Jack smiled and knew he held the newly employed boy’s eyes a moment too long. Then he dashed up the stairs after Lady.
‘What do you think of the new boy?’ she asked after he had caught her up.
‘Bit early to say, ma’am. A little young and inexperienced, but he doesn’t seem impossible.’
‘Good. We need two waiters for the restaurant. The two who came today were utterly hopeless. How are young people going to survive in this world if they can’t take things seriously and learn something? Do they think everything’s going to be served to them on a silver platter?’
‘True,’ Jack said and went into the suite, Lady holding the door open for him. Turning, he saw she had closed the door and collapsed in tears on a chair.
‘Lady, what’s the matter?’
‘Lily,’ she sobbed. ‘Lily. He said her name.’
‘Lily? As in the flower, ma’am?’
Lady hid her face in her hands, and sobs racked her body.
Jack was at a loss to know what to do. He went towards her but then stopped. ‘Would you like... to talk about it?’
‘No!’ she exclaimed. Took a tremulous breath. ‘No, I don’t want to talk about it. Dr Alsaker wanted to talk about it. He’s crazy, did you know that? He told me himself. But that doesn’t make him a bad psychiatrist, he says, more the opposite. I don’t need words, Jack, I’ve heard them all. My own and those of others, and they don’t soothe any more. I need medicine.’ She sniffed and wiped under her eyes carefully with the back of her hand. ‘Quite simply, medicine. Without it I can’t be the person I have to be.’
‘And who’s that?’
‘Lady, Jack.’ She looked at the mascara smeared on her hand. ‘The woman who lives and lets die. But Macbeth has stopped using medicine and so there’s nothing here. Imagine. He’s stronger than me. You wouldn’t have guessed that, would you? So you’ll have to go and buy some for me, Jack.’
‘Lady...’
‘Otherwise everything will collapse here. I hear a child crying all the time, Jack. I go into the gaming room and smile and talk.’ Tears started rolling again. ‘Talk loudly and laugh to drown out the sound of the crying child, but now I can’t do it any longer. He knew the name of my child. He said my final words to her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Hecate. He knew. The words I said before I smashed the head with the questioning blue eyes. In another life, my little Lily. I’ve never told that to a living soul. Never! At least not in a conscious state. But perhaps when I’ve been dreaming. Perhaps when I’ve been sleepwa—’ She stopped. Frowned as if she had realised something.
‘Hypnosis,’ Jack said. ‘You said it during the hypnosis. Hecate knows it from Dr Alsaker.’
‘Hypnosis?’ She nodded slowly. ‘Do you think so? Do you think Alsaker betrayed me? And was paid for it, you mean?’
‘People are greedy, that’s their nature, ma’am. Without greed man wouldn’t have won the fight on earth. Just look what you’ve created, ma’am.’
‘You mean it’s down to greed ?’
‘Not for money, ma’am. I think different people are greedy for different things. Power, sex, admiration, food, love, knowledge, fear...’
‘What are you greedy for, Jack?’
‘Me?’ He shrugged. ‘I like happy, satisfied customers. Yes, I’m greedy for the happiness of others. Such as your own, ma’am. When you’re happy, I’m happy.’
She fixed him with her gaze. Then she got up, went over to the mirror and grabbed the hairbrush lying on the table beneath. ‘Jack...’
He didn’t like the sound of her voice but met her eyes in the mirror. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘You ought to know something about loneliness.’
‘You know I do, ma’am.’
She started to brush her long flame-red hair, which men had been attracted by or had taken as a warning, according to circumstances. ‘But do you know what is lonelier than never having anyone? It is believing you had someone, but then it turns out that the person you thought was your closest friend never was.’ The brush got stuck, but she forced it through the thick unruly hair. ‘That you’ve been deceived the whole time. Can you imagine how lonely that is, Jack?’
‘No, I can’t, ma’am.’
Jack looked at her. He didn’t know what to do or say.
‘Be happy you haven’t been deceived, Jack.’ She put down the brush and passed him some notes. ‘You’re like a suckerfish: you’re too small to be deceived, you can only deceive. The shark lets you hang on because you clean off other, worse, parasites. In return, it takes you across the oceans of the world. And that’s how you travel, to the mutual benefit of both, and the relationship is so intimate and close that it can be confused with friendship. Until a bigger, healthier shark swims by. Go on, Jack. Go and buy me some brew.’
‘Are you sure, ma’am?’
‘Say you want something that works. Something strong. That can take you up high and far away. So high that you would crush your skull if you fell. For who wants to live in a cold, friendless world like this one?’
‘I’ll do my best, ma’am.’
He closed the door behind him without a sound.
‘Oh, I’m sure you know where to find it, Jack Bonus,’ she whispered to the reflection in the mirror. ‘Say hello to Hecate, by the way.’ A tear ran down her cheek, in the salty trail of the previous one. ‘My good, dear Jack. My poor little Jack.’
‘Mr Lennox?’
Lennox opened his eyes. Looked at his watch. An hour and a half to midnight. His eyelids went again. He had begged for more morphine. All he wanted was sleep, even the tormented sleep of the guilty.
‘Mr Lennox.’
He opened his eyes again. The first thing he saw was a hand holding a microphone. Behind it he glimpsed something yellow. Slowly it came into focus. A man in a yellow oilskin jacket sitting on a chair beside a hospital bed.
‘You?’ he whispered. ‘Of all the reporters in this world they sent you?’
Walt Kite straightened his glasses. ‘Tourtell, Malcolm and the others know that I... that I...’
‘That you’re in Macbeth’s pocket?’ Lennox lifted his head from the pillow. They were alone in the room. He squirmed to reach the alarm button by the bed head, but the radio reporter placed his hand over it.
‘No need,’ Kite said calmly.
Lennox tried to pull Kite’s hand away from the alarm, but he didn’t have the strength.
‘So that you can feed me to Macbeth?’ Lennox snorted. ‘The way you fed Angus to us?’
‘I was in the same predicament as you, Lennox. I had no choice. He threatened my family.’
Lennox gave up and slumped back. ‘And what do you want now? Have you got a knife with you? Poison?’
‘Yes. This.’ Kite waved the microphone.
‘Are you going to kill me with that ?’
‘Not you, but Macbeth.’
‘Oh?’
Walt Kite put down the microphone, unbuttoned his jacket and wiped the fug from his glasses.
‘When Tourtell rang I knew they had enough to get him. Tourtell persuaded the doctor to give me five minutes, so we have to hurry. Give me the story, and I’ll go straight to the radio station and broadcast it, raw and unedited.’
‘In the middle of the night?’
‘I can do it before midnight. And it’s enough for some people to hear it. Hear that it’s irrefutably your voice. Listen, I’m breaking all the principles of good journalism — the right to respond, the duty to check statements — to save—’
‘Your own skin,’ Lennox said. ‘To swap sides again. To be sure you’re on the winning team.’
He saw Kite open his mouth and close it again. Swallow. And blink behind his still fugged-up glasses.