but he wasn’t seeing. Steven pointed this out to Miles.
‘He’s not blind,’ said Miles. ‘His eyes follow the nurse when she goes in to see to his needs. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge her as a person but he can see her, we’re sure of that.’
He turned up the sound on the monitor. Motram was saying something but, as Steven had been forewarned, it sounded like random words. ‘Red, seventeen, blue, twist, curl, burst, diamonds, diamonds, grass, yellow, sky.’
Steven nodded his thanks to Miles and got up to leave.
* * *
In the orthopaedic unit, he found Tony Fielding doing the Times crossword. He was alone in a room that was designed for two patients and had a pleasant view out to the hills. His left leg was in plaster and several visitors had added their signature. Steven smiled when he inclined his head to read the message in red crayon and found that it said Love you Dad, Lewis .
‘He’s seven,’ said Fielding.
Steven smiled. He told Fielding who he was and about Sci-Med’s interest.
‘Good luck,’ said Fielding. ‘No one else can work out what came over him. He came out of that chamber like a man possessed by the devil. God, I’m even starting to sound like the tabloids.’
Steven smiled again, taking a liking to the man. ‘It’s an easy habit to develop,’ he sympathised. ‘Makes life so simple.’
‘I promise not to use that particular expression if the press come back again,’ said Fielding.
‘I take it you’ve no idea what happened to Dr Motram?’ asked Steven.
‘Haven’t a clue. Before he went into that chamber he was the nicest sort of bloke you’d ever want to meet, but when he came out …’ Fielding made a face. ‘He’d only one thing on his mind and that was murder. God, I’m doing it again! I wonder if the Sun does a decent crossword … I might think of changing. Anyway, I consider myself lucky to have got away with only this,’ he said, tapping his plastered leg. ‘If he’d actually managed to get that digger down the ramp, well, none of us would be here to tell the tale.’
‘It sounds horrendous,’ said Steven. ‘I take it you personally didn’t go in the chamber?’
‘None of us did apart from John,’ said Fielding. ‘Do you really think it was something in there? Something from the past?’
‘Common sense says not,’ said Steven. ‘On the other hand I haven’t the slightest idea why John Motram is the way he is right now. But, just for the record,’ he added, bringing out a small notebook, ‘do you think you can talk me through everything that happened that day up until the time Dr Motram entered the tomb?’
Fielding puffed his cheeks and exhaled slowly. ‘Not much to say really. The four of us – John, Alan Blackstone, Les and myself – met in the car park at the abbey and allowed the Health and Safety people to inspect the equipment we’d be using on site. When they’d finished ticking their clipboards and giving us the OK, we crossed over to the hotel to meet the doctor from Public Health, who interviewed each of us briefly about the state of our health, gave us a tetanus shot and basically said everything was fine by him. Then the four of us walked round to the site and Les and I set about loosening the stones in the wall of the tomb. When we’d finished we let John take over and watched him remove enough of them to gain an entrance. He disappeared inside and we waited – he was actually in there for more than twenty minutes, but we supposed that was because it was his big moment, if you like, and he was sort of savouring the experience.’
‘What happened when he did come out?’
‘I have to say he seemed a bit odd … he was having trouble with the plastic sheeting across the entrance so I gave him a hand, then Alan tried to talk to him, then … well, all hell broke lose. John really lost the plot. He smashed Alan in the face with the torch he was carrying, and then hit Les when he tried to help Alan. The three of us
‘He’s not blind,’ said Miles. ‘His eyes follow the nurse when she goes in to see to his needs. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge her as a person but he can see her, we’re sure of that.’
He turned up the sound on the monitor. Motram was saying something but, as Steven had been forewarned, it sounded like random words. ‘Red, seventeen, blue, twist, curl, burst, diamonds, diamonds, grass, yellow, sky.’
Steven nodded his thanks to Miles and got up to leave.
* * *
In the orthopaedic unit, he found Tony Fielding doing the Times crossword. He was alone in a room that was designed for two patients and had a pleasant view out to the hills. His left leg was in plaster and several visitors had added their signature. Steven smiled when he inclined his head to read the message in red crayon and found that it said Love you Dad, Lewis .
‘He’s seven,’ said Fielding.
Steven smiled. He told Fielding who he was and about Sci-Med’s interest.
‘Good luck,’ said Fielding. ‘No one else can work out what came over him. He came out of that chamber like a man possessed by the devil. God, I’m even starting to sound like the tabloids.’
Steven smiled again, taking a liking to the man. ‘It’s an easy habit to develop,’ he sympathised. ‘Makes life so simple.’
‘I promise not to use that particular expression if the press come back again,’ said Fielding.
‘I take it you’ve no idea what happened to Dr Motram?’ asked Steven.
‘Haven’t a clue. Before he went into that chamber he was the nicest sort of bloke you’d ever want to meet, but when he came out …’ Fielding made a face. ‘He’d only one thing on his mind and that was murder. God, I’m doing it again! I wonder if the Sun does a decent crossword … I might think of changing. Anyway, I consider myself lucky to have got away with only this,’ he said, tapping his plastered leg. ‘If he’d actually managed to get that digger down the ramp, well, none of us would be here to tell the tale.’
‘It sounds horrendous,’ said Steven. ‘I take it you personally didn’t go in the chamber?’
‘None of us did apart from John,’ said Fielding. ‘Do you really think it was something in there? Something from the past?’
‘Common sense says not,’ said Steven. ‘On the other hand I haven’t the slightest idea why John Motram is the way he is right now. But, just for the record,’ he added, bringing out a small notebook, ‘do you think you can talk me through everything that happened that day up until the time Dr Motram entered the tomb?’
Fielding puffed his cheeks and exhaled slowly. ‘Not much to say really. The four of us – John, Alan Blackstone, Les and myself – met in the car park at the abbey and allowed the Health and Safety people to inspect the equipment we’d be using on site. When they’d finished ticking their clipboards and giving us the OK, we crossed over to the hotel to meet the doctor from Public Health, who interviewed each of us briefly about the state of our health, gave us a tetanus shot and basically said everything was fine by him. Then the four of us walked round to the site and Les and I set about loosening the stones in the wall of the tomb. When we’d finished we let John take over and watched him remove enough of them to gain an entrance. He disappeared inside and we waited – he was actually in there for more than twenty minutes, but we supposed that was because it was his big moment, if you like, and he was sort of savouring the experience.’
‘What happened when he did come out?’
‘I have to say he seemed a bit odd … he was having trouble with the plastic sheeting across the entrance so I gave him a hand, then Alan tried to talk to him, then … well, all hell broke lose. John really lost the plot. He smashed Alan in the face with the torch he was carrying, and then hit Les when he tried to help Alan. The three of us
Similar Books
