Free Dark Side of the Street - Simon Vaughn 01 (v5) by Jack Higgins

occupied. One by Brady who lay with a cage over his legs, the other by Youngblood. Both men seemed to be either sleeping or unconscious.
    Two prison officers were sitting at a small table by the door playing cards. As Chavasse stirred, they glanced across and one of them got to his feet and walked over.
    "How do you feel?"
    "Terrible." Chavasse tried to moisten dry lips. "What happened?"
    "They gave you an anaesthetic and stitched you up." He turned to his companion. "Better get the doctor. He said he wanted to know when he came round."
    Chavasse closed his eyes as the other officer picked up the telephone. His mouth was bone dry and he felt curiously light-headed, but otherwise he was fine. He looked down at the arm. He could feel nothing except that curious numbness which indicated the use of painkilling shots and he wondered how bad it was.
    He'd taken one hell of a chance back there at the machine shop. What if he'd severed a tendon, for instance? He closed his eyes, sweat springing to his forehead, and opened them again in time to see one of the prison officers unlock the door.
    The doctor who came in was African, a tall cheerful Nigerian with tribal caste marks prominent on one cheek and a ready smile. He sat on the edge of the bed and took Chavasse's pulse.
    "How are you feeling?"
    "A bit light-headed and my mouth's very dry."
    "After-effects of the anaesthetic, that's all. Nothing to worry about." The Nigerian poured water into a glass from a jug on the bedside locker. "Drink this--you'll feel a lot better."
    Chavasse did as he was told and then lay back. "What about my arm--is it serious?"
    The Nigerian shook his head and grinned. "You'll play the violin again, isn't that what they would say on television? Thirteen stitches--I hope you are not superstitious, but I couldn't find room for an extra one."
    "Are you sending me straight back?"
    "To Fridaythorpe?" There was something close to compassion in the Nigerian's eyes when he replied. "No, I think we'll hang on to you for a day or two."
    Chavasse tried hard not to show his relief, but in his weakened state found it impossible. "What about Youngblood--is he very ill?"
    The Nigerian shrugged. "A second stroke is never a good thing. We'll know more after our tests tomorrow. But we've talked long enough. Now you must sleep again."
    He went out and they locked the door behind him. The two screws went back to their card game and Chavasse turned and looked at Youngblood. He was sleeping peacefully, his face in repose looking strangely innocent. Chavasse took a deep breath. So--the stage was set? He wondered what the next act would be and still wondering, drifted into sleep.
    When he next awakened it was night and the ward was a place of shadows, rain drumming against the windows. One of the prison officers slept soundly on an unoccupied bed, the other read a magazine at the table.
    He glanced across as Chavasse stirred. "Are you all right?"
    Chavasse nodded. "I think I'll take a walk."
    He swung his legs to the floor, sat there for a moment and then got to his feet and walked to the washroom at the other end of the ward. It could have been worse--much worse and on the way back he felt even better.
    When he sat down again on the edge of his bed he realised, with something of a shock, that Youngblood's eyes were wide open. He stared at Chavasse strangely, a slight frown on his face and Chavasse pulled a chair forward and sat down beside him.
    "How are you feeling, Harry?"
    "What is this?" Youngblood said. "What's going on?"
    "You're in the closed ward at Manningham General. You had another stroke."
    "What are you doing here?"
    "When you blew your top at Fridaythorpe you almost went headfirst into the machinery. I caught you just in time. Opened up my arm on the grinding wheel in the process."
    "Is it bad?"
    "Thirteen stitches--could be worse. They're keeping me here for a couple of days."
    The prison officer at the table make a quick phone call and then came over. "I've sent