Martin Sketchmore would be closer to the mark.
Wouldn’t it?
Surprised? Thought a little silent treatment would fool me?
Oh I know who you are Mr Sketchmore. I may not be able to see you but I don’t need to. I set up your little visit. I take it you got the note — Giles again — about the diary. About the fact that I had put everything I knew in it. Why else would you be here?
Oh I know you are supposed to be from the psychiatrist. A listener — that’s what he called you. A listener. People who are happy to listen to people like me. No hopers. But you’re not, are you? You’re Martin. I can smell the aftershave. You still like Boss.
Well I hope it was worth it? The diary that is. It is what it is but it’s hardly going to be your downfall now is it? I mean what would someone do with it if I had passed it on? Is there anything in there that would cause you much grief? Not really. Anyway I’ll be dead soon and you can have the thing — for what it’s worth. So no worries there then.
I bet you were surprised as fuck to hear I had made it out of your office alive. Must have come as a shock to find out I was still breathing.
Your boys left me for dead. They dumped me in a rubbish skip at the back of the Lloyds insurance building. Like yesterday’s rubbish. I’m sure they thought I was dead and I wasn’t far from it. The bin men found me in the morning. It took a fourteen hour operation to save me. That and six more operations and I’m still worth shit.
Now look at me. What good am I to man or beast? I’m sure there are people out there who are in a worse state then me and wake up every morning thanking their God that they are alive — but not me. I can’t live like this. I’ve been lying here for weeks and all I can think of is what you did to me. How you ripped away my life. Played me like a fiddle and then tried to have me killed.
I wish you had succeeded.
You talk about revenge and how you obsessed. Wasn’t that your word? Obsessed over me. Well Martin I’ve obsessed over you. Far more than I obsessed over Dupree. Must be in my nature.
I’ve done more obsessing in the last few weeks than you would think possible. I’ve spent every waking minute thinking of ways to get back at you.
Remember Giles’s story about the boy in the window looking down on the street. Well I don’t think he did know what was going on. Not really. Deep down he was missing the big picture. You see what was going on down in the street wasn’t really anything to do with him. He wasn’t part of it. He was just a bystander. Watching. Not understanding.
A bit like you at the moment.
You’re a bit of a bystander. A watcher. Not a listener. No, if you were a real listener you might have picked up a few clues along the way. A few hints that gave away that I knew who you were.
But you didn’t listen. Not really. And that will cost you.
It was Giles who gave me the idea. You might not know this but Giles hates you. Not as much as I do, but he hates you all the same. He’s told me all about the errands and humiliation you have put him through since he retired.
It seems that I underestimated you. I always knew you had an evil streak but Giles is an old man who only wants a quiet life and you keep dragging him back into a world he long ago thought he had seen the last of.
So we got chatting, Giles and I, and, as I said, it was his idea. Well at least in part. It wasn’t the cleverest of ideas. It doesn’t have to be. Getting you here was the easy bit. The next bit is a little tougher.
I’m sure you’ve heard of an I.E.D. They’re on the news all the time. Improvised Explosive Devices. All the rage in Iraq and Afghanistan.
I suppose you also know that we are in a private wing of the hospital. The rooms either side are empty. Have been for a few days. There are new people due in tomorrow but I think they may have to find other accommodation.
When Giles first came up with the idea, I was supposed to come back from my physio session and find that someone had blown the crap out of my room. You would be in the middle of it. The casualty of a bizarre crime. Pay back complete.
That was Giles’s idea. But I couldn’t leave it at that. I needed to know you had read the diary. I needed you to know what I have gone through. I needed you to have every little detail of my life in your head. After all, you were the one who said you obsessed on me. You must have a serious obsession to sit through my life story in silence, to read the diary and even now to sit there and say nothing.
I also had a moment when I was recounting my life story. How high had I flown? How much did I have? And now what? That’s when I decided to change the plan. After all we have been through a lot together so why not say goodbye together?
I’m sure you know what is coming next and you can run if you want to, but you won’t make the door. I may have lost my eyesight but my hearing still works and I can hear your breathing.
Hard and fast.
See this silver handle here. The one with the red trigger on it. I know it’s red — I had Giles describe every inch of it. The one that is peeking out from under my pillow. Well when I drop my head on it there is four pounds of plastic explosive under my bed that will go up. It’s on your side if you would like to look. Giles set it all up last night. I’ve sweated all morning that it would be found but it would seem that, for once, my luck is in. They didn’t even spot it when I went to physio.
And you are still here. I thought you might have done a runner but true to type you needed to hear how it all panned out. You just couldn’t pick up the diary and go. After all what harm can a quadriplegic blind man do?
I’m sure there are questions. I know I have many but, sadly when I got back into bed, I bounced my head on the trigger and the device has a two minute delay.
If you run you might just make it.
But I doubt it.
