George, however, continued where his friend had left off. “It does sound a bit convenient, doesn’t it? And Kamal seemed only too eager to take it all for face value; he didn’t seem interested in there being any alternative explanation.”
“And then there is the strangest fact of all,” Ben said, encouraged by George’s involvement in the debate.
“What?” he asked.
“That the Professor had to speak to Gail in person urgently, and that this Spanish guy, Martín, also needed to speak to her in person. It seems to me this guy was right, and that lots of people wanted to talk to Gail.” He looked at George. “He thinks that she was abducted, tells the policeman, and then all of a sudden they find her body, with evidence to prove she murdered the Professor. There are maybe thirty million people in Cairo, George. Hundreds of people go missing every day, and no-one even notices. Most bodies aren’t even found. And yet Gail’s turns up so easily?”
They sat contemplating the facts for about five minutes before Ben broke the silence with a curt laugh. “I can’t believe you punched a policeman. And a Captain at that!”
“It was something about the look on his face: so bloody satisfied, so content that he’d rounded up his case.” George explained. “I just couldn’t help myself. I’ve never even hit anyone before!”
Ben shook his head as he tried to imagine the scene in the morgue. “So, what did he do?”
“Nothing.”
“Surely you got fined, at least, for hitting a police officer? I would imagine that, given your circumstances, and the fact that you are foreign, a simple fine would be enough. Don’t tell me you got more than that?”
“Nothing at all,” George said quietly. “Not even a mention. I didn’t even apologise when I next spoke to him. He was so smug and disrespectful; it’s lucky I guess that I only punched him once.”
Ben looked at his friend in utter astonishment. “George, I have worked with the police. I have many friends who are still in the police. In Egypt you don’t simply punch a policeman and walk away. It doesn’t matter if your whole family has just been murdered. It just doesn’t happen.”
“Well,” George shrugged, “it did.”
“Then that is, you could say, the clincher. The only possible explanation for Kamal not charging you for your offence is that he would rather take that than have more enquiries into the case. He was probably relieved that it was all over; he had Gail’s body, and he closed his case. Your punch was like a full stop and he left it at that.”
George dried the last of his tears from his face. He felt a new emotion rising in the pit of his stomach; he felt the unmistakable heat of anger rising; anger that there may have been more to the story than he had already been told; anger at Kamal for not doing his job properly, or for doing it too well. Mostly, he felt angry with himself for not questioning it more, for letting Kamal get away with this. For failing Gail.
Ben looked at him, his face grim. “Don’t worry, George. I’ll join you and Martín for lunch, but before that, I am going to make a call.”
Chapter 50
Gail eyed this new man suspiciously as he entered the room. With his bald head, neatly-trimmed facial hair and thin-rimmed glasses, he looked every bit the James Bond villain. All he needed, she thought, was a white cat to complete the image.
So you’re Patterson.
He arrived at the foot of her bed and looked down at what she could only assume was her chart. From the way she was feeling, she guessed the arrow was pointing up: she was now able to move her head from side to side, even though the restraints stopped her from lifting it. He met her gaze briefly before pulling a chair up and sitting down beside the bed. He was within spitting distance.
She spat.
Without a word, he wiped his face with a towel taken from the bedside-cabinet, before cleaning his glasses methodically. Replacing them on his nose, he pulled a notepad out of his lab-coat pocket and jotted a few lines down.
Gail laughed out loud. “Subject spits!” she mocked.
He turned the notebook round and showed her what he had written.
Don’t say anything. I’m sorry for all this. I’m going to do my best to get you outof here.
She looked into his eyes and recognised genuine remorse. Though her blood continued to simmer nonetheless, she bit her tongue. There were so many words she had been playing with in her mind; snappy retorts, sarcastic comments, obscenities. Time had been against her in that respect. Had Patterson walked in an hour or two earlier, while the rage was still burning behind her teeth, he would have been confronted by a verbal barrage as soon as he had entered the room. But through the time lying restrained on her bed, she had whittled away the options, removed all the obscenities and sarcasm. Eliminated dark humour. She was a prisoner, held against her will and drugged-up to boot. There was only one thing she wanted to say.
“Let. Me. Go.”
Patterson nodded. After a brief pause, he leant forward and carefully unbuckled her head restraint. One by one he continued to remove the straps that held her down, until she was free.
As the final strap fell clear, Gail fancied she was floating above the bed, as if the will she had been held against was stronger than gravity itself. She felt her body moving up, and wondered at how easily she could lift herself, before realising that Patterson was using the controls of the hospital bed. She was now fully upright, and the sudden return of gravity to her stomach awoke a feeling she had not experienced for an age.
“You must be hungry,” he guessed.
She hesitated slightly before nodding. She thought of flight, but she was barely dressed and didn’t even know what was out there. There would be, she hoped, better opportunities. And anyway, Patterson appeared to be on her side; maybe she had been wrong about him.
He started to leave, but she called out to him.
“Where’s Mamdouh? Where’s the Professor?” Her last memory: a knock at the door, Mamdouh had just told her his story, and then she remembered nothing, except for a series of strange and extremely vivid nightmares. “Is he here too?”
Patterson stopped dead, but didn’t turn to look back. He stood there for what seemed like an age. “Professor Mamdouh was an old friend of mine.”
“Was?”
“I understand that there was unfortunately an accident, and he didn’t make it.”
She froze. “What?”
He tried to explain what had happened, though in truth he barely understood it himself. All he could think was that rather than being collateral damage, the Professor had been silenced. Seth Mallus finishing off the cover-up he started ten years ago, he thought. Halfway through his explanations, the Wizard of Oz man came back, holding a tray of food.
Dr Patterson thanked him and put the food on a table next to the bed. She barely looked at it, or the other man.
“Mamdouh’s dead and I’m being held prisoner because of that book?” Gail asked, angrily.
He looked at her apologetically. “I’m as upset as you are about what happened to him, Dr Turner. And please, call me Henry.”
It didn’t matter how nice he was trying to come across, she refused. “I’m being as civil as I can. For all I know you’re only being nice to me so that I’ll cooperate more readily.”
“I had no idea you would be forced to come here, and I have no intention of helping anyone force you to cooperate,” he said. “But you’re right, I do need your help, and even if I had wanted to force you to come here, I would want you from now on to cooperate of your own free will.”