The Trojan Boy (2 page)
Authors: Ken McClure
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Medical, #Suspense, #Thrillers
Avedissian swathed his thumb temporarily in toilet tissue
while he answered it. Two men stood there. One said,
'Mark Avedissian?'
while he answered it. Two men stood there. One said,
'Mark Avedissian?'
'Yes.'
'May we come in?'
'Who are you?'
The man doing the talking flipped open a wallet and held it up. 'Police, sir.'
Avedissian closed his eyes briefly before opening them
again and saying with resignation, 'Come in.'
again and saying with resignation, 'Come in.'
Nightmares of the past had been rekindled in Avedissian's
head by the sight of the warrant card. What could they
possibly want this time?
head by the sight of the warrant card. What could they
possibly want this time?
The two men entered and looked about them like tourists
in a stately home.
in a stately home.
'Sit down.' Avedissian indicated chairs.
‘
Trouble, sir?' The man was looking at the wad of tissue
on Avedissian's hand that was now crimson.
Trouble, sir?' The man was looking at the wad of tissue
on Avedissian's hand that was now crimson.
'Just a cut,' murmured Avedissian. 'If you'll excuse me
for a moment.' He turned to go back to the bathroom.
for a moment.' He turned to go back to the bathroom.
'Of course, sir, anything we can do to help?'
Avedissian declined and left the room. He closed the
bathroom door and leaned his back on it muttering,
Firbush, the little turd.'
bathroom door and leaned his back on it muttering,
Firbush, the little turd.'
He dressed his thumb and composed himself before re
turning to join the policemen.
turning to join the policemen.
Both men had stood up in his absence and were
wandering about the room; one was holding the photo
graph of Linda that he kept on his desk. Avedissian stared at
it and the man put it down.
wandering about the room; one was holding the photo
graph of Linda that he kept on his desk. Avedissian stared at
it and the man put it down.
'We have had a complaint from one Cyril Frederick
Firbush, sir. Mr Firbush says that he was the victim of an
unprovoked assault at your hands.'
Firbush, sir. Mr Firbush says that he was the victim of an
unprovoked assault at your hands.'
‘
1 wouldn't say that it was unprovoked,' said Avedissian
quietly.
1 wouldn't say that it was unprovoked,' said Avedissian
quietly.
‘
Then you admit the offence, sir?'
Then you admit the offence, sir?'
'It happened.'
'Would you care to give us your version of the incident?'
'I don't think so,' said Avedissian, feeling drained.
The policemen exchanged glances and shrugged. 'Are you
quite sure, sir?' said one of them.
quite sure, sir?' said one of them.
Avedissian smiled wanly at the man's attempt to help him and said, 'Quite.'
'Have you ever been in trouble before, sir?'
'Once.'
Another exchange of glances. 'Really, sir. What?'
'Murder.'
So it had come to this, thought Avedissian as he filled his glass.
He was unemployed and due to appear in court on a petty
assault charge. The discomfort of shame vied with the numbing effect of the gin and, for the first time in many years, he thought of his parents and was glad that they had not lived to see him in his present state. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.
He was unemployed and due to appear in court on a petty
assault charge. The discomfort of shame vied with the numbing effect of the gin and, for the first time in many years, he thought of his parents and was glad that they had not lived to see him in his present state. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.
Despite his name, a legacy from an Armenian great-
grandfather, Avedissian was English and had been brought
up in a village near Canterbury, that most gentle of English
towns. His childhood, as the only son of a prosperous business
man, had been a model of middle-class order and pride in achievement.
grandfather, Avedissian was English and had been brought
up in a village near Canterbury, that most gentle of English
towns. His childhood, as the only son of a prosperous business
man, had been a model of middle-class order and pride in achievement.
Having been a bright child Avedissian had had no difficulty in
showing the academic success that his parents had valued so
highly and, although they had been dead for many years now, they had lived to see him commissioned in the forces and had
later supported him in his decision to leave the army and go
through medical school.
showing the academic success that his parents had valued so
highly and, although they had been dead for many years now, they had lived to see him commissioned in the forces and had
later supported him in his decision to leave the army and go
through medical school.
His mother's pride had been the straightforward pride of a
mother in her son and Avedissian smiled as he remembered
with fondness the ridiculous floral hat that she had worn at his graduation ceremony. But his father's attitude had been
different.
mother in her son and Avedissian smiled as he remembered
with fondness the ridiculous floral hat that she had worn at his graduation ceremony. But his father's attitude had been
different.
John Avedissian had always been as concerned about his
son's development as a person as about his academic
achievement, although he too had been proud when
Avedissian had graduated as a doctor. To be his 'own man'
had always been the goal that John Avedissian had set his son. 'Make up your own mind what is right, then do it,' he
had urged. 'Don't run with the herd. It's difficult, make no
mistake about it, but resist! Be your own man.'
son's development as a person as about his academic
achievement, although he too had been proud when
Avedissian had graduated as a doctor. To be his 'own man'
had always been the goal that John Avedissian had set his son. 'Make up your own mind what is right, then do it,' he
had urged. 'Don't run with the herd. It's difficult, make no
mistake about it, but resist! Be your own man.'
Difficult! Avedissian snorted at the memory. Just look at
what being his own man had done for him! Had his father not realised that people who told the truth, people who did what was right, were an embarrassment to society? What
society really wanted was people who played the game;
people who knew the rules and played the game
...
or was
that self-pity and gin-nurtured cynicism? Avedissian refilled
his glass.
what being his own man had done for him! Had his father not realised that people who told the truth, people who did what was right, were an embarrassment to society? What
society really wanted was people who played the game;
people who knew the rules and played the game
...
or was
that self-pity and gin-nurtured cynicism? Avedissian refilled
his glass.
The magistrate was lenient. He saw in Avedissian a fellow
professional who had fallen on hard times and, in the un
spoken way of these things, he back-pedalled when it came to meting out punishment. That Firbush had come across as an ingratiating, slimy little Uriah Heep of a man had also
helped Avedissian. The crumpled suit and the rather
grubby, unironed shirt could not belie the fact that
Avedissian belonged where Cyril Frederick Firbush, for all
his golf club tie, did not. Justice might be blind but it would
take more than a comfortable little homily to destroy Mr
Giles Carrington-Smythe's eyesight.
professional who had fallen on hard times and, in the un
spoken way of these things, he back-pedalled when it came to meting out punishment. That Firbush had come across as an ingratiating, slimy little Uriah Heep of a man had also
helped Avedissian. The crumpled suit and the rather
grubby, unironed shirt could not belie the fact that
Avedissian belonged where Cyril Frederick Firbush, for all
his golf club tie, did not. Justice might be blind but it would
take more than a comfortable little homily to destroy Mr
Giles Carrington-Smythe's eyesight.
Avedissian paid the fine and walked out into the after
noon, not reflecting too deeply on whether he had got off
lightly or not. His immediate thought was to find a nearby pub
and order up a large gin. He checked his watch. Ten minutes
to closing time.
noon, not reflecting too deeply on whether he had got off
lightly or not. His immediate thought was to find a nearby pub
and order up a large gin. He checked his watch. Ten minutes
to closing time.
Two had passed by the time he reached The Earl of Essex
and entered the cool, dark interior.
and entered the cool, dark interior.
'Just in time, sir. What'll it be?'
Avedissian ordered a large gin and took it to a table after
telling the barman to keep the change.
telling the barman to keep the change.
The barman was effusive in his thanks but that only ann
oyed Avedissian. Whatever happened to dignity, he
wondered? Why didn't he tell me to stick my money? Because he was afraid to lose his job? No, that wasn't it. Someone was
giving him money, therefore he was happy. A nice simple
philosophy.
oyed Avedissian. Whatever happened to dignity, he
wondered? Why didn't he tell me to stick my money? Because he was afraid to lose his job? No, that wasn't it. Someone was
giving him money, therefore he was happy. A nice simple
philosophy.
Avedissian took a large gulp of the gin. Maybe Firbush was
right. Maybe he was too grand for the standards of the
market-place, but that was hardly a consideration because he was no longer in the market-place. He saw the reality of his
situation in the dregs of his empty glass and did not like what
he saw. He was lost and alone. One thing Firbush had been
right about was the fact that his career as a doctor was over for
good. He would never practise again and that thought recurred to gnaw at his insides like an ulcer.
right. Maybe he was too grand for the standards of the
market-place, but that was hardly a consideration because he was no longer in the market-place. He saw the reality of his
situation in the dregs of his empty glass and did not like what
he saw. He was lost and alone. One thing Firbush had been
right about was the fact that his career as a doctor was over for
good. He would never practise again and that thought recurred to gnaw at his insides like an ulcer.
The idea of living without being able to work at what he
loved had been bearable, though only just, when Linda had been alive. But with her death the sun had gone out. Not only
could he not accept his wife's suicide, he could not understand it and that made it all the worse for they had been so perfectly
matched. They had shared an intellectual harmony that had
given them such pleasure; it seemed unthinkable that one of
them could have had such secret thoughts of death. Did it
mean that he had never really known her at all? Had it all
been arrogant presumption on his part? Had Linda possessed a
secret self, a frightened lonely self who had been unable to
confide in him? The thought was unbearable.
loved had been bearable, though only just, when Linda had been alive. But with her death the sun had gone out. Not only
could he not accept his wife's suicide, he could not understand it and that made it all the worse for they had been so perfectly
matched. They had shared an intellectual harmony that had
given them such pleasure; it seemed unthinkable that one of
them could have had such secret thoughts of death. Did it
mean that he had never really known her at all? Had it all
been arrogant presumption on his part? Had Linda possessed a
secret self, a frightened lonely self who had been unable to
confide in him? The thought was unbearable.
'I'm sorry, sir, we're closing now.'
Avedissian did not hear the statement until it was re
peated. He glanced at the man in the white jacket and
nodded.
peated. He glanced at the man in the white jacket and
nodded.
'Thank you, sir.'
Avedissian got up and smiled. 'Perhaps you are right and I
am wrong,' he said.
am wrong,' he said.
'Yes, sir,’ said the barman without considering as he
picked up the glass and wiped the table.
picked up the glass and wiped the table.
For Avedissian the days came and went. He was marking
time in a meaningless void where the only regulation was
that imposed by the liquor licensing laws. One Friday eve
ning as he returned to the flat with his senses suitably
numbed he was aware of two neighbours talking in the
hallway as he entered the building. 'Disgusting,' said one.
'Absolutely,' said the other.
time in a meaningless void where the only regulation was
that imposed by the liquor licensing laws. One Friday eve
ning as he returned to the flat with his senses suitably
numbed he was aware of two neighbours talking in the
hallway as he entered the building. 'Disgusting,' said one.
'Absolutely,' said the other.
It was when he was climbing the stairs that he suddenly
realised that they had been talking about him and the
thought soaked him like icy water. Disgusting? Him? His
mind cleared but his feet still displayed unsteadiness as he
unlocked the door and made for the bathroom. He switched
on the light and stared at the dishevelled spectre in the long
mirror, dark circles under his eyes, three days' stubble on
his chin, the stain on the front of his shirt. 'God Almighty,'
he whispered as he saw himself clearly for the first time in a
long while.
realised that they had been talking about him and the
thought soaked him like icy water. Disgusting? Him? His
mind cleared but his feet still displayed unsteadiness as he
unlocked the door and made for the bathroom. He switched
on the light and stared at the dishevelled spectre in the long
mirror, dark circles under his eyes, three days' stubble on
his chin, the stain on the front of his shirt. 'God Almighty,'
he whispered as he saw himself clearly for the first time in a
long while.
Avedissian leaned heavily on one tap while he turned on
the other one and began sluicing cold water up into his face. The act of bending over the basin forced some gin-flavoured
bile up into his throat where it burned and disgusted him.
Angrily he rammed two fingers into the back of his mouth
and vomited the contents of his stomach into the basin. The
smell made him retch again.
the other one and began sluicing cold water up into his face. The act of bending over the basin forced some gin-flavoured
bile up into his throat where it burned and disgusted him.
Angrily he rammed two fingers into the back of his mouth
and vomited the contents of his stomach into the basin. The
smell made him retch again.
He searched for a disposable razor in the cabinet above the basin and threw aside everything that got in his way
until he found one and started to shave zealously. He ran
the bath until it was three-quarters full and immersed
himself two or three times before scrubbing his body all over
until his skin hurt.
until he found one and started to shave zealously. He ran
the bath until it was three-quarters full and immersed
himself two or three times before scrubbing his body all over
until his skin hurt.
Almost exhausted by the effort, he lay back in the bath and felt anger and frustration leave him, but only to be
replaced by an apathy that sucked him down slowly like
quicksand. Fighting against it, he got up and dried himself
vigorously. At least, it started out with vigorous towelling but quickly degenerated into slow patting as his arms grew
sore and tired. He looked at himself in the mirror again and
blanched. He was still six feet tall and his hair was still black
but these seemed to be the only similarities to the man who had strode the corridors of St Jude's. The man in the mirror
had a sunken chest and a ring of flab round his middle. His
shoulders drooped and he needed a haircut. The tan from
two holidays a year had been replaced in this version by
pallid white. The eyes that had been piercing blue were
distinctly lack-lustre with whites that were yellow and
flecked with veins. Avedissian put out his tongue and put it
away again. He would feel better after a drink.
replaced by an apathy that sucked him down slowly like
quicksand. Fighting against it, he got up and dried himself
vigorously. At least, it started out with vigorous towelling but quickly degenerated into slow patting as his arms grew
sore and tired. He looked at himself in the mirror again and
blanched. He was still six feet tall and his hair was still black
but these seemed to be the only similarities to the man who had strode the corridors of St Jude's. The man in the mirror
had a sunken chest and a ring of flab round his middle. His
shoulders drooped and he needed a haircut. The tan from
two holidays a year had been replaced in this version by
pallid white. The eyes that had been piercing blue were
distinctly lack-lustre with whites that were yellow and
flecked with veins. Avedissian put out his tongue and put it
away again. He would feel better after a drink.
The letter was sandwiched between the electricity bill and an exhortation to provide life insurance for his loved ones.
It looked interesting; pristine white and postmarked
Cambridge. The paper felt pleasingly expensive as
Avedissian unfolded it and saw the embossed coat of arms of
Trinity College, Cambridge. He read it with disbelief then
re-read it. He was invited to attend for interview on
Thursday next at ten o'clock in the morning with a view to
employment 'in a professional capacity'. What the hell did
that mean? he wondered. He had not applied for any job and he did not know anyone in Cambridge.
It looked interesting; pristine white and postmarked
Cambridge. The paper felt pleasingly expensive as
Avedissian unfolded it and saw the embossed coat of arms of
Trinity College, Cambridge. He read it with disbelief then
re-read it. He was invited to attend for interview on
Thursday next at ten o'clock in the morning with a view to
employment 'in a professional capacity'. What the hell did
that mean? he wondered. He had not applied for any job and he did not know anyone in Cambridge.
Avedissian looked for signs of mistaken identity but
reminded himself of what his father had said: if anyone said
'Avedissian', they meant it. It wasn't a name you mixed up
with Smith or Brown. He read on. Expenses would be paid
on a scale according to 'Grade 3' and at a rate of £34.15 per night plus second-class travelling costs. Was this some kind
of sick joke? Why the hell should he go to Cambridge on the
strength of an unsolicited letter? Because he had nothing else to do, that was why.
reminded himself of what his father had said: if anyone said
'Avedissian', they meant it. It wasn't a name you mixed up
with Smith or Brown. He read on. Expenses would be paid
on a scale according to 'Grade 3' and at a rate of £34.15 per night plus second-class travelling costs. Was this some kind
of sick joke? Why the hell should he go to Cambridge on the
strength of an unsolicited letter? Because he had nothing else to do, that was why.
Chesterton Road was dark but the night was warm and
friendly, one of those English summer evenings that
optimists like to call 'typical' but which in reality are
beautiful exceptions. The scent of blossom filled the air as
Avedissian climbed the steps to check in at his hotel.
friendly, one of those English summer evenings that
optimists like to call 'typical' but which in reality are
beautiful exceptions. The scent of blossom filled the air as
Avedissian climbed the steps to check in at his hotel.
Other books
Casca 3: The Warlord by Barry Sadler
Rushed to the Altar by Jane Feather
The Centaur by John Updike
The Olive Conspiracy by Shira Glassman
The End of the Pier by Martha Grimes
Personal Protection (A Spider Shepherd Short Story) by Stephen Leather
The Ripper Gene by Michael Ransom
The Dragon in the Stone by Doris O'Connor
Mr. Personality by Carol Rose
Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth