Ezekiel, page 19
‘Sorry I won’t be there to see the Ezekiel thing wrap up.’
‘Would have been good. But I’ll let you know. Probably another week yet. The old man’s being extra cautious.’
At gate seventeen the two friends stood and gave each other a big hug and slap on the back.
‘Take care,’ said Tallon.
‘You too. See you again sometime soon.’ Quentin turned away and presented his ticket.
Chapter 40
Appointments
At eight in the morning, on Thursday 27th March 2008, Dave Chapman, and two of his strongest and most dependable offsiders, teed up on the first hole of the Wolston Park Golf course. There were no comps on this day and very few reservations for a round of golf. Dave felt confident there would be no interruptions to his game. The booking was made by a friend using a false name and paying in cash at the pro shop just before eight.
Today the threesome would only be playing six holes, and all sharing a single set of clubs carried by Tevita, a heavy-set man of Fijian appearance. Just beyond the green of the par five sixth hole, and behind a cluster of large trees, was a large green shed used by the greenkeeping staff. The shed was also accessible via a narrow bitumen road that connected to the back of the course at Boyce Road.
As the three men hit their drives on the first, Ronnie Bertram and Tallon Chapman parked to the side of Boyce Road and awaited further instructions.
‘We still got an hour or more,’ said Tallon.
‘Probably, but we need to be in easy reach if plans change,’ said Ronnie. ‘Your father is very careful.’
‘When are you going to Sydney?’
‘This afternoon. After all this is done and dusted.’
‘You’ll be keeping an eye on Quentin?’
‘As best I can. I know you two are best mates, but I gotta say he’s got a mean and nasty side that creeps me out sometimes.’
‘Shit, Ronnie, steady on. None of us are fucking angels.’
‘That’s true, but Quentin is about as far away from that as you can get.’
* * *
At nine that morning Ezekiel was dressed in something different to black shorts and t-shirt. After a little encouragement from his mother, he put on a check patterned short sleeve button up shirt. A shirt he got over a year ago for his birthday and had never worn. He stuck with the black shorts and joggers.
‘We should leave soon,’ said Anna. She adjusted the collar of his shirt.
‘I am feeling an increased level of uneasiness this morning,’ said Ezekiel. ‘And really, you do not need to dress me.’
‘That’s to be expected. You’re seeing a psychiatrist. It’s been some time since he saw you. And I can’t have you seeing a professional person wearing your daggy old t-shirts.’
‘I think it is more than just the appointment.’
‘You’re a lot like your grandfather. He gets nervous just walking into a hospital. And he’s pretty much anti-psychiatry.’
‘He has good reason.’
‘He had some awful experiences. That was many years ago.’
‘I trust his judgement.’
‘Maybe so. But you are on the CTO. You have no choice but to attend.
‘The Control and Torment Order,’ said Ezekiel with a smirk.
‘That doesn’t sound quite right, but whatever it’s called, it’s a mental health act instruction, and you must go. Those shoes could be a little cleaner.’
‘Mum!’
‘Okay, never mind. Let’s go.’
* * *
Dave putted in on the sixth hole for a par. His two companions just picked their golf balls up and the three moved behind a patch of thick scrub. It was nine-fifteen. Dave pulled out three balaclavas from the large pocket at the bottom of the bag. He handed them out. ‘Just hang onto these for now. I need to be sure his offsider is not with him. Each of you take a club, and if anyone comes just go looking through the longer grass like you’re trying to find your lost ball. Clear?’
‘Yes boss,’ both the big men replied. They pushed their balaclavas into the pocket of their shorts. Dave left the golf bag propped up next to a tree.
With a club in hand, Dave wandered towards the green shed, the front roller door was open. The standard entry door alongside was closed. He was several metres away and kept his head down, taking in fleeting glances while trying to appear he was searching for a stray golf ball. He could see two large ride-on mowers, lots of gardening tools, chemicals, and fertilizers in bottles, boxes, and large drums, and two long work benches cluttered with implements. At the back right corner was a small room divided off from the rest of the shed. His guys had been here a few times already and he had a good idea of the layout from their photos. Generally, between nine-thirty and ten, Kaufman would return for a break and a cup of coffee. As far as he could tell neither Kaufman nor his younger assistant were in the shed right now. He moved closer, then went inside and wandered around. There was no one there.
Dave popped his head out the door and gave a whistle with two fingers in his mouth. His companions came over.
‘No one here. This is good. We can wait in the corner room out of sight. As soon as someone turns up, we put on the masks. I’ve brought along a little insurance right here.’ Dave pulled out a nine-millimetre pistol with a silencer attached.
* * *
There was a large office desk in the examination room. On top was a pile of patient files, lots of loose pieces of paper, prescription pads and pathology request slips. Next to the phone was a white coffee cup filled to capacity with biros, markers and pencils.
Opposite the desk were two chairs with upholstered seats and backs. They were set into a continuous steel tubular frame, so no back legs were required. This is where Ezekiel and the well-attired, Doctor Nathan Williams, sat. Between them was a small coffee table which supported a box of tissues, two plastic glasses of water and a patient file with the letters KAUF E on the side, next to a row of six coloured number stickers.
Ezekiel looked around the walls. ‘A couple of wall hangings or pictures would brighten this place up a little.’
‘Yeah,’ nodded the doctor. ‘It’s a little bare I know.’
‘Are you a psychiatrist now?’
‘Technically, I’m still a psychiatric registrar. Another month will see me fully qualified.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. How have you been, Ezekiel?’
‘I have been well. Better since the Risperidone was ceased. Thanks for that.’
‘Anxiety is not usually a problem for you, is it?’
‘Not usually.’
‘Yet today, at least to me, you seem a bit stressed. You’re fidgeting with your hands, looking about the room, changing the position in your chair, not maintaining eye contact.’
‘Sorry, I would say distracted rather than anxious.’
‘Can you elaborate on that?’
‘I could,’ said the teenager, declining to follow on with the reasons. ‘I think a nice pastel print would go well above the desk.’
‘I know from my own experience seeing you, and from the reports of others that you are frequently reluctant to provide full details of your feelings.’
‘Such disclosures have not served me well in the past.’
‘You mean like getting you hospitalised; being prescribed medication.’
‘Two perfect reasons for me to be non-expansive in my responses.’
‘How do you think we should interpret that?’
‘I imagine that when you say we, you mean the mental health team as a whole. And I know how you would interpret it. You would say I am extremely guarded, uncooperative, and resistive…. Can I make a phone call please?’
‘Can it wait?’
‘I need to make a call. There is a degree of urgency.’
‘Is that what is making you distracted?’
‘Can I use the phone on your desk?’ Ezekiel looked at the doctor.
Nathan sat quietly, thinking. Then nodded. ‘You need to dial zero first, then wait until you hear the dial tone, then you’re good to go.’
He was up and on the phone immediately. Nathan Williams watched and listened. The phone line rang seven, eight, nine, ten times, then clicked into message bank. Ezekiel hung up. ‘No answer. Went to leave a message service.’
‘You didn’t want to leave a message?’
The teenager looked at Nathan, then glanced about the room. ‘Maybe I should have,’ he said.
‘Call back then.’
‘Hmm… you want to hear what I have to say.’
‘Obviously, but if it’s eating you up you need to do it.’
Ezekiel got back onto the phone. Waited for message bank to kick in and said. ‘Hi Cathy, this is Ezekiel. I need you to check on my dad and on my home. I feel seriously uncomfortable, like there is an impending incident… like a really terrible thing. I am with a psychiatrist right now. My mother is here too. This is urgent. Please do not delay. Thank you.’ He slowly put the phone down and turned to the doctor.
* * *
At five past ten. Joshua Kaufman, wearing his overalls, strode back into the greenkeeper’s shed and to his corner room to put the kettle on.
As he swung the door open he jumped with fright. The barrel of a pistol was pushed against his forehead. There were three men all wearing balaclavas.
‘Wow!’ blurted Joshua as he instinctively raised his hands.
‘Kaufman,’ croaked Dave. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Okay. Fine. Happy to do that,’ he stammered as he took a few steps backward while the man holding the gun walked forward.
One of the other men moved towards the open door and pushed a button. The roller door went down. He pressed a switch and four fluorescent lights flickered into life.
‘Sit,’ commanded Dave and pushed Joshua down onto a plastic chair near one of the benches.
‘There’s not much of value here. Maybe the tools. Take what you like.’
‘Oh I would, but it’s you we came to see. First, we’re gonna tie you to that chair,’ said Dave in his husky voice.
‘Hey, I’m happy to talk. You don’t need to do any of that.’
Dave lashed out and pistol whipped his face. ‘I say what the fuck we do!’ A cut opened up below Joshua’s eye and blood ran down his cheek.
The other big guy used a long extension lead and wrapped it around the chair and around Joshua, and then around Joshua’s legs and the chair legs. For now, his arms were still free.
Dave pulled some paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and held it in front of his restrained prisoner. ‘You drew this.’
Joshua looked at a sketch of a young man wearing a NY baseball cap. He saw the name Ezekiel at the bottom. These guys were connected to the house visitors a few weeks back, and he knew they were thinking that he was Ezekiel. This is a good thing he told himself. Be strong Joshua.
‘Yes, I drew that. I do a lot of drawings.’ His voice quivered.
‘Who is this? In the picture, who is it?’
‘I really have no idea.’ The pistol swiped the other side of his head. He put his hands over his face and panted heavily.
‘Hold his arms,’ ordered Dave. His two men went behind the chair and pulled his arms back. He screamed.
‘Where did you see this person?’ shouted Dave.
‘I think it could have been in the city mall. My arms, please,’ he cried in pain. Dave nodded to his two thugs, and they eased his arms back a little. ‘Oh my God…’ Joshua gasped ‘…I spend hours there in the mall, just watching… you know. I draw many faces of people I have never met.’
Dave moved away and made a call on his mobile.
‘Get the boy up here. Then you wait outside. See we’re not interrupted.’ He hung up.
* * *
‘I understand now why you are distracted today,’ nodded Nathan Williams.
‘You only think you do,’ replied Ezekiel.
‘You have a sense of an impending disaster. That’s got to make anyone anxious.’
‘I have had feelings like this before. Even way more intense. No doubt you remember my admission when I had what you described as an atypical catatonic reaction.’
‘Yes. I remember that very clearly. You were seriously unwell for a day or so.’
‘You filled me with drugs that’s why I was unwell. But at the same time that I was having that episode my then psychiatrist, Linda Hartnell, was being butchered and murdered.’
‘That was a tragedy beyond belief. She was a good doctor. Did you have something like a spiritual or psychic connection?’
‘You ask these questions. I give you honest answers that you do not believe. You have me trapped. I think you should talk with Detective Cathy Johnson. I told her things about the murder of Linda that no one else knew or could have known, at least apart from her killer. How do you think I was able to do that while I was locked up in the psych unit?’ Ezekiel drank down a full glass of water.
‘Let me tell you something else that is true,’ said Nathan, as he lay back a little more into his chair. ‘Not long before the nine-eleven terrorist attacks in 2001, I had two patients I saw here at the outpatient clinic. One told me that there would be an airline terrorist attack in the United States. The other told me that thousands of Americans would die in New York. They both had a long-standing diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia. They both had decided to stop taking their medication. Not long after a brief admission and restarting treatment neither had any further concerns or paranoid beliefs regarding this disaster.’
‘Your argument is unsound. Now, if they told you who ordered the attacks, exactly how many people would die and which buildings would be impacted, that would have been different. Then, after the fact, you would have believed them and probably sent them off to talk to the FBI.’
‘These are just two examples, there are hundreds more. I see many psychotic individuals who are convinced, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that what they say is true. What they feel is genuine. But, over time and with help, all these things settle, and when this happens they go about living their lives in a more relaxed, productive and enjoyable way.’
‘Just as a bird with underdeveloped wings cannot fly in the sky, those without the power of higher perception cannot work for the good of living beings.’
‘Hmm… I believe you are an avid reader of the Bible.’
‘No. I am an avid reader. You think that was a Biblical quote?’
‘The thought had crossed my mind.’
‘It is from the Dalai Lama. I encourage you to read some of his writings… and I need to try that phone number again.’
* * *
A silver Mercedes sedan crackled over the pale blue road-base and pulled up sedately outside the greenkeeper’s shed.
‘Steady as she goes, young fella,’ said Ronnie. ‘We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention…’ Even though the security guy was still speaking, Tallon jumped out and was on his way, ‘… and don’t forget… the balaclava…’ his words petered out, ‘… Jesus, what’s the fucking point.’
Tallon grabbed the shed door and charged in. He saw the three men all wearing gloves and balaclavas, something he had failed to do, even though the black garment was hanging out his pocket. Dave moved in front of Joshua to block his vision. Tallon put on the head covering.
‘He says he might have seen you in the mall,’ said Dave.
‘And how did that psychiatrist bitch get the sketch,’ barked Tallon.
‘I was her patient,’ panted Joshua. ‘She liked to look at my artwork. I gave her some to keep.’
‘I don’t buy it. How did you know what I’d be wearing?’ Tallon spat out his words. ‘Why was she frightened of me? Why did she kick me out?’ Tallon moved closer.
Dave turned his covered face to Joshua. ‘Well?’
‘A lot of young guys dress that way. NY caps are pretty commonplace.’
Tallon squatted in front of him. ‘When did you draw that picture?’
‘Not sure. Maybe a few days before my appointment. Is that important?’
Tallon stood and faced his father. ‘That paper was old, already looking yellow round the edges. This Ezekiel dude is fucking with us.’
‘Look, I can’t explain why she got scared. How could I know that?’
Dave slapped him across the face then back again across the other side. ‘I was hopeful you would be more forthcoming. Lift his arms to the bench,’ he instructed his two goons. They dragged him closer to the bench, still tied in the chair then lifted his arms up. Dave looked around the room then found a hammer and nails. He walked back.
‘One thing is for sure; you won’t be drawing any more for a fucking long time. Lift a hand up,’ he ordered. The two men forced Joshua’s hand down on the bench. Dave drove a nail through securing the left hand and causing him to scream and tremble. ‘Now the other one.’ He drove a nail though his right hand. Joshua shouted, gasped, and cried. Then Dave swung hard with the hammer smashing Joshua’s right hand. Joshua pushed as best he could with his feet, causing the chair to tilt back on two legs, which didn’t help, as he now hung from the bench by his nailed hands., his flesh starting to tear under his weight. Dave got to work on his other fingers.
* * *
Ezekiel did not resist as the two hospital security officers lifted him under his shoulders and took him to the adolescent mental health unit, his feet dragging along the floor. Two other male nurses and Doctor Nathan Williams tagged along.
The psychiatrist in waiting had advised Anna to return home and return with extra clothes and toiletries.
The two men continued to support his weight as the group stood at the double entry door waiting for the click to indicate the doors were unlocked.
Ezekiel raised his head. ‘O Lord, thou knowest: remember me, and visit me, and revenge me of my persecutors; take me not away in thy long-suffering: know that for thy sake I have suffered rebuke.’
Williams looked at the two nurses and raised his eyebrows. Both of them gave the slightest of nods in return.
* * *
At the Ipswich police station, the morning meeting was over. The detectives and other investigators had their tasks for the day. Some headed for the door, others to their workstations. Cathy Johnson picked up her mobile and noticed the missed calls and the voicemail alert.
‘Would have been good. But I’ll let you know. Probably another week yet. The old man’s being extra cautious.’
At gate seventeen the two friends stood and gave each other a big hug and slap on the back.
‘Take care,’ said Tallon.
‘You too. See you again sometime soon.’ Quentin turned away and presented his ticket.
Chapter 40
Appointments
At eight in the morning, on Thursday 27th March 2008, Dave Chapman, and two of his strongest and most dependable offsiders, teed up on the first hole of the Wolston Park Golf course. There were no comps on this day and very few reservations for a round of golf. Dave felt confident there would be no interruptions to his game. The booking was made by a friend using a false name and paying in cash at the pro shop just before eight.
Today the threesome would only be playing six holes, and all sharing a single set of clubs carried by Tevita, a heavy-set man of Fijian appearance. Just beyond the green of the par five sixth hole, and behind a cluster of large trees, was a large green shed used by the greenkeeping staff. The shed was also accessible via a narrow bitumen road that connected to the back of the course at Boyce Road.
As the three men hit their drives on the first, Ronnie Bertram and Tallon Chapman parked to the side of Boyce Road and awaited further instructions.
‘We still got an hour or more,’ said Tallon.
‘Probably, but we need to be in easy reach if plans change,’ said Ronnie. ‘Your father is very careful.’
‘When are you going to Sydney?’
‘This afternoon. After all this is done and dusted.’
‘You’ll be keeping an eye on Quentin?’
‘As best I can. I know you two are best mates, but I gotta say he’s got a mean and nasty side that creeps me out sometimes.’
‘Shit, Ronnie, steady on. None of us are fucking angels.’
‘That’s true, but Quentin is about as far away from that as you can get.’
* * *
At nine that morning Ezekiel was dressed in something different to black shorts and t-shirt. After a little encouragement from his mother, he put on a check patterned short sleeve button up shirt. A shirt he got over a year ago for his birthday and had never worn. He stuck with the black shorts and joggers.
‘We should leave soon,’ said Anna. She adjusted the collar of his shirt.
‘I am feeling an increased level of uneasiness this morning,’ said Ezekiel. ‘And really, you do not need to dress me.’
‘That’s to be expected. You’re seeing a psychiatrist. It’s been some time since he saw you. And I can’t have you seeing a professional person wearing your daggy old t-shirts.’
‘I think it is more than just the appointment.’
‘You’re a lot like your grandfather. He gets nervous just walking into a hospital. And he’s pretty much anti-psychiatry.’
‘He has good reason.’
‘He had some awful experiences. That was many years ago.’
‘I trust his judgement.’
‘Maybe so. But you are on the CTO. You have no choice but to attend.
‘The Control and Torment Order,’ said Ezekiel with a smirk.
‘That doesn’t sound quite right, but whatever it’s called, it’s a mental health act instruction, and you must go. Those shoes could be a little cleaner.’
‘Mum!’
‘Okay, never mind. Let’s go.’
* * *
Dave putted in on the sixth hole for a par. His two companions just picked their golf balls up and the three moved behind a patch of thick scrub. It was nine-fifteen. Dave pulled out three balaclavas from the large pocket at the bottom of the bag. He handed them out. ‘Just hang onto these for now. I need to be sure his offsider is not with him. Each of you take a club, and if anyone comes just go looking through the longer grass like you’re trying to find your lost ball. Clear?’
‘Yes boss,’ both the big men replied. They pushed their balaclavas into the pocket of their shorts. Dave left the golf bag propped up next to a tree.
With a club in hand, Dave wandered towards the green shed, the front roller door was open. The standard entry door alongside was closed. He was several metres away and kept his head down, taking in fleeting glances while trying to appear he was searching for a stray golf ball. He could see two large ride-on mowers, lots of gardening tools, chemicals, and fertilizers in bottles, boxes, and large drums, and two long work benches cluttered with implements. At the back right corner was a small room divided off from the rest of the shed. His guys had been here a few times already and he had a good idea of the layout from their photos. Generally, between nine-thirty and ten, Kaufman would return for a break and a cup of coffee. As far as he could tell neither Kaufman nor his younger assistant were in the shed right now. He moved closer, then went inside and wandered around. There was no one there.
Dave popped his head out the door and gave a whistle with two fingers in his mouth. His companions came over.
‘No one here. This is good. We can wait in the corner room out of sight. As soon as someone turns up, we put on the masks. I’ve brought along a little insurance right here.’ Dave pulled out a nine-millimetre pistol with a silencer attached.
* * *
There was a large office desk in the examination room. On top was a pile of patient files, lots of loose pieces of paper, prescription pads and pathology request slips. Next to the phone was a white coffee cup filled to capacity with biros, markers and pencils.
Opposite the desk were two chairs with upholstered seats and backs. They were set into a continuous steel tubular frame, so no back legs were required. This is where Ezekiel and the well-attired, Doctor Nathan Williams, sat. Between them was a small coffee table which supported a box of tissues, two plastic glasses of water and a patient file with the letters KAUF E on the side, next to a row of six coloured number stickers.
Ezekiel looked around the walls. ‘A couple of wall hangings or pictures would brighten this place up a little.’
‘Yeah,’ nodded the doctor. ‘It’s a little bare I know.’
‘Are you a psychiatrist now?’
‘Technically, I’m still a psychiatric registrar. Another month will see me fully qualified.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. How have you been, Ezekiel?’
‘I have been well. Better since the Risperidone was ceased. Thanks for that.’
‘Anxiety is not usually a problem for you, is it?’
‘Not usually.’
‘Yet today, at least to me, you seem a bit stressed. You’re fidgeting with your hands, looking about the room, changing the position in your chair, not maintaining eye contact.’
‘Sorry, I would say distracted rather than anxious.’
‘Can you elaborate on that?’
‘I could,’ said the teenager, declining to follow on with the reasons. ‘I think a nice pastel print would go well above the desk.’
‘I know from my own experience seeing you, and from the reports of others that you are frequently reluctant to provide full details of your feelings.’
‘Such disclosures have not served me well in the past.’
‘You mean like getting you hospitalised; being prescribed medication.’
‘Two perfect reasons for me to be non-expansive in my responses.’
‘How do you think we should interpret that?’
‘I imagine that when you say we, you mean the mental health team as a whole. And I know how you would interpret it. You would say I am extremely guarded, uncooperative, and resistive…. Can I make a phone call please?’
‘Can it wait?’
‘I need to make a call. There is a degree of urgency.’
‘Is that what is making you distracted?’
‘Can I use the phone on your desk?’ Ezekiel looked at the doctor.
Nathan sat quietly, thinking. Then nodded. ‘You need to dial zero first, then wait until you hear the dial tone, then you’re good to go.’
He was up and on the phone immediately. Nathan Williams watched and listened. The phone line rang seven, eight, nine, ten times, then clicked into message bank. Ezekiel hung up. ‘No answer. Went to leave a message service.’
‘You didn’t want to leave a message?’
The teenager looked at Nathan, then glanced about the room. ‘Maybe I should have,’ he said.
‘Call back then.’
‘Hmm… you want to hear what I have to say.’
‘Obviously, but if it’s eating you up you need to do it.’
Ezekiel got back onto the phone. Waited for message bank to kick in and said. ‘Hi Cathy, this is Ezekiel. I need you to check on my dad and on my home. I feel seriously uncomfortable, like there is an impending incident… like a really terrible thing. I am with a psychiatrist right now. My mother is here too. This is urgent. Please do not delay. Thank you.’ He slowly put the phone down and turned to the doctor.
* * *
At five past ten. Joshua Kaufman, wearing his overalls, strode back into the greenkeeper’s shed and to his corner room to put the kettle on.
As he swung the door open he jumped with fright. The barrel of a pistol was pushed against his forehead. There were three men all wearing balaclavas.
‘Wow!’ blurted Joshua as he instinctively raised his hands.
‘Kaufman,’ croaked Dave. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Okay. Fine. Happy to do that,’ he stammered as he took a few steps backward while the man holding the gun walked forward.
One of the other men moved towards the open door and pushed a button. The roller door went down. He pressed a switch and four fluorescent lights flickered into life.
‘Sit,’ commanded Dave and pushed Joshua down onto a plastic chair near one of the benches.
‘There’s not much of value here. Maybe the tools. Take what you like.’
‘Oh I would, but it’s you we came to see. First, we’re gonna tie you to that chair,’ said Dave in his husky voice.
‘Hey, I’m happy to talk. You don’t need to do any of that.’
Dave lashed out and pistol whipped his face. ‘I say what the fuck we do!’ A cut opened up below Joshua’s eye and blood ran down his cheek.
The other big guy used a long extension lead and wrapped it around the chair and around Joshua, and then around Joshua’s legs and the chair legs. For now, his arms were still free.
Dave pulled some paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and held it in front of his restrained prisoner. ‘You drew this.’
Joshua looked at a sketch of a young man wearing a NY baseball cap. He saw the name Ezekiel at the bottom. These guys were connected to the house visitors a few weeks back, and he knew they were thinking that he was Ezekiel. This is a good thing he told himself. Be strong Joshua.
‘Yes, I drew that. I do a lot of drawings.’ His voice quivered.
‘Who is this? In the picture, who is it?’
‘I really have no idea.’ The pistol swiped the other side of his head. He put his hands over his face and panted heavily.
‘Hold his arms,’ ordered Dave. His two men went behind the chair and pulled his arms back. He screamed.
‘Where did you see this person?’ shouted Dave.
‘I think it could have been in the city mall. My arms, please,’ he cried in pain. Dave nodded to his two thugs, and they eased his arms back a little. ‘Oh my God…’ Joshua gasped ‘…I spend hours there in the mall, just watching… you know. I draw many faces of people I have never met.’
Dave moved away and made a call on his mobile.
‘Get the boy up here. Then you wait outside. See we’re not interrupted.’ He hung up.
* * *
‘I understand now why you are distracted today,’ nodded Nathan Williams.
‘You only think you do,’ replied Ezekiel.
‘You have a sense of an impending disaster. That’s got to make anyone anxious.’
‘I have had feelings like this before. Even way more intense. No doubt you remember my admission when I had what you described as an atypical catatonic reaction.’
‘Yes. I remember that very clearly. You were seriously unwell for a day or so.’
‘You filled me with drugs that’s why I was unwell. But at the same time that I was having that episode my then psychiatrist, Linda Hartnell, was being butchered and murdered.’
‘That was a tragedy beyond belief. She was a good doctor. Did you have something like a spiritual or psychic connection?’
‘You ask these questions. I give you honest answers that you do not believe. You have me trapped. I think you should talk with Detective Cathy Johnson. I told her things about the murder of Linda that no one else knew or could have known, at least apart from her killer. How do you think I was able to do that while I was locked up in the psych unit?’ Ezekiel drank down a full glass of water.
‘Let me tell you something else that is true,’ said Nathan, as he lay back a little more into his chair. ‘Not long before the nine-eleven terrorist attacks in 2001, I had two patients I saw here at the outpatient clinic. One told me that there would be an airline terrorist attack in the United States. The other told me that thousands of Americans would die in New York. They both had a long-standing diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia. They both had decided to stop taking their medication. Not long after a brief admission and restarting treatment neither had any further concerns or paranoid beliefs regarding this disaster.’
‘Your argument is unsound. Now, if they told you who ordered the attacks, exactly how many people would die and which buildings would be impacted, that would have been different. Then, after the fact, you would have believed them and probably sent them off to talk to the FBI.’
‘These are just two examples, there are hundreds more. I see many psychotic individuals who are convinced, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that what they say is true. What they feel is genuine. But, over time and with help, all these things settle, and when this happens they go about living their lives in a more relaxed, productive and enjoyable way.’
‘Just as a bird with underdeveloped wings cannot fly in the sky, those without the power of higher perception cannot work for the good of living beings.’
‘Hmm… I believe you are an avid reader of the Bible.’
‘No. I am an avid reader. You think that was a Biblical quote?’
‘The thought had crossed my mind.’
‘It is from the Dalai Lama. I encourage you to read some of his writings… and I need to try that phone number again.’
* * *
A silver Mercedes sedan crackled over the pale blue road-base and pulled up sedately outside the greenkeeper’s shed.
‘Steady as she goes, young fella,’ said Ronnie. ‘We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention…’ Even though the security guy was still speaking, Tallon jumped out and was on his way, ‘… and don’t forget… the balaclava…’ his words petered out, ‘… Jesus, what’s the fucking point.’
Tallon grabbed the shed door and charged in. He saw the three men all wearing gloves and balaclavas, something he had failed to do, even though the black garment was hanging out his pocket. Dave moved in front of Joshua to block his vision. Tallon put on the head covering.
‘He says he might have seen you in the mall,’ said Dave.
‘And how did that psychiatrist bitch get the sketch,’ barked Tallon.
‘I was her patient,’ panted Joshua. ‘She liked to look at my artwork. I gave her some to keep.’
‘I don’t buy it. How did you know what I’d be wearing?’ Tallon spat out his words. ‘Why was she frightened of me? Why did she kick me out?’ Tallon moved closer.
Dave turned his covered face to Joshua. ‘Well?’
‘A lot of young guys dress that way. NY caps are pretty commonplace.’
Tallon squatted in front of him. ‘When did you draw that picture?’
‘Not sure. Maybe a few days before my appointment. Is that important?’
Tallon stood and faced his father. ‘That paper was old, already looking yellow round the edges. This Ezekiel dude is fucking with us.’
‘Look, I can’t explain why she got scared. How could I know that?’
Dave slapped him across the face then back again across the other side. ‘I was hopeful you would be more forthcoming. Lift his arms to the bench,’ he instructed his two goons. They dragged him closer to the bench, still tied in the chair then lifted his arms up. Dave looked around the room then found a hammer and nails. He walked back.
‘One thing is for sure; you won’t be drawing any more for a fucking long time. Lift a hand up,’ he ordered. The two men forced Joshua’s hand down on the bench. Dave drove a nail through securing the left hand and causing him to scream and tremble. ‘Now the other one.’ He drove a nail though his right hand. Joshua shouted, gasped, and cried. Then Dave swung hard with the hammer smashing Joshua’s right hand. Joshua pushed as best he could with his feet, causing the chair to tilt back on two legs, which didn’t help, as he now hung from the bench by his nailed hands., his flesh starting to tear under his weight. Dave got to work on his other fingers.
* * *
Ezekiel did not resist as the two hospital security officers lifted him under his shoulders and took him to the adolescent mental health unit, his feet dragging along the floor. Two other male nurses and Doctor Nathan Williams tagged along.
The psychiatrist in waiting had advised Anna to return home and return with extra clothes and toiletries.
The two men continued to support his weight as the group stood at the double entry door waiting for the click to indicate the doors were unlocked.
Ezekiel raised his head. ‘O Lord, thou knowest: remember me, and visit me, and revenge me of my persecutors; take me not away in thy long-suffering: know that for thy sake I have suffered rebuke.’
Williams looked at the two nurses and raised his eyebrows. Both of them gave the slightest of nods in return.
* * *
At the Ipswich police station, the morning meeting was over. The detectives and other investigators had their tasks for the day. Some headed for the door, others to their workstations. Cathy Johnson picked up her mobile and noticed the missed calls and the voicemail alert.
