It’s late and there’s no moon. The night is on his side, but he isn’t taking any chances. He parks his car in a lane behind the hospital grounds which is nothing unusual; lots of hospital workers do it to avoid paying the astronomical parking permit fee.
He gets out of his car and pulls up the hoodie that he bought after work. He hates them. It’s the type of thing sex-mad yobs like Gary wear to try to look younger, but it’s perfect for hiding his face.
There’s a gap in the hedge that the staff use as a cut through to the back of the hospital. It’s an unofficial entrance and they regularly receive letters requesting them not to use it. More importantly, it’s not covered by CCTV.
Keeping to the deep shadows thrown by the tall broad chestnut trees lining the perimeter fence, he slips into the main hospital building through an open fire exit door. The doors are always left open. It’s against hospital policy, but people are always forgetting their passes and wedge them open so they can get back in after their fag break.
He takes the back stairs two at a time to ICU on the third floor. There’s no CCTV there either. The lights in the corridor have been dimmed. It’s quiet. Hospitals run 24/7 but the truth is there’s barely anyone around after midnight. The corridors are empty, the wards are mostly staffed by one person – two, if you’re lucky.
Through the glass window in the door, he can see into the ward, a wide corridor with rooms leading off it. Halfway along, a nurse, a different one to the one last night, sits at her desk, doing paperwork.
He doesn’t know which room she’s in, but it won’t take long to find her. He’s already decided he’s not going to make it complicated. She’ll be on a ventilator. All he needs to do is flick a switch, but first he has to get past the CSI.
She’s bound to be still around, but his luck is in. A door opens and the CSI emerges, rubbing her eyes. Her dark hair is frizzy like she’s not brushed it for days. She rolls her shoulders back, easing the stiffness, and approaches the reception desk where she trades a weak smile for some pity.
She’s asking something. The nurse suddenly points in his direction and he darts out of sight. She’s giving the CSI directions which means the CSI is heading his way and, any second now, she’ll come through that door and see him.
He dips down a small corridor to the left of the main corridor, his back flat to the wall. Behind him, the ICU door opens and closes and footsteps lead away in the opposite direction. He risks a glance and is rewarded with the sight of the CSI stepping into the lift.
She’s gone, probably to the canteen. That’s two floors away and on the other side of the hospital. He’s got a good fifteen minutes, even if she buys something and comes straight back.
He returns to the door leading to ICU and observes the nurse for a few moments more before making the call.
‘Hi, it’s the Path Lab here. I’ve got the test results you requested. I’d send them electronically, but our systems are down. I’ll print them out for you, but any chance someone can pop up and collect them?’
‘I’ve not requested any results.’ Her voice is curt, no nonsense.
‘Well, someone did, and we’ve got it flagged as urgent. I’ve just come on shift so I’m picking up someone else’s job.’
‘Can’t you bring them down? I’m on my own.’
‘Sorry, no can do, I’ve got another rush job on here.’
There’s a pause. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
‘OK, I’ll be there in a moment.’
Reluctantly, she gets up and walks towards the exit. Once again, he ducks around the corner and waits for the door to open. He’s banking on the nurse not wanting to be away from her station and hurrying to the Path Lab which means he’s got around five seconds to get to the door. He’s right. She’s already out of sight by the time he checks the corridor.
He lunges towards the closing door, sliding his fingers into the gap just in time. He’s in. And alone. He could have used his hospital pass, but that would show up on the system. This way, the most they’ll have on the ward CCTV is a figure in a black hoodie. He can live with that.
Through the window to her room, he spots her. Her bed is raised at a thirty-degree angle, the metal side bars are up, the machines fussing and flickering. She looks so peaceful, so still, it’s hard to believe she’s even alive. Something stirs within him which takes him by surprise. If only he had more time, but he doesn’t.
He pushes the door handle down. It opens a fraction and the sound of the machines grows louder, as if calling out to his own heart thudding against his rib cage. He steps into the room. He must be quick, but oh, how he would give anything to stay longer. Anything. He sighs with regret.
He’s about to take another step when a hand grips his shoulder hard. A man’s hand.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
He twists round to find himself eye to eye with a police officer.