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, 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.
Dr Salaam came to the window. He could not see them through the one-way mirror, so just stood there, not sure where to look. ‘The reaction you are seeing is a false hope. It is the electricity that has started the machine and maybe allowed his heart to beat for a fraction, but he’s gone. I thought it best that your prisoner had some hope, but there is none. He’s dead.’
Langton got up and closed the blind. Both Anna and Mike remained silent, not sure how to react.
‘Doctor Salaam is something else, isn’t he?’ Langton said.
He turned as Esme walked in. She seemed very tired. ‘Idris wants to see DI Travis, no one else. I think you should go to him as quickly as possible.’
Anna looked to Langton.
‘Go do it.’
If he had felt any degree of irritation that Anna was the one to talk to Idris, he didn’t show it; instead, he shook the coffee pot and handed it to Mike Lewis.
‘Get us a refill, will you?’
Lewis took the pot and walked out.
Langton waited until the door closed before he spoke. ‘Your husband… Whatever my own feelings are about his practice, about what the pair of you do, I think your husband is a very special man.’
‘He is,’ she said quietly. ‘He has very special powers and works only towards the good. If he wished, he could unleash a darkness, but he would never even contemplate doing so.’
‘Like I said, he has my admiration. He’s worked hand in glove with us and I am very grateful.’
‘Thank you. I hope you get a successful result.’ She hesitated. ‘May I talk to you on a personal level?’
Langton was slightly taken aback. ‘Sure. In fact, I was going to ask if you had any more of those herbal painkillers.’
‘You need so much more,’ she said softly. ‘You carry a big open wound.’
‘Yeah, I do. I got cut through the abdomen, chest and was almost sliced through my heart.’
Esme counted out four more painkillers. ‘Well, I didn’t know about that. My reference is more esoteric. We all carry scars.’
‘Really?’ He was not interested.
‘Yes. Mine is the child I lost.’
He nodded, not wanting to get into any of her so-called esoteric mumbo jumbo or, even worse, her private life.
‘Someone left you with such pain,’ she murmured now.
‘Ma’am, I was almost sliced in two. There’s nothing esoteric about it, just a brutal bastard who almost killed me.’
Esme placed her hand on his heart. ‘In here,’ she stated.
He could feel incredible heat from her hand. He gasped, not wanting her to take her hand away. He didn’t understand. Her hand remained on his chest and he felt an overwhelming need to weep, but he tensed up. ‘It’s my knee joint,’ he said lamely.
‘You never released the pain.’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m taking every pill I can lay my hands on to release the pain. I want you to stop this.’
When she withdrew her hand, he felt a terrible emptiness; it was indescribable.