The plain white walls and frosted glass windows, coupled with that distinctive aroma only a hospital has told Marcus he was not only alive but tucked up in a private room. He gingerly moved his left arm, then right arm. Both seemed to be working. It was only when he attempted to sit up he felt the bolt of pain piercing his skull. “Mr Hartmann, what are you doing?” Asked a concerned nurse on entering the room. “You must keep still.”
“Where am I? How is Ms Star?” Marcus wanted to know that first and foremost. “Is she OK . . . alive I mean?”
The nurse smiled politely, and gently pushed him back to a horizontal position. “The doctor will be with you shortly, but you have a visitor. It's not normally allowed but he had clearance.” Marcus was wondering who this important person could be when Dyke stepped into the room. “Thank you, nurse. I shan't keep him long,” he said, closing the door behind her.
“Dyke.” Marcus uttered in surprise, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Good to see you . . . especially after what happened. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Apart from a headache.”
“That will be the concussion. Apart from that, they say you are fine. You had a lucky escape, Marcus.” Dyke said, settling into a bedside chair. Marcus turned to face him although his neck was painful.
“Barbara . . . is she . . .”
“She is fine. She was thrown out of the car into the ditch. She has a twisted ankle, some cracked ribs and concussion. It could have been a lot worse.” Marcus sighed relief, although he was angry that she had been hurt at all. “It is not a coincidence you being here, is it, Dyke?” Richard Dyke frowned at the question. “No. And I am sorry you have both ended up in hospital. The truth is Kershaw escaped from Durham prison three weeks ago.” Marcus could feel an overwhelming sense of anger building, coupled with disbelieve.
“I knew it!” he almost shouted, trying to sit upright. “I caught a glimpse of the driver and could have sworn it was Kershaw. Why the hell didn't you tell me he was out?” he insisted fervently. Dyke nodded in submission.
“He was on unsupervised outside work when he escaped. Probably wasn't planned, just spur of the moment. Being in the Borders, we thought he would head either West to Ireland, or East to Scandinavia. However, yesterday morning we got a call from his ex-girlfriend in Brick Lane. Said he had called in wanting money and a car, neither of which she had to give him, and was left severely beaten for her trouble.” Dyke paused. Marcus was still listening. “We tried to call you but there was no answer. No one knew where you were. We have a policeman outside your house now.”
“You think he will try again when he finds out he failed this time?”
“It's likely, considering he seems to have a vendetta against you - for killing Ferris for example.” Marcus dropped back onto the pillow. His body was aching and his head was spinning with questions.
“The doctor said you can leave tomorrow, but Barbara will need to stay a few more days. I will make sure a plainclothes policeman keeps guard, just in case he comes here.” Dyke said, offering some cold comfort. Marcus nodded, indicating he understood.
“I'll send a car for you around two p.m., yours is a write-off by the way. Hope the insurance was up-to-date.” Marcus frowned. “I don't care about the car. I just want Barbara safe, and Dyke, make it before lunch tomorrow.”
Later that evening Marcus attempted to stand. He hobbled to the door and checked the coast was clear. Following the signs to the women's wing, he checked side rooms searching for Barbara. Three doors down on the left he found her. She was sleeping and looked so peaceful. The thought of her experiencing a second car crash was too much to bear, and he prayed he would have the chance to come face to face with Kershaw sometime soon.
The next morning his doctor came and signed him fit to leave. After dressing he found Barbara's room again. This time a plain-clothes policeman was sitting outside. “I just want a minute with her.” The policeman nodded and let him into the room. “How are you, my love?” Marcus asked tenderly, leaning over her to kiss her forehead.
“Bloody painful,” she said, trying to sound amusing. “When can we leave?”
“I'm leaving this morning, but you have to stay here a little longer . . . plus . . . it's safer for you. It was not an accident, Barbara. I think it was the same man that killed your parents, and now he wants to get to me for what happened to Ferris.” Marcus let Barbara feed on this information. Her facial expression changed from amusing to one of fear and confusion. “But I thought he was in prison.”
“He was, until three weeks ago. The police will be watching you while you are here, and I promise to come and get you as soon as I can.” Marcus held her hand and kissed her forehead, then her mouth, tenderly. “Do you want some books or magazines?” She shook her head in silence. A tear ran the length of her cheek. “It's happening all over again, Marcus. I can't lose anyone else . . . I can't.” Barbara sobbed into Marcus's shoulder and he hugged her as tight as he could. “You won't, my love. I promise.”
* * *
Kershaw read in the papers of a car accident on the A23 near Handcross which described the two occupants' as having a lucky escape. Very lucky, thought Kershaw. There will always be a next time. Now would be too soon - he will be on his guard. Best wait until he thinks he is safe.
1971
After the car incident, Marcus was always on edge - alert every time he went out for fear of being attacked. Although he possessed an outwardly calm persona, his state of mind was shaken by that event, resulting in him avoiding people as much as possible outside of business, and their pleasurable activities were put on hold.
*
A newspaper report caught Marcus's attention one day. It was not headline news, but nonetheless an interesting, although disturbing story. It caught his attention because it involved the same subject matter that got him involved with Daniel Mace, two years previously - child abuse. The report stated that Christopher Searle, residing near Wolverhampton was known to the police, and had previously been arrested on several charges relating to young boys. Searle was a swimming instructor, at the council baths, but was dismissed over some allegations of fondling young boys. On each occasion, not enough evidence was gained to ensure a conviction. The last charge for which he also escaped justice, involved the abduction and rape of a ten-year-old boy who died of his ordeal. The article stated it could not be proved that Searle murdered the boy, or if he died of his ordeal, resulting in manslaughter. As he had been charged with murder he was acquitted, and sentenced to three years, suspended, as he had already spent nearly that time on remand.
Marcus was shaking by the time he had finished reading. He knew then what he must do, again.
*
Since the 'accident' a couple of years ago, Marcus vowed to keep a closer eye on Barbara. He would accompany her whenever