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He did, but he still didn’t understand. The body on the screen appeared to have wires going all over the place: across the chest cavity, up into the head, and down towards the legs that he couldn’t see. It was like an atlas.
“Can’t you see your name underneath?”
He hadn’t done, but when he did, the realization hit home. Hobson’s knees buckled, and he had to grab the side of the frame to remain upright.
He studied the two objects inside the body on the monitor. They were in the very same place as the bump and the stitching on his body. The metallic thing in his chest had to be the one with the wires going off in all directions. There was also something very similar in the area behind where he had the suture.
“Please tell me that isn’t me.”
Losing face was the last thing he wanted, his voice came out like that of a begging child’s, he didn’t know what else to say.
“Of course it’s you.” The doctor’s attitude was matter of fact.
Each time Hobson thought he was managing to gain some confidence, the bastard came in and knocked the wind out of his sails. He stared hard at the doctor.
“What have you done to me? What are those things?”
“Here’s why I asked you about our little chat on honesty. If you remember, I said I would always tell you the truth, because I thought it was more frightening than lying to you.”
Hobson closed his eyes, wanting and praying for his nightmare to end.
“In your chest cavity you have an ICD. In layman’s terms, it’s a defibrillator. It’s something we doctors use to stop or start a heart. In your case, it’s been modified. You can see a number of electrical cables all leading outwards from it. Each one of those cables has been attached to a nerve end in your body, which is why you feel great pain when I want you to.”
From inside his jacket pocket, the doctor withdrew what resembled a TV remote control unit. In order to prove his point, he pressed a button, and Lance Hobson hit the floor like a ton of concrete, writhing around in the excrement once again.
When the pain stopped, Hobson was convulsing, and covered in his own filth. It took him five minutes to regain some composure. Despite his situation, and with great difficulty, he made himself stand up again.
He concentrated on one thought: may the Lord have mercy on the doctor’s soul. It really would be better if he killed Hobson, because if he didn’t, and Hobson freed himself, the bastard was going to suffer like no man ever had.
“What’s behind the stitches?” Not that he wanted to know.
“An implantable insulin pump.”
“What the fuck do I need one of those for? I’m not a diabetic.”
“You’re right, you’re not. Once again, it’s modified. I desperately wanted to get even with you, Mr Hobson, for what you did to me. You are a drug dealer. You prey on innocent victims. You, and people like you, are a virus, stripping society of innocent people like a flesh-eating bug.”
The doctor pulled a phone out of his pocket and held it in front of Hobson. The drug dealer did not recognize the photo of the person on the phone.
“You’ve no idea, have you?” asked the doctor.
He was right, Hobson hadn’t a clue who the person was. The only thing he knew was that the phone was pretty old, by today’s standards.
The doctor flicked to another photo, one that Hobson instantly recognized.
“How did you get a photo of me?”
“The phone belongs to my son, Adam. Or should I say, used to bel
ong to him, before you killed him. The photo I first showed you was my son.
“It happened four years ago, Mr Hobson. Seems that you and Alex Wilson had my son cornered in the alley on Market Street, leading to the indoor market. Adam was given a massive dose of drugs, a lethal cocktail from which he would never recover. His body was doused in alcohol and wrapped in a blanket, to make it look as if he was either a down-and-out, or a drunk. One of the market traders found his body at five o’clock in the morning.
“At some point during the confrontation, he managed to take a photo of you on his phone, and, in fact, record what you did to him. After you left – and before he died – he very luckily dumped it in a skip nearby. I say luckily, because the police never found it. I did. Now, what I did not find out was what had happened to cause all this, or why. I’m sure you know the answer. So, I’m going to give you some more time alone to think about it. The next time we meet, I’d like you to tell me. You know enough about me now to realise that it would not be in your own interest to withhold the information I require.”
The doctor placed the phone and the remote-control unit back in his jacket pocket.
“I think that about concludes our business for the time being. I’m going to leave you now, Mr Hobson, because I have work to do. I will be back.” He turned to walk away.
