The Bookman - Lavie Tidhar [15]
"I won't let you interrogate him," the first voice said, sounding angry. "He needs to be left in peace."
The reply, Orphan thought, sounded tired, but there was a note of iron in the voice. "What he needs and what he is going to get are two different things, Doctor." She sighed; she had the trace of a Vespuccian accent. "Look, I'm sure you appreciate the importance of this investigation. I don't need to tell you what kind of pressure I'm under to get results. Moriarty–"
"Moriarty isn't head of this hospital," the doctor said, but he sounded resigned, as if the battle was lost even before it started. "If you ask me, the whole Martian debacle was inevitable, and the idea of flight into space preposterous."
"So vain is man, and so blinded by his vanity…" said his opponent quietly; it sounded like a well-used quote.
Orphan opened his eyes.
Leaning into him, their faces at an odd angle, so for a moment they seemed to him conjoined, the opposing faces of Janus, perhaps, one shadow and one light, were the two speakers. One was a man in his forties, with tanned, healthy skin, a thick moustache and friendly eyes that nevertheless, just at this moment, did not seem particularly pleased to be observing Orphan. The other face Orphan dimly recognised, and wished he hadn't: Inspector Adler, the one woman he had hoped against odds to continue to avoid.
"I'm awake," he said.
"Good, good," the doctor said. A small cough. "Welcome to Guy's Hospital." He glanced sideways at Inspector Adler and pulled back a little. "You've had quite a severe shock. Now, I don't want to do this, but the Inspector over here needs to ask you some questions, and she's been waiting for over two days for you to come around. Do you think you could talk to her? You don't have to."
Orphan tried to laugh; it came out as a cough. "Oh, but I think I do," he said, and saw the doctor's small, helpless nod in reply. "I shall leave you then," the doctor said brusquely. "I will make sure there is a nurse immediately outside. If you need to terminate the interview at any point, just call for her."
"Thank you," Orphan said. "I will."
The doctor departed, and a moment later a nurse came in, a large woman in white, with a cheerful countenance. She helped Orphan sit up in his bed and propped two pillows under his head. "Don't you mind Dr W.," she said. "He's not had any sleep in two days, ever since that terrible accident in Richmond Park. He's a good man." She gave Irene Adler (who, throughout this, stood back without a word) an indecipherable look, said, "If you need anything, call. I'll be outside," and disappeared through the door.
Orphan was left alone in the room with Inspector Adler.
Now that she had him alone and to herself, the Inspector seemed in no hurry to begin the interview. She stood in silence and gazed at Orphan as if examining a small but fascinating exhibit. She looked, Orphan thought, like a person used to waiting; she looked like a copper.
Orphan was grateful for the silence. In his mind Lucy's image still burned, a flame that threatened to consume him. Gilgamesh's letter, his maddened flight to Richmond, his push through the crowds, Moriarty's speech, Lucy's dissipating smile…
Waves of black despair threatened to drown him.
"You heard the nurse," Irene Adler said. She approached Orphan's bed and stood looking down at him, her face thoughtful, a little – he thought – sad. "What happened in the park was a terrible accident." Her arms were folded on her chest. She had, Orphan thought, a beautiful voice. A singer's voice. He looked into her eyes and found unexpected sympathy.
"An accident," he said. The words were bitter in his mouth. They had the taste of preserved limes, needing to be spat out.
"Yes," Irene Adler said. She let the silence drag. Then, "You know, I have been interested in you for a while."
"Me?" His surprise was genuine. The Inspector smiled and shook her head at him, as if admonishing a wayward boy. "You are part of the