THE FIX: SAS hero turns Manchester hitman (A Rick Fuller Thriller Book 1) (22 page)

Lauren North's Story:

My head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton-wool as I walked into the ward the next day. Despite being definitely tipsy I had found it near impossible to sleep with all the information ticking over in my head.

No matter how I looked at it, the two men, one a patient, and one a fake doctor, were criminals. They had been working for a drug dealer and had killed people. You could dress it up any way you wanted but as far as I was concerned that was the truth.

So my decision should have been straightforward. No mystery, no second thoughts, but I was having them. Was it because Des was one of the most fascinating men I’d ever met? Was it because every time he brushed my hand with his last night I shivered inside with excitement?

He scared me to death. I mean, he was so cold about killing. It was black or white. Him or me. No thought for the law or family.

And yet he was so gentle and kind. He genuinely cared for his friend, the man lying in front of me in the cool ward, battered and scarred.

But it was the cold light of day. The candles were out and those twinkling blue eyes were somewhere else. I knew I needed to grow up, get a life and find a man who wasn’t a criminal. I needed to go to the police. That was it, decision made.

First though I had to change Rick’s dressings.

He had a new constable sitting by the bed and I asked if he could leave us during the procedure. I figured my tale of international drug running and gangsters would be wasted on the probationer and could wait until I ended my shift. He gladly went off toward the staffroom and I drew the screens around my patient.

I lifted the sheet from the bed to reveal Rick’s legs. One was damaged from the kneecap whilst the other was from mid-thigh. He must have suffered terrible pain. Des believed that whoever did this was trying to find out where his house was in Scotland. If this had happened to me? My God, I couldn’t even start to imagine his agony.

I was removing the second dressing when I saw Rick’s fingers move. It wasn’t just a reaction to the pain of having the dressings removed. He’d cupped his hand upward and was beckoning me. His eyes were closed, I looked to his monitor, but it was normal, no sign of any change, but his hand continued to coax me toward the bed. I stood, motionless for a while my own heart was racing. I found some courage and sat at his side. My hands were shaking.

He opened one eye. His left was still swollen shut.

“Where is he?”

His voice was quiet and hoarse, distorted by his injured mouth.

“Who?”

“The man who was here with you yesterday. Where is he now?”

“You were awake yesterday?” I frantically looked around to ensure that there were no gaps in the screens. He moved his body slightly as if he’d waited an age to do so.

“Yes, now where is he?”

Now the cat was most definitely amongst the pigeons. All my good work and sensible decision making went right out of the window as I heard myself whisper, “He’s here in Leeds. I know everything. Des told me last night. Now, be quiet. The guard is back.”

I couldn’t see the policeman, but I heard him sit on the chair just outside the curtains. I was faced with the choice of pulling the screen aside and telling all to the constable, or keeping my mouth shut. To this day, I don’t know why I decided to keep quiet, but, I did just that.

I knew the procedure of re-dressing Rick’s burns would be extremely painful. For a comatose patient, it was not a problem, but conscious, he would need serious pain relief. I couldn’t obtain any drugs from the pharmacy without announcing to the world that Rick was awake. Therefore he would have to bear it in silence.

As if reading my mind, he looked at me and nodded slowly.

My hands trembled as I began. I could barely imagine what he was feeling. Each tiny movement must have been agony as I removed his old dressings, piece by piece. Each step, each section of gauze removed part of his damaged skin with it.

It was the longest thirty minutes of my life. Rick remained silent throughout. I found tears too persistent to prevent.

When I had finally finished I drew the curtains to be greeted by the guarding policeman.

“You look pale, love, late night last night?”

I did my best to stop my hands from trembling. “Something like that, Constable.”

I scurried to the loo to be sick.

I sat in the ladies’ cubicle for what seemed like an age. Everything that had happened to me over the last twenty-four hours twisted my neck muscles and made my head pound. My hands tingled and my stomach felt empty, yet bloated all at the same time.

Des excited me. I had to admit that to myself. He treated me like a woman, but an equal. Something I’d forgotten in the years since my divorce. The violence was so real though. I recalled the night out in Manchester when Jane and I had discussed the identity of our mutual patient. How we had laughed at the prospect of having some kind of celebrity on our own ward. Now it was all too factual. These were cold and calculating men in a world, the likes of which Jane and I had only ever read about or seen in the movies.

This was Robert Di Nero and Al Pacino territory. The pair may have been soldiers first and foremost, but I couldn’t kid myself that they weren’t breaking the law. The man lying in the bed in my ward had been subjected to the most horrific torture. I couldn’t understand how could another human being could be capable of such vile behaviour. What fuelled them and drove them to torture? Was it drugs, money, power? Yes, power, the only thing really important to men.

Money itself was not enough. Power was absolute. With power you could change the world.

I cupped my chin in my hands and stared at the toilet door. Des had told an amazing tale. It was like an episode of
Spooks
or something.

The murder of Rick’s wife had been the catalyst for all this grief. Had that one event not occurred, Rick would probably be raising a family in some southern coastal resort and Des would be resigned to catching fish. There would be no gangsters; no drugs and no murder left in either them.

Could I really buy into that? And where to now? That was my next question. What was the next instalment in the saga?

I was returned swiftly to reality with a firm knock on the cubicle.

“You all right, Lauren?”

It was Jane’s voice.

“Yes, I’m fine, I just felt a little sick, that’s all.”

I opened the cubicle door. Jane stood in the fluorescent glare, arms folded, looking concerned. I knew her emotion was genuine, but there was another motive to her seeking me out.

Scandal. She lived for it.

I couldn’t tell her, that the reason I felt sick was Rick, our international man of mystery was wide awake. So, I would just have to tell her something about Des and hope it placated her fixation for gossip. I managed a weak smile.

“I had a few too many wines last night.”

Jane looked suspicious. “Oh that’s where you were then. I was ringing your mobile half the night. I was worried. You never switch it off normally.”

“I’m sorry, Jane, I was in such a rush, I never switched it back on after work, and I went straight out.” I felt my face colour. Jane was on to me like a rash.

“You’ve met a man, haven’t you?”

There was a trace of sadness in her voice, as if she had been dreading the moment when I would meet someone. She did her best to hide it but failed. She brushed herself down mentally and smiled.

“Tell me all about him.”

I walked to the sink to scrub my hands.

“He’s called Des and he’s a doctor,” I blurted, finding myself, ever so slightly deeper in the plot. Jane threw her hands into the air in a manner any lay preacher would have been proud of. “Oh Lord, another doctor!

“It’s not like that,” I said, defensively enough to arouse Jane’s suspicions even further.

“Really?”

“Yes really, he, he’s been at the hospital treating another patient, the one from the Manchester bomb blast, you know?”

“Mmmm.”

I felt like an extra from Bridget Jones.

“See, when I told him about our celebrity patient and his injuries, well, he was so excited, you know, he’s writing a paper on gunshot injuries and, well I brought him to the ward and, and, well, we hit it off and, erm, I’m kind of dating him. Kind of, if you know what I mean.”

I felt totally deflated and my cheeks burned.

I’d kept it brief but this only stirred Jane’s curiosity even further.

“Kind of? You mean he wants a shag but no commitment kind of?”

“No, he’s not like that!”

Jane was flabbergasted. “Ha! The first man on the planet who doesn’t want sex. How long have you been seeing him? One night? One night and ‘quote’ you’re dating? You, ice queen of Leeds General, are dating? And a bloody doctor to boot? What happened to ‘never again, Jane’ eh?

Her eyes narrowed to a squint and she pushed her ample chest out in triumph. “I don’t believe you. There’s something else going on, something you’re hiding from me.”

“It’s true,” I countered lamely.

“No.” Jane wiped her palms together in dismissal. “It just doesn’t wash, girl. I know you far too well for this nonsense.”

I felt my temper rise.

“What do you mean, Jane, nonsense? I like him. He’s the first man I’ve met in years that treats me like a human being rather than a pair of legs with decent tits.”

Jane cocked her head to one side and eyed me dubiously. She tapped an index finger on the centre of her palm repeatedly as she spoke.

“Well, Marge from ICU saw you with your ‘man’ yesterday in the canteen and she says he looks a right hard case. She said he looked like a copper or worse.”

I managed to keep any emotion from my face, but felt my cheeks tingle as blood made its way to the surface of my skin. I pictured Des’s worn handsome features and could see where Marge was coming from. I played dumb.

“He does a lot of fishing and outdoor stuff. He doesn’t look much like a doctor, I have to say.”

“Outdoor stuff?” Jane practically spat the words, “You can’t fool me, dear, you are up to something.”

I couldn’t take any more interrogation. I turned on my heels, gave Jane a playful tap on the bum and said, “Not yet I’m not but give it time.”

I couldn’t see, but as I walked away I would have bet a month’s wages that Jane’s mouth would be open like a trap.

As my shift dragged on, Jane shot me the occasional look but didn’t mention Des again. Rick hadn’t moved or given any indication he was awake.

When ten o’clock came his police guard was collected by a red-faced sergeant. I strained to overhear their conversation. Rick’s security had been downgraded to regular drive-by patrols as manpower was scarce due to the bomb in Manchester. From the sergeant’s tone, the forces surrounding the area had been stretched to the limit assisting Greater Manchester Police. The national newspapers had reported severe racial tensions as a result of the misconception that the police were not taking the incident seriously. From what I had seen, they were taking it very seriously indeed. Despite this, forces with large Afro-Caribbean communities were on alert as large groups of youths were forming on the streets. There had been ugly scenes in Moss Side, Toxteth and Brixton. 

I walked to Rick’s bedside and sat.

“My shift ends in an hour,” I said as quietly as I could. “But when the consultant comes at eight in the morning he will know you are conscious.”

Rick opened his good eye and looked at me. Now I knew he was awake, even lying in a hospital bed he scared me.

“Tell Des to get me out of here tonight.”

“That’s impossible,” I hissed. “You need specialist care; the move alone could send you into shock. He can’t.”

“Just do it.”

“No.”

“If you don’t tell him to move me I’ll be dead anyway.”

“No one knows you’re here.”

Rick moved his head slightly. He did his best to moisten his dry mouth. “Come on, girl. Do you really think I put the gun in my own mouth? What? You think the guys who did this will stop looking? Des found me, you know who I am and our friend over there is a nosy cow. It won’t be long before you give in and tell her. The only time three people can keep a secret is when two are dead. The people who did this will come here and kill me and walk away as if nothing happened.”

“Don’t say that.”

To my surprise he closed his eyes and moved his broken body again. I could only imagine his agony.

“Sorry, love, I’m just a bit stressed out today, there was no gravy with the Yorkshires.”

I smiled at his dry wit. I tried to put myself in his position and realised just how vulnerable he was. Then I shuddered. How in heaven’s name would Des get him out of the ward, never mind a city hospital? They would be seen and stopped without question.

“I can’t do it, Rick, I can’t even have anything to do with it. I’d get caught.”

He took my hand gently.

“Not if you kill me first.”