The Man in White- Pt. 4
I intend to pay a visit to the office but I have a doctor appointment first.
You might be expecting me to make some cynical remark about doctors, express some ill feeling towards them. But truthfully my doctor is great. He is a rarity among these parts- someone who actually cares and is willing to act upon that care.
Hell the only thing I dislike is that smell you get in the clinic. That sort of anesthetised, sterile smell as if everything is has become blunted and artificial.
I nod to the secretary and walk in. Dr Kassa is sitting there with a look of concern. Normally this would be a sign, but with Kassa you can't really tell.
"Give it to me doctor. What's the deal?"
He tells me straight because he knows I can handle it.
"I'm sorry but the tests indicate you’re getting worse. The hallucinations are going to get more vivid as time passes. Eventually you will..." He leaves the point hanging in the air, because the idea is disturbing to think about. "The most I can do is offer you stronger medicine in the hopes that it'll give you a little more time." He says these words as if he's acting them, not really believing what it is he's saying. It's as if he's gone numb.
"Take these." he says passing me a canister of pills "Take them at the times indicated on the canister."
I get up to leave and as I touch the door, the emotional reservoir inside Kassa snaps. He clears his throat as if to speak. I turn round. I'm still shocked at how my future has been decided. Kassa turns his gaze towards my eyes.
"Sorry Tom." He says the words as if in someway he failed me. He did nothing of the sort.
I exit and choking down the feeling get on with the job I have to do.
I tell none of this to John as we drive to the civil servant's work place. I'm not entirely sure how he'll react. Moving in absolute silence we drive into the car park of the building. We can see the office from here. We can also see the heavy police presence.
I smile. I decide, I may as well have some fun if my time is limited.
"John you can see what the police doing correct? Even in the poor light?"
"Yes. Two of them are reading through the ledgers. One is searching through the drawers."
"Then stay here. I need you to remember everything that they do, till I return."
Striding down the corridor, the two police men waiting outside the office start walking towards me. They have no chance.
"Excuse me sir, you need clear-"
"Actually you'll let me in right now." I say, showing him the warrant from the Governor. "I have permission to search any place that I see fit without police jurisdiction."
"Sir you cannot-"
"I cannot what? Search this office? Are you arguing with the Governor?"
Dropping that name does wonders. I swear the policemen have just shat themselves.
"Very well sir. You'll give us a few minutes before I can let you-"
"So you can what? Hide the evidence you've found? Clear up after yourselves? Move stuff away you don't want me to see? Are you being bribed? I want to know what your number is-"
"Sir I assure you was not hiding anything!"
"Then you'll open that door and let me continue my investigation! Right now!" The officers give in.
"Let me go talk to my supervisor" one of them says, practically sprinting through the door.
In less then a moment a burly angry looking man, steps out. A change of tact is in order.
"What is it you want?" he says in, gruff undertones.
"I need to examine this office. I believe it to be connected to the murder I am investigating."
"Which murder is that?"
"The murder of Mark Freeman. I really don't have time to discuss the details-"
"I don't see how the two cases are connected."
"Really? I heard the police weren't good at solving crimes, but I just thought that was a rumour."
The supervisor goes red. Getting angry now.
"I'm entitled to investigate any area I see fit. You can phone the governor and ask him if you like." The man walks back into the office. A few minutes later I hear muffled. frantic talking. I obviously haven't lost my talent to annoy people. Suddenly a beetroot face pops out the door and tells me I can enter.
I step inside and look around. It's obvious that anything remotely useful has been hidden. I breathe in slightly and then announce:
"Hmm. Nothing obvious. No clues. Sorry to have wasted your time." I then ran out the door. A frustrated bellow follows me.
"Why did we do that?" asks John, as I climb back into the car.
"I'll answer your question but first tell me what you saw.
"The policemen continued to read. However one of the men got up to go outside. When he returned he spoke some words and everyone started moving about. They hid several books away. They took out the tape out of the answering machine. They put all this in a desk drawer and then locked it."
"Would you be able to recognise the books if you saw them?"
"Of course" he says this certainty and I don't doubt him. Like I said he has amazing eyesight.
"Then you stepped in, looked around and left."
"So why did we do that? You've said before that the police would try to interfere even with a warrant so what was the point?"
"Your right- I knew that they'd hide evidence. But now we know what evidence is important and what they want to protect. Basically, instead of having to search through a mountain of books, we know which ones to grab."
"So were paying a visit here later?"
"Yes. A night time visit."
It's one in the morning. I haven't slept at all. The thought of plunging into madness is keeping me awake.
By about two o'clock I thought "bugger it" and went and sat outside on the fire escape of my apartment. Looking up and staring into the night sky.
What terrifies me is not that I'll die mad. Or that'll go insane.
What terrifies me is that it'll happen slowly. That I'll be aware of what is happening and not be able to do a thing about it. That there will come a point were I cannot recognise friends, family- anything that I actually care about. All will be washed away in visions and hallucinations.
Wasting away. Just a crowded shell of a man.
I stare down at my watch. Quarter to three. Time for my night time visit.
Oh bugger. Me and John just arrived. What greeted us was vile. One police officer murdered. Face bashed in.
Our intention was to just walk in, distract the police and take what we needed. No chance of that now.
We're running now. Trying to reach the office before the murderer. We skid round the corner and I can smell it. Burning gasoline and paper.
Oh shit. I tell John through the smoke to look for the police officer. I'm gonna try and get into the office.
The whole floor is up in flames now. I head towards the door and slam my shoulder against it hard. The door falls down. The whole office is aflame. The desk remains unburnt fortunately.
No time for grace now. Taking out the crowbar I save for occasions such as these I smash the lock off the desk. There's only one book in there as well as the answering machine tape. There's no time to find the other books.
I look up out the doorway. Standing at the other end of the corridor, shrouded by smoke and with the flames casting silhouettes against the ceiling is the man in white.
He is standing on top of a police office. I see him swing his lead pipe in a simple arcing motion. There is a sickening crunch.
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For the Wordmongers' Masque