Authors: Peter Flannery
‘What?’ said DI Regan. ‘You mean
he really is psychic?’
Steve just nodded his head and
sipped his water. He was starting to feel desperately tired. He felt like he
could sleep for a week.
‘My wife’s cousin swears she’s
psychic,’ DI Regan went on. ‘Makes a living from it and everything.’
Steve was barely listening. The
paramedic tied off his bandage and helped him up into the ambulance.
‘We always thought she was just
nuts…’ said DI Regan taking the cup of water back from Steve.
‘She is,’ said Steve as the
paramedic ushered the inspector away from the ambulance and helped Steve up so
that he could sit across from Psimon.
As Steve settled into the seat in
the back of the ambulance he looked down at the person lying opposite him. He
still looked a frightful mess but Psimon was sleeping soundly, peacefully. Steve
cast his mind back to the day that they had met. A few short days that felt
like a lifetime.
‘
I will pay you three thousand
pounds a day if you will accompany me while I go about my business and keep me
safe for the next five days
.’
Steve wondered…
If he could wind the clock back
and, knowing what he knew, would he still take the money and take the job. He
truly did not know. But in his mind he heard his father’s voice, Geordie accent
and all…
‘
Of course you would, soft
lad… of course you would
.’
‘
Not for the money
,’
thought Steve, as he drifted off to sleep. ‘
No fucking way!
’
But for the chance of knowing
Psimon and doing what he could…
‘
Perhaps,
’ he thought as
sleep engulfed him.
‘
Perhaps…
’
Chapter 33
Monday March 7th
Front Page
Headline
Killer Stopped After Fourteen Year
Reign of Terror
Richard Chatham put down the phone and sat back in his
chair.
‘
Well
,’ he thought. ‘
I
wasn’t expecting that
.’
But then he had not been
expecting much of what had happened over the last few days. He steepled his fingers
and tapped them lightly against his lips. Then he raised his eyebrows, blew out
his cheeks and smiled.
‘Suppose I’d better go and tell
the boss,’ he said quietly to himself.
He started to rise from his
chair. Then…
‘
No, sod it,
’ he thought
with a new sense of liberation. ‘
I’ll phone my wife first
.’
Chapter 34
Tuesday March 8th
Studios of the BBC
Manchester
‘That your girlfriend
again,’ teased Steve when Psimon put away his mobile phone.
‘I told you,’ said Psimon with a
smile. ‘She’s not my girlfriend.’
‘Well you seem to get on very
well,’ said Steve. ‘Maybe you should ask her out to dinner.’
‘No need,’ said Psimon. ‘She’s
already asked me.’
Steve raised his eyebrows
approvingly. ‘There ya go, you see,’ he said.
Psimon just shook his head and
turned away and Steve laughed at his coyness. ‘
Him and that mobile phone,
’
he thought.
More than once yesterday the
sister had told him off for using it. ‘They interfere with the equipment,’ she
had told him. ‘And you should be resting,’ she had chided. ‘You need your
sleep.’
‘Sorry sister,’ Psimon had said,
like a naughty schoolboy who knew he would do it again the moment the teacher’s
back was turned.
Steve was amazed at how quickly
Psimon had recovered from his ordeal. Not his body… the bruises, the burns, the
neatly sown up lip. All that would take weeks to heal. But his mind… After what
he had been through Steve would have expected a severe degree of trauma but
Psimon seemed almost cheerful. There was just the occasional moment when Steve
caught him staring into space, the tears standing in his eyes. Steve knew that
he did not cry for himself but for the people who had gone before him, those
who had died at the killer’s hand.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Steve had
told him again.
‘I know,’ said Psimon. ‘But it
feels like it is.’
‘You should be worried about
yourself. After what you’ve been through...’
Psimon pursed his lips.
‘After so many years living with
fear,’ he said. ‘It’s a relief to be free of it.’
‘So no more visions of death.’
‘Oh,’ said Psimon. ‘I have a new
vision of my death.’
Steve looked sharply up at him.
‘You know how you die,’ he asked
him. ‘And that doesn’t frighten you.’
Psimon shook his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s sad… Not
what I might choose... But it’s a normal death and I can live with that.’
Steve just looked at him,
wondering at what kind of strength it took to live with what he knew.
They had remained in hospital for
the rest of the day and a second night. But, for all the unpleasantness, their
injuries were largely superficial and there was no reason for them to remain.
Now they sat to the side of the BBC studio while people bustled all around them
preparing for the press conference that was scheduled to go out just before the
evening news.
‘You needn’t have come,’ said
Psimon as they sipped their BBC coffee.
Steve did his best to sound
insulted.
‘And miss your moment of glory,’
he said.
‘I didn’t pay you for an extra
day,’ said Psimon.
‘Let’s just say this one’s on the
house,’ said Steve although both men knew that Steve was there because he
wanted to be.
He knew that he would soon be
passing Psimon over into someone else’s care but for now he felt that his duty
was not over. Indeed he did not want it to be over, not quite yet. He longed to
get back to his family but he had the rest of his life for them. He could spare
another day.
They sat in silence for a while
watching the journalists fill up the seats in front of the stage. Most of the
world’s major news networks were present but none of them showed any great
enthusiasm at being there. Indeed they seemed puzzled and annoyed that they had
been told so little about what to expect. Despite the impressive array of
journalists the press conference had not been widely publicised and, with the
exception of the senior production staff, no one even knew what it was about.
All that was about to change.
‘
Oh, ye of little faith
,’
thought Steve.
He watched them frown and humph
as they wondered if it was worth their while being here at all. But Steve
suspected that their irritation would not last for long.
Another minute or so and two men
were shown into the studio; one a tall man with sandy hair and glasses, the
other an older man; bald, glasses and a bushy, stark-white beard. The assistant
directed the white-haired man to a chair on the stage. The other man was
invited to take a chair to one side where, like Steve, he could watch the
proceedings but would play no part in them. However, as the two men looked
around the studio they caught sight of Psimon and Steve and came across to
speak with them.
‘Psimon,’ said the white-haired
man, waving Psimon down when he made to stand.
‘Mr Randi,’ said Psimon looking
up at the elderly man. ‘Thank you for coming.’
James Randi laughed, his sharp
eyes sparkling.
‘Like you could have kept me
away,’ he said.
He reached down to shake Psimon’s
hand warmly.
‘Thank you for the invitation,’
he said.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Psimon.
Randi looked at Psimon a moment
longer. Then he patted his hand and turned to Steve.
‘Mr Brennus,’ he said extending
his hand.
‘Mr Randi,’ said Steve. ‘Jeff,’
he added turning to shake the hand of Jeff Wag, the manager from the Randi
Foundation.
‘I hear you’re quite the hero,’
said Randi without any hint of cynicism.
Steve blushed and started to
object but Randi just smiled. ‘I think they’re nearly ready for us,’ he said as
the studio assistants began to look in their direction.
Psimon started to rise from his
chair, reaching for the walking stick that lay against it.
‘If you’ll allow me…’ said Randi
extending his arm for Psimon to take.
Psimon glanced down at Steve.
‘Go get ’em psyche-boy,’ said
Steve with a smile and Psimon limped onto the stage and into the glare of the
studio lights.
As Psimon made his way up onto
the stage Steve sighed and took out his mobile phone. He could put it off no
longer, indeed he could not bear to put it off any longer. He would call
Christine and tell her that he would be home tonight.
‘I’m sorry sir.’ The studio
assistant leaned across to Steve. ‘We’re about to go on air… You’ll have to go
outside if you want to make a call.’
Steve raised his eyes and put
away his phone.
‘Something important, Mr
Brennus?’
Steve started at the sudden
voice.
‘Mr Chatham!’ he said as the
civil servant sat down beside him. ‘Err... no,’ he said, referring to the
disallowed phone call then… ‘Yes,’ he amended quickly. ‘It can wait another
hour,’ he concluded feeling flustered.
Chatham just smiled.
‘Not started yet then?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Steve. ‘They’re just…
What are you doing here?’ he interrupted himself, feeling a familiar sense of
suspicion at such unexpected events.
‘I’m here to start my new job,’
said Chatham.
Steve looked none the wiser.
‘Psimon asked me if I would
consider managing his affairs,’ said Chatham. ‘His life is about to become
considerably more complicated.’
‘Psimon offered you a job?’ Steve
felt surprised and strangely piqued.
‘He did.’
‘And you said yes?’
‘I did.’
Steve turned to look at Psimon
who was being given some direction as to what was about to happen.
‘I hope you know what you’re
letting yourself in for,’ he said.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’
said Chatham cheerfully.
Steve was about to speak again
when the lights in the studio came up and the shouts rang out that they were
ready to go on air.
It did not appear to be going
well but Steve was not worried because, whenever he looked across at him,
Psimon did not appear to be worried. They had introduced him as ‘the world’s
first psychic’ and most of the press agencies had reacted with predictable
scepticism. Steve had just smiled. He knew they would be convinced. They just
had to ask the right questions.
‘So what makes you different from
the thousands of other psychics in the world,’ asked the man from Fox News.
Psimon just smiled and was about
to speak when Randi leaned across.
‘If I may,’ he asked and Psimon
responded with a nod.
‘What makes Psimon different,’
said Randi. ‘Is that he can do the things he says he can do. He is a genuine
psychic.’
The journalists were paying
attention now but they were still far from convinced.
‘A few days ago,’ Randi went on.
‘Psimon came to be tested at the James Randi Educational Foundation.’ He
paused. ‘There Psimon was able to demonstrate his psychic ability under
carefully controlled conditions.’
The journalists had begun to
frown. It was starting to dawn on them that this might just be for real.
‘Are we supposed to take your
word for it?’ asked one.
‘Do you have any proof?’ asked
another.
‘We have video evidence,’ said
Randi.
‘What psychic ability did he
demonstrate?’
Randi looked at Psimon who gave
him another small nod. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled
out a small glass tube that Steve instantly recognised. ‘This steel rod is
sealed inside a glass tube.’ He held it up for all to see. ‘Psimon was able to
bend a similar metal rod in a similar glass tube without touching it.’
‘Wouldn’t it break the glass if
the rod bent?’ asked one of the journalists.
Randi nodded. ‘Psimon removed the
rod from the tube, with his mind, before bending it into shape.’
Eyebrows went up, lips were
pursed but still they had no reason to believe.
‘What shape did he bend it into?’
Randi smiled and again he looked
to Psimon for consent. He reached once more into his pocket only this time he
pulled out a steel rod that had been formed into a perfect circle.
Some of the journalists seemed
impressed but they would not be doing their job if they had left it there.
‘How do we know this isn’t just a
setup… a publicity stunt?’
Randi inclined his head. In their
position he would suspect the same.
‘What about a demonstration?’
The suggestion came from the back
of the room and was quickly taken up by several others.
The person chairing the press
conference sat forward.
‘I’m afraid we can’t ask Psimon
to…’
‘It’s okay,’ said Psimon in that
quiet, arresting tone of his. ‘If I were them I would expect no less.’
The chairman sat back in his
seat, the doubt written large across his face.
‘Mr Randi, if I may…’ said Psimon
coming out from behind the table.
Randi placed the circle of steel
in Psimon’s palm and smiled as if he were thoroughly enjoying this.
Psimon turned to the room full of
journalists.
‘Mr Tyler,’ he said to the man
from Sky News. ‘If you could please hold this so that everyone can see it.’
The man from Sky News seemed
surprised that Psimon should know his name but he was not about to miss the
opportunity to raise the profile of his network. He jumped up and took the
circle from Psimon.
‘It’s okay,’ said Psimon. ‘You
can bring the cameras in.’
It was clear that the floor staff
had not expected a close-up demonstration.