Every minute he expected the phone to ring. To hear Hayes telling him that Mackenzie had broken out. Lambert dismissed the thought. That was impossible. The cell door was a foot thick, the bars of the windows embedded two feet into the concrete. He couldn't possibly get out. Lambert swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and brought his knees up, resting his head on them.
Again the thoughts came back. Alien thoughts with no answer.
Mackenzie's sensitivity to light. His eyes (if that was the word). The frenzy which overcame him during night-time. The mutilation of the three victims. Why had the eyes been torn out?
'Oh Christ.'
He said it out loud this time, cursing himself as he heard Debbie moan in her sleep. He watched her sleeping form for a moment, worried that he had woken her. When she didn't move he returned to his previous position. Head bowed on his upraised knees.
'What's wrong, Tom?'
Her voice startled him and he turned to see her looking up at him.
'I'm sorry I woke you,' he said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it.
'What is it?' she asked, her voice gentle.
He sighed, 'I can't sleep.'
She snuggled closer to him and he felt the warmth of her body, naked beneath the sheets. 'What were you thinking about?' she wanted to know.
'This and that,' he said, smiling wanly.
'Don't give me that crap,' she said, forcefully, squeezing his hand until he made a cry of mock pain. 'It's this business with Mackenzie isn't it?'
'Debbie, I've never seen anything like it. He's like a wild animal. But it only seems to be at night. Jesus, I don't know what the hell is going on.'
'You know that medallion? I was thinking, why don't you take it to an antique dealer? Old Mr Trefoile in the town would be able to date it for you; he might even be able to decipher the inscriptions.'
Lambert nodded. He was silent for a while, rubbing his eyes. He felt a hand trace its way from the top of his knee to his thigh. Debbie pressed herself closer to him, her hand finally brushing through his pubic hair and closing around his flaccid penis. She looked up at him, surprised.
'You really are worried,' she said.
He grinned and she tried to pull her hand away but he held it there, feeling the warmth of her fingers as they stroked, coaxing him to hardness. When he was fully erect, she ran her index finger from the tip of his penis to the testicles, now drawn up tightly with excitement. She cupped them briefly before returning to his swollen shaft. He moaned softly as she closed her hand around him and began rubbing gently. As her movements became more insistent he lay back, thrusting his hips towards the stroking hand. At the same time, he sought the wetness between her legs, his fingers teasing her clitoris before plunging deeper into the oozing cleft of her vagina. She drove herself hard against him, finally pulling him onto her, his hard organ sliding easily into her.
A moment later they climaxed savagely and clung to one another long after the sensations had died away. He rolled off and lay on his back, both of them panting. She leant across and kissed him, eventually falling asleep with her head on his chest. He stroked her hair with his hand, feeling its soft silkiness beneath his fingers.
He returned to staring at the ceiling, wishing that sleep would come, but the hands of the clock pointed to four-fifteen before he finally drifted off into peaceful oblivion.
Kirby stood up as Lambert entered the room. He had been sitting on a chair next to the cell bed on which Mackenzie lay. Mackenzie was still, his eyes closed, arms by his sides. Sunlight streamed in through the small window in the wall of the cell. Constable Ferman was also in the room, standing at the far end of the bed and looking down at the body of Mackenzie, who was now securely tied down with thick bands of hemp.
'Morning, Tom,' said Kirby.
The inspector nodded a greeting and looked down at the immobile figure of Mackenzie.
'What happened?' he asked in awe.
Kirby motioned to Ferman and the constable coughed, clearing his throat as if he were about to make a public address.
'Well sir,' he began, 'I was sitting out there this morning, listening to all the din going on in here and, well, about five o'clock everything went quiet. I looked through the viewing slot and Mackenzie was lying on the floor.'
'Dawn was at five o'clock,' Kirby clarified.
'I waited for about fifteen minutes,' continued Ferman. 'He didn't move, so I came in, put him on the bed and tied him down again.'
'The light,' said Lambert.
Kirby nodded. 'The darkness triggers him off, the light shuts him down. This man is like a light sensitive machine, only, if you'll forgive the flippancy, his mechanism is working in reverse. He comes alive during the darkness and…' he shrugged, 'switches off during the daylight.' Lambert looked down at Mackenzie's body, his mouth almost dropping open in awe.
'His vital signs are practically nil,' said Kirby. 'The heart has slowed to less than forty beats a minute, the pulse and blood pressure are so faint I could hardly get readings. He's in a torpor.'
'What the hell is that?' snapped Lambert.
'Coma if you like.'
'What do we do?'
'I wish I knew.'
'You're a doctor for Christ's sake, John; you must have some ideas.'
'Look. During the night, he's fine.'
Lambert cut him short. 'Fine? He's a psycho during the bloody night.'
Kirby waved away the policeman's protests.
'What I meant was, his life signs are all in order. There's nothing wrong with him bodily.'
'Apart from the fact that he's a maniac with the strength of ten men,' said Lambert, his voice heavy with scorn.
There was an awkward silence then Kirby spoke again.
'I think the problem is in his brain, not his body. It's psychosis of some sort, but we don't know why it's triggered by darkness.'
'This is getting us nowhere,' said Lambert impatiently. 'I want to know what we have to do. This is going to happen again tonight, right? I want an answer quick, John. I'm asking you for a medical answer to this problem. And keep it simple.'
'You've got a number of alternatives, Tom. I either pump him full of Thorazine now and we wait and see if it keeps him out during the night, we keep him locked in here until someone qualified can look at him, or…' He hesitated.
'Or what?' Lambert demanded.
'We give him an E.E.G.'
Lambert looked puzzled.
'It's an Electroencephalogram. It tests brain waves.'
'I know what it does,' snapped Lambert, 'I don't see how it would help.'
'It might tell us why the darkness triggers off this savagery at night, why he's terrified of light. That's my last theory.'
The policeman nodded. 'Where would it be done?'
'There's a unit in the hospital in Wellham, about twenty miles from here. I know the specialist in charge of it. If I get in touch with him now, we could have this done before nightfall.'
'Do it,' said Lambert and Kirby scuttled out of the room.
The Inspector looked down at the body of Mackenzie and then at the wrecked cell.
Ferman coughed. 'What if it doesn't work, sir?' he asked tentatively.
Lambert looked at him for a moment, searching for an answer, then turned and walked out.
