Instruments of Darkness by Gary Russell

Author:Gary Russell [Russell, Gary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Doctor Who (Fictitious Character)
ISBN: 9780563538288
Google: P48JAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0563538287
Publisher: BBC Pubns
Published: 2001-11-14T08:00:00+00:00

On the lino, a tea stain.

He hurried to the left-hand wall, where the bed would have been, and started moving some of the files about.

Yes! A light patch of paintwork, with a screw hole at the top and larger hole where the wire had been. The bedroom’s emergency alarm in case a resident was ill..

So this had been Woody’s room, until last night.

Someone had been very quick and very clever to put all this up in one night, but it was a sham.

On another impulse, he looked for a box file... There it was.

Aba– Ata. He rummaged through. Abberton, W, Addison R., Ashton D., Atkinson A.A.B... no Ashtree, W. or otherwise.

He replaced the file and shivered. As if someone had walked over his grave. So he sought out another box file, this one Dab-Dil. He flicked through it. Dawson, H., Dennis, J., Dickinson, C.

Yes, yes... Yes, admission date right. Yes, date he’d had to go to the GP in town for his leg pain, yes... and – oh.

‘6 January 1994. Nurse called at 3.04 a.m. Heart failure.

Hospital confirmed time of death: 3.26 a.m.’ He was about to put the file away when he very slowly picked up his sheaf of notes and pocketed them. Then put the box file carefully down. ‘Didn’t know clairvoyance was part of their training,’

he muttered.

So, he had five days to live before he died of ‘heart failure’.

Just as the mysterious Jonnie Sudbury had. And as it seemed that Woody had. The vice-marshal wondered how far from his own body an air-filled hypodermic syringe would be found.

Of course. They’d only just killed Woody when he found him. Must’ve scarpered and dropped the bloody thing when they heard the vice-marshal coming. That’s why he hadn’t known those nurses and why they were so keen to analyse the hypo.

Paris. Had to get there as Woody had suggested. If for no other reason than staying here wasn’t safe. After all, he would be dead in seven rather short days.

As casually as possible, he walked back downstairs, went to his room and put his jacket and overcoat on, checked his wallet for cash and cards, took his passport from the top drawer of his dresser and gave his room a final look around.

The only other thing he took was a framed photograph of him and Elly, and Justin aged about fifteen.

He’d arrived at Wessex Downs with very little else.

He wandered back out, past the duty nurse and towards the door.

‘Excuse me, where are you going?’

He turned to look at the temporary nurse. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Well, we can’t have you just wandering off now, can we Mr Dickinson.’

He stared at her, adrenalin starting to pump in a way it hadn’t for many, many years. ‘That’s the second time you’ve called me by my name, nurse. How do you know who I am?’

‘It’d be best if you sat down, Me Dickinson. You’re obviously a bit confused. We’ve known each other for months.’ The nurse tried a smile, but it clearly didn’t come naturally to her.

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