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“You’re a computer geek. You people are awake all hours. You could have told them you had been making deliveries, or that you’d been out collecting computers for repair. You could have told them anything to get them off your back, while you thought of something more positive to give them.”
“Well, what about forensics? What if they wanted to keep the van and do those tests on it?” Graham Johnson was unable to keep his hands and feet still. He stormed around the room, shouting and panicking.
“What would they have found? The floor of the van had been covered with a tarpaulin for each person we put in there. They themselves were wrapped in clear polythene bags with their hands and feet tied. They were gagged. What possible evidence could they have left?”
“Haven’t you watched those CSI programs, for God’s sake? They could probably find a speck of fly shit in the aftermath of the apocalypse.”
“Don’t you talk to me about forensics, Graham. I know all about keeping things clean. I’m a doctor.”
Graham Johnson sighed heavily and chewed on the fingernails of his right hand. Not one in particular, but all of them. It had all sounded so good in theory, but now the situation was way beyond his control.
“Jesus Christ! I never wanted to get into this in the first place. I told you!” shouted Johnson, pointing at the man. “I told you we couldn’t pull it off. The police are too clever.”
“I beg to differ. I seem to remember it was you who came up with the original idea. I’m certainly not capable of working out something so intricate.”
“Don’t lay all the blame at my door. You wanted revenge as much as I did.”
Graham Johnson was beginning to realize how far things had spiralled out of control. He was in so much trouble. He couldn’t go back. The police would be watching his shop. They’d be all over it like a rash, probably had been all night while he’d been here.
“You needed me as much as I needed you.” Johnson was almost hyperventilating.
“You need to stop getting agitated, Graham. It’s not good for your health. I’ve treated you on more than one occasion for blood pressure.”
“How can I calm down? What am I going to do, where am I going to go? They’re onto me now!”
The doctor rose from his desk, and came and placed his arm on Graham’s shoulder.
“Please, sit down, calm down.”
Johnson was too agitated and turned away from the man. He’d had enough. He had to leave here. As big as the house may have been, he could feel the walls closing in on him.
“Graham, sit down and let me give you something for your nerves. If you carry on like this, you’ll end up with heart trouble as well.”
“Calm my nerves? You can fuck off. I’ve seen
what happens to people when you operate on them!”
Before the doctor reached him, Johnson produced a gun from the inside pocket of his jacket. The doctor stopped mid-stride. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Putting an end to this mess you started.”
“Graham, for God’s sake think about what you’re doing. Please put the gun down.”
Johnson waved the gun around. “Oh, not so big now, are we? It’s okay to dish out death in large doses, but when you’re facing it yourself it’s a different matter.”
“You know why we started this. We wanted justice, pure and simple. The police were powerless, because they had nothing on the scum that walk our streets. The reptiles we have to put up with are too clever by half. Take a long look at the people we put away. Hardly doing society any harm, were we?”
“I don’t have a problem with that!” shouted Johnson. “It what’s happening now that I’m worried about. The police are on to us. We have nowhere to go. We might see what we did as justice, but they won’t.”
The doctor ran towards Johnson with his arms outstretched. Instinctively, he dropped the gun and threw a punch, followed by a second in quick succession. He chose not to shoot because he was not a killer; he’d never had any intention of firing the gun in the first place.
His fist connected with the doctor’s right eye, and his second punch landed square on the chin, taking the man clean into the air. The doctor flew back, catching the back of his head on the side of his desk.
Graham Johnson turned and ran out of the study, pulled open the front door, and headed for the van. Once in, he gunned the engine, and he wheel-spun all the way around the front path and out of the gate.
Chapter Forty-one
Hobson was feeling worse now than he had twenty-four hours ago. In fact, worse than he’d felt since he’d been held captive. God only knew how long that had been.
