Delirium (London Psychic) (22 page)

***

Entering the Chamber of the House of Commons, Matthew Osborne clutched his notes, looking up at the statues on either side of the arched wall. They portrayed Winston Churchill and David Lloyd George, Prime Ministers during the war years, both with one foot polished to a shine where Members had touched them for luck on the way in. He took a deep breath, experiencing a rush of pride at how far he had come, although he knew that this was likely the final time he would stand here. Behind him, Matthew heard a shout from the direction of the Churchill Room, quickly stilled into silence. Whatever it was, there was no way to stop this now. He hurried inside.

The Gothic design was stark in comparison to the Lords' Chamber, but there were touches of ornate decoration in the wood paneling towards the public balcony above. The adversarial layout, green benches facing each other, was due to the original use as St Stephen's Chapel. But there was no reverent hush here anymore, much to the appalled spectators' surprise, as Parliament was full of shouting and noise, refereed by the Speaker of the House.

Matthew watched the other Members move to their usual places in the Chamber, chatting to other MPs, alert for gossip that might be used against people once considered friends. He had played this game for years now and still didn't have the power to change things. Yet it moved him to be part of the legacy this room handed down across the years. Despite the inevitable human failings of the Ministers in the House of Commons and the House of Lords, most of what they enacted was for the good of the nation. Matthew still believed in democratic government, but sometimes a more dramatic statement was needed to bring attention to a cause.
 

He looked at his watch and then up at the gallery where the TV cameras and journalists stood, pads in hand. The drug was reasonably fast acting, quicker on some than others, but he was counting on being able to at least start the discussion on the Bill before its effects were felt. The Speaker of the House sat down and Matthew stepped to the front bench as the murmur of the crowd subsided.
 

"Honorable Members. Mr Speaker. Today is the Second Reading of the Mental Health Amendment Bill and I will start by outlining the abuses of the government agency, RAIN, the Research into Advanced Intelligence Network."

Matthew began to read from his prepared speech, and it seemed as if his consciousness split in two. He functioned on autopilot as an experienced public speaker, well used to performing in this venue. He was confident that the text of his speech would be analyzed later, and the scope of RAIN would finally be exposed. Another part of him focused on watching the faces of the Members who had been in the drinks reception.
 

The Prime Minister adjusted his tie and opened his collar a little. The honorable Member for Windsor was beginning to sweat, patches spreading in semicircles under his arms as he dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief. The cabal of Ministers from the North looked a little confused as they glanced around the room, eyes narrowing with suspicion at the opposition. Meanwhile, the press in the gallery looked bored, junior reporters on the graveyard political shift, hoping desperately for some kind of interesting news.

Matthew moved into the contentious part of his speech, calling for greater rights for the mentally ill. The insults began to fly, the cacophony of shouting in the room growing louder as he let the sound buoy him up, allowing it to rise without trying to respond. He wanted the temperature in the room to soar. He imagined molecules of the drug bonding with neurons in the brains around him, beginning to alter their consciousness, taking their emotions to extremes, numbing their prefrontal cortex and removing their self-control. The way the establishment had stolen control from Lyssa.

***
 

Harriet Arbuthnot felt the prickle of sweat under her arms and her head began to swim as she listened to the drone of that idiot, Matthew Osborne. Must have had a little too much wine, she thought, refocusing on the speaker. He was such a pompous ass, like most of the Members, but of course she mildly flirted with him as she did with others. She looked at his face more closely. It was shining, his eyes a brilliant blue and his mouth appeared to speak in slow motion, like his words came from under a swimming pool, distorted and slow.
 

It was so hot in here. Harriet looked up at the windows at the top of the gallery and felt the radiance of the sun like a furnace on her skin.
Why couldn't they sort out the air conditioning in here
? she wondered. Her eyes drifted down to the green back-benches opposite, her usual form of meditation. But instead of the calm vertical stripes, the emerald lines began to move in rippling swells. A wave of nausea rose up within her and Harriet put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide as she stared. The benches morphed into thick snakes, their heads rising up from the wooden paneling, tongues flickering in the air. She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head a little, part of her understanding that she must somehow be sick. She opened her eyes again and let out a scream as the bench around her twisted into a nest of serpents. Harriet leapt to her feet.

"Help me," she cried, clutching onto the seat behind her, trying to clamber away from the snakes. She could hear the clicking of the cameras from the gallery above, but the MPs around her just stared. Harriet was shocked at the hate in their faces, their mouths twisted in grimaces and their eyes blazing with murderous rage as shouting erupted in the Chamber. She felt the slithering of thick bodies around her legs and whimpered as the snakes wound around her body, pinning her to the bench with a heavy weight as she stared down at the melee before her.

One of the Members launched himself across the room towards Osborne, fists raised as he screamed abuse. The press clamored on the balcony as they tried to get the best footage. The action seemed to disintegrate any reserve left in the room, as the two sides of the Chamber rose to their feet. Men from either sides clambered down to the middle of the room and the thump of fists against flesh could soon be heard above the din. Harriet watched the thick green snakes writhe in and out of the bodies, fangs glistening, coils wrapped around the figures below. She was crying now, desperate for this to end but pinioned to the bench and unable to move. Her heart pounded in her chest and the sound of her own pulse thudded in her head as the shouting in the room grew louder. It was overlaid by another voice, whispering spite and hate, insidious with vile suggestion that spurred the mania to a new dimension.

A scream rang out and Harriet saw two of the Members holding down Miriam Lender, MP for Banbury. She could only watch as Miriam struggled against them. Another man tugged away her skirt and a serpent slithered across Miriam's bare belly as the man between her legs began to unbuckle his pants. Harriet's screams were frozen in her throat, tears running down her cheeks as she bore witness to the frenzy around her. One of the MPs drove another man's head against the wooden end of the bench, bashing it until blood ran onto the floor. Two others kicked a third, who lay prone on the stairs, hands wrapped around his head.

Security guards ran into the Chamber, blowing whistles and dragging some of the Members off each other. But there were too few of them and the brawling men turned on the security guards, pulling them down and kicking at their heads. Harriet watched as some of the Members tried to escape, but there were so few exits in the Chamber and bodies of others blocked their path. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the maelstrom below as it disintegrated into a writhing mass of confusion.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind, an arm around her neck, pulling her over the back of the bench. Harriet struggled, squirming to escape the grip but the man pulled harder, grunting with exertion. Her vision began to fade as the lack of oxygen left her gasping.
 

"Stay still, you bitch," the man rasped. She felt two more sets of arms and then someone lifted her feet up, helping the men to pull her over the bench. The thick green snake wound around her body tightened its grip. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see properly, but she felt their hands on her and she stared up at the ceiling, her brain screaming, her mouth frozen in silence as darkness descended.

***
 

As the hallucinogens kicked in and the Chamber erupted into violence, Matthew looked around for the Prime Minister, the man whose signature supporting RAIN had damned his sister, the man who justified abuse of power with no regard for the lives destroyed in the process. Glen Abrahams rolled on the floor with his Lord Chancellor, the animosity between the men finally spilling over into thrown punches and attempted strangulation. Matthew couldn't help but grin at how this would look on the evening news, the likely resignation of the man he despised, the madness of these ineffectual politicians who would have spurned his Bill today. These few minutes would have dramatic consequences indeed.

A clumsy punch slammed into his back. Matthew spun round to see the Minister from Coventry North East, eyes wide and bloodshot, locked on visions beyond the physical realm. Matthew ducked easily under the man's second punch and slipped to the floor. He needed to get out. The police would be here soon, and he didn't have to stay any longer to know his plan was complete.
 

Matthew dropped to the floor, and crawled around the edge of the brawling crowd. Outside in the corridor, he saw uniformed police and more security guards rushing to the scene. He stepped back to let them past, the noise from the Chamber echoing around the grand entrance hall as he left the building just before the shut-down siren sounded.

Jamie folded the photograph of Blake into her jacket pocket and with gloved hands placed the rest of the images on Matthew Osborne's desk. This whole place would need to be processed later, but it might be too late for Blake by then. She had to get him out of RAIN, but first, her responsibility was to her partner. She turned and ran down the stairs.

Pulling up in front of the Houses of Parliament ten minutes later, Jamie parked the bike in the Sovereign's Entrance just as the rain started to hammer down. Pedestrians hurried past to the shelter of the underground, umbrellas raised as they splashed through puddles. As Jamie tugged her helmet off, she heard an alarm ringing throughout the building. Something had already happened.
Please let him be OK
, she thought, desperate to get to Missinghall. She had sent him here, she had put him in harm's way.
 

The siren wail of ambulances and police cars scythed through the rain and cars parted on the road to let them through. People stopped on the pavement to watch, the atmosphere of high drama in the air. Jamie pushed through the gathering crowd and ran to the entrance hall, where a line of tourists was being held at the security gates. She showed her warrant card to one of the uniformed police.
 

"I need to get in there," Jamie said. "My partner's inside, along with a murder suspect. Please let me through."

The officer bent to look more closely at her card. "Sorry, Detective. We're under shut-down protocol, and so's every government building in the city. No one's coming in here now." He shook his head. "It's chaos in there anyway, and it looks like the bastard who did this got out before we closed everything down."

Shouting burst from the corridor behind the security area and a flurry of activity turned heads. An ambulance crew wheeled out gurneys with unconscious figures slumped upon them. Jamie's heart thumped in her chest, desperately hoping Missinghall wasn't among them.

"Clear the area! Let them through."
 

The uniformed officers onsite pushed the tourists aside to allow the medical staff by. Jamie looked down at the faces of the victims as they passed, some recognizable from the media, all high profile. Jamie realized that St Paul's had only ever been a practice run – this was Matthew Osborne's endgame.

A gurney came past with a big man lying prone, hands manacled to the side. His head was bruised and he wasn't moving.
 

"No," Jamie whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. She stepped out to the ambulance crew, holding her warrant card high.
 

"Please," she said. "That's my partner, he's a policeman. Detective Constable Alan Missinghall. Is he going to be alright?"

One of the medics waved at her. "Get clear," he said. "We have to get this lot to the hospital."

Jamie stepped back, allowing them through. She clenched her fists, turning to push through the crowd back to her bike. The rain was heavier now but she held her face up to it, letting it soak her dark hair. Where would Matthew Osborne go? He must know that all officers would be out looking for him, so he wouldn't return to his flat. She thought back to their first conversation, when she had realized the depth of his love for his sister. Had he said anything that would help her find him? She closed her eyes and let the rain trickle down her face and into her leather jacket as she replayed the interview in her mind.
 

There was one place he had mentioned. The Tower of London, and how Lyssa had seen it as a metaphor for her mind, locked down to protect the treasures within. Anything was worth a try at this point, and Jamie needed to reach Matthew before anyone else. She understood his grief and maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to give himself up. She owed Missinghall that. Jamie kicked the bike into life and roared off down Victoria Embankment.

Urgency fueled Jamie's ride as she swerved the bike through traffic along the north bank of the Thames. Darkness had fallen now and the rain made visibility difficult. She pulled off the main road into Lower Thames Street, ignoring the signage to ride along the pedestrianized area down to the walkway on the riverside. Then she saw Tower Bridge, the two halves splitting open, starting to rise up into the air to allow ships through underneath. Osborne had said that sometimes he would watch it with Lyssa. Jamie revved the bike onwards.