ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(75)

Andrew moved between cars, glancing left and right for any law enforcement. Sure enough, there was a plain-clothes officer at the entrance to A and E. Andrew could tell the man was police by the stiff way he was standing and by the constant tilts of his head. The man was speaking into a microphone on his collar.

Andrew stuck to the edge of the car park and headed around the side of the hospital to look for a less conspicuous entrance. There was a fire exit near the rear of the building and it was open – a member of staff standing in front of it with a cigarette. Andrew approached with his head down, not wanting to draw attention.

“Hey, man, you can’t come through here. Use the front.”

Andrew looked up and smiled. The man was wearing chef’s whites and obviously worked in the hospital’s canteen. Bex’s room wasn’t far from the canteen.

“You mind if I just sneak through? I won’t tell anybody.”

The man shook his head. “You need to use the front entrance, pal. What you doing around here anyway? And what the hell is with your face?”

Andrew had to think fast. He’d totally forgotten that half his face was ripped to pieces. He must have looked like an extra from a zombie-movie. “Trying to avoid my mother-in-law,” he said out of nowhere. “My wife and I have been in a car accident. Her mother just turned up to see her. I was out the front having a fag when I saw her heading my way. I dashed around the back because I don’t want to have to deal with her right now. She’s a total bitch and I know she’ll blame me for the crash. In fact I blame myself.”

The chef stared Andrew in the face, trying to work him out. Andrew stared right back, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Okay,” the man said eventually. “I hear you on that. My mother-in-law is an old dragon, too.”

Andrew thanked the man and went to walk past, but didn’t make it through without being stopped first. “There a problem?” he asked.

The chef shook his head. “Just wondered if you had a spare cigarette. This was my last one.”

Of course I don’t. I don’t smoke…but that’s what I told him I was doing.

Andrew shook his head. “Sorry, mate. I just smoked my last one as well. Need to go the gift shop soon as the old witch leaves.”

The chef laughed. “No worries, man. Hope you’re wife recovers well.”

Andrew patted the man on the back. “Thanks, buddy. Guess I’ll go get my face stitched up while she’s with her mum.”

Andrew made it through into the hallway and, as he’d expected, he was near the hospital’s canteen. If he remembered correctly, Bex was just a couple wards down from here. Without any interference Andrew would reach her in minutes.

But there’s going to be police. What do I do then?

Andrew decided he was happy to be arrested if it meant seeing that Bex was okay and that Frankie was not nearby. He could tell the police Bex was in danger and they could protect her. At the start of the night Andrew had been set on murder – on ending Frankie’s life – but right now all that mattered was his daughter’s safety. Revenge was something that would have to take a backseat. Whether he liked it or not, he had no choice but to leave Frankie’s fate in the hands of the courts now. At least he’d made the rest of them pay. Some worse than others, he considered as he thought about stabbing Jordan to death but leaving his brother alive. The act still brought Andrew no remorse – he was still content in his vindication. The only regret he felt at all was that he would not have the chance to exact the same revenge on Frankie.

Andrew kept his back close to the wall as he progressed down the corridor. He may have been willing to get caught by the police, but not until he saw that Bex was okay. He followed the signs for Ward 7 – he was sure that was the right one.

The hallways up ahead were busier: doctors milled about casually while nurses rushed around them like frenzied ants. They weren’t quite the hectic, overly-stressed staff from A and E, but seemed agitated all the same. A sign hanging from the ceiling read: RECOVERY WARDS.

Andrew reached the end of the corridor and looked around the corner. His heart skipped three beats when he saw the police officers standing there. They were gathered around a single room.

It must be Bex’s room.

So close. So goddamn close.

Andrew leant back against the wall and beat his head against the cement. The pounding actually helped him think, dulling the pain that emanated from a dozen different places on his body. He had to find a way to get the officers away. Andrew couldn’t risk Frankie sneaking in and hurting his daughter while the police were busy arresting him.