‘I’m not holding out much hope re this voodoo quack, but we do need to get every single visitor to both brothers checked out, plus the guy sharing Eamon’s cell, just to cover our tracks. It could have been in a hypodermic needle or powder, so check any food parcels, anything handed to our zombie whatsoever. Also, check out who had access to him during his trial, because somebody pumped this stuff into him; his body is like a pin cushion.’

  Langton turned and gestured towards her, before continuing his call. ‘If Grace gets anything, call me; ditto forensics.’ He carried on firing off instructions, asking if Harry Blunt had come up with anything from the bus tickets, or whether Brandon had anything. By his long sigh, she could tell that there was obviously no new information. He cut off the call and turned towards her.

  ‘I talked to Idris and now the doctor’s with him,’ she said. ‘I told him to go through everything he spoke to us about.’

  ‘Well, that’ll take for ever, if the doc takes as long as he did to tell us. In the meantime, the kid is fading fast.’

  ‘There’s a one-way glass, if you want to sit in and listen.’

  He nodded and then sat down, rubbing his knee. ‘I need some coffee.’

  ‘Mike’s sorting it,’ she said.

  After a few minutes, he gripped the arms of the chair and stood up with a grimace, then had to sit down again, swearing.

  ‘Do you want me to ask if Esme has anything that might help the pain?’

  ‘Terrific, yeah. Gimme some of the poison, finish me off.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Just give me a fucking few minutes,’ he shouted. Then he looked at her. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry–for a lot of things, Anna. It’s just I get so frustrated with this bloody knee. It freezes up and hurts like hell.’

  ‘I know. I wouldn’t dare suggest we ask for a walking frame–they may have one here.’

  He glared at her.

  ‘I was joking! I know you’d never use one.’

  ‘I guess you do. Sorry again.’ He paused. ‘I know I have behaved like a real shit at times with you, and I want you to know, I don’t…I don’t ever mean half of it. I suppose I reckon that, knowing me so well, you can take it.’

  ‘Well, I try, but sometimes it hasn’t been easy.’

  ‘Come here.’

  He lifted his hand towards her. She walked over and he held her tightly.

  ‘You are very special. I appreciate all you have done for me.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Okay, now give me a haul up, and let’s get cracking.’

  She saw the pain etched across his face as she helped him stand. She was doubtful he would make it down all the corridors but as soon as they walked outside the room he moved ahead of her. He was limping but, as always, looked like he was in the lead.

  Dr Salaam was indicating where the puncture marks had been discovered on his brother. Idris sat, expressionless, but listening intently. Anna switched on a speaker, so that they could hear what was being said.

  ‘They were also around his anal and genital area,’ the doctor said.

  Idris shook his head. ‘So, is he going to live?’ His voice was very low and hardly audible.

  Dr Salaam hesitated.

  Idris leaned towards him. ‘I need to know: is he going to live?’

  Langton pursed his lips, swearing under his breath; the last thing they wanted was for the doctor to say that there was no hope.

  Anna reached over and touched his arm. ‘He knows not to say anything.’

  Dr Salaam drew up a chair to be closer to Idris. ‘His heart is very weak.’

  ‘Can’t you operate?’ Idris interrupted; he was now speaking clearly.

  ‘It’s too late for that, but we are hopeful that if we give him ECT, it may jolt him back into consciousness.’

  ‘Shit, that’s those electrode things. I know about them: you plug them into fucking electricity.’

  ‘I would need your permission to do any kind of resuscitation.’

  ‘Listen, I’ll agree; but tell me what can happen if that don’t work?’

  ‘Idris, your brother is in a critical condition,’ the doctor said gravely. ‘He has refused all medical treatment that might have helped him. You have to understand that he is very sick. There is no antidote for this poison.’

  ‘So why do you want to put those electrode things on him?’

  ‘It might jolt him out of the terror inside his brain and give him some peace. He is a believer, isn’t he?’

  ‘You mean Christian?’

  ‘No, voodoo.’

  Idris turned away.

  ‘Has he ever been involved with voodoo, or someone whom he believes has voodoo powers?’

  Idris nodded slowly.

  ‘Do you need some time alone to think about what I have told you?’

  Idris nodded again. Langton swore: the last thing he wanted was to give Idris any more time. The doctor tapped on the door and it was unlocked. Langton immediately walked out, leaving Anna alone in the viewing room.

  Outside in the corridor, Langton conferred with Dr Salaam. He was not taking any crap from Idris. If there was any hope that Eamon could be jolted out of his coma, then the doctor had to do it; they were wasting time. The doctor insisted he confer with his wife, so they both headed back to the anteroom.

  Anna watched Idris. He remained seated, staring ahead at the white wall, then he bowed his head and began to weep. Anna switched off the intercom and left the room. She went up to the officer guarding Idris and asked to be allowed inside. When she walked in, he looked up, wiping his eyes with his cuff.

  ‘How you doing?’ she asked softly.

  Idris gulped, trying to control his weeping.

  ‘We could have lied to you, but we felt it was imperative to be totally honest with you. Surely now you can see that someone has been slowly killing your brother? He has been suffering and must be in terrible pain, mentally and physically. So, if you have any idea who may have done this to him, tell us! Surely you’d want us to punish him?’

  Idris wiped his eyes and whispered, ‘I’m scared.’

  Anna reached out to hold his hand. ‘Talk to me, Idris–trust me.’

  Anna hurried along the corridor and into the anteroom to find Dr Salaam passing Langton some tablets.

  ‘We’re going to do the ECT, permission or not,’ Langton said, swallowing the pills. He then turned with a smile to Esme. ‘You sure these aren’t the deadly nightshade?’

  She smiled back and shook her head. ‘I am also going to make up a list of tablets and powders that’ll help you.’

  Anna was impatient. ‘Listen, I think Idris is going to talk, but first he wants to be examined by Doctor Salaam. He’s terrified that someone could be feeding him the same poison. He has been segregated for weeks, he’s never gone on the recreational ward and he’s been paying for one of the kitchen staff to make his meals–those he eats in his cell–but he’s scared.’

  Langton raised his eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘He called it Jimson weed,’ she said.

  Dr Salaam said this nickname for Datura stramonium came from when it was used against the British soldiers in Jamestown, USA. It was sprinkled on their salads and a tincture of it was put into their drinks.

  ‘Well, thanks for the history lesson, Doc. Now please, go and have a look at him, and make it as fast as possible.’ Langton opened the door for the doctor; then checked his watch and followed him out.

  Making sure they were out of earshot of the room, he lowered his voice. ‘Hold it one second: I want you to “find” some small trace of this Jimson weed in his system that you say can be cured. Feed him pills, if you have to; do anything you can to make it authentic, okay? We need something to scare the pants off him.’

  Dr Salaam nodded and walked away, as Lewis arrived with coffee and some curling sandwiches.

  Langton updated him as they both walked back into the room. ‘This is getting to be a farce. Every minute we lose, that kid could snuff it; now all his brother is worried about is that he’s got it as well.’

  Lewis had obtained the list of visitors. The first to visit Eamon Krasiniqe after his arrest was Rashid Burry, now dead himself. The others they had not yet begun to question; Frank Brandon was checking out the addresses left with the prison’s visitor officers to see if any were authentic. They were also questioning Eamon’s legal team from his trial.

  Langton fretted inwardly. This meant yet another run-around for the team; it was making their case spread, and look even more out of control.

  Lewis smiled. ‘Got some positive news from forensic though, Gov. Hairs and a partial fingerprint have been matched to Carly Ann North. There were also some fibres that could be from wherever her body was kept before it was taken to the dismemberment site.’

  The interior of the Range Rover had been given a thorough clean but, beneath the glove compartment, they had also found two clear prints belonging to Rashid Burry; a third print was being tested but was, as yet, unidentified.

  Langton seemed to relax, perhaps because they were moving forwards, or perhaps because the herbal pills were working, if not on his leg, then his mood. He munched on one of the stale sandwiches and helped himself to tepid coffee from a pot.

  Esme was quietly unpacking her box of equipment: the rubber guard for Eamon’s mouth, the electrode plungers and suction caps. She laid them all out very neatly on a piece of white cotton and used a disinfectant cloth to wipe them all down.

  She looked up at the clock on the wall and gestured with her forefinger, moving it round in a circle. ‘Time is ticking. We should check on Eamon Krasiniqe.’

  Anna recalled seeing the same gesture made by the dying boy in the prison cell. ‘You know, that was the only gesture that Eamon made.’

  Esme gave a small shrug. ‘You mentioned it before; it’s just a habit, you know, to indicate time. Some of the patients we have are illiterate and cannot tell the time, so I often use this as a sort of indication.’ She pointed again to demonstrate. ‘When the large hand is back to twelve, you come in to see me.’ She gave a soft smile. ‘When we put the clocks forwards or backwards, that causes confusion: they believe they have lost an hour as punishment!’

  ‘Did Camorra see you do this?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Did you ever see the Krasiniqe brothers?’

  ‘I would have to check my books, but you know many use assumed names and give false addresses.’

  ‘Come and have a look at him,’ Anna said, then hesitated, looking at Langton. He gave a small nod of his head.

  He watched them both leave the anteroom. ‘Should have thought of that myself,’ he said, reaching for another sandwich.

  Whilst Dr Salaam examined Idris Krasiniqe, Anna led Esme into his brother Eamon’s room.

  He lay completely still, eyes open and staring at the ceiling, his body rigid, his breathing very shallow.

  Anna stood by the door as Esme moved to the sick boy’s bedside. She leaned over him and, with one hand, she gently soothed his head with soft strokes. He showed no reaction; she rested the back of her hand against his cheek.

  ‘Poor boy; my poor boy.’ She held onto his hand, all the time making soft hushing sounds, as if to a baby.

  ‘Do you recognize him?’

  ‘No, I don’t–but you know, we have so many patients, and over so many years. He might have been to see us, but I don’t honestly know. I’m sorry.’

  They left the room and went back to where they had left Langton.

  Esme seemed upset; she asked Anna why, with all the equipment here, they didn’t use any of it. Anna was surprised; with all her herbal remedies, she wouldn’t have thought that Esme would approve of intravenously feeding him or attaching him to a heart monitor.

  ‘When he was first taken to the prison hospital, they tried to help him, but he refused to have any treatment. He even signed the documents.’

  Esme shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t have known what he was doing.’

  ‘But we have to take it as that being what he wants. When they had IRA prisoners who went on hunger strike, the prison officers were not allowed to feed them or give any form of resuscitation if they collapsed.’

  Esme rested her hand on Anna’s arm. ‘Those people were using their bodies as weapons against authority; that poor boy probably didn’t even know what he was signing.’

  Anna felt irritated; Esme seemed to be accusing her. ‘Well, if that is the case, you won’t have any reason not to give him ECT.’

  Esme pursed her lips. ‘That will not be my decision.’

  No, Anna thought to herself, it will not be. The person who would be making the decision was Langton and he, as they saw when they re-entered the room, was fast asleep, lying on a trolley.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Idris Krasiniqe was zipping up his prison jeans. He had lowered them to his knees so that Dr Salaam could check his genitals for possible puncture-marks. There were none. He asked Idris whether he often felt that his mouth was dry; he replied always–the officers in the prison got pissed off with him forever asking for water.

  When asked if he also felt that his face was red, Idris had managed to smile, shaking his head. ‘I’m partly black–so I dunno if my face goes red or not! It feels hot sometimes, but I dunno about it being red.’

  Dr Salaam bent down. There was a small tattoo on Idris’s right wrist.

  ‘Wait one moment; how long have you had this, Idris?’

  The young man looked down and shrugged. ‘When I first got to Wakefield, months ago. Bloke in the cell I shared, he used to tat all the prisoners. Since Eamon got sick I been in solitary, I don’t mix with nobody.’

  Dr Salaam peered closely at the tattoo. ‘When did your dry mouth start?’

  Idris hesitated, trying to recall the exact date. ‘Maybe a few months back?’

  Dr Salaam used his small pen torch to examine the rather crude small star: it was not even filled in but was just a dotted outline.

  ‘I was gonna have a bigger one done, but this hurt like hell. It’s like Eamon’s, but he got a moon–well, that’s what he told me.’

  ‘Your brother does not have a tattoo, Idris. I would know, as I have examined him–but this is how you might have been injected.’

  Idris gaped. ‘Shit, man! Oh fuck, man–you gotta help me! Can you help me?’

  Langton clapped his hands. ‘Brilliant! The more he’s shitting himself, the better.’

  ‘I think it would now be beneficial for him to know the condition his brother is in before I give him something that will help,’ said Salaam.

  ‘You going to give the electric shock treatment?’ Lewis asked.

  They all waited. Esme took her husband aside and whispered to him.

  He nodded his head. ‘My wife is doubtful it will have any effect at this late stage.’

  ‘Fuck that. Let his brother watch: now he’s given us permission, we can get Eamon on a heart monitor, put him under an oxygen tent–anything to show us in a good light. If he dies, he dies; it’ll be even more of an incentive for Idris to talk. If he won’t talk, we withhold his own medication.’

  Langton was so aggressive that no one argued. His energy levels back to normal, he then set the wheels in motion for Idris to be brought to see Eamon. Anna suggested they allow Esme to be with him, saying that she had a very calming influence; she knew that if Langton took Idris anywhere, he would scare the living daylights out of him.

  The monitor was bleeping, indicating Eamon’s erratic and slow heartbeat. He also had an oxygen mask on; the respirator pumped on behalf of his weakened lungs. A doctor from the hospital had been brought in and was quietly sitting to one side, talking in hushed tones with Dr Salaam.

  Anna, Langton and Lewis watched from behind the one-way glass.

  ‘How did you swing this?’ Anna asked Langton.

  ‘He’s in private practice–just does the odd visit here, so we got lucky. About time, but he’ll cost. And he’s African, so that also helped.’

  They fell silent as the door was opened and Idris, accompanied by Esme, walked in. The uniformed officers who had led them down there locked the door behind them.

  Idris was obviously shaken; seeing his brother in such a state, and after so long, made him weep. Esme did her gentle whispering to him, taking his hand and drawing him closer to the bedside. He moved to stand beside his brother and then, like Esme, he began to stroke Eamon’s head, as he wept.

  ‘Eh, bro, it’s me, just come to see you. Can you hear me?’

  There was no reaction. Idris leaned closer and repeated that he was there, then he kissed his brother’s forehead. The heart monitor bleeped and Idris turned to look at it, then back at his brother, who remained motionless.

  ‘I love you, bro–I love you.’

  The monitor then bleeped louder and the red zigzag flatlined.

  ‘Fuck, he’s gone,’ Langton said.

  ‘Do something, man! Do something to help him!’ Idris shouted.

  Electrodes were connected and a tube placed into the dead boy’s mouth, as rubber pads were put on his chest.

  Anna had to look away. It was the panic in Idris she hated to see; he was flailing his hands and weeping. Esme tried her best to control him as the first jolt of electricity went through his brother.

  The dead boy’s body jerked and then lay still; three more times, they watched his body being moved by the electricity. Then there was an almost unanimous sigh of disbelief: the heart monitor reconnected, like a miracle. The beat was strong, though erratic.

  ‘He’s alive, he’s alive!’ Idris shrieked, trying to get closer to his brother.

  ‘I want you to leave now,’ said Salaam. His voice was firm and loud.

  Idris looked at him like a helpless child. ‘Is he gonna be okay now?’

  ‘Let’s pray, brother, let’s just pray.’

  Esme almost had to drag Idris from the room, banging on the door for it to be unlocked.