Ken McClure: Chameleon

He tried to think logically and assess what he had learned about Evans so far in the hope that it might provide him with some clue but he only succeeded in becoming more and more anxious. He failed to come up with any idea at all. He was almost at his wits' end when he did realise that there was one thing he knew. The search for the radiation source in the microbiology lab had proved fruitless so that must mean that Evans had carried out his lab work on the bacteria somewhere else! He must have alternative premises somewhere in the city! He had to find out where!

He ran back to the lab to ask among the technicians if they knew of any such place. He drew a blank. AS far as they knew, Evans lived in the residency. No one knew of him having any other address.

'I didn't come across a UV lamp anywhere else in the lab,' said the technician who had helped him search earlier.

Jamieson nodded.

'Shall I put this back where you found it?' The technician held up the small brown bottle that Jamieson had found in Evans' drawer.

Again Jamieson nodded while he tried desperately to think of an idea. His thinking was confused by the technician having drawn his attention to the bottle. He saw it again lying on its side in the drawer on top of… an electricity bill! Why would Evans have an electricity bill when he lived in the hospital residency? Charges for electricity were included in the rental!

Jamieson leapt to his feet and chased along the corridor. He burst into Evans' room and brushed past the startled technician to yank open Evans' desk drawer and pull out the bill. It was addressed to Evans at an address in the city.

As they drove through city streets, Sue fell silent as she recalled her terrifying drive in the taxi. She looked at the busy entrance to Marks and Spencer's and felt a shiver climb her spine.

'Cold?' asked Evans, leaning across to adjust the heater levers on the dash.

'Not really,' replied Sue. 'Someone must have walked over my grave.'

'Strange expression that,' said Evans.

'Mmm.'

'Any idea where it comes from?'

'Afraid not.'

'Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs.'

'What?'

'Shakespeare. Richard the Second.'

'Oh,' said Sue.

'I hope you don't mind if we take a short detour. I want to pick something up at my flat.'

'Not at all. I didn't realise you had a flat?'

'It's more of a studio really.'

'You're an artist?' asked Sue.

'I like to pretend I am.'

'How interesting,' said Sue.

The car slowed and turned off the main road to glide slowly through backstreets and come to a halt.

'I have the basement flat here,' said Evans.

The basement?' exclaimed Sue. 'I thought artists needed lots of light.'

Evans looked at Sue in silence for a moment and then said, 'We have to use what we can afford.'

'Of course,' smiled Sue.

'Perhaps you would like to see some of my humble efforts?'

'I'd love to Clive,' said Sue. 'I have the greatest admiration for anyone who can draw or paint.'

'They're not very good I'm afraid.'

'I'm sure you are just being modest.'

Evans led the way down the stone steps and Sue waited while he fiddled with the locks on the door and finally got it to open. The air inside seemed cold and damp and for a fleeting moment Sue felt apprehensive without knowing why. She stepped inside.

What little light there was inside was suddenly dimmed by Evans closing the door behind them. 'I'll have to switch on the electricity at the mains,' he said.

'I'll open the curtains shall I?' said Sue making a move towards the heavy drapes.

'No. Don't do that,' said Evans behind her. His voice had changed. It was quiet now, authoritative and somehow different.

Sue turned round as the lights were turned on and saw Evans leaning against the door looking at her. 'I don't understand,' she said. 'Where are the paintings?'

'There are no paintings,' said Evans in a flat, even voice.

Sue looked at Evans and saw that his eyes had changed too. They seemed to be made of grey, expressionless glass and she could hear him breathing. He was making a hissing sound as air was sucked in and expelled again through clenched teeth.

'Is this some kind of tasteless joke?' she asked, but terror was already beginning to gnaw at her stomach.

'No joke,' whispered Evans. 'It's all deadly serious.'

Sue made a move towards the door but Evans shifted slightly to bar her way.

'Let me out of here!' demanded Sue at arm's length. Fear had put a tremor into her voice.

'You are not going anywhere,' continued the even voice. 'First I'll deal with you and then I'll deal with your interfering clod of a husband. He's getting to be too much of a nuisance.'

'Interfering? Interfering in what?'

'My work! Sue, that's what.' said Evans his voice rising in volume for the first time.

Sue saw all the signs of a lunatic in Evans and felt sick with fear. 'What do you mean 'Your work'?' she stammered.

'I mean ridding this city of female filth, cleaning up the pestilence that they spread. You all look fine on the outside but it's just a front. Inside you are filthy! Dirty and filthy!

Sue screamed as Evans came towards her. She moved backwards, feeling out behind her for obstacles with an outstretched hand but not daring to take her eyes away from the madman who was coming towards her. She half stumbled as her leg caught the edge of a table and hastily altered course to avoid it.

'Whore!' hissed Evans. 'There is no escape!'

Sue moved in unison with Evans, trying to keep the table between herself and him but could see it was only a short-term ploy.

Evans could see that too and with a sweep of his foot he cleared away the obstruction. He lunged towards Sue and in her haste to escape him she stumbled backwards and crashed to the floor. She tried to scramble to her feet using the handle of the fridge to help her to her feet but the magnetic catch on the door released and she fell once more to the floor as the fridge door swung open. The illuminated interior seemed strangely compelling in the gloom of the basement room. Sue saw what lay inside and her imagination refused to contemplate any more horror. She passed out.

She came to as if waking from a bad dream but only to find that she was part of a living nightmare. She was lying on wood-framed camp bed with her hands and feet securely bound. Something had been stuffed into her mouth and a handkerchief used to keep it in place. As she moved her head she felt the wad of material in her mouth move a little further towards the back of her throat threatening to induce the gag response. Suddenly fearful that she would choke she moved her head again in an effort to stop her airway becoming blocked. The terror in her head was working against her by increasing the demand for oxygen to supply the blood that was rushing through her veins. She could hear the rapid thump of a pulse in her ears. Her movement on the camp bed brought Evans to her side.

From where Sue lay, Evans appeared to be seven feet tall. He was wearing a long rubber apron and in his hand he held a surgical knife.

'Awake? Good. It's important that you are conscious at the moment of your cleansing, the instant when the evil is excised from your corrupt body.

Sue eyes became saucers as Evans bent down and started to cut away her clothing. She saw his eyes linger on her breasts. He seemed to be engaged in some deep inner struggle. Sweat began to appear along his upper lip and his pocked skin became deathly pale. He was muttering something in what Sue recognised as Latin. His hands moved to hover near her breasts but then were withdrawn while he looked up to the ceiling as if for guidance. He started to remove the rest of her clothes.

As she threw her head back in anguish Sue again caused the rag in her mouth to move backwards and threaten to make her retch. If that happened while she was gagged she would inhale her own vomit and die of asphyxiation. When assessed coldly and dispassionately that might have been preferable to what Evans had in store for her but there is nothing cold or dispassionate about the desire to cling on to life. Sue jerked her head forward violently in a desperate attempt to clear the obstruction.