Ken McClure - The Anvil

‘It seemed the least I could do,’ said MacLean quietly. ‘I owe him my life.’ He told her the reason for the second meeting.

They sat in silence for a while before Tansy asked, ‘You are not having second thoughts about helping Vernay take on Lehman Steiner are you?’

‘No!’ exclaimed MacLean. ‘All I really want is for everyone to go away and leave us alone!’

Tansy was left in no doubt as to the sincerity of what MacLean had said. She said, ‘I need you to be sure. If you fought and won you could become a doctor again and that would mean a lot to you.’

MacLean was still adamant. ‘I’m happy as I am!’ he insisted. ‘I don’t want anything to change. I’ve never been more contented in my life. It’s what goes on inside your head that really matters.’

‘Fireside philosophy,’ smiled Tansy.

‘I’m serious,’ said MacLean. ‘You and Carrie have become so precious to me. You’re all that I care about now.’

Tansy’s expression softened. She said, ‘I’ve noticed Carrie adopting you as her new father.’

‘Do you mind?’

Tansy smiled and said, ‘I’m delighted.’

‘And you?’

Tansy took MacLean’s face between her hands and said, ‘Let’s take everything as it comes?’

MacLean agreed with a grin and said, ‘OK.’

‘You woke me up, ‘ said Carrie appearing in the doorway.

‘Sorry,’ said MacLean.

‘Can I have a drink of water please?’

‘Of course. Would Mr Bear like one too?’ he asked.

Carrie was pleased. ‘Yes please,’ she said.

MacLean took Carrie back up to bed and tucked her and Mr Bear under the covers. He kissed Carrie gently on the forehead and got up to go.

‘And Mr Bear,’ said Carrie.

MacLean kissed the bear and switched out the light.

The following week passed uneventfully but the weather was abysmal throughout. Continual drizzling rain dampened everyone’s spirits and kept Carrie indoors when she would much rather have been outside. When Sunday came and the sun shone. MacLean and Tansy decided to take her to the zoo.

Carrie chattered to the monkeys, walked like the penguins and stood uncertainly in front of the tigers at feeding time. She had a ride on an elephant and learned how to milk a goat in the children’s farm. She drank lemonade and ate ice cream and generally scampered around to the delight of both Tansy and MacLean.

‘I think this counts as the first family outing since Keith died,’ said Tansy as they watched Carrie try to attract the attention of a lion who seemed more interested in sleeping on a rock.

‘First of many,’ said MacLean and Tansy squeezed his hand.

They watched the polar bears dive for fish in their pool and Tansy said they made about as much mess as Carrie at bath time. They all laughed. It was that kind of a day. The coming meeting with Vernay was not mentioned until late that evening. Tansy asked, ‘How do you feel about tomorrow?’

‘I’ll be glad when it’s over,’ admitted MacLean. ‘I can’t really tell him any more about Cytogerm than what I’ve done already.

‘You’re going straight from work?’

‘Yes,’ said MacLean. ‘I should be home by seven.’

MacLean knew from the address that Vernay had given him that it was a predominantly working-class area. He would not look out of place coming directly from the building site in work clothes. He found the number he was looking for and walked straight past. He crossed the road a little further up the street and came back down on the other side. It was a simple precaution that Doyle had taught him. He was in luck; there was a fish and chip shop almost opposite Vernay’s building. He went in and bought something to eat. Using this as an excuse he was able to keep an eye on the entrance across the way for nearly ten minutes. Nothing happened to arouse his suspicions: he crossed the road and entered the building.

Vernay’s flat was on the third floor. MacLean rang the bell and waited. Nothing happened so he rang once more and then a third time. He heard a door open on the landing below and cautiously looked over the railings. An old woman was looking up at him. She seemed disappointed when she didn’t recognise him. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I thought it was Mr Vernay.’

MacLean thought she sounded distraught. Is something wrong?’ he asked.

‘Mr Vernay must have a leak,’ said the woman. ‘Water’s coming through my ceiling.’

Alarm bells went off in MacLean’s head. His first thought was to break down the door but the woman was a problem. He made sympathetic noises and asked if she had a screwdriver he could borrow. Anticipating some remedial action the woman went off to find one.

As soon as she was out of the way MacLean took a couple of steps back from the door then, lifting his foot he crashed it into Vernay’s door just below the Yale lock. He leaned his shoulder against the door and it swung slowly open.

It was dark inside. There were no windows in the hall and all the room doors were closed. MacLean could hear the sound of water pattering on to the floor. He followed it. He called out Vernay’s name but knew there would be no reply. He did it to release some of the tension that was building inside him. The floor was wet beneath his feet and the sound of the waterfall was becoming louder. He took care not to slip on wet linoleum as he opened the bathroom door.

The room was lit solely by the light coming in from a street light. Vernay was in the bath. His huge dead eyes stared up at him from below the surface of the water. MacLean swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and leaned over to turn off the water. He recoiled as he saw that two of Vernay’s fingers had been cut off from his right hand.

‘Yoo hoo! Are you there?’ came the old woman’s voice from the hall. MacLean suddenly realised that she was coming in and it shook him out of his trance. He came out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He stood in front of it as the woman came towards him. ‘I’ve found the trouble,’ he said. ‘My stupid friend left the taps running in the bath and the overflow seems to be blocked. I’ll have a strong word with him when he gets back and tell him in no uncertain terms that he is responsible for the damage to your ceiling.’

The woman seemed pleased at the attention MacLean was giving her. She offered to help him clear up the mess.

MacLean ushered her to the door kindly, ‘I’ll have it cleared up in no time,’ he insisted, breathing a sigh of relief when the door was closed behind her. He steeled himself to examine the other rooms of the flat. He needed to understand what had happened.

There was no evidence of a struggle in any of the rooms. Vernay must have been taken by surprise, thought MacLean. He found nothing out of the ordinary until he went over to the kitchen sink and saw the wooden chopping board with Vernay’s missing fingers on it. MacLean turned away for a moment and suppressed the urge to retch. He looked back and saw with a professional eye that something heavy had been used to cut them off, an axe or a meat cleaver.

It was clear that they had tortured Vernay to make him talk. He would have told them everything he knew. Lehman Steiner knew about Tansy and Carrie. They could even be on their way to the bungalow right now.

A gun! He had to have a gun! Vernay had carried one. Maybe it was still in the flat. MacLean started searching like a man possessed. He pulled open drawers and threw open cupboards until he found what he was looking for under a mattress. The pistol was still in Vernay’s shoulder holster. MacLean took off his jacket and slipped it on. The gun was under the wrong armpit for him but it didn’t matter. It was much more important that he was armed.

MacLean took the stairs three at a time and burst out on to the street. A taxi driver looked the other way when he tried to flag him down. His dress and the way he was behaving said that he was a bad risk. A second one stopped but looked sceptical. He was waiting to hear if MacLean sounded drunk.