“You can prove it, can you? Now, how can you do that?”
“If you let me take him back to where I come from, I have DNA evidence.”
Mr Leggett shook his head. “DNA evidence? What’s that, when it’s at home?”
“Irrefutable scientific proof that Frank Mordant killed a woman called Julia Winward.”
“And where did you say this evidence was? Do the police have it? Or the Doorkeepers?”
“It’s back in the other London. It’s back through the door.”
Mr Leggett turned to Frank Mordant and shook his head. “Poor dear. The other London.’ What a way to speak of Purgatory.”
“I didn’t come from Purgatory, you superstitious asshole!” Nancy shouted at him. “It isn’t Purgatory on the other side of those doors! It’s another London, that’s all – just like this London, only different. It has people and houses and hospitals and cars. It’s real – not some goddamned medieval never-never-land!”
Mr Crane looked quite pale. “I’ve never seen a Purgatorial so … deluded.”
“Well, she’s certainly the liveliest we’ve ever had,” said Mr Leggett. “Mr Mordant usually sends us those who are so close to meeting their Maker as makes no difference; and the Doorkeepers have usually been having a bit of a chat with the others.”
“The Doorkeepers wanted this one kept as she is,” said Frank Mordant. “They have their reasons, apparently.”
Nancy said, “If you’re not going to believe me, then I just want out of here.”
“Oh, you can’t go,” said Mr Leggett, benignly. “We have plans for you, after the Doorkeepers have done whatever they want to do. You want to make a contribution to society, don’t you, before you finally make your peace with God?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Nancy demanded.
Mr Leggett laughed. “This is so interesting, isn’t it? I wish they could always send me Purgatorials in this condition! From the way she talks, though, I don’t know whether she’s going up …” he pointed to the ceiling, “or you know where …” and pointed to the floor.
He turned to Frank Mordant and shook his hand. “Very good to meet you again, Mr Mordant. I particularly enjoyed that brandy you brought me the other day. Where did you say you found it?”
“Oh … just on one of my business trips,” smiled Frank Mordant.
Mr Leggett and Mr Crane left the room. Nancy was left on the bed, frustrated and enraged. Frank Mordant came over and stood beside her, but he wasn’t smiling any longer.
“I’ll tell you something, darling, you made a serious error coming after me. I’ve got too many contacts in too many different realities. Too many friends in high and low places.”
“Why won’t you let me go?”
“Because you’re wanted by the Hoodies, that’s why. Do you know what the Hoodies would do to me, if I sprung you from here? I was tempted, I must admit. I think you’re a very lovely girl, and I wouldn’t like to see anything … you know, ugly happen to you. But then you had to blurt it out that you had evidence against me. So you can see that I wasn’t quite so tempted after that.”
“You bastard.”
“Sorry, darling. You should have stayed where you were, and forgotten about Julia, and that would have been the end of it. But as it is …”
“What do the Hooded Men want me for?”
“They wouldn’t say. But my guess is, they want that boyfriend of yours, and you’re the Judas goat. That’s why they wanted you alive and well; and that’s why they haven’t touched you so far – although they probably will.”
“So what are those two going to do to me? Those surgeons?”
“You’ll find that out in the morning, so I’m told. But I think you can safely assume that they’re going to be carrying out one or two operations on you. Major operations.”
“Operations for what? What the hell are you talking about?”
Frank Mordant leaned over her, so close that she could see the hairs in his nostrils. “You seem to have forgotten that you came from Purgatory. People who come back from Purgatory are dead already. They don’t have any rights to their life or property. That’s what the Lord Protector teaches us, anyway. So gentlemen surgeons like Mr Leggett and Mr Crane feel quite unconcerned about cutting them up and taking whatever organs they require.”
“You’re crazy, all of you. You’re all stone crazy.”
Frank Mordant stood up. “You know that it’s tommy-rot. I know that it’s tommy-rot. But men like Mr Leggett and Mr Crane have been brought up to believe it, as do ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of the rest of the population. You took the chance and came back here, my darling; and now you’re going to have to pay the price.”
“You, Frank Mordant – you are the most disgusting piece of slime that ever slid across the earth.”
Frank Mordant’s left eye twitched. “It depends on your yardstick, my darling. I do have a heart, you know, whatever you think. I had a dog once. I loved that dog. I really, really loved that dog.”
Nancy had never spat at anybody in her life, but now she did, hitting Frank Mordant on the cheek. The saliva slid down to the corner of his mouth. He stared at her for a moment and she thought that he was going to hit her, but then he took a carefully-pressed handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his face.
“Don’t you blame me,” he told her. “You’re the one who came back.”
Nancy had another night of appalling nightmares. She saw dark crablike shapes leaping and hopping across the ceiling. She heard her grandmother screaming her name. When she woke up, the sun was shining through the window again, and a nurse was setting out her breakfast on a tray. Toast, solidified scrambled eggs, and a grilled tomato. The nurse was young, with a long pale face and freckles, and she stared at Nancy anxiously all the time that she was serving her.
“What’s the matter?” Nancy asked her. “I don’t bite, you know.”
The nurse gave her a quick, nervous smile.
Nancy said, “Haven’t you ever seen a Purgatorial before?”
“Not one like you.”
“What’s different about me?”
“You’re awake. You talk.”
“That’s because I’m still alive. Here, you want to take my pulse?”
The young nurse shook her head.
“So what goes on here?” Nancy asked her. “What kind of a hospital is this?”
The young nurse didn’t answer, but gave her a nervous shrug.
“Come on,” Nancy urged her. “What do they do here? Heart surgery? Orthopedics? Pediatrics?”
“We look after – you know. We look after her.”
“Her? Who’s her?”
“Her, that’s all.”
“Does she have a name, this her?”
“I suppose she must have done once, but nobody ever mentions it.”
“You’re not telling me that she’s the only patient here?”
“Oh, no. She’s not a patient. She’s … well, she’s …”
The young nurse was obviously struggling for the right words. Nancy sat up and said, “Are you frightened of what goes on here?”
“Of course not. It’s a privilege.”
“Then why can’t you tell me all about it?”
“I’m not allowed to. Not to you. Not to anybody.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“You’re a Purgatorial. You’re dead.”
“You’re a nurse and you think I’m dead? If I’m dead, why are you feeding me scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes?”
“I don’t know. I was told to.”
“So where are you going next with your breakfast trays? Down to the mortuary? Wake up, boys, come and get it while it’s good and hot!”