The car he drove at the hospital’s expense. The money. Oh yes, the money.
And the perks. Those lovely little perks.
There was a lot to be said for being the hospital’s staff director and workforce manager.
Walking down the corridor, enjoying the sound of his heels echoing behind him, he planned his day. Meeting for the rest of the morning. Could he get out of it? What was it again? Budget strategy planning. Best not. Although anything that needed implementing could be done at a lower level. Middle management. That was what they were there for.
Then what? Lunch in town, discussing expansion plans with a friend on the council. All on expenses. Then perhaps a quick round of golf over at Colne Valley Golf Club. Yes. That sounded like not a bad day after all.
Lister nodded to a nurse. Smiled. She returned it, that kind of up from under thing with her eyes. He liked that. Made them look demure but knowing. Clean on the outside, dirty on the inside. Lovely.
He checked her out as she went past. Young, pretty. Not too curvy. Just his type. Budding. That was the word he used to describe them, budding.
He slowed down, watched her walk away, the slow, languorous swing of her narrow hips, her pert bottom. Budding. Lovely.
He waited until she had turned a corner, was out of view, then continued on.
Thinking of the nurse who had just passed, his mind hopped on, made connections. He wished it could be like the old days, he thought. When nurses’ uniforms were more like something out of Ann Summers, something that a young man could get quite worked up about, fetishise, even. Not like they were now. All functional and plain. Nothing to get worked up about. He should try and bring that up at a meeting. Claim it was for the good of the patients, the morale in the hospital.
He remembered a dentist friend he knew. Only employed fit, slim young dental nurses. Made them wear uniforms that were this side of a tribunal away from see-through. Made sure they co-ordinated their underwear too. White. Lacy. He had marvelled at his friend, asked how he got away with it. Got away with it? He had a list longer than the war dead on the Cenotaph in Whitehall of people wanting to be his patients. He had pointed to the Merc parked outside the restaurant they were in. That was paid for, he had said, entirely by middle-aged men’s fantasies.
Lister smiled at the memory. He should definitely try something similar here.
His phone sounded, jolting him out of his reverie.
Probably Jerry, he thought, confirming this afternoon’s golf session.
He took the iPhone from his jacket pocket, opened it.
‘Hello.’
Nothing. Just crackling.
‘Hello?’ He sighed. Probably one of those automated things. Telling him not to hang up, press this button to be put through to a premium-rate line in Sri Lanka or something. He was about to switch off when a voice spoke.
‘Hello, Samuel.’
At first he couldn’t place it. Then he did. And it was like reality crumbled around him.
‘What… what d’you want?’ He stopped walking, cupped the phone in his hand so anyone passing couldn’t see him, hear him speak. ‘Why are you calling me?’
‘I need a favour, Samuel.’
‘You can’t have one.’ His throat was suddenly dry. His voice sounded uneven and cracked. An arid desert floor.
‘I can and I will.’
Lister sighed, looked round. Expected the rest of the world to have stopped just because his had. But it went on around him as usual.
‘No. You can’t. I’m… I’m going to hang up now.’
‘No you’re not, Samuel. People who say they’re going to hang up never do. They just… stay there. Waiting. Is that what you’re doing, Samuel?’
‘I’m… I’m hanging up. Now.’ Weakly, as he made no effort to end the call.
‘Oh. You’re still there, Samuel. Why would that be?’
Another look round. Surely everyone was staring. Pointing and laughing, wondering why the staff director and workforce manager was sweating and stammering in the corridor. But no one was pointing or laughing. In fact everyone was ignoring him, just getting on with their own lives.
‘I’m… I’m… ’
‘You’re going to do what I tell you, Samuel. You know you are. What you did came with a price. You know that. You were told that at the time. You agreed to it. Happily, if I remember. Well now it’s time to pay.’
‘I… I… What if I won’t?’
A chuckle. ‘Does that really need answering?’
Lister sighed. ‘I’m… I’m going to my office now. Call me back there.’
Without waiting for a reply, he broke the connection, pocketed the phone. Looked around once more.
His first thought was to run. Hard. Fast. As far away as quickly as possible. But he knew that couldn’t happen. He knew they would catch up with him wherever he went. Not even bother to catch up with him. Just say a few words to the right people, let things take their course.
Another sigh. Heart fluttering, he walked quickly to his office. People nodded, smiled at him on the way. He managed to return their greetings. How? he thought. How could he do that? Pretend everything was fine on the surface while inside he was consumed by turmoil? He knew how. The thought was sudden. It arrived with the heavy, final clunk of a key in a cell-door lock.
Because he had done already. Quite a few times. Kept his normal, everyday world going smoothly while under the surface he did… other things. And now they had caught up with him. When worlds collide.
He reached his office, went straight in, told his secretary to hold his calls. Closed the door behind him. Sat at his desk. Waited.
The call wasn’t long in coming.
‘What… what d’you want?’ He knew who it was without checking.
‘Just what I said, Samuel. You owe. Time to pay.’
‘I… I can’t… ’ Close to tears now. Ready to just give up.
‘You can. And you will.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of an answer to give. There was no answer to give.
Silence.
Eventually, a sigh. ‘All right. What… what d’you want me to do?’
The voice on the phone told him.
And Samuel Lister knew that whatever happened next didn’t matter.
This was the end for him.
53
‘Well I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is, I’m afraid.’ Lynn Windsor turned her back on Mickey, began to walk away from him as if he’d been dismissed.
I don’t think so, thought Mickey, following.
He was back in the solicitors’ offices, following up his previous call. Finding out what he could about Adam Weaver. He wasn’t getting very far. Lynn Windsor was stonewalling.
‘Lynn, don’t walk away from me, please.’
She stopped, turned. Sighed, exasperated. Her face looked different from the previous day. Harder, set. No flirtation in her manner, just business to get on with. Once she had dealt with Mickey the irritant.
‘I need to talk to you. I need to talk to your boss. Adam Weaver. I saw him here yesterday, going into a meeting. I saw him again last night. And he was very dead.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Dead?’
‘Haven’t you seen today’s news? Read a paper?’
