Eye for an Eye

lolling, body rolling as if from the motion of some small boat negotiating choppy seas. He opened his eyes, blinked against fluttering snow, and said, ‘What time is it?’
    ‘Hey, big guy.’
    He tried to pull himself up.
    ‘Take it easy, take it easy.’
    ‘What time is it?’ he asked again.
    ‘Not a rat’s tail short of ten.’
    Something clattered hard and loud, metal against metal, like the sound of an extension ladder collapsing. Then the movement steadied, and he felt himself sliding forward into some capsule, like being closed in a mortuary drawer.
    He swung his feet to the floor, held steady while it tilted off to the side, then righted. It took several seconds for him to realize he was in an ambulance. He stood, shot out an arm for support, felt someone clutch it. ‘I need to go,’ he said.
    ‘Hey, steady. Steady.’
    ‘I’m all right. I need to go.’
    ‘You’re going nowhere.’
    He patted his hand against his chest. No leather jacket. He remembered the lining, ripping it out. He glanced at his wrist, wondered what had happened to his watch. It must have broken off during the fight. He stared at the paramedic. Then he remembered white flakes falling into Sa’s eyes.
    ‘I need a phone,’ he said.
    The paramedic put pressure on his arm, as if to lead him back to the stretcher. ‘You need a hospital.’
    ‘You’re hindering a murder investigation. I can have you charged.’
    ‘Charge me all you like, but I don’t have a bleeding phone. Okay? Now, sit down.’
    ‘Sorry,’ said Gilchrist, and shuffled to the back of the ambulance.
    Dragonlights stood in the garden like a makeshift studio. The SOCOs were already on the scene. Four of them, clad in white coveralls, combed the grass like dogs. A camera flashed in the hedgerow, causing Gilchrist to divert his gaze. Over by the back porch, he recognized the military-like figure of McVicar talking to Patterson. Off to the right, the suited silhouette of DeFiore, mobile phone pressed to his ear.
    Gilchrist jumped to the ground. Pain shot across his chest. His legs gave out. He collapsed against the rear of the ambulance, and shouted, ‘Sir?’
    Patterson scowled.
    McVicar turned to the sound of Gilchrist’s voice then marched toward him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Andy?’
    ‘I need to—’
    ‘You look like hell.’ McVicar beckoned the paramedics. ‘What’s going on here? Why isn’t this man being taken to hospital?’
    ‘We can’t force him into—’
    ‘Sir? I need to talk to you.’
    ‘Andy, you need to—’
    ‘Now, sir.’ Gilchrist struggled to stand erect. ‘Before we’re too late.’
    ‘Too late?’
    ‘You drive,’ said Gilchrist, and stumbled over the gravel driveway to McVicar’s BMW. He grabbed the door handle, gave a tug, but it was locked. He glanced back at McVicar, who now stood with Patterson by his shoulder. McVicar’s head twitched as Patterson whispered to him.
    Then McVicar frowned and walked alone to his car.
    ‘We’ve no time, sir. We need to get going.’
    ‘Where to, Andy? Mark tells me if he hadn’t stepped in when he did, you might have been killed.’
    Gilchrist had no time to waste trying to reason with McVicar. He could do that later. Right at that moment, he had other matters to resolve.
    ‘Mark said he was about to arrest the Stabber when you turned up. Despite being suspended.’
    Gilchrist shook his head. ‘Can we go, sir?’
    ‘Gilchrist.’ It was Patterson. He stepped closer, took a deep breath, then said, ‘For your gallant effort in helping me put an end to the Stabber’s reign of terror, I’ve decided not to ask for your resignation.’
    ‘And the trumped-up charges for my arrest?’
    Patterson’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m pleased to say you can have your position back.’ His lips pressed into a tight line.
    Gilchrist heard a click and pulled at the door handle. He was about to sit inside when McVicar said, ‘What’s this all about, Andy? Where are we going?’
    Gilchrist nodded to Patterson. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ he said. ‘He says he’s solved it.’
    McVicar gave a half-smile. ‘Well, Mark? What’s next?’
    Patterson frowned. ‘I, eh ...’ He blinked at Gilchrist, then McVicar. ‘I, eh ...’
    ‘I see,’ said McVicar. He opened the door and slipped behind the steering wheel. ‘We’ll talk later, Mark. And this time you’d better come out with the truth.’ He let his words sink in, then added with a growl, ‘Or so help me