CHAPTER ELEVEN
Three months had passed and the sun cast its glow over the sprawling Victorian façade of the Karen Phillimore Centre, a large mental health institute that dominated the surrounding parkland on the borders of Epping Forest. The four storey gabled front with its large glazed conservatory gave the impression that this was no public funded establishment. To the rear of the building, one could see for miles around and marvel at the tall uniformed lines of poplar trees that stood to attention sweeping all the way to the lake at the bottom. The only thing that betrayed its purpose was the security fence enclosing the grounds and the numerous guards patrolling around.
Inside the rather grand conservatory sat a bearded figure playing scrabble with two other robed inmates. Around them passed orderlies and nurses going about their day to day duties, keeping order about the place.
Harry tugged at his beard. It was getting quite long now, he liked the look and it made him feel like he was a real life Robinson Crusoe, adrift in a sea of helplessness for days before landing on some serene shore.
Being of quick mind, he had become quite a legend within the secure walls as the resident unbeaten scrabble champion but he had to pick his opponents with care; only last week he had been attacked for fielding a 'ZA’ on a red square to gain 64 points. The bump on his head from the flying chair was testament to that.
He had made two friends since his arrival. One was Chris Jones, a prominent browed wealthy timber merchant whose business had folded during the recession, gone quite mad and was found quite often hugging and licking trees, a reaction just from the mere sight of them.
His other friend was Mike Osman, an ex-public school pupil who had become quite a master at fencing and would prance around offering up a challenge to anyone when he wasn’t medicated. He had developed a serious expression with pursed lips which looked more bee stung at times and wrinkles that stayed in place as he portrayed the dashing fencer to all.
Mike jumped up just as Harry was about to claim 33 points. “Coup déjà lance,” he shouted as he knocked the scrabble board off the table with his fist in a defiant challenge. Harry looked over at all the pieces scattered about and simply picked them up without acknowledging his friend.
He had been on heavy medication, Paliperidone, for the schizophrenia and ORAP for possible psychotic episodes. It had the effect of reducing him to a dull, listless man but it wasn’t hard to beat anyone in the institute if you could manage to get them to stay still for a while.
“I’m just going outside to look at the trees,” announced his distracted friend. Harry was used to it by now although the nurses discouraged it as much as they could.
To Harry it had felt like a long time since he had arrived at the centre. He had never received a visitor, no one came. It was as if he had simply been wiped off the face of the earth. He always made sure that every day he asked the female doctor for news on Becky’s condition. For the most part the reply was simply, 'No change Harry’, if she ever bothered to find out at all.
Outside of the centre the general public had become bored with the horrific events. The media had dropped it completely sensing a sea change and found other juicy news to latch onto. He had touched on some of the greatest taboos of them all, mental health and sexual perversion but even that had had its day as far as the press were concerned.
He should have been upset at Suzy’s absence but the drugs made him care less. When he had first arrived, he felt like he had failed them all and it was best that she found new happiness after the horror. He knew she would be well cared for but he didn’t have a clue by how much.
His own needs had been provided for by his company. It was Jack who instigated the move to the centre near London. He told Harry it was for the best and for him to be well cared for. They would be within earshot if Harry needed anything but he didn’t want to bother them.
A solidly built nurse walked over to him as he was picking up the game pieces. “Harry, Dr Clarke would like to see you now, can you come with me.”
“What about the pieces, Mike knocked them over?”
“Leave the pieces; it’s not important, get up will you.”
Harry loved that game, it would be a shame if he lost some letters, especially his beloved Z, it was worth ten on its own, he eyed it quickly and popped it in his pocket. Harry was looking more and more bedraggled each day with his scraggly appearance. He shuffled steadily ahead with the nurse following behind. Here and there were the sounds of shrieks and murmurs coming from the private rooms. He walked through the high ceilinged corridors; most had been decorated with paintings designed for art therapy. It wasn’t such a bad place if you managed to avoid some of the more violent patients.
He was led into the medical examination room where two large, rough looking orderlies were standing by the seat he had been designated, opposite stood a large desk that contained numerous files and medical instruments.
Emily Clarke, his experienced psychiatric doctor walked in to take her seat behind the desk, she had overseen the running of the centre for over ten years now. Known as a no nonsense practitioner, she took great pride in her cutting edge research techniques.
“Hello Harry, how are you feeling today?”
How are you feeling was a favourite question of hers, it was so open ended it still amazed her with the kind of responses she could get from it.
Harry perked up at the cheery nature of his practitioner, “Hello doctor, I feel fine, just fine. I’m still the unbeaten champion of board games!” he began to smile at his marvelous achievement.
“Well done Harry, although I heard about the beating you received from Arnold the other day because of it. Maybe you should let the others win once in a while,” she said in a slightly concerned tone.
“Never, you have to work hard at winning, that’s always been my motto.”
“Quite right, a good maxim too. Now Harry, I wanted to speak to you about your condition, are you able to tell me about any episodes you’ve had over the last month, anything you haven’t told me before? Take your time to answer.”
The doctor had taken a special interest in his case.
“Just like I told you before doctor, I haven’t heard any voices and I definitely don’t feel any urge to attack anyone. I feel fine.”
She studied him for a while and looked over her case notes. Harry just sat between the two towering figures waiting for a response, he enjoyed her conversation, however brief.
“Yours is a curious case Harry. When you were attacked the other day, you didn’t respond like I thought you would. Luckily Arnold was pulled away from you in time but you didn’t show any signs of anger or retaliation, you just stood up and walked back to your room.”
Harry shrugged his shoulders in benign compliance. “Maybe it’s the drugs doctor, I take a lot of them; they must work extremely well.”
“Are you sure you haven’t experienced any feelings of paranoia or obsession about the man who attacked you earlier?”
“None whatsoever, he shouldn’t play chess if he doesn’t want to be beaten.” Harry gave another triumphant smile.
Dr Clarke liked his spirit despite the horrific case notes telling the most brutal tale of attempted murder and schizophrenic attacks.
“Well, you be careful Harry, I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you from now on.”
“Thank you doctor, despite the occasional mishap, this isn’t such a bad place after all. I quite like it here.”
“Glad to hear it.” She gestured to the orderlies. “That will be all, could you escort Harry back to his room please and Nurse Sullivan, could you stay behind, I need to speak with you.”
Harry nodded and shuffled back the way he came. It was time for an afternoon nap before the next exciting tournament began.
Dr Clarke watched Harry leave and then looked up at the nurse who was standing close by. “Close the door would you.”
“Is there a problem Emily?” Nurse Sullivan could have passed as a Georgian shot putter. She was head nurse within the centre and Dr Clarke’s confidant.
“It’s Harry, one of the most curious cases I’ve ever had to deal with. Here is a successful man with not a single blot in his copybook throughout his years. Then suddenly, out of the blue, he’s diagnosed with schizophrenia, commits attempted murder and receives not a single visitor for the whole three months he’s been with us. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
The nurse shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t see what you’re getting at? There’s now’t weirder than folks, especially in here.”
“Quite right Terri, but even for his crimes there should at least be some sympathy for the trouble he got himself into. I’ve never seen such a rapid succession from normal to psychotic in my entire life and there is something else you’ll be interested in.”
Nurse Sullivan loved this part of her job. She had a good relationship with the doctor.
“Oh? What’s that then?”
“He’s been on placebo for the last month and he doesn’t even know it!”
The nurse looked shocked at her methods in such a short period of time on a patient she hardly knew.
“Dr Clarke, you shouldn’t be playing experiments with people’s minds!. What if he had attacked someone? A nurse even?”
“Nonsense, he’s under close supervision at all times. I wanted to see if this would affect his current state of mind. It’s all about experimentation nurse, without that we couldn’t advance our knowledge.”
The nurse knew Dr Clarke was quite radical with her methods but this was a giant leap into the unknown.
“Well, did it?”
“Not one bit, he’s the same character he has been since he came in here, nothing out of the ordinary; in fact he is ordinary!”
“So what now, I’m confused?”
Dr Clarke stood up and closed her case file on Harry Rowlandson. “Well, I saw the patient file from Dr Hancox. I know his credentials, he’s a top doctor but I don’t see any harm in staging a new blood test, just to be sure.”
“Well that’s up to you, they’re your patients now to do with what you want. I’ll arrange a sitting tomorrow.”
“Thank you Terri, much appreciated.”
Nurse Sullivan walked out of the room leaving Dr Clarke deep in her own thoughts.
The offices of Meucci & Castiglione, Corporate and Private Lawyers, situated at Heron Quays was just a stone’s throw away from the bank and the perfect place for the coming and goings of people involved in complex legal issues.
Paolo Meucci, a respected and hard nosed lawyer was busy gesticulating in that classic Italian way to the two clients who sat eagerly awaiting his response on a case that demanded special care and attention.
“Mrs Rowlandson, I’m glad that you come here as my client on the matter of Mr Rowlandson’s special estate, and also Mr Mayes, for your support in such a troubling and tragic matter.”
Jack nodded his head in a slick gesture. He was as impatient as Suzy to bring this whole matter to a close.
“As we are the executor’s of Mr Rowlandson’s estate, we have determined a number of debts for his ongoing private health care. They are quite substantial but it’s your wish that costs be met so that he will carry on receiving the very best care that can be offered.”
Suzy didn’t care much for the trifling sum, whatever it eventually amounted to, the bigger prize was yet to be announced and she simply nodded in agreement.
A faint ring began and turned into a crescendo as Jack’s mobile phone sprang into life, the interruption was much to the annoyance of Mr Meucci.
“Mr Mayes, could you deal with that please, this is a delicate matter.”
“Certainly.” Jack pulled out his phone and saw a familiar number on the display.
“You will have to excuse me, but please carry on.” He smiled to Suzy and left abruptly to answer the call.
“As I was saying Mrs Rowlandson, a delicate matter indeed and one you should not discuss with anyone as it is a sizeable sum.”
Suzy liked gifts, expensive holidays, fancy clothes and an allowance but she had always shied away from Harry’s financial affairs. Figures seemed quite boring to her when she was never in want of anything.
Mr Meucci stared over his expensive reading glasses at Suzy who was trying her best to remain solemn for the occasion; she had even worn a sensible knee length black satin outfit, although Harry was far from deceased.
“Mrs Rowlandson, Harry’s estate, taking into account his property portfolio, stocks, overseas investments and working capital amounts to £58 million pounds, a sizeable sum.”
Suzy couldn’t hide her excitement as she sat wide eyed at the man who had just handed her the winning lottery ticket.
“Of course, the amount would have been larger had he not been so generous to the numerous charities he has supported but I applaud him for his endeavours. It is sad that he should have ended up this way, I’ve had many dealings with him, a great man but I keep that to myself considering the feelings of others around here.”
Suzy let out a small tear of joy but wiped it away. It passed as a tear of sorrow for Mr Meucci.
“So, I’ll wrap up this estate and tell you, Mrs Rowlandson, that you are the sole heir to the remains of his estate being the stated amount. The rest will be used to pay for his care.”
Suzy could have hugged the man sitting opposite but would save it for Jack later and in a far more discreet place.
He continued, “I want to thank you for your kind donation towards the care of Miss Rebecca Trevor, a most generous gesture. We hope she will recover to full health.”
“As I do too, Mr Meucci, thank you so much for handling the estate in such a professional manner. It’s been a trying few months for me, very painful to bear.”
“Of course Mrs Rowlandson, I’ll see you out.”
Jack was busy outside attempting to calm down the man on the other end of the line who was apparently swearing and cursing the oily snake. He saw Suzy leave with a huge stifled smile on her face and gestured to her to walk on as he dealt with the lunatic on the other end. “Jack, Listen you complete Muppet, my services have gone up tenfold. You expect me to sit here waiting for the bitch to wake up anytime soon from her cosy dream so that I can do her in. I got better things to do with my time!”
Vic was on fire it seems, Jack wished he hadn’t picked up his phone but he couldn’t ignore the man with the east London drawl.
“Listen Vic …”
“Call me Mr Dart from now on, have some respect.”
“Sorry, Mr Dart, the old man can rot away in that centre for all I care now, he isn’t a threat but the girl is if she talks.”
Vic was trying to get his point across as only he knew how.
“For services rendered up to now, that’s 500k. For sitting still like a bloomin’ monk, that’s going to cost you a further 100k.”
Jack was incredulous. “It was 300k, we shook on it for God’s sake, why the big jump all of a sudden?”
“Waste Disposal Jack, it costs a lot in these parts, and the 100k is per month, not a one off payment.”
Jack was furious now. The little upstart, who did he think he was talking to; this was the chairman of a large investment bank, not a desk clerk.
“Listen, Mr Dart, that’s preposterous. 300k it is and I’ll give you a one off payment of 100k as a good will gesture.” He was shouting now but was unsure of the ground he was treading on.
A voice calmer than a still pond interjected, “I think it’s time to pay a visit.”
The line went dead leaving Jack confused, “Visit, what visit, to where, to whom?”
He hurried back to Suzy, it seemed she now had other things on her mind, 58 million other things.
“That Vic’s an idiot; I don’t give in to idle threats, especially from scum like him!”
“Listen Jack, forget him, we don’t need him anymore. Pay him what you agreed. Harry’s where he is and Becky’s not coming out of her coma for quite some time. We could get her moved to a private facility and keep an eye on her? We have the money now.”
Jack’s demeanor changed from anger to joy in a split second as she recalled in splendid detail the conversation with Mr Meucci.
The drugged up flowery woman was busy placing imaginary daisies in Harry’s hair as he was snoozing on his bed. He awoke with a start; he was forever receiving visitors from within the centre if not outside of it. The woman’s kindly eyes had taken a shine to Harry ever since he had arrived. She would follow him about aimlessly and prance around him, handing out gifts he could never see.
Not that he minded, at least she wasn’t Arnold who tended to stay away when she was Harry’s shadow. Arnold had tried to intimidate him before but she had a tendency to hiss at him and he didn’t like that.
Arnold looked like a huge, bald headed wrestler; he was always throwing his weight around like a demented gorilla, lifting tables, staring at patients until they moved away and generally being an aggressive nuisance. It seemed even in here there was someone who turned a bright day into a stormy night. Luckily for Harry, Arnold spent enforced detention in his room for 16 hours of the day.
Harry got up and, avoiding his annoying fly, headed for the library. Aside from tournaments, it was here where he could seek some peace from her; she still followed him in every time but for some reason, sat at the table opposite with her head in her hands just admiring the wonderful bearded creature who had became her world.
He picked up a book entitled 'The One Dimensional Man' by Herbert Marcuse. Quite an intense read but he wanted to keep his mind sharp; you could simply fade away in a place like this. He decided to turn his back to the fly so he could concentrate.
Harry could hear a hissing sound but he gave her no more thought and thumbed to the page he had ended up on yesterday. Advanced industrial ideology was an intense subject that demanded his full attention.
He didn’t notice the menacing figure slowly creeping up behind him, the same figure who had just walked around Harry’s usual haunts trying to find him and now he was cornered.
A large heavy tomb came crashing down with a dull thud on top of Harry’s head and he let out a cry before crumpling to the floor in a daze. There weren’t many objects around that could suffice as a weapon but Arnold had found one. He stood over his prey, repeatedly beating his victim about the head and body in a frenzy.
A shout came from outside the library door and two burly orderlies raced in to subdue the maniac who was grunting with pleasure at being afforded such an easy opportunity.
Arnold was pulled away and manhandled to the floor while nurses were called to administer a sedative to calm him down. The frequent attacks were becoming ridiculous and something had to be done before Harry added brain damage to his list of conditions.
His personal pet was crying out loud and knelt down to stroke the doubled up figure who lay battered on the floor. Nurse Sullivan had heard the commotion and came to Harry’s aid. He had received a large cut on the top of his head from the corner of the book; she needed to get him to the treatment room to assess his injuries.
“Harry, I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into such scrapes!” , She said as he rubbed his bruised head and continued shuffling ahead, bent over from the back pain he had felt from the hard and heavy blows.
“I’m sorry nurse, I don’t mean to be a trouble to you all, but it appears that trouble follows me around.”
“A constant companion it would seem Harry, we’ll make sure Arnold is confined to his room for a few days. He hates that the most, being cooped up, so it might make him think about things a bit more.”
Harry was feeling the pain now. He couldn’t live like this, constantly looking over his shoulder.
“Why can’t you move him somewhere else?” He asked in the hope of a solution.
“He’s a long term patient here now Harry, he’s been moved quite a few times but Dr Clarke thinks she may have the right treatment for him. It will take time though.”
Not the best answer for Harry. How much more of this did he have to endure? “So what’s he in here for nurse?”
“I’m not at liberty to say Harry; he can tell you that himself but I doubt you will ever get that cozy together.”
“You’re not kidding, between him and my constantly annoying female companion I’m set for a great year!”
The nurse laughed, Dr Clarke was right, he was terribly normal.
“By the way Harry, we have a blood test for you tomorrow, the reading was wrong last time. There was a mix-up at the lab over your blood type but at the moment I can see it’s red!” she gave a little smirk, she had seen it all in her career.
They walked into the treatment room for some bandages and painkillers before Harry was temporarily confined to his room to sleep it off. It didn’t look too serious but it could have been worse without the orderlies around.
Vic Dart was pacing up and down in the backroom of his lap dancing club. Bored looking girls were getting ready for the nightshift and easy tips as they walked in a stream past his office.
“Listen AJ, if that jumped up prick wants to start a war with Mr Dart, then he had better pull out a frickin’ arsenal.”
AJ was listening intently and nodding at the right moments to his new master.
“Quite right Vic.”
“I’m always right, that’s why I’m where I am. Anyway back to what I was saying; he may think he sits on some ivory throne at the top of a big tower thinking he’s better than the rest of us, but I’ve seen his type before.”
AJ grinned this time, best to lay off the comments when Vic was angry, he just needed an audience for his ranting.
Vic stopped pacing as he came up with plan. It seemed like a good one in his organised mind.
“Get your jacket AJ; Kelvin, Dave! Get yourselves together and follow me, we’re going for a little ride” A good plan indeed.
They clambered into the maroon coloured Jaguar, a classic 60’s design, full leather and near concourse from the looks of it. Dave drove as always, Vic never touched the wheel, it didn’t look good.
They motored through the busy West End streets and cut through Moorgate and into the Docklands. AJ was giving the wink to all the pretty girls who would turn and stare when they stopped at traffic lights. Riding in the back with Vic and wearing a sharp suit, he stank of money in their eyes and they always returned the smile.
They cruised past the security points and past Jamie’s restaurant. “I’ll have to pay that a visit at some point soon, Italian food to die for I heard” Vic was as calm as a winters morning by now.
The car continued its journey down the South Colonnade and pulled up outside the entrance of The Rowlandson Bank.
A jobsworth guard was busy directing the traffic and came rushing over. “You can’t park here Sir, there’s a car park further down that way; this is a reserved area.”
Vic didn’t respect any others authority except his own. “Don’t mug me off pal, the car seems perfectly fine here, lots of space” he opened his leather covered door to step out with AJ and Kelvin.
“Sir, you can’t leave it here, if it stays here I will be forced to call in a tow truck to take it away.”
“Kelvin pushed the stunned security guard out of the way as they casually walked through the beautiful glass doors and into the marble lobby.
Dave, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, gave the V sign to the man and drowned out his protests with some seriously heavy rock music.
Vic waltzed up to the front desk in his seriously expensive suit. He looked like a visiting executive to all and sundry.
“Can I help you sir?” asked the gorgeous girl across the desk. She looked like a moonlighting air hostess.
“Vic Dart, Cupcake, I’m here to see Jack Mayes.”
“Do you have an appointment, Mr Dart?”
“I don’t need one, tell him I’m here would you, there’s a good girl.”
She looked at him like he had tipped his baggage limit by 50kg.
“I’m sorry Sir, you need a scheduled appointment, arranged through his personal secretary. I can give you her number if it’s urgent?”
Vic suddenly changed his tune from demanding to courteous. “Please excuse me for being rude Precious. What floor is his secretary situated on?”
“The 36th sir but you can’t go up there. Here’s the number, you can ring her direct.”
“Bugger this, I know where his highness is now, let’s go!” , He walked past the desk and jumped over the security barrier.
Pandemonium erupted and a couple of guards standing by the electronic pass gates shouted for him to stop and came running over to intervene. Kelvin was a man mountain and pushed the guards out of the way with a smack from his oversized hands.
People had stopped with their desk lunches to stare in wonder as the guards radioed for help but it was too late for them to stop the three men as they got into the lift and zoomed up to the 36th floor.
They had a reception committee waiting for them when the doors opened but Kelvin made light work of them.
AJ was laughing at all the excitement and dug in with a couple of kicks to make sure they stayed down.
Vic grabbed a portly office clerk by the tie and tightened it so much his neck fat wobbled over his collar.
“Jack Mayes, which office is he in Fatty?”
“To the left, down the hall” came the gasping reply.
They had just managed to make it down to the foot of his office when a large group of security came running down after them.
Jack was sitting at his desk, expressing his views via conference call. They managed to slip in just in time for Kelvin to form an impenetrable door stop as Jack swiveled quickly around to face his own henchmen.
“Hello Jack, if I were you I would call off the dogs or they’ll be scraping you off the pavement when you fall out of that very large and grand window” Vic walked over to the glass frontage to admire the scenery. “Very grand it is as well, beautiful view.”
Vic seemed to be in a world of his own, oblivious to the noise outside.
“Are you ok Mr Mayes, Mr Mayes?” came the frantic voices outside who were unable to move the large wedge out of the way, they could only keep banging on the door.
“Good God man, this is outrageous!” cried Jack before making his way over to the man made door, “Yes I’m fine, no need to worry. Investors with a doubled up appointment, I’ll be out in a moment, thank you” his voice sounded nervous. Vic’s little stunt had had the desired effect.
The pack of hounds outside couldn’t do very much. “Ok sir, we’ll be here just in case you need us.”
“Thank you, but no need to worry, very important clients, I’ll take it from here.”
Vic stopped admiring the view and came walking back over. “Very important clients indeed Mr Mayes, and don’t you forget it in future! I hate to be pulled away from urgent business, it seems you’ve ruined my afternoon schedule.”
Vic could play the gentleman equally as well as Jack; they were just wrapped up in different trades.
A flustered Jack was busy combing his greased black hair back into place.
“Why did you come Vic?”
Vic screwed up his face as if he was chewing a wasp. “Mr Dart, how many times do I have to remind you?”
“Mr Dart,” came back the impatient reply.
“Seems you’ve reneged on our agreement Jack. I should think a man of your means could brush away such a paltry sum as if he was merely placing a few chips on the roulette table.”
“This is nonsense!”
Vic put his finger to his mouth to silence Jack who complied with ease but he was annoyed nonetheless.
“We said 500k and 100k per month until the girl gets it, whenever that is.”
Jack was a man of money, it wasn’t a small sum at all. Every penny counted and he made sure it did do.
“This is blackmail Mr Dart. I can’t give you that kind of money!” His voice had turned to a higher pitch by now but he tried desperately to stifle it.
Vic nodded to AJ, who grabbed the large golfing umbrella resting in its tray and came up behind Jack to pin him into position, AJ had the measure of him but it was Kelvin with just one look who made sure Jack didn’t try and wriggle free.
Vic pulled out a cigar and cut the tip off with his solid silver slicer. He loved theatrics and proceeded to light it in great puffs of smoke until the end gave a satisfying glow.
“Such a chiseled face you got there Jack, I bet the knicker elastic falls wherever you walk? It would be a shame to see that elastic stay up from now on.”
Vic leaned over the desk and placed the end of the cigar to within a few millimeters of Jack’s cheek. He instantly f