The Brick felt like he was pinioned to the flimsy chair, which squeaked as he shifted — probably it was about to collapse anyway, so no choice. After rising to his feet, the Equalizer stomped along a wide, cream-coloured corridor with many staring people and found a payphone, an old AMT with Russian lettering on it.
The problem with the underpants was no space for a dime.
#170
When he opened his eyes, Jack found Pretty Amazonia hovering over him.
“Don’t you get altitude sickness?” he mumbled.
The woman smiled in a roundabout way — an expression as forced as it was relieved, while she cupped his face in both her hands, and then leaned in close.
“You’re okay?”
Jack blinked, removed the fingers, and turned his head away to stare at venetian blinds that were open by the window, allowing in strips of sunlight. “Sure. Yes. No.”
He could hear the rustle of her costume behind him.
“I understand.” She blew out air. “You really did some damage, by the way. Took them hours to put out the fire at Hatfield House.”
“Is he dead?”
“We don’t know. They’re still sifting through the ruins there and at the Patriot. Gypsie-Ann’s on it.”
“You heard about Wright?”
“Yes. We’ll get him, Jack. I swear it.”
The man slowly peered over his shoulder. “I like the hair. Short suits you.”
“Thanks.” PA looked through the open doorway into the hospital proper, obviously uncomfortable, skittish. “She’s here.”
“I know.” Jack’s tone revealed nothing.
“Then you know she’s—?”
“I know. The Brick told me.”
#171
Jack found his suit hanging in a small closet. One trouser leg may have been caked in dried blood, but given it was navy blue, you’d barely notice. Other specks — from Wright’s dead lookalike — peppered the jacket and shirt. He didn’t care. After changing, the Equalizer grabbed a pair of crutches and made his way, thanks to various nurses’ directions, to Intensive Care.
The Professor was in a chair beside a bed upon which Louise lay.
She was plugged into an ICU monitor, an arterial line and IV catheter, and had a fat tube coming out of the side of her mouth that connected with a ventilator.
“Our girl is brain-dead, Jack. She’s left us.”
The little old man’s wrinkled face was whiter than ever as he leaned in to kiss the hand of a girl who looked — despite the medical paraphernalia — like she was simply sleeping.
“Turn off these machines and she slips away from us forever.”
Jack put his head into his hands, turned a circle, and ripped the curtains from the window.
“No!” he shouted at the wall, and then, with far less intensity: “No.” The anger and the rage vanished. All that remained was an overpowering exhaustion. Annoyed looks were tossed his way by nearby medical staff, before they went about their business. Jack felt he’d keel onto the linoleum floor in the middle of the ward.
“Bring yourself over here, son.”
The Professor patted a chair beside him, lined up next to the cot and closer to Louise’s face. Jack didn’t argue. He collapsed into it to stare at the girl for a long time, thinking but saying nothing.
“You were right,” the Prof said in a quiet voice. “Miss Stellar refused to press charges, bless her. The police considered going with unlawful possession of a firearm, but I have a licence for the Webley since it’s an antique and part of the shop’s inventory. Instead, they may press charges related to false identity. We’ll see. Captain Kahn gave me the time-worn missive not to leave town — our brave police don’t appear to realize yet that Blandos cannot leave Heropa, even if one chooses to do so.”
“Neither can we.”
Aside from his clutch of exclamations at inanimate objects, this was the first time Jack had spoken in almost twenty-four hours. The process felt odd, the pitch wavered while he rubbed his jaw, and he felt numb.
Jack wasn’t able to tear his gaze from Louise’s face. She was so close, and yet he couldn’t touch her; he wasn’t aware when, precisely, the Professor had coerced his hand into holding the girl’s fingers.
“Heropa has a magnifying effect on the personality traits of those who reside here,” said the Professor as he packed a pipe. “Good becomes great, bad becomes worse, and so on and so forth. Louise was a shining light.”
“Is.” Jack squeezed her hand, smiled a fraction. “She’s still here, still alive.”
“Of course.” The Professor patted the other man’s shoulder before leaving.