He didn’t answer.
“You can tell me,” I said. “Anything you reveal to me is privileged information, because I’m a lawyer. It can’t get you in trouble. But it might make it easier for me to help.”
He looked at the ground, and remained silent.
“You were at the hospital, weren’t you?” I said.
He nodded.
“Down here?” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“What were you doing?”
“Collecting something. Then the alarm went off. And I saw firemen all over the place. I thought it was for real.”
“So what did you do?”
“Tried to get out without any of them seeing me. I wasn’t supposed to be here, remember.”
“Did you make it?”
“Almost. Then two of them practically fell on top of me.”
“Where was this?”
“At the end of the hot corridor.”
“The hot corridor?”
“Where they keep the hot waste. Along there.”
“Why were you in that corridor?”
“I wasn’t. I was passing the end of it, and I heard voices. Two men, arguing. I paused for a moment, curious, like an idiot. Then the door opened and they burst out, one dragging the other by the arm.”
“Could you hear what they were arguing about?”
“The door to the hot room. One had tried to get through it. Whacked it with his axe. And the other was tearing him a new one for it. No one’s supposed to touch that door, ever. Anyone working here should know that.”
“So, it was one of these firemen who’d damaged the door.”
“Right.”
“Are you sure they were firemen?”
“What kind of question is that? There was a fire alarm. They came in a fire engine. They had firemen suits. Yes, they were firemen.”
“OK. So why didn’t you tell the police what you saw?”
“They didn’t ask.”
“Because you weren’t supposed to be here that night?”
“Right.”
“And you didn’t volunteer the information because that would have revealed you were here when you shouldn’t have been?”
“Right.”
“And is that such a big deal? Being at the hospital when you’re off duty?”
“It is, lately. The rules changed. There’ve been some thefts, and stuff.”
“How do your chances look, keeping the police off your tail?”
He shrugged.
“Not good, I guess,” I said. “They’re still crawling all over the place. And it won’t be long before they start pulling everyone in, not just the ones who were working that night.”
“Do you think so?” he said.
“I do, based on my experience of these things. It’s how they operate. They’re like clockwork. They have a procedure, and they follow it. But you don’t need to worry about that. There’s a way we can shield you from it.”
“There is? How?”
“There’s a special kind of statement you can make. An Incoactus Inviolati. Don’t worry about the weird-sounding name. It’s from the Latin, and it just means that because you voluntarily provided information which was helpful to the case, the circumstances which led you to be in possession of that information – even if they were in and of themselves illegal – will be excluded from the resulting investigation.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“I’m a lawyer. It’s my job to be sure. The Inviolati is a very useful tool for the police. Without it, they wouldn’t be able to get half their informants to come forward.”
“How come I’ve never heard of it?”
“Well, they don’t exactly advertise. They don’t want people trying to use it to wriggle out of crimes that aren’t really related. But in your case, it’s completely legit. We could get it done in five minutes.”
“We could? How?”
“Well, I’ll be out of this place probably the middle of next week. I should be able to fit you in a couple of days after that, if you don’t mind coming over to my office.”
“Wait, wow, no way. Far too long. The police will come knocking long before that.”
“There’s not much I can – oh, hang on. It’s a little unconventional, but my assistant is here at the hospital, too. We were in the same car, you see, hit by one of those dodgy new bendy buses. She has all the basic forms with her, in her briefcase. We could head up to her room, right now? Take care of it straight away?”
There was no answer at Melissa’s door when we knocked, ten minutes later. Elvis’s resolve wasn’t dented, though, and he was happy to head back down to my room and pass the time till she returned. Happy, until I stood back and let him cross the threshold in front of me.
A man was already inside my room, waiting. A uniformed police officer. I’d guess he was in his mid forties. I couldn’t get a good sense of his height, though, because he was sitting on my bed, his helmet at his side, brushing sandwich crumbs off the front of his tunic. He looked up as we appeared in the doorway and locked eyes with Elvis, who promptly turned on his heel and took flight down the corridor. I spun around and went after him. We were less than half way along when a second police officer appeared. He was coming towards us, from the direction of the staircase, holding a polystyrene takeaway cup in each hand. Elvis and I covered three more strides, still at full speed, then the policeman bent down and placed the drinks neatly on the floor by the left-hand wall.
“Stop him,” I said, slowing down to avoid a collision.
The officer straightened up, stepped into our path, and stretched his arms out wide like an angry bear. He looked me straight in the face, and dodged to the side, letting Elvis race past him. Then he launched himself forwards, wrapping his arms around my knees and bringing me to the ground in a classic rugby tackle. He held on tight despite my protests, and by the time I’d rolled over and wriggled myself free, the two of us were alone in the corridor.
“You moron,” I said, getting back to my feet. “Which part of ‘stop him’ did you not understand?”
The officer also stood up, and took a step closer to me, blocking my path.
“Is your name David Trevellyan?” he said.
I didn’t reply.
I heard a sound behind me. It was the door to my room almost being ripped off its hinges. Then the officer who had been sitting on my bed marched into the corridor with a strange, twisted look on his face. I couldn’t tell if it was anger, or embarrassment, or a mixture of both.
“Are you David Trevellyan?” the officer who’d tackled me said. “Come on. Yes? Or no?”
The officer from my room pushed past us and picked one of the cups up from the floor.
“Is this one mine?” he said.
“They’re the same,” the other officer said.
“Thanks, Dale,” he said. “That’s good. I’ll take things from here.”
He took a long swig, nodded his head like he was some sort of connoisseur, then made a show of looking me up and down.
“Tut, tut, tut,” he said, after a moment. “Oh dear. Running from the police. Not a good idea. What was that all about, eh?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think you frightened him.”