16
Inside the Aphrodite, Frank Clark put his suitcase beside the leather settee. He closed the door tightly behind him. He listened to the rippling sounds the waves made against the yacht. It was a musical composition full of resonance he missed ever since his stay in the hotel.
He took a bottle and a glass from a cabinet. With a trembling hand, he poured himself a scotch. He held the glass in his hand to salute the new woodwork in the cabin. The job was done by a man who really understood his trade. The dark Mahogany wood shone like a mirror. He could almost see his own reflection in the wood, an image which was changing rapidly the last couple of years.
His health was deteriorating with an unfashionable speed. It all started with his right leg. The limb started making sudden movements during the night.
When he woke up one morning with an incredible pain in his leg which didn’t go away, Frank understood his condition was a lot more serious than restless legs. The painkillers he took did lessen the pain; however, as soon as he stopped taking them the pain returned. Some weeks later, his right hand began to tremble. Sometimes when holding a pen, the object suddenly flew through the air. Other times he could not even hold a cup, the weight hurt his tendons. He felt like an invalid. At the age of 55, his body was declining already. Only the Aphrodite kept him going, if it wasn’t for her he’d given up.
He never was a man to complain and waste words. When he spoke it was well thought over. He hated people who just talked for the sake of being heard. All they were interested in was hearing their own voice. Even worse were the so called celebrities who littered the TV programs with their reality shows. Half the time he didn’t know who they were. Not only was Frank a man of few words he told people what he thought. He certainly didn’t mince his words when he received the results of his blood test and brain scan he took a month earlier.
“This is going to be difficult Frank,” his doctor began. He sat in a leather chair in which he swiveled to face his patient. In front of the doctor lay the results of Frank’s tests. “Yeah, hm, I’m…..”
“Come on, what the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I get those tremors, is it the booze?” Frank was a heavy drinker but had recently given up to win a bet. Around the time he quit the tremors commenced. On top of the tremors he had lost his balance on several occasions.
“There is some loss of nerve cells in your Substantia Nigra.”
“What are you on about man, speak English, what does it mean?”
“It means that your brain is having difficulties making dopamine,” the doctor answered.
“Are you telling me I’m depressed? What kind of a doctor are you? Are you sure you’re qualified?”
Tired of his patient and somewhat angry the doctor answered, “You have Parkinson’s Disease Mr. Clark. Did you listen to what I said? There is a loss of nerve cells in a part of your brain. This is also the part where it makes the Dopamine. Stop fooling yourself. Depression is one of the first symptoms of the disease and that’s a fact.
“Oh, I’m sorry, so what’s the plan?” Frank blinked. The doctor had seen right through him. Inside his abdomen his bowels formed a tight knot while a lump filled his throat. He’d hoped the tremors were the result of him going cold turkey.
“I’m going to put you on Levodopa/ Carbidopa. I’ll give you a prescription for one month and then I want you to come back to me to see how you’re getting on.”
Frank wondered whether his forgetfulness is also a part of this disease. The doctor had told him there wasn’t much they could do for him, except for prescribing medication for the shakes. But medication always has side effects and so has the Levodopa/Carbidopa tablets. “Was it now that the Carbidopa was to control and minimize the Dopamine and the Levodopa to increase the Dopamine levels? Or was it the other way around”?
“But the tablets will contradict each other, what is the point in taking them?” Frank asked the doctor with suspicion.
“It seems so, but believe me, Mr. Clark, these are well tested and tried medication for Parkinson’s disease and most patients thrive well on them,” the doctor answered while he stared at his laptop screen. Apparently there were interesting images or information to see on it. Without even the smallest hint he acknowledged his patient and continued. “Well now Mr. Clark, let’s see how you get on with them for a few weeks and then we’ll review the situation. I bet you will be alright”
*
The next morning May Baker checked her emails, she found one from P. Black first she was disappointed about the reply. He wants me to make a complaint to the Medical Counsel, but how? I don’t think filling in an online form will help. From experience May knew those kind of things took always a lot of time. And time was something she didn’t have.
“What if my application gets lost between all the other complains”? Or the form ends up in the wrong department and then it takes ages before the form is send to the right department, if it is sent at all. Even if the form is received at the right department and got in the hands of the right person the process might take a long time.
There was a knock on the door, “Hello, any one in”? A voice asked.
“Yeah Anna, I’m in the living room,” May answered.
“What are you doing?” Anna asked gazing at May’s laptop.
“I received an email from a solicitor.”
“What do you mean?”
May didn’t tell Anna she’d approached several solicitors in the USA yet.
“I’m desperate you know, so I sent out emails to pro bono and beginning solicitors in LA.”
“And you got an answer already from one of them?”
“Yes, this morning.”
“What is he saying?”
“Apparently, he wants me to start here in Ireland by making a written complaint to the Irish Medical Counsel.”
“That could take months if not longer and you might not have that long,” Anna said.
“Tell me about it,” May said. “I wish there was something else we could do.”
“What else is this solicitor saying?” Anna asked.
“Let me put the kettle on first, you must think I’m a bad friend.”
“Ah, you’re alright,” Anna replied.
*
“If the killer has confused the lad for Ellis, if that is the case, he is still alive and is probably hiding somewhere,” Dupree said.
“He is hiding anyway,” Sarah said sipping from a cup of coffee in Dupree’s office. “My boyfriend has discovered his son was murdered. One of our handy men has to learn how to keep his mouth shut.”
“That must have been Adams, I sent him over to search the lad’s bedroom,” Dupree said.
“Did he find anything?” Sarah asked.
“Not really, except for dirty laundry and video games.”
“There must have been paperwork from Rodrigo’s work?”
“Adams didn’t find any. Haven’t you been told to keep your nose out of this case, Detective Wolters”? Dupree asked. “If you’re going to continue like this I have to take your badge and weapon.”
“There is no need,” Sarah replied. Finishing her coffee she stood up and left the office.
On her way to exit of the building she met Adams. “I just told Dupree there were no leads,” Adams answered. “But you know, I thought you might want to have a go yourself. I’m sure your involvement with the lad’s father will give you a head start. Actually now I see you I might as well tell you forensics have discovered a brown hair in the Ford.”
“Aha, did they say if it was male or female?” Sarah asked.
“Female, it was dyed dark brown.”
“What are you hoping to find?” Jose asked when Sarah returned back home. He sat on the peach sofa in Sarah’s living room.
“Anything Adams didn’t do. Did he search only Rodrigo’s room or did he also look elsewhere in the house?” Sarah asked.
“He only investigated the bedroom and he didn’t take very long. We talked a bit as well.”
“So, that gives me all the more reason to do a throughout search of the apartment,” Sarah said.
*
I know David is doing everything to make me comfortable now I’ve lost my sight. But he can’t turn my darkness into light again. Sitting in a lazy chair a bitter piece of chocolate melted softly on Anika’s tongue. According to David, it contained 70% cocoa. Unfortunately, she was not able to check those kind of things anymore. I have to believe everything people tell me. My family doesn’t even know what’s going on. Shall I tell them I’ve gone blind? I’m sure mum would book a flight to LA immediately. I wish I had not been such a bitch. The idea made Anika realize how far away from home she actually was.
David had brought her to a large house after they spent a few days in a hotel. You could easily fit three or four families in the building. Everything was big in the New World, like the portions of food they got in the restaurants, the shopping malls, and the cars to name but a few things. Anika had entered the land of plenty. She’d experienced it with her own eyes even if it was just for a few days. Finishing the last bit of chocolate in her mouth, she made herself more comfortable. The soft pillows of the chair soothed her back as she closed her eyes.
David watched the sunbeams dance upon Anika’s face. If it wasn’t it for her short cut hair, he could have sworn she had the appearance of a goddess. She must be sleeping. Or she had simply not heard him entering the house.
He jumped when the phone rang. Turning away from Anika, he went over to the mantelpiece.
A crackling voice appeared from the other end of the line, “We have a problem.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” David asked when he recognized the caller.
“Actually, I have a problem myself. My subject has gone blind, she needs someone with her all the time,” David continued.
“Never mind, take her with you if you must.” A click followed and the line went dead. David sighed, and glanced at Anika.
Anika had no idea how long she had been sitting there. When David finally left the room, she opened her eyes. Not that it mattered if she did; nevertheless it was worth a try.
A few moments passed before David re-entered the room, he changed into a dark blue suit, light pink shirt, and dark blue tie.
“I have to go out for a while,” David said when he noticed Anika was awake. “Will you be all right on your own?”
“I will as long as you don’t stay out to long,” Anika replied. It was nice to get rid of him for a while. His anxiously staring at her every move was getting on her nerves. Although she could not see him, Anika felt he was looking at her all the time. Even though her sudden blindness had come as a shock, gradually she’d begun to distinguish the difference between light and dark. She was able to make out vague shapes. Perhaps this was a good thing, perhaps it wasn’t. Whatever it was, her blindness had come with quite a bit of boredom for someone who enjoyed reading and crosswords.
“If you’re passing a bookstore, please buy me a book on DVD.”
“Anything in particular?” David asked.
“Something with action in it, lots of action.”
“Good, I’ll be off now,” David confirmed.
Anika heard the door close, she trusted herself capable of moving around the house with the little vision she had regained. Getting up from the chair, she stretched her arms in front of her. She laughed when she did. “I must look like a right twit. Ok then, here I go“, she said to herself.
She took one step and sensed something against her shin. Bending down, she felt it was a table. She measured the size. She knew that the door was on her right. The radio, which was placed on the windowsill, was right behind her.
What am I doing? It’s pointless going about the house without a goal. Frowning, Anika sat back down. Hopefully, David doesn’t stay out too long. It’s weird, first I want him to go, and then I want him back. I’d love a cup of tea, actually.
The expedition into the kitchen to make a cup of tea was a lot easier than Anika thought. If it weren’t for the day she’d spent in the house when she still had her full vision, things may have been different. At least she knew in which direction she had to go. Although the tea was a bit strong with no milk in it, she enjoyed every sip of the hot fluid.
When somebody rattled on the back door, her heart skipped a beat. A little uneasy, she rose to her feet and tried to determine from where the noise had come.
Another few knocks were followed by a voice, “Hello?”
“Who’s there?” Anika called out towards where she believed the kitchen door was.
“I’m over here,” a male voice sounded. “I’m your new neighbor.” The voice appeared to be coming from the left.
“Ok, tell me which way to move.” Anika turned her head towards the voice.
“Move four steps sideways to your right, Oh, I’m sorry, I mean to your left.”
She followed the voice’s instructions. She came to a halt when he said, “You’re at the door, open it will ye.”
Although the man had a pleasant and somewhat familiar accent, Anika was apprehensive about opening the door. This is LA for Pete’s sake, I can’t just open the door for anyone.
“Don’t worry Miss; I won’t do you any harm. I will come back when your husband is here.” The man was about to leave.
Slowly Anika opened the door.
“Sorry about that,” she excused herself.
“Hey, don’t say that.” The man turned around. Standing close to Anika, he touched her hand. “Tony Baker, at your service.”
A smile appeared on Anika’s face when the man introduced himself. Something inside her told her this man was more than all right.
“Come in, please. Oh, do you mind if I hold on to you, I have gone blind recently.” Anika spoke softly. Full of trust she let her new friend guide her back to the kitchen table.
The rays of the sun glittered on the tinted windows of his black Mustang as David drove east bound. He didn’t like to leave Anika by herself. Maybe he should have brought her with him, after all, she couldn’t see where they were going, and neither did she know the man he was going to meet.
The radio played softly, when a U2 song came on, he turned up the volume. The music made the journey quite enjoyable. Forty minutes later, he came to a dirt road, which wound its way through the woods. The trees blocked out most of the sun light. When he arrived at the end of the lane, David parked his car in front of a large house. The house was built in the 19th century and had recently been renovated.
The front door of the house opened when David entered the garden gate.
“Come on in,” the owner of the house invited him. “We have lost enough time already.”
Although he had been here many times, the large hall still impressed David every time he came here. Only after the owner of the house offered him a seat, David sat down.
“I’ve heard the first experiments are about to commence. What do you know about Dr. Phillips?” The host asked.
“She is young, but she knows what’s she’s doing.” David replied.
“That’s not what I mean; I know she is one of the best neurologists in the country. Tell me something I don’t know.”
While they talked, the owner of the house prepared a pipe; leaning back in his seat, he took his first tug. At the same time, a breeze went through the room, it gave David goosebumps.
He could swear his host’s face had significantly changed. Somehow, the man looked older; his grey hair appeared to have turned lighter.
“Narette Phillips was born in 1976 in Johannesburg. She studied medicine in Oxford, England, and ten years ago she moved to the States.”
An hour later David drove back home. The old Mustang was still going strong. While driving, he wondered how Anika had been holding up during his absence, hopefully she hadn‘t gotten into any trouble.
When he passed a liquor store, he reminded himself Anika asked for a book on DVD. A little further down the street, he found a vacant parking space. Swiftly, he parked the Mustang between two other cars. He threw a few quarters into a parking meter and walked down the Main Street; ruminating on what his boss told him.
Deep in thoughts, David entered a bookstore. To his surprise, there were still many people who liked to read. He maneuvered through the narrow aisles of the shop. Once he searched the ground floor, he continued his quest on the first floor. In a corner, practically hidden beyond a basket full of offers, David finally found what he wanted, action novels on DVD.
There wasn’t much of a selection though; risking Anika’s resentment, he picked out a DVD. Anika could get angry without any reason. David knew her aggravation was caused by the tumor.
With the DVD in his pocket, David walked back to his car. A traffic warden stood beside the vehicle.
“Is this your car sir?” the man asked while David approached the Mustang.
“It is, is there a problem? I put money in the parking meter.”
“This has nothing to do with the meter; I haven’t even looked at the thing. Can I see your identification, sir?” The officer held his hand up. The other was resting on his belt, ready to pull his weapon.
David took his wallet from his jacket and took out his driving license. The officer looked at him with distrustful eyes.
“I am sorry, sir. There must be some kind of mix up, happens all the time. You are free to go.”
Somewhat disconcerted, David entered his car.
When the warden was out of sight, he tapped in a number on his mobile. “I’m having a positive on David Jacobs.”
“Okay did you put a tag on him?” The voice on the other end of the line asked
“Yeah, you should be able to track him anywhere, even if he goes into the desert,” the warden replied.
“We are checking his registration number as we speak. It looks like we’re in luck, we’ll have him nailed in no time, mark my words. Ok, Burnett come back to the van and bring us a couple of donuts and some real coffee.”
Burnett had been working with the LAPD since his early twenties. He loved his job, especially when he had to go under cover. After the line went dead, he strolled to a bakery across the street. He could do with a cuppa himself. He had been hanging around the same spot for almost a quarter of an hour.
Opening the shop door, a joyful chubby woman welcomed him.
“Well, well, what can I do for you”? The cheeks of the woman behind the counter looked like two red apples. Her natural looking face had never seen any make-up.
A few minutes later, Burnett left the shop with three Styrofoam cups of steaming coffee and a bag full of donuts, two for him and four for the men in the van. The van was full of the newest surveillance equipment.
Inside the van the men kept an eye on what was happening outside. Now they had a clean lead on Jacobs he might lead them to the other members of the terrorist organization.
David took the opportunity to light a cigarette while he waited for a red traffic light. Impatiently, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. The moment the lights changed to green, he sped away. The tires of his Mustang made a squeaking nose. He had to go back to the house; there was not a moment to lose. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late yet. If they found Anika, all could be lost. There hadn’t been any reason for the traffic warden to check his papers. “Since when did a warden carry a gun”? This could only mean one thing; they were on to him.