The Operator (Bruce and Bennett Crime Thriller 2) (40 page)

She laboriously texted Stacey with a list of
things she needed from Ivy Lodge. It was hard to hold her phone and type
one-handed but this physician was going to have to heal herself. There was no
reply, but next day Stacey barged in bearing Arnica, Symphitum, (made from
comfrey aka ‘knitbone’ which has been used for centuries), her constitutional
remedy, a freshly extinguished Lambert and Butler, and a sulky expression
resulting from this last being enforced by staff.

‘This place is a fkn prison. Aa remember havin wor
Noosh in the maternity wing. Fkn nazi guards. Aalways on yer case if yer light
a fag. Aa mean, they’d not have a job if we all gave up smoking and drinking,
would they? Ungrateful bastards. Here’s aal yer new age crap.’ She dumped the
remedies on the locker. ‘Eee Erica, yer hair looks like something oot of a
shower drain. Yer know, they pump shite and aal sorts into the sea.’

Great. Erica dropped some Arnica tablets onto her
tongue. Her throat still burned from the salt water and her voice was almost
gone so she texted her thanks, and Stacey automatically texted her back. ‘S’OK.
Lol.’

‘Oh Aa nearly forgot.’ Stacey pulled a large box
of expensive chocolates out of a carrier bag. ‘Aa browt these for yer. Course,
ye’ll not get much exercise in here. Very fattenin, hospital scran.’ She held
the box expectantly over Erica like an alien spacecraft about to land.

Erica was startled at this generosity. But Stacey
was right. She could easily put weight on while helpless and out of action. She
shook her head at the chocolates, and texted ‘Thx a mill. u keep em.’

‘Oh, right. Just for ye, Aa will. And yer’ll be
glad to know, since you’ve got nee voice, Aa’m on the case as yer intern. Gary’s
waiting for iz outside and Aa’m tellin yer story to him. As yer spokesperson
like. It’s nee bother, no need to thank iz!’

She swept out with the chocolates back in the bag,
fag in mouth waiting to be lit at the first opportunity. Outside in the main
ward there was some kind of uproar going on.

A nurse popped in to check on her obs and said, ‘Oh,
that noise is poor Mrs M, she just woke up from a nap to find someone’s nicked
her posh chocs right off her locker top. She’s going postal. She probably ate
them and forgot, poor old dear.’ Yes, because patients, especially older women,
were by definition stupid, vague, demented... ‘I mean, who’d do such a thing!
In a hospital!’

Erica felt better once she’d made some effort to
take control, having more faith in her own remedies than antibiotics. Better
still when her mother had washed her hair. In her privileged little room, she
was alone most of the time except during doctor’s rounds or the meds trolley or
what were laughingly called meals.

She’d assumed with things the way they are with
the NHS that she’d be patched up and slung out, and that would have suited her
fine. She could recover much better at home. But Jamie arranged for her to be
kept in for a few days, the combination of exposure, fracture and stress making
her vulnerable. She suspected Will wanted to keep her out of the action too.

Will also wanted Erica
kept in hospital though the security was minimal, anyone could stroll in at any
time and he didn’t have the manpower or sufficient reason to have her actually
guarded. Seemingly Archer was harmless enough for now, but the Operator
killings put anyone believed to have evidence at risk. And they weren’t sure
yet exactly what Archer’s involvement was as the medics hadn’t let the police
interrogate him. It had been touch and go if he’d live, though he was already
responding to treatment better than they’d hoped.

Superintendent ‘Golden Boy’ George spluttered
cherry scone crumbs. ‘You’ve got not just one Operator, but two, lad, you’re
spoilt rotten! Archer and Anderson, both under wraps and on bedpans! They’ll
both keep till we can sort out who mutilated who. We’re looking very good in
the media just now. ‘Heroic officer leaps into foaming briny to save suspect
and victim.’ But you’ll be busy waiting for Archer to talk, won’t you Will, and
of course you’ll be wanting to keep an unofficial eye on Erica Bruce, just in
case, so don’t worry, I’ll handle all the press conferences for you.’ And nab
any credit going.

Will visited Erica as soon as Jamie would allow.
His dark, clever face was drawn and scowling. Bloody little jumped up doctor!
It irked Will having to ask permission from the bloke Erica was shagging. Huh.
He’d like to see Jamie diving into a raging ocean to save her. Prescribing
antibiotics was the most he’d manage.

Erica had been
interviewing nurses and anyone else she could get at about health problems and
techniques for the health page using her voice recorder. It was a mercy that,
and her phone, hadn’t ended up in the sea. Her voice was a lot better but she
felt awkward talking to Will in a nightie. Strange, considering their past
intimacy. But then she’d never worn nighties. Worse, her hair, finally washed
of North Sea gunge, salt and seaweed, was still wet. She’d texted Stacey to
bring the hairdryer she kept at Ivy Lodge for straight-from-swimming drying. In
the meantime she was annoyed to be seen, plain, pale and pathetic and with her
hair dark, wet, dragged back into a bun.

‘Wow you look different. Without your hair. I’d
forgotten... erm I mean I’d hardly have recognised you. How are you?’ Will put
a plastic bag of grapes on her locker. Typical. Grapes are full of sugar, you
goon.

‘Thanks. Fine. How’s Archer?’ She was still very
husky.

‘Improving. Still seems weak. We found the
catapult on his bedroom windowsill.’

‘So I was right about that. Oh good.’

‘Though in itself it’s not evidence he used it on
Kingston. The wallop with the stone effectively disguised any initial fracture
caused by a golf ball. There’s only his partial confession to you with no
witnesses, in a state of distress, and you’ve both had major trauma since, or
so his legal team will say. I’ll try and get a statement from him as soon as
they’ll let me. I’ll try tomorrow.’

He fiddled with the things on the top of the
locker, almost knocking over a jug of water. He mopped up the spills with angry
dabs and a tissue, not looking at her. Erica wasn’t looking at him. If he was
waiting for her to thank him for saving her life, he could do one. SHE was
saving Archer’s life and Will helped her with that. She wasn’t giving Will the
satisfaction and future gloating rights of being the knight in shining, or in
this case soggy, armour. Not again.

He visibly steeled himself. ‘Erica, I have to say
it was quite something, you jumping into the sea after him, you could easily have
drowned. You should have drowned. There was no way you’d have got to any kind
of land unless someone saw you, it was a mad thing to do. I know you’re a good
swimmer, and you’ve trained in life-saving, but in those waves, with your arm,
well, I have to say Erica, I’m really impressed. It took real balls.’

With a massive effort, just this once she didn’t
say ‘Ovaries.’

‘Thanks Will.’ She was glad he’d said it first. ‘And
thanks for helping me. To save Archer I mean. I just couldn’t not do it. I didn’t
even want to! And I’m not sure I did him any favours. What’s he going to face
if he does get better?’

‘Prison probably.’

 ‘And he’ll never achieve his dream to join
Wydsand Club. It meant everything to him, shallow as it sounds.’

‘I know Erica, but he can’t expect to get away
with it. A good lawyer might be able to get some sympathy for an impulsive act
with a catapult, but the killings, the mutilations...’ If they could prove any
of them. ‘...quite apart from breaking your arm. He’s not going to get into any
Golf Club with that record!’

‘That bastard Kingston. He’s hurt so many people. A
man left with serious head injuries. Tessa’s years of pain, injury and fear.
His own horrible death. And what of Chambers, and Gupta? And Anderson? And
their families. And Archer’s life ruined. He’s got nothing left to lose now.’

‘Well we don’t know all of what happened yet, and
how much of it was down to Kingston. And as for Tessa...’

‘Will, you must believe by now she was abused by
Kingston! After all you’ve learned about him! Surely now you can see she was
the innocent victim here. Oh my god, you just can’t bear to be wrong can you?’

‘And you can’t bear not to be right. Not to be in
charge of how we all think...’

‘You’re accusing ME of being controlling? Pot, kettle...’

‘We’re both control freaks. Let’s face it. Look, I’m
sorry. I came to visit you not yell at you when you’re not well.’

‘I can take anything you dish out Will Bennett,
well or not.’ Erica felt hot, and dizzy, and Will saw to his alarm that she’d
gone an odd colour. He was appalled at himself.

‘Oh my god I’m sorry, you look as if you’re about
to faint. Here, have some water.’

He began to pour out a glass, when Erica gasped,
her eyes wide.

‘Oh god, what have I done, oh god, here darling,
just lie back and I’ll get the nurse...’

‘Bastard!’

‘Look I’m sorry...’

‘Not you, Kingston! Come back here, listen. I’m
fine... sod the water. Listen for once. At the swimming pool one day this guy
suddenly fainted... he was watching his kid have a lesson. It was hot and
steamy... The lifeguard came over and asked if he was OK and the guy whispered
to him. The fainting guy was so embarrassed... the lifeguard shouted right
across the pool to his colleague, ‘It’s all right, he had a vasectomy today!’
Quite funny really...’

‘OK nice story. Maybe you’re on too much
medication?’

‘Will you listen! I heard two nurses talking. Kingston
fainted at work, because he’d had a minor op. Unusual because he never showed
weakness.’

‘Well it could have been anything. A mole removed.’

‘Crap! Nobody’d faint because of a mole. But if
he
’d
had a vasectomy, imagine the sadism! Torturing his wife for failing to get
pregnant, when all the time he was the one who... He wouldn’t want a baby. Too
much competition for him. Sick, sick bastard!’

‘Well he’s dead now anyway. Calm down Erica. Get
some rest. I can come back tomorrow to go over your official statement.’ And he
was gone.

Wait, what did he call me? Darling? Patronising
git. Erica felt twitchy and confined, so she tried to clear her thinking with
some exercises on the bed, crunches and leg lifts mainly. Then she went off to
visit a lovely lady in a nearby room who had pelvic fractures and was in
traction. One of the nurses, no doubt fed up with Erica, had suggested she go
and talk to her. She certainly needed someone to talk to, and for her, as for
all patients, the days passed slowly and the nights seemed endless hours of
pain, discomfort, and boredom.

On the way back to her own room, a nurse told her
that Gary Thomas was hoping to visit her the next day. Who’d have thought Gary
would ever see her in bed? Fate plays strange tricks. She’d be willing to bet
he’d be delighted at the latest events. The girl (petite, blonde, yadda yadda)
who caught the Operator. Doctors can sleep peacefully in their beds once more.
Lucky them. Operator or not, Archer might still be dangerous, if he was
recovering so well. Presumably he was under police guard? It was hard to feel
secure, out of her safety zone, injured, and occasionally she imagined Archer
getting up, walking through the corridors, like now when there was no-one
about... She sighed. It was that dead time in the afternoon, after lunch and
the drugs trolley, before afternoon visiting time. Hardly anyone seemed to be
on duty at this time, and everything was quiet. She tried to have a nap to make
up for the wakeful nights and ludicrously early mornings, but it was difficult.
She tried to meditate, hoping to drift into sleep, hoping to forget the
throbbing of her wrist, though it wasn’t working. Some memory was beginning to
come back to her, when she heard her door opening.

She opened her eyes, relieved to see Tessa coming
in, smiling. Instantly she forgot about sleep; visitors are the breath of
sanity to patients, and especially at this time of day, an unexpected treat. She’d
been wondering how Tessa was getting on. She looked very pretty; she was
carrying a bag, and – Erica sat up in bed.

‘Hi Erica. Surprise!’

‘Is that a nurse’s uniform you’re wearing? Or am I
hallucinating… it’s great to see you!’

Tessa hung her bag over the chair back. ‘Yes it
is, and no you’re not! I’m back at work, the nursing I did before I married.
Agency work. I decided, to hell with computers, this is where I belong,
somewhere I can be some good to people. The pay’s not wonderful of course, but
I’m not short of money now so I can, you know, give something back.’

‘Great!’ Erica had wondered if Tessa was going to
look for another husband to live off, but that was better left unsaid. Though
doing some agency nursing would give her access to a stream of rich and
hopefully less sadistic surgeons...

‘There won’t be any elderly patients’ call buttons
hidden when I’m around, or drinks left out of reach and then taken away
untasted while some poor soul suffers with thirst… But that’s enough about me.
What about you? I can hear you’re very croaky, and your poor arm! But you look
great considering. I see you got someone to wash your hair! I’ll see if I can
hunt up a dryer somewhere for you. That was wonderful what you did, jumping in
to save Harry Archer. He’ll have to go to prison I suppose, or a mental
institution. So the police think he killed Robert and Mr Chambers, and Mr Gupta
too – or was that the other man who cut his arm off? What a tangle it all is! I’m
glad I’m a nurse and not a policewoman. Anyway, I’ve brought you these.’

She reached into her shoulder bag and brought out
a couple of magazines. The kind that tell you how to do up your house so it
looks like a house from a magazine, except there’s nowhere to put a skull
collection or books.