Ken McClure: Past Lives

He couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead and the candle had been extinguished when he’d dropped it on the floor to jump in but he could tell that the chain was the limiting factor. Practically all its free length had been used up and, if the water continued to rise, it would shortly cover both women completely.

Macandrew took a deep breath and sank beneath the surface of the cistern to start work on the padlock in complete darkness. The water, still rushing in from the rain chute in the wall, buffeted him as he worked by feel alone. His lungs were close to bursting when he felt the key finally turn and the padlock snap open to slip off the ring.

He surfaced and took in a great gulp of air before submerging again to free the women completely from the chain. He pushed them up, one at a time, on to the edge of the cistern, having to half roll their bodies over the lip as energy drained away from him. Simone was first and then the nun. He was perilously close to exhaustion as he started to pull himself out, his arms at one point reaching an uneasy equilibrium on the side of the cistern when it seemed that strength would desert him and he would slide back down into the water. One final, desperate heave brought him out.

The nun was breathing but Simone wasn’t. He had to get air into her lungs. He rolled her on to her back and started mouth to mouth respiration, willing her to start breathing with every fibre of his being. Thirty agonising seconds had passed before Simone coughed slightly and water welled up from her lungs. Macandrew thought it the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard as she continued to cough and retch. He rolled her over on to her front and helped her expel the remaining water.

‘You’re safe,’ he murmured as he finally stopped to turn her again and cradle her in his arms. ‘It’s over.’ Simone couldn’t hear him. He’d said it as much for his own benefit.

He sat, holding her, rocking back and forward, seeking refuge in a kind of mental limbo where he could escape all that had happened if only for a few moments. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there when a change in the sound of the water pouring in brought him back to his senses. The storm had ended: it had stopped raining. It took less than five minutes for the sound of running water to stop completely, returning the cellar to an eerie silence where even the occasional drip sounded loud.

Macandrew felt Simone stir in his arms and did his best to reassure her as she came round.

‘Mac?’ groaned Simone. ‘What happened? My head...’

‘How much do you remember?’

‘Stroud to give us something to knock us out while they went to the cathedral to get some sword Ignatius kept talking about.’

Macandrew filled in the blanks. He had just about brought her up to date when Noni started to come round too and Simone moved over to comfort her, holding her and reassuring her as Macandrew had done for her. When both women had recovered sufficiently, Macandrew helped them up the ladder. Noni was despatched to tell Mother Superior to call the police.

‘Dry clothes would be nice too!’ added Simone.

As Noni left, Simone saw the sword lying on the floor. ‘Is that what all the fuss was about?’ she asked.

‘It was in a shaft, under the floor of the cathedral, along with a stack of gold bars and a skeleton. Ignatius seemed more interested in the sword than anything else.’

‘It doesn’t look much,’ said Simone, picking it up and running her hand lightly along the flat of the blade. ‘What do you think is so special about it?’

Macandrew shook his head. ‘I guess Ignatius and Stroud have taken that secret to the grave with them.’

‘What will you do with it?’

‘Hand it over to the cathedral museum, I guess.’

‘You don’t think it has... well, special powers , do you?’

Macandrew found himself strangely embarrassed by the question. There had to be some rational explanation as to why this blunt, two thousand year old weapon had cut through a modern, one-inch steel cable and saved his life but... at that precise moment, he just couldn’t think of one.

‘The wanderer returns!’ exclaimed Saul Klinsman as Macandrew came into his office. ‘I guess you were having such a good time over there that you didn’t want to come back, huh?’

‘Something like that,’ smiled Macandrew.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Just fine.’

Macandrew sensed that his reply was inadequate: Klinsman needed more. ‘I’m itching to come back. Saul. I think I’m okay for surgery again.’

‘That’s what I wanted to hear,’ said Klinsman, who looked as if he genuinely meant it. ‘How do you want to play it?’

‘I thought I’d ease myself in with some cadaver work down in Pathology.’

Klinsman nodded. ‘Good idea. Talk to Carl Lessing. He’ll know what the situation is with donated bodies. I’m sure the Med school could spare a few in a good cause.’

Macandrew had coffee with Klinsman who wanted to know all about his trip to Scotland. Macandrew confined what he told him to his success in finding the graves of his ancestors. With contact re-established and pleasantries exchanged, he went down to Pathology where he went through the same again with Carl Lessing who welcomed him back and assured him that he would make cadavers available. He could start next morning if he had a mind to. ‘You can have the small autopsy room all to yourself. You can probably do without an audience.’

Macandrew spent the rest of the morning saying hello to friends and colleagues and generally playing the role of the staff member just back from vacation. He thought he was doing well until he had lunch with Karen Bliss down on the Plaza and she saw through him.

‘So you had a really good time, huh?’

‘Sure did.’

‘And you’re real glad to be back?’

‘Sure am.’

‘Want to go for three in a row?’

Macandrew smiled and conceded the point. ‘All right, I had a nightmare time. I’ve been through hell and nearly lost my life but I don’t want to talk about it right now. I wouldn’t know where to begin. The good bit is that I met a French woman and I’ve fallen in love with her. I’m already missing her like crazy. How’s that to be going on with?’

‘The falling in love bit doesn’t sound so bad. Does she know you’re in love with her?’

‘I think so.’

‘You think so! Didn’t you tell her?’ exclaimed Karen.

‘Not exactly.’

‘I may be a psychiatrist but sometimes I think I’ll never understand men,’ said Karen. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Simone.’

‘And you just walked away and left her?’

‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ said Macandrew, growing uncomfortable with the cross examination. ‘Simone’s a research scientist with a career to think of... and I’m not sure of anything just yet.’

‘Oh,’ said Karen. ‘Sorry, that was insensitive of me, but you’re going to be fine, Mac; I know it.’ She took his hands in hers. ‘Tell me all about her. What kind of research does your lady do?’

‘Biomedical. It’s a long story — one I’ll get round to telling you soon — but the bottom line is that she’s come up with a way of treating certain kinds of brain-damaged patients. If things work out the way we hope they will, we’re going to collaborate in running a clinical trial on the new technique — but of course, that all depends on me being able to operate again.’

‘That sounds exciting,’ said Karen.

‘I’ll need your help in coming up with a list of patients who might be suitable candidates.’

‘What kind of brain damage are we talking about here?’

‘Altered personality.’

Karen looked at him questioningly but didn’t say anything although her train of thought became evident when she said after a long pause, ‘Mrs Francini won’t be on the list. Her husband moved her out of Farley Ridge three weeks ago. He’d heard about some new clinic up in Michigan where they turn water into wine.’