Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA (17 page)

A woman in one of those distinctly unflattering hospital gowns that do up only at the back came marching through the waiting room. She was attached to an IV drip on a stand, but it didn’t slow her down. Heading for the front door, she strode past the other patients without even looking at them. When she got there, she propped the door open just enough to smoke a cigarette. Through a hole in her throat. She blew the smoke outside, her face impassive. I winced. If I ever got to that stage, I think I really would seriously consider quitting. The woman looked round, caught me watching her, and stared me down. She blew a smoke ring at me through the hole in her neck. I shuddered, and she smiled briefly.

And then I looked up sharply as the background music changed to a sappy orchestral version of Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper.” Hospital humour. Molly came hurrying back to join me, and I nodded to her thankfully.

“What took you so long?” I said.

“We had a bit of a discussion,” said Molly. “What’s the problem?”

“You mean apart from the fact that this place is depressing the hell out of me? I mean, look at it. Are you sure we haven’t accidentally wandered into the Nightside?”

Molly smiled. “It’s not that easy to get into the Nightside, even in this part of London. Trust me, if we were actually in the long night, you’d know it. This is more like an overlap. So much weird shit happens in Harley Street, it calls out to other strange stuff. It attracts abnormal places and situations, shadowy areas, and they attach themselves to the real world. We’re in the Shade, Eddie. The overlap between the day and the long night.”

“Why didn’t I know this street was here?” I said.

“Sometimes it isn’t,” said Molly. “This is a place for people who don’t want to be noticed. And even then, nothing that happens here is important enough for the Droods to care about. Look, never mind all that. I’ve got you an emergency appointment! The doctor will see you right now.”

“You intimidated a hospital receptionist?” I said. “Damn, girl; you’re good.”

“Money talks,” said Molly.

“How much?”

“I told you; don’t worry about it. I’ve got you covered. See the white door at the far end? Go through there, and Dr Benway will see you. I’ll wait for you here.”

“You’re not coming in with me?” I said. “I don’t want to go in alone. Strange doctors make me nervous.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Molly said briskly. “It’s just hospital rules, to protect your privacy. You’re the patient; I’m just a friend. What do you want me to do, anyway—hold your hand?”

“That would be nice, yes,” I said.

“Get in there.”

“Do I get a nice sweetie afterwards?”

“Eddie . . .”

“All right!” I said. “I’m going.”

I made my way somewhat gingerly across the open space, trying not to notice all the other patients hating me for jumping the queue. I knocked on the white door, and a cheerful voice invited me in. I strode in, trying to project a confidence I absolutely didn’t feel. It could have been any consulting room, anywhere. Pleasantly appointed, comfortable furnishings and fittings, a desk to one side and a long red leather couch on the other. I looked hopefully for a human skeleton standing in one corner, but there wasn’t one. I always felt there should be. The usual framed diplomas had been carefully mounted on the walls. It
occurred to me no one ever checks the details on these documents; they could say anything. Framed prints displayed unthreatening countryside scenes. At least there wasn’t any background music.

The doctor came out from behind his desk to greet me. Middle-aged and unremarkable, in an expensive suit, he seemed a smooth and plausible sort, with a professional smile already in place. His handshake was firm and reassuring.

“Hello, old man. Do come in. Make yourself comfortable. I’m Dr Benway.” He leaned forward, to look closely at my torc. Which startled me just a bit, because civilians aren’t supposed to be able to see it. Unless you’re the seventh son of a seventh son, and family planning has mostly taken care of that. He straightened up again and nodded cheerfully. “And there it is; the famous Drood torc. Amazing. Remarkable.”

“How are you able to see it?” I said.

“Hmm? Oh, all part of the job, old man. To be able to see hidden things.” He smiled in a satisfied sort of way. “Eddie Drood . . . Never had a Drood in here before. Heard all about you, of course. Before you leave, you really must let me examine that thing . . .”

“No,” I said. “Not a chance.”

He shrugged, entirely unconcerned. “Didn’t think so, but I had to ask. Come and sit down, sit down.” He sat behind his desk again, and I sat down facing him. “Now then, old man, what are the symptoms?”

“Didn’t Molly tell you anything?” I said.

“For the amount of money she’s paying for this emergency consultation, she didn’t have to,” Benway said cheerfully. “Besides, I always prefer to hear the details of any problem direct from the patient. Don’t be shy, old man. We really have heard it all before.”

“My family doctors tell me I’ve been poisoned,” I said. “With something they’ve never seen before. No cure, no treatment. According to them, I’ve got three months. If I’m lucky.”

Benway sat back in his chair. He nodded slowly, his face giving nothing away. “Well, well . . . That is a bit of hard luck, isn’t it? Your
family doctors do have an excellent reputation in the medical field . . . If they’ve said there’s nothing they can do for you, I wouldn’t doubt them. And you came to us? That is a compliment. I think we’d better take a close look at you, old man. Let the dog see the rabbit, eh? Lie down on the couch, please.”

I got up from the chair, went over to the couch, and stretched out on it. “Can I just say, I hate needles!”

“Me too!” Benway said cheerfully. “Fortunately, we don’t go in for that sort of thing around here.”

He produced a pair of sunglasses from inside his jacket, and fitted them carefully on his narrow nose. They had silver frames and deep purple lenses. He leaned over me, hands behind his back to keep them out of the way, and looked me over carefully from head to foot. His expression never changed, but he did go
Hmm
several times. He finally straightened up again, took off the sunglasses, and put them away.

“Yes . . . I see. Really quite remarkable. You have been poisoned.”

“I already told you that!” I said.

“Indeed you did, old man, and quite right you were. I’ve never seen anything like it. An entirely new poison. Quite appallingly toxic stuff too; it’s a wonder to me you’re still alive.”

“But is it going to kill me . . . ?”

“Hmm? Oh yes. Quite definitely. Your doctors gave you three months, you say? Well, they know your system better than I do. Personally, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

I lay back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. I’d known he was going to tell me there was nothing he could do, but it still hit me hard. A small part of me had really hoped he’d find something the Drood medics had missed. That they’d got it wrong, and it only looked like I was poisoned. That he knew what to do . . .

“You really have no idea what the poison is?” I said finally.

“Haven’t a clue, old man,” said Benway. “Not from around here . . . not of this world, I would say. Lots of visitors around these days, of
course, but they’re usually so different, their little problems don’t affect us. How did this poison get into your system in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Then I really can’t help you with identification,” said Benway. “Fortunately, that won’t be a problem. It’s a good thing you came to us, old man. None of the traditional forms of medicine could do a thing for you, but we’re not in any way traditional.”

I allowed myself to feel a faint twinge of hope. “You can help?”

“Of course, old man! Don’t you worry yourself; we have what you need!”

I sat up on the couch and looked at him. “What is it you do here, exactly? What is your particular discipline? How can you help me?”

“Easy, old man! One thing at a time, eh?” Benway smiled at me reassuringly. “Here at the Peter Paul Clinic, we rob Peter to pay Paul. We don’t deal in drugs or surgery, science or magic. As such. Or any kind of healing. We deal strictly in the transfer of life energies. Don’t ask me to explain how it works; I’m not entirely sure I understand myself. It works, and that’s all that matters.”

“What about side effects?” I said.

“Nothing you need to worry about, old man,” said Benway. “Though you might want to think about embracing a healthier lifestyle, after you leave here. Nothing to do with the poison or your treatment; just general good advice. I say that to all my patients. If people could only see the damage they do to themselves . . . Ah well, never mind.” I must have been giving him a really hard look, because he snapped back to the subject. “We drain the life energies from willing—and very well-paid—volunteers, and then transfer these energies to the patient. Who needs them more. The volunteers all give a little, and we give it to you in one big dose. They don’t miss it, really; no more than a blood donor.

“This new life energy doesn’t actually cure anything, but it does slow down the dying process quite dramatically. The poison will still be in you, but the new life energy will slow its progress right down, and
buy you more time. It’s not a cure, but the sheer amount of life energy will keep you going for years and years. You’ll feel perfectly well and healthy, with no unfortunate symptoms. Basically, we’re putting off your death, old man. And when you’ve used up all the new life energy, you can always come back here for more top-ups! Which will be expensive, of course, but then, you’re a Drood. I should point out . . . that this is not an indefinite process. Each transfer of life energies does take its toll. Each time, your body will accept less of the new energies, until finally it won’t accept any. We’re selling health, old man, not immortality. Or we’d be charging a damned sight more. And you must understand, there are problems . . .”

“Somehow,” I said, “I just knew there would be. What sort of problems are we talking about?”

“To overcome a condition as severe as yours,” Benway said carefully, “and a poison as malignant as yours, will require a really massive accumulation of life energies. And it’s not like we keep it here in bottles. It has to come straight from a suitable donor. And they don’t just hang around here, waiting to be needed. We’ll have to put a call out to as many of them as possible, and pay over the odds to get them to come in as quickly as possible. Rounding them up will take some time . . .”

And then he broke off as the phone on his desk rang. He smiled reassuringly at me, excused himself, and went to answer it.

“Benway. Yes. He’s here with me now. I’ve just been telling him . . . Oh. Are you sure? Well, if you’re sure, go ahead and start the procedure. I’ll get the patient ready.”

He put the phone down and came back to smile at me some more.

“It seems you’re in luck, old man. Apparently we do have sufficient donors to hand, after all. The transfer of life energies is being prepared, even as we speak. Lots of money really does talk very persuasively. Your partner, Ms Metcalf, has already sorted things out with my colleague, Dr Raven.”

“So, what do you use?” I said. “Some kind of alien or future technology?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, we use a leech.”

“What?”

“I know!” said Benway. “It does sound like a terrible step backwards, doesn’t it? But this is a genetically engineered, really big leech. Originally created by a very secretive group called the Immortals. Whoever they were. All but wiped out now, I understand. We bought the leech at an auction of their effects. Got it for a really quite reasonable price too, because no one knew what it was, or what it could do. Neither did we until we started experimenting with it and had a few . . . accidents. But we know what we’re doing now.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that,” I said.

“Oh yes . . . ,” said Benway. “All very simple. We just slap the leech onto the donor, let it suck up some life energies, and then take it off again. Repeat as necessary. Once the leech has accumulated enough energies, we just slap it on the patient and persuade the leech to transfer all it’s stored.”

“How do you do that?”

“Hmm? Oh, we just zap it with a cattle prod. Look, stop asking questions if the answers are going to upset you so much. All you need to know is that this process will give you many years of extra life. Trust me; I’m a doctor. This has all been very thoroughly tested. Dr Raven is in the next room right now, getting ready to acquire the necessary energies. Shouldn’t take long.”

But something in that didn’t feel right. Benway said he needed to call in volunteers, and then gather enough energy from them to save me. It couldn’t be happening already. Benway must have seen something in my face, because he gave me his best reassuring smile.

“Just lie back on the couch, think of the bill, and go
Aaaargh!
A little private medical humour there.”

“Just how expensive is this going to be?” I said.

“Oh very,” Benway said cheerfully. “That’s what happens when you have a monopoly on the market and everyone wants something only you can supply.”

“So basically,” I said, “you’re drug dealers.”

“You’re the one in need of a fix,” said Benway. “Remember, old man; you came to us. But you don’t need to worry about the cost. Your partner, Ms Metcalf, has already taken care of everything.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “She must be very fond of you.”

Something in the doctor’s voice didn’t ring true. I can always tell when I’m being sold a bill of goods. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the couch. Benway made vague motions with his hands, as though he wanted to push me back down again but knew better than to try to force me. I looked at him, and he fell back a step.

“I want to talk to Molly,” I said. “Before we start this.”

“But you can’t!” said Benway. “I’m sorry, old man, but it’s just not possible. I can’t allow you to . . .”

That was it. Something in his face, in his voice, was setting off major alarm bells. I was up and off the couch in a moment. I grabbed two handfuls of his jacket front, forced him all the way back across his office, and slammed him up against the wall. He cried out in shock and then broke off abruptly as I shoved my face into his.