find out anything about the other charges?” Zack said feebly, following a gloomy lull in their conversation.

“What other charges?”

“The ones I told you about.”

“The hunch that you told me about?” she said, correcting him as she got up again, grabbed another bottle of wine and set about uncorking it. “I did as it happens…”

“And?”

“One stuck and one was dismissed,” she said, almost as an aside.

“
Two?
Is that what you’re saying? Two before me? So this is a
hobby? We’ve got her!
” said Zack, overjoyed.

“
No we haven’t
… we can offer the information up but whether the CPS see it our way is another matter. It could be borderline and you barging your way in to see her might just swing it the wrong way,” said Tracy, watching Zack visibly deflate.

“It was a mistake.”

“Yes it bloody was.”

“I’m sorry, Tracy.”

“You will be if you do anything like that again.”

“Final warning eh?”

“Anyway… what is it with you and this Jason kid,” said Tracy, as though she could hold the question back no longer. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s to get? He needs help that’s all and I thought maybe I could provide it, but probably you interpret that as arrogance too.”

“If Jason Heart wanted to know the time most people would cover up the clock.”

“Well there you are, I’m not most people, what can I tell you?”

“I respect you for that,” said Tracy, begrudgingly, causing Zack to look up at her, surprised to be getting a gold star after the dressing down. “But you won’t be free of him you know, he’ll be the death of you I shouldn’t wonder. Anyway, listen to this…”

Right on cue Zack’s phone rang. “Jason? What’s up, mate,” said Zack, rolling his eyes at Tracy, and beginning to look concerned, “what? He did what? You’re breaking up, say that again…” Zack checked his watch. “Okay, I’ll do my best, I shouldn’t be too long, hang on in there.”

“Now what?”

“He’s in the Whittington being stitched up,” said Zack, on his way to the door, “some kid smashed him in the face with a glass.”

It didn’t take Zack very long to get to the Whittington, a huge hospital lying at the foot of Highgate Hill which had been the subject of extensive refurbishment over recent years. Zack parked fairly close by and in reception asked for directions to Casualty which was located on a different level. The waiting area was packed out with the drunk, the reckless, and the plain unlucky and after a tense conversation with a receptionist he was allowed through to the ward itself where weary doctors leant up at the central island overwhelmed by medical records, lists and files.

“I’m looking for Jason Heart.”

Someone pointed to a cubicle tucked away in a corner. Zack crossed towards it, dodged a curtain, and stepped inside.

Jason, looking very sorry for himself sat on a trolley, an angry gash, six inches long cut diagonally across his cheek. A young nurse was sticking the wound together with surgical tape, on his tunic a name badge that read ‘Isaac Steer’.

“See,” said Isaac, “your dad’s here now.”

Good God forbid thought Zack.

“He’s just a friend,” said Jason, sheepishly.

“Oh,” said Isaac, breaking eye contact.

“I’m his lawyer,” said Zack, hastily, knowing this would cheer Jason up.

“
Ah
…” said Isaac, relieved.

“He gets people off all the time no matter what they’ve done. Judges are scared of him too,” said Jason, unusually communicative for once.

With a swift smile to Isaac, Zack said: “So what happened?”

“Some wanker smashed me up with a glass.”

“Why did he do that?”

“Because he’s a fuckwit that’s why.”

Isaac caught Zack’s eye, it was a fleeting look but no less noticeable for that and as Zack tried to work it out, Isaac stood back.

“Right, done… does that feel better?” Jason shrugged as Isaac turned to Zack on his way out. “You can get him a drink if you want, but we’d like to keep an eye on him for a while so no running off home just yet.”

“So where did all this happen?” said Zack, once Isaac had left them to it.

“At the back of the pub… this kid yanks me joint from me gob…”

“So you hit him, is that it?”

“Course I did, wouldn’t you?”

About ten minutes later, as Zack left Jason in his cubicle and turned out of Casualty he bumped into Isaac, who fell into step beside him.

“Vending machine? Am I going the right way?”

“Follow the signs to ‘X ray’, it’s not that far.”

Isaac was about to walk off but then stopped and turned back. “How well do you know Jason? Do you mind me asking?”

“Hardly at all.”

“Does he have family?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Well, okay, you didn’t get this from me but I’d say those cuts on his face were self-inflicted.”

“What?”

“You know he self-harms?”

“No, no, I didn’t.”

“His arms are a terrible mess.” Isaac shrugged, “I just thought you should know, that’s all.”

Zack had only ever seen Jason’s hands and a bit of his face because he was always so covered up. Even on a hot day he was encased by his hooded top and baggy jeans but Zack could think of nothing else now as he negotiated the maze of corridors that confronted him. He saw the ‘X Ray’ sign and followed it for a hundred yards, going down a ramp and passing another sign that said ‘Theatre’ with an arrow next to it pointing left.

It seemed strange to Zack that the vending machine was stuck down here in such an inaccessible place. It was colder here too, and noticeably dingy, as though the renovation on higher levels was but a public relations exercise for the benefit of the able bodied, the anaesthetised, the dead and the dying would just have to make do.

There was just one arrow left now, accompanied by the sign ‘X Ray’, stuck up on the wall at an angle, like the last chance saloon, no rattling trolleys here, no chatter, and nothing else either, not even an echo of his own footsteps on the concrete floor. In the distance a white light beamed out from an open doorway. Zack found himself drawn towards it and as all his breath was snatched out of him, he knew now that this was why he was here.

When he reached the doorway and peered inside, he saw a nurse straddled across a grey plastic chair, her bare legs splayed out and her skirt pushed right up to her hips. She was young this girl, with an elfin face and long black hair that crawled confidently across the pure white of her uniformed shoulders. A sleeve pushed up revealed a needle stuck in a vein and blood trailing from it on its journey south across mottled flesh, but she stared straight at Zack, smiling.

“
Zachariah, you made it… thank God you’re here, help me then, help me
…”

And with that the girl’s head fell back, her eyes swivelling round in their sockets like pin balls, a cackle ruptured from her throat, like a witch gloating, and then, with her spirit tugged out of her, she seized and was static, like Zack was, a detached observer to a life ending, as final as a broken clock stopping.

Zack remained run aground in this outpost of a no man’s land, his ears assaulted now by the gentle sound of something dripping. Urine was leaching out from underneath this girl, seeping under her thighs, running down the legs of the chair and tap, tapping on the vinyl floor. This involuntary action shocked Zack, not for what it was, but for its audacity, boldly moving from place to place in this clinical museum, where very much more vital things were impeccably still.

When Zack was able, he backed into the corridor and fled, crashing out of fire doors to an old fashioned garden bordered by dusty old roses and featureless shrubs. He bolted up some steep steps and turned off left and then right and then left again. He saw his car three hundred yards further down the hill and raced towards it. He threw himself inside and locked all the doors.

From the hallway, Veronica heard the Mercedes pulling into the square. She checked her reflection in an antique mirror by the door and opened up as she heard Zack’s footsteps approach. He stepped inside the house, kissed her briefly, and went downstairs to the kitchen, Veronica right behind him.

They sat on either side of the table, an opened bottle of wine and two glasses set out between them. On the way over Zack had phoned Veronica telling her the basics. He didn’t want to elaborate, or sift over the circumstances, it didn’t matter, what mattered was that these things – whatever they were – were back.

“And Elizabeth Frisk could throw no light on all this?” she asked, quietly.

Zack just looked at her, having to think for a moment who she meant. “No, none at all, so I think we can safely assume no dissertations have been written on it or anything like that.”

When Zack first arrived, Veronica thought that possibly it was not the time to tell him of Barbara’s warning, but now she found herself thinking that maybe as their mood was so sombre it was exactly the right time, and after all, not only had Barbara suggested that Veronica’s death was imminent, but that Zack’s was too.

“A couple of days ago I got a call from Brian Smith,” said Veronica, cautiously.

“About what?”

“One of the women from the meeting in Renfield wanted us to meet, Barbara Quinn her name is. She was in London, cat sitting for her sister as it turned out.”

“And?”

“So I called and I went over.”

Zack realised now that it was this that he’d picked up on in the gallery and he knew immediately that it would not be good news.

“What did she say?”

“She wanted to warn me. She said basically, that if we stayed together we would die, and if I didn’t want to die I should have nothing more to do with you.”

There were a few moments of stalemate, then Zack slumped back in his chair, crushed at the thought that there was not one area of his life now that was providing him with any semblance of normality. “Did she indeed?” said Zack, “and did she say
how
we would die?”

“I don’t think she knew.”

“So she’d seen it in the tea leaves had she?”

“She said that Russell had told her that night, but he’d said that a warning was useless because we couldn’t deny the time of our death whatever we did, no one could.”

Zack got up, went over to the French windows and looked out. He could see Veronica’s fox now – the famous Reuben she often talked about - a few feet away, his coat a shock of primeval red in the gathering gloom.

“She also said that if you glimpse a past life it’s harmless enough, but if you glimpse a death it’s different.”

“Meaning?”

“Russell seemed to think you had brought something back.”

An atmosphere settled over them now, Veronica’s words hanging in the air, like a spectre.

“Oh yes? What exactly?”

“She didn’t say, she didn’t know. That was all Russell said.”

Veronica walked towards him and gave him a hug, but it was not reassuring, suddenly ill at ease with each other, they pulled apart. Zack turned away, left the kitchen, and went upstairs. Veronica heard his footsteps overhead, then they stopped. It was quiet again.

After Barbara had warned her of their impending death, on the way home from Hatfield, Veronica had thought about possible scenarios, dying in a car crash seemed the most likely. Zack had nine points on his licence for speeding, and had admitted to paying a couple of students to take more points for him, thereby avoiding a complete ban. Another was that he suffered a complete breakdown and believing her to be the devil or something, killed her in self-defence.

There were a couple more possibilities just as unlikely, but the truth was she had always felt so safe with him, so protected. She knew he was wildly jealous of the Italian, he’d looked ready to kill when he had seen them together but she had dealt with that. She did not love the Italian and could never in a million years love the Italian, she loved Zack Fortune and he knew that now. She could suggest they took a rain check just to get things in perspective, but what would that achieve? Every time she had been away from him for a day, or two days, or three, she had become obsessed with seeing him again and could think of nothing else. Absence from Zack did not make her heart grow fonder, it made her absolutely desperate.