Free When Evil Wins by S.R WOODWARD Page A

to be called. I’m truly sorry. Your father has been dead for at least a day.”
    Janus just stared at the man; a feeling of sickness developing in the pit of his stomach.
    “Sir, it’s okay, I’ll radio it through. Peter?” the paramedic turned to his partner, “could you take Mr Malik to the kitchen?”
    Peter guided Janus to his father’s kitchen, away from the awful scene. Janus followed, his mind numbed.
    “Mr Malik, I’m so sorry for your loss — but Barry has to notify the police — it’s the blood, you know,” Peter struggled to explain.
    Janus just shook his head; nothing was making any sense to him.
    “I’m afraid we have to get the forensic medical examiner in; it’s just procedure you understand,” Peter told Janus. Janus didn’t react, he couldn’t, he didn’t know how.
    Peter hated it when he had to attend situations like this; when the next of kin had no inkling about the possibility of one of their nearest and dearest’s mortality. He had been to many in his fifteen years with the service, but, in these situations, it always felt like the first.
    After the police had arrived along with the FME and asked a few cursory questions of Janus, the undertakers loaded the body into the hearse and took Andrzej Malik to the mortuary.
    When everyone had finished with his father’s house, Janus exited the front door to the property, closing it behind him.
    Still feeling numb he got into his car and drove to the hospital to seek out Mr Greensteed.
    Within a short while of Janus arriving at Southend hospital, his father's consultant appeared and took Janus to one side.
    “Janus, I'm so sorry this has happened,” Greensteed said, reaching out and gently squeezing Janus's shoulder, “but I must stress this was always going to be a possibility; it was a massive internal haemorrhage.”
    “But he'd been doing so well, Mr Greensteed. My Dad took all of his medicine,” Janus stressed.
    “I know, I know, Janus.” Marshall Greensteed hated it when things like this happened, “but your father did suffer incredibly serious injuries. It was a miracle he survived at all.”
    “But it's been four weeks since he left the hospital. You even checked him a few days ago.”
    “I must admit that there was nothing to indicate this would happen, but these things do happen, Janus, I'm sorry to say. In the end it's sometimes nature's way rather than the surgeon's,” Greensteed paused, “I am truly sorry.”
    “I don't know what I will do now,” Janus said. “What do I do? I've never been in a situation like this before.”
    “Janus, here's a card. Contact this woman, she's a counsellor, she'll help you get through the next few days and help you with your next steps.”
    “Thank you, Mr Greensteed,” after a second’s pause Janus added; “There was really nothing you could do?”
    “I'm sorry, Janus, nothing at all. But I assure you your father had the very best of care.”
    “I know he did, and thanks again.” Janus took the card from the consultant.

Chapter Twelve
     
    Janus was in a rush as usual. He didn't know why but every time he arranged to meet his publisher his timing was all over the place. He thought it was probably due to the fact that it wasn't him who controlled his schedule in these instances, although it ought to be. His ex-wife had made him feel much the same way while they were married.
    Janus knew that if he left within the next five minutes he would just about get to the station in time to catch the train to London and from Fenchurch Street he could take a short tube journey arriving at the Royal Dragon, in China Town, ready for the discussions, with his publisher about his most recent investigation.
    ***
    It was three months since Janus had buried his father. The will hadn't thrown up any surprises; everything his father had built up over the preceding twenty years had passed straight to him as he was the business partner and more importantly, his father’s son.
    During the month