Second Sight - Chapter 2
 © 2008 Nick B

My eternal thanks go to Gabi for editing this
Thanks Gabi

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Six people sat around a large table in a conference room, a woman at its head. “You think there’s some truth in this? Sounds a bit like science fiction to me,” she said, shaking her head.

“Madam Chairperson; with all due respect, we have reason to believe that the boy was telling the truth. We have traced his steps as far back as we can and at this stage can find absolutely no contact with the suspects at all,” one of the men present said, looking at a file on the table before him.

“And what does that tell us, Allan?” the Chairperson asked, then answered her own question. “Nothing.”

“On the contrary, Madam Chairperson,” another man responded. “It tells us that he was either getting his information from someone or somewhere. Our investigation has led us to believe he was getting it from the somewhere option and is the genuine article.”

“So, Julian, where did this information come from?”

“We can’t be sure, but we have every reason to suspect that it came from exactly where he said it did.”

“Do you have a photo?” Madam Chairman asked.

Julian looked at Allan.

“No… well yes,” said Allan, quickly hunting through the leaves of paper in the file before him.

“Do you or don’t you, Allan? A simple yes or no will suffice. It’s not rocket science.”

Allan looked embarrassed. “Yes, Madam Chairperson, we do have a photo, but it’s not a good one. It was taken by a reporter outside a house behind Hove Station. It’s blurred and I don’t think a particularly good likeness.” He passed the photo along the line of people to the Chairperson.

“I’m intrigued,” she conceded, looking at the photo and turning it this way and that. “I want as much information on this boy as you can get. If he is what you suggest he is, then we need to know that we can gain his trust. Oh and your first priority is an up-to-date photo.”

Moments later, the conference room was empty, save Julian. He picked up the telephone and dialled a number.

“Hi honey, it’s me,” he said. “Yes, I’m just leaving now… I’ll be on the first train back, shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours… Yes I know it’s late, but the meeting went on longer than I anticipated… I love you too… See you soon.”

Pushing the files into his brief case and closing the flap, the man grabbed his raincoat from the coat-stand by the door and left. He took the lift to the ground floor and headed towards the exit.

“Goodnight Mr. Croft,” the security guard called after him.

“Goodnight William,” Julian responded without looking back.

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“Did we have to come here, mum?” the somewhat awkward teenage girl asked.

“You can’t stay indoors for the rest of your life, so yes,” her mother replied as the girl squirmed on the seat, uncomfortable; her eyes darting around the small café.

The café door opened and a small bell rang with a single “ding” as a man walked in. He scanned the people quickly and when his eyes fell on the girl and her mother, he brightened noticeably, giving them a smile and a small wave as he made his way to their table.

“Hello Gemma. Thanks for coming,” he said.

“Couldn’t resist such a gracious invitation, Ron,” Gemma replied.

He turned to the young girl. “You’re looking well, Darryl. How are you getting on with the changes?”

“Not too bad thanks, Ron. I still feel very self-conscious though.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Ron, looking at her mum. A glance in her mum’s direction and Darryl could see that she was looking pretty much the same as the policeman. “Am I missing something here?”

Ron looked slightly bashful and Gemma smiled, probably because not everything that happened went into her daughter’s head by osmosis or however it happened. A waitress–chewing gum–tottered across to their table on a pair of heels that would have made the average stilt-walker wince.

“Can I get you any-fink?” she asked.

Ron looked the girl up and down, taking in her heavily made-up face and shook his head, trying hard to suppress the obvious mirth, lurking behind his lips.

“Just tea for me,” he replied and turned to Gemma and Darryl. “Can I get you two anything?”

“Chocolate milkshake would be nice, please,” Darryl replied.

“I’ll have coffee,” her mother announced.

“That it?” the waitress asked accusingly, scribbling on an order pad and looking disgusted at the three for not ordering at least a sandwich or the special. She tottered off in her impractical shoes that to work in must have been hellish, never mind looking ridiculous.

Once the waitress had gone, Ron looked at Darryl, taking her hand. Even though he wasn’t a particularly big man, her dainty hand was almost completely engulfed by his.

“You know, this is quite remarkable,” he began. “I can remember seeing you in the hospital bed for the first time and thinking that for some reason you didn’t seem right–too pretty? I didn’t know you then and I have to say that even in such a short period of time, you really have started to blossom.”

Darryl blushed and actually looked pleased with what Ron had told her.

“I told you,” said her mum. “But you won’t listen to me.”

“Thank you,” Darryl said. “I am getting better, but it’s not easy. People are making it harder than it already is because of that stupid newspaper article. It’s like they’re blaming me for what happened to those women–even though for a short time, I was one of them.”

“It’s all right,” Ron assured.

“No, it’s not,” she said as tears ran from her eyes. “They’re blaming mum and Paul and Doris; like they had something to do with what happened and it’s all my fault. I wish I’d never got involved.”

The policeman took both of her hands in his and smiled warmly. “You didn’t have a choice and anyway, there are plenty of people–I for one–who feel that you did more than would have been expected of anyone to help.” He passed her a serviette to wipe her face. “Anyway, no long faces. The cinema awaits.”

“Do you know what we’re going to see?” Gemma enquired.

“What would you like, Darryl?” asked the policeman.

“’Dawn of the Dead’ sounds good or ‘Enter the Dragon’. Bruce Lee’s awesome.”

“I don’t think you’re old enough for those and with me being a policeman...” he held his hand out and shrugged. “Clint Eastwood’s in Every which way but loose; what do you reckon?”

Darryl made a face. The idea of someone like Clint acting in a film with an Orang-utan was a bit far-fetched. She shrugged. “I’m easy.”

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Adrian didn’t know what to do with himself.

He had been used to having someone around who directed his life and now that someone had been so rudely taken out of the equation, Adrian’s life had become disastrous. He hadn’t dared to go back to the hospital to check on Ian and didn’t know whether that had been the right decision or not.

He sat on the bus, the vapour from his dinner wafting up through the newspaper it had been wrapped in–medium cod, large chips, pickled onion and a Wally, with plenty of salt and vinegar. The smell was tempting him to open his package there and then and get stuck in. The weather had turned colder and the hot package on his lap was warming him nicely. He looked down at the crudely wrapped package and something caught his eye.

An article in the newspaper, offering an apology for the story it had run the previous week about Darryl Groves being a witness to the murder of Suzie Croft. It went on to say that their information had been considered accurate at the time of printing, but had proved unreliable afterwards.

“Shit!” Adrian growled, receiving angry looks from the passengers nearby.

He got up and left the bus at the next stop.

Walking up the street, clutching his package of fried fish and chips, he wondered whether anyone had seen them doing anything; if there really had been any witness and whether anyone actually knew that he or Ian had been involved with those women.

He wasn’t sure whether his next move would be a good one, but after wolfing down his fish-dish and belching loudly, he rinsed his hands and got ready to go up to the hospital.

Ian was in bed with that many tubes coming out of him that he looked almost like a plate of spaghetti. A machine beeped incessantly in the corner.

“It’s not looking good,” the nurse informed, whispering. “He doesn’t seem to be responding to the treatment, though that’s not entirely surprising.”

“What do you mean?” Adrian demanded. “What about antibiotics and the wonders of modern medicine?”

“We don’t know everything and where human bites are concerned, sometimes antibiotics work and sometimes they don’t. Until we can find something that will work, the prognosis is not good I’m afraid. The infection was quite advanced when he was brought in. Maybe if he’d been admitted sooner…”

Adrian sat there a while, the beeping of the machine starting to feel like Chinese water torture.

Had they not been so afraid of coming here in the first place and had they not feared that they had been seen…

“It’s that bloody journalist bird’s fault, mate,” he said quietly. “She’s the one to blame for this mess. It’s time for some payback.”

He squeezed Ian’s hand gently, looking down on his friend. A tear escaped his eye and slowly rolled down his cheek.

“She ain’t getting away with this, the bitch.”

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Ron and company were finishing up at the café when the couple came in. Both Gemma and Darryl needed to powder their noses, leaving Ron to pay the bill. He was standing at the counter, waiting for his two lady-friends when the man and woman approached him.

“You’re Sergeant Cummings, aren’t you?” asked the woman.

“I might be, but not today. Today’s a day off and Sergeant Cummings is on hold until tomorrow afternoon. Today, Ron is going to a movie with his friends.”

“Yes, yes of course,” the man chuckled. “Perhaps if I explained?”

Ron, the man and his friend, sat at a nearby table. They ordered a couple of coffees and got the familiar black look from the waitress for not ordering more.

“My name’s Croft. Julian Croft.”

Ron didn’t bat an eyelid, though the name did mean something.

“I suspect you know of my niece, Suzie?”

“She was your niece?”

“That’s right. I became very interested in the case when we found out that she was one of the poor women abducted by those lunatics. Needless to say, I wanted justice to be served to its fullest extent when we learnt that Suzie’s body had been found, but I guess we’ll have to leave that to you good people and the Crown Prosecution Service, won’t we?”

Julian smiled and Ron felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know why, he just did.

“Probably wise,” Ron remarked dryly.

“Yes, well,” Julian continued. “I would just like to say thank you to the boy who helped get those women away.”

“Boy?” asked Ron. “There was no boy.”

“But I understood that a young lad who claimed to have psychic abilities helped in locating those women?”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken Mr. Croft. It was a fabrication by an over-zealous journalist and retracted the next week.”

At that point Gemma and Darryl returned from the ladies.

“And who are these lovely ladies?” Julian asked.

“This is my friend, Gemma. Gemma, this is Suzie Croft’s uncle: Julian and this is–”

“Debbie,” said Darryl stepping forward. “Gemma’s daughter. Pleased to meet you. I’m sorry about your niece.”

“I’m really sorry about Suzie,” said Ron. “But as far as the boy is concerned, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Never mind. I had to ask.”

Ron shook hands with Julian, nodded politely to the woman with him and escorted Gemma and ‘Debbie’ from the café.

Outside, Ron looked at Darryl. “Debbie?” he asked.

“I know. I’m sorry, but he definitely was Suzie’s uncle, but there was something he wasn’t telling us and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

Ron shook his head. “I’m going to have to watch you, missy, aren’t I?”

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To be continued…