Free (2005) Rat Run by Gerald Seymour Page B

fallen, collapsed, on to the bed.
    'Yes, I'm coming. For God's sake, I'm coming!'
    Out of the bedroom, he walked past the table. There was the mat on which he put his plate, the little plastic containers for salt and pepper, a mug he'd left there from which he'd drunk instant coffee - and the sheet of paper. He snatched it up and buried it in his pocket.
    He went towards the door.
    Last night, back from the parking bays under the block, he had read, again and again, what had been passed to him through the car's window. He had sipped the coffee and told himself he would sleep on it, not decide anything till the morning. He would not commit himself till the morning; he did not have to . . .
    his decision. It had been the best night's sleep he could remember. But nobody owned him.
    'I'm coming.'
    He unlocked the door and dragged down the bolt.
    He paused, seemed to suck air down into his body. He could not remember when last his door had been banged on but, then, he could barely remember when he had last slept a whole long night and been free of the demons.
    Dawn was there.
    'I went to see her,' she said.
    'Yes.'
    'Are you not concerned for her?'
    'Of course I'm concerned for her.'
    'You want to know how she is?'
    'I'd like to.'
    'I thought you would be there. I thought you would have visited her. She had Tony early before he went to work, then me when I have finished. I thought you would be there . . . but I look at you, and I see you were asleep.'
    'I thought I'd go later on,' he said weakly.
    'She does not sleep. She has the pain in her head and the pain in her arm, both are severe. Worst is the pain in her soul. Do you understand me?'
    His voice was limp. 'Please, explain to me.'
    'A policeman came yesterday afternoon and gave her a victim number. He asked her if she could describe her attackers. It was dark so she could not.
    The policeman said there was a camera covering the stairwell, but it did not have film in it. There are many cameras for show, but few with film in them. It hurts her that no one will be punished. I am sorry that you did not travel to see her.'
    'I slept in late, didn't mean to.'
    He thought his excuses demeaned him to the tall African woman, elderly, but still cleaning ministry offices and staircases, and thought she regarded him with contempt. Probably working through her mind were the snippets of his history that she knew. Had once been a gentleman, like the men with individual offices that she rose early to clean. Had been disgraced and had collapsed. Had been a vagrant living rough, like the vagrants who had stolen from her Millie.
    'Don't you go tiring yourself, Mr Malachy. You go back to bed. Not good for a young man to exhaust himself. In three days she will be coming out, when they have done the pin in her arm. I apologize, Mr Malachy, for disturbing you.'
    She was gone, away with her dignity.
    He closed the door.
    He pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket.
    Three names. Not the names of vagrants but of members of the High Fly Boys who strutted the Amersham. He studied them, then took a pencil stub and began to write down, hesitantly at first, then feverishly, what he would need to buy.
    13 January 2004
    Baz was the section's star. Had to be one, and it was him.
    The way he was going he was close to being the platoon's star. The company commander always noticed him and he'd heard he was listed for his first stripe, and he'd get it within the next fortnight. Baz was the best shot in the platoon, and when other Jocks in the section couldn't reassemble an SM80 or a GPMG after cleaning, it was to Baz they turned.
    Back at the depot, east of Inverness, Baz played right central stopper in the battalion soccer team. As a member of HQ
    platoon of the company, Iraq suited Baz as well as a good glove fitted a hand.
    He listened to the briefing. Baz didn't rate the corporal.
    He himself could have done the job better, blindfolded and with an arm behind his back. Because he didn't rate him, he hardly