Free Hidden by Emma Kavanagh

otherwise?’
    He laughs, a shaking, silent kind of laugh, and swallows another digestive. ‘You? You’re a scrawny little thing.’
    I glance around. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d still be here. Bit late after a night shift, isn’t it?’
    ‘Well, aye. I just wanted to have a final walk-through – you know, dot the i’s, cross the t’s.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose you know what’s been happenin’? That fella with the gun?’
    I nod. ‘I heard.’
    Ernie lets fly a laugh. ‘Course you did. You hear everything.’ Then his face settles, worry working its way through the creases. ‘Missed him, didn’t I? Was way over the other end of the hospital, and with my knee being what it is . . .’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m too old. That’s the truth of it.’
    ‘You’re not old, Ern.’
    ‘I’m sixty-eight. I’m old. Truth is, I should have retired before now. My wife’s been on at me, says I need to take it easy.’ He isn’t looking at me, is staring past me at the bank of CCTV monitors. ‘Thing is, if it had been a younger man on – a fitter man – they might have got him.’
    I lean forward, pat Ernie on his thick arm. ‘Come on, Ern. Give yourself a break.’
    Ernie shrugs, crams another biscuit into his mouth. ‘Anyway,’ he pushes himself upright, an attempt at levity coming into his tone, ‘you didn’t come here to listen to an old man moan. What can I help you with, Charlie?’
    I smile, brush a crumb from Ernie’s sleeve. ‘Well, it’s about that, actually. The man with the gun. I was wondering: did you get it on CCTV?’
    He frowns. ‘Well, yeah. Kind of. It’s not great. Police went through it yesterday. You can’t see his face.’
    ‘Um . . .’ I bite my nail.
    He fixes me with a look. ‘You want to see it, don’t you?’
    I grin.
    Ernie sighs heavily, pushing the digestives to one side. ‘You know, you’ll be the death of me. Close the door.’ He works the monitors. ‘You can’t tell anyone, mind. Don’t want to give the buggers an excuse to sack me, before I get the chance to quit.’
    I pull my chair closer to the neat little screens. ‘Ernie, you are an angel sent from heaven.’
    He shakes his head. ‘You want our boy’s first visit or second?’
    ‘Let’s start with the first night.’
    The left-hand screen fills with a hallway, brightly lit, empty.
    ‘I’ll forward through it a bit.’
    The footage begins to crease, a nurse moving into view and out; a cleaner, then Ernie, coming towards the camera, moving at a faster lick than he could manage in life.
    ‘Hold it there, Ern.’
    Ernie’s pace slows and, as he reaches the camera, he pauses and scratches his crotch. I look at him, can see his face flush, fight back a laugh. Camera Ernie vanishes and then, after long minutes, a figure moves into view, dark-clad, moving quickly.
    ‘There he is,’ murmurs Ernie.
    I study the figure, looking for something – anything. But Ernie’s right, the footage is rubbish. The figure never turns his head, his face hidden within the folds of his hood. I scan the surroundings. He looks to be tall, his head level with the top of the noticeboard on the wall, and has a narrow frame. I will him to turn, even though I know he won’t. He moves quickly across the screen, then is picked up in the lobby, a dark figure cutting through the centre of it, out into the car park.
    ‘What about the car park? Anything from there?’
    ‘Nah, the boy was smart. Seemed like he knew where the cameras were positioned out there, kept to the sides, out of view. Guess he couldn’t avoid them inside the hospital, but once he got out there, he managed to disappear. You want to see the next night?’
    ‘Can we just forward this one a little?’
    Ernie nods, speeds up the footage. And there they are, two figures, dark-clad, carrying guns. I try to ignore the little flutter in my stomach. Aden leads the way, gun visible, his head scanning the hallway. Behind him, a little taller, Tony. They walk