His mobile phone rang; it was nearly three in the morning now.
“Barry, I’ll give you this and then don’t ever call me again. OK?”
“Of course not. I’m out of the game after this,” Barry lied.
“Donkin is in room 417.1 in that private hospital at London Bridge. His bills are being paid by that celebrity publicist. The police will present him before magistrates as soon as he gets out, and I guess he’ll go down, but the publicist will get a few good stories out first. The word on the ward is that he’s faking total blindness to avoid the inevitable arrest and confinement in a place less comfortable than the London Bridge Hospital.”
Barry had a plan. Now he could go to bed and sleep for a few hours.
Chapter 6 7
Room 417.1, London Bridge Hospital, London, Saturday 8am.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Donkin asked. “You might be working with the police.”
Barry Mitchinson came to the conclusion that this man was even more stupid than the press alleged, but he kept his opinions to himself. He wanted to slap the celebrity wannabe, but he knew that he had to be kind. He wanted to tell the young man that he wasn’t even important enough to warrant a part time police guard. He was a nobody.
“Look, Rob, I’ve explained my plan to you. You help me and you get what you’ve always wanted. The alternative is that you stay in here, playing at being blind until the medics get fed up and sell you out to the police. Then it’s going to be arrest, remand, court and prison. Tell me you’re not interested and I’ll leave you alone. You can send me a postcard from the Scrubs!”
Rob’s eyes were heavily bandaged and he looked every bit the blinded, vulnerable, misunderstood boy he pretended to be. He knew, however, that Barry was right. Although he denied it to sceptical doctors, he could see a good deal better now. He reckoned that he had recovered about seventy percent of his sight already. His main problem was his central vision; he still had black spots there and blurring around those black spots. Nonetheless, he could get around safely, and Barry’s plan had two advantages - reuniting him with his girl friend, and a flight out of the country, taking him away from the threat of prosecution. His publicist would be mad as hell, but he wasn’t the one who had to worry about going to prison.
Rob clambered out of his bed with Barry’s help, and slipped on a dressing gown. As they walked along the corridor the nurse approached him.
“This is much better, Rob. You needed to get out of that bed.”
“I’m just heading to the lounge where my Uncle and I can get some coffee and talk,” he lied, with a total lack of conviction.
“Well, Uncle, take care of him. He needs his family to lift his spirits. Not surprisingly he’s been a little bit depressed, but he will recover his sight in due course. There’s really no need to worry.” The nurse hurried on to another patient.
***
Once they were alone, Barry removed the bandages and gave Rob a pair of sunglasses which concealed his oddly coloured, creamy looking eyes and some of the skin burns. After changing into the ill fitting clothing which Barry had provided, Rob donned a beanie hat and they simply walked out of the hospital unchallenged and into a taxi.
***
By the time Donkin and his new protector had arrived at Maureen Lassiter’s apartment they had already collected a few of the young man’s belongings from his own tawdry apartment.
“As you both have current ESTAs I have been able to book you onto a flight to New York. You can’t fly until tomorrow because of the twenty four hour Advanced Passenger Information System requirements.
At JFK Airport you will pick up a minivan with fold down seats. That should suit your needs.”
Donkin sat on the sofa listening to his iPod, a wet flannel over his aching eyes. Barry talked quietly to Maureen Lassiter.
“Get the flat on the market immediately and make sure you turn up for work as normal. I may need you there. Don’t give any indication that you may leave, or Five will reduce your security access even further.
I’ll be back from the States in a few days, and we need to be ready to move quickly.” Barry looked over at Donkin before whispering, “I don’t think Rob will be making the return journey. He may find himself sharing a grave with Gillian Davis.”
Maureen looked shocked. She hadn’t anticipated any more killing, but she knew that arguing with Barry was fruitless. Once they had the money and were well away from here they could put all the violence behind them.
***
Because the doctors didn’t make their rounds on a Saturday, Rob’s absence from the hospital wasn’t noticed until evening medications. The charge nurse, under explicit instructions from the man paying the hospital bills, reported the absence to the high profile celebrity publicist.
“Do nothing for the time being,” the maddened publicist said. “He’ll be out drinking. I’ll track him down and have him in his bed by the time the doctors come around Monday morning. OK?”
“OK,” the nurse answered doubtfully, “but if he isn’t in his room by Monday morning I have to call the police!”
Chapter 6 8
Miles Estate, Lynchburg, Virginia, Saturday 7am.
Steve Post drove into the rear driveway of the Miles Estate along the unmade road leading to the Lodge, which was set well back from the main house. He parked behind a well-used Chevy Tahoe and climbed out of his government issued SUV.
As he walked towards the door he unclipped the holster under his jacket and made sure that his Glock handgun was easily accessible. He rapped on the old wooden door. A few moments passed and eventually a bleary eyed Gillian Davis-Miles answered his knock.
Steve held out his commission card and badge, both contained in a small leather wallet, and gave his name.
“What have I done to deserve a visit from the FBI at the crack of dawn?” she asked.
“I’m looking for Dee Hammond, a compatriot of yours.”
He was about to continue when the door opened wide and Gil invited him in with a smile and a sweep of her hand. Steve stepped inside and saw Dee sitting on large sofa, tapping away on a laptop. Dee looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her sitting comfortably in the company of Gil Davis.
“Your husband is beside himself with worry. He asked me to track you down.”
“Why didn’t he call?” She knew the answer when she saw that she had no signal, and a series of red symbols and words told her that there was insufficient battery power for radio use.
“It took me all night to try to get the powers that be to agree to me calling in on the Senator’s daughter unannounced. In the end they refused me permission. So let me tell you, if anyone gets to hear about this I’ll shoot you both.” He was clearly angry, but Dee understood that he must have been very concerned about her safety.
Gil invited Steve to sit down and she poured him a coffee, delivering it to him before sitting opposite on the sofa.
“It’s nice to see that you two are now friends!” His acerbic tone revealed his disappointment in Dee, as it was meant to.
“Not so much friends as non combatant enemies,” Gil added helpfully.
Steve looked from one to the other and shook his head.